Feathers and Thorne Series Books 1 - 3: The Complete Collection

Chapter Eighteen

Isabella

He moves his kisses down to my throat, but my door is thrown open, pushing me further into Carter’s caging arms. I hiss a breath, his hand pressed to my cheek, pinning me in place. He’s so warm and overpowering that I could go numb, and he wouldn’t let me fall an inch.

“Easy, dove,” he teases. “Tristan, what’s up?”

I spy Tristin leaning on the doorjamb, his eyes taking in the tiny little apartment that sits before him. He’s so tall and the stark opposite of Carter, his light hair and pretty eyes gentle in tone. Carter is a little abrasive in appearance; I’m not complaining.

“Jacob seems to be going rogue tonight,” Tristan huffs. “Frances just texted to tell me Jacob is in his office right now, bitching about you.”

Carter seems amused by that. “Really?” He grabs my chin, yanking my head all the way up so his lips can crash into mine. My knees knock under his pushy, rough tongue. When he pulls back, his face goes hard. “Looks like work starts for you now, Bella.”

I tense up but follow him from the apartment. Part of me really wanted to have more impromptu sex, but the other part of me is glad we didn’t. I can’t determine what my role is in this new job, but if he’s paying, I’ll accept it.

Tristan hops into one SUV, but Carter leads me to a sleek Mercedes parked behind it. He pulls the driver out, and the man disappears on the sidewalk. Carter holds the door open for me, except I think he must be confused.

He motions for me to get in the driver’s seat.

“You’re my assistant, after all,” Carter hums. “You’ve got a license, right? You’ll be fine, dove.”

I stand still for a long moment, but I eventually climb in behind the wheel. When he shuts the door, keys in the ignition, I realize I’m about to drive a car more expensive than my yearly salary at Lacey Construction. I’m not thrilled with the idea, but I abide.

I need the paycheck.

Carter slides into the passenger seat, pointing toward the road ahead. “Go three blocks straight, then merge to the right. We’re going on the freeway.”

My head spins in a frenzy, but I do as he says, the SUV in front of us taking off on another route. Carter leans back, his eyes drinking in the sight of me. When I pull onto the highway, it’s hard to miss his mischievous grin.

Taking his directions, we find ourselves ultimately stuck in typical Manhattan traffic. I watch the light ahead. Too many taxis weave in and out of the stalled lanes, making the road look like a toddler’s puzzle that’s been messed up, put together, and ruined again.

I grumble, running my hands around the curve of the leather steering wheel.

Carter plays around in the backseat, shifting through black, unmarked bags of newly purchased trinkets. I don’t catch a glimpse of much, watching the light flicker green ahead and trying to maintain my spot in torturous traffic.

Carter leans over the center console, his hand grabbing the hem of my skirt and causing me to slam on the brakes. The car jerks forward, most likely leaving tire tracks, and the cars behind me feel the need to press their car horns.

I jump back into the flow of other cars, mostly awful yellow taxis, while Carter seems pretty focused on manipulating my skirt to the highest point on my hips.

I gasp, his fingers easily parting my lace panties without a care of me driving us into the back of another car or hopping the curb, a tactic his real chauffeur had no qualms with.

Finally merging us onto the highway in one piece, I gasp aloud. Carter presses a cold, foreign device between my wet, expecting folds.

“What did you just put—”

He holds out a tiny remote, turning it over carelessly. “Relax, dove. So tight, in more ways than one.”

I swallow, watching him play with the buttons on top, running his thumb over each of them gently before pressing down on the one that seems most appealing to his liking.

Whatever he slid inside of me is throbbing in vibrations now, my teeth gritting instantly to keep from screaming out a pleased, albeit surprised, moan.

“Ah, Carter, what is—”

“Shh,” he hums, leaning back as he drinks in my frantic, flushing posture. I arch my back, my foot careful on the gas pedal as waves and waves of pressuring orgasm rip at my sex. “There you go, dove. Lean into it. Adjust your hips,” he adds.

His hand pushes my lower back forward, popping my ass back to apply pressure on my core as the vibrations intensify just by that single movement.

“I can’t… can’t focus—” I pant, sweat beading on my temples while the vibrations make my bones shudder. “Carter, please, this isn’t safe!”

“Good,” he blurts a little too quickly. “Unbutton your blouse. Now.”

I give him a wild look of fear. What is he trying to do, make me crash his car?

One hand on the wheel, with my knees pinched to intensify the vibrations, I pop off the first few rows of buttons on my blouse. I’m a little bothered by the fact I have on a red bra with black panties, but Carter doesn’t seem to mind the mismatched set.

He pulls my closest nipple free, rolling it between his fingers while he pulls a small clasp out of the shopping bag of tricks. I tense, seeing spots on the highway ahead, knowing this couldn’t possibly last much longer if we are only driving toward the mayor’s office.

“Right here,” he mutters devilishly to himself.

He snaps the clasp over my nipple, fanning out his set of two remotes like they’re playing cards.

A hard, worrisome lump forms in my throat. “N-no…”

He clicks the button, sending the clamp into a frenzy against my pinched, exposed nipple. The feeling, added with the initial dampness formed around the device in my sex, sends me into a sputtering, delighted mess.

He grabs the wheel, steadying the car with an attractive, guttural chuckle.

“Readjust yourself, but leave those toys where they are,” he adds in stiff command.

“Carter, please—”

“Now!”

I go stoic with his brash command, letting him steady the wheel while I redo my bra over my vibrating, engorged nipple and rebutton my shirt. With my foot still pressed to the gas pedal, I bring the skirt down to my knees where it belongs, and Carter lays back into his seat casually.

Hissing a breath, the vibrations stop, and I feel my panties soaked in the aftermath.

“Take the exit, glide down Main Street, and park up against the mayor’s steps,” he breathes, like he’s directing his fucking taxi without a hint of a mention of the devices located in my most sensitive of places. “Right here, dove.”

I park the car, trying to catch my breath and settle my appearance as he walks broadly over to my side of the car. He opens the door, takes my hand, and yanks me to his chest, his lips pressing to my cheek.

He hums a light, amused laugh. “God, you smell so fucking good.”

I blush, more so than I was during that delightful, invigorating car ride to get here.

His hand loops around my back, the other hanging onto his front breast pocket as he reaches inside and pulls up both remotes, flashing them like high-dollar bills in a casino.

“Just remember who is in charge.”

I shudder in his tense, possessive hold. “How could I forget?”