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

Chapter Twenty-Six

Isabella

Carter stands perfectly still, my eyes focused on his belt while I undo the rest of his pants and lower them to his ankles. He grumbles something about his shoes, and I help him out of the leather loafers, stripping my boss ever so carefully.

The last thing I want is for that belt to hit me just right, to wound me at the start of this endeavor, and make the entire ordeal painfully difficult. I still bite back from saying mercy, from saying anything at all, while he slips out of his shirt and stands so proudly naked before me.

I sit back on my ankles, my heels crossed over one another, while I drop my hands to cover the soaking section of my sex that throbs for the cock that prods out toward my face. His length, his body in total, is so perfectly carved that I can’t hold back my anxious desires, no matter the fear that sits within me.

One hand holds his belt, the other tucking my hair behind my ear.

“Lean forward and keep your hands on the floor,” he sneers, speaking softly in volume but not at all in tone. “If you touch yourself at all and try to come before me, I’ll whip your chest. Got it?”

I shrivel at the thought but nod, leaning forward on my hands and knees, feeling so vulnerable and exposed in this glass office, even if it’s empty aside from us. He drags the edge of his leather belt up my spine as though testing the waters and finally grips the back of my head to maneuver it against the base of his erection.

He fills my lips all the way to the back of my throat, keeping my head still with a grasp in my hair while his hips decide the pace and the forceful speed. He decides everything, always, so it shouldn’t surprise me that he’s taken ultimate control of my mouth around his length.

I shut my eyes, only catching a glimpse of his belt reeling back past his hips. It comes down first on my lower back, then sharper against the center of my ass. I hiccup but maintain my focus on his cock. My teeth stay at bay, my tongue and lips doing the work while his thrusts take a speedier approach.

He starts aiming for my core, coming down with his belt against the part of my ass, curving it just right to whip my folds through my underwear. Although the pain is exciting and new, it frightens me at the same time.

I flinch, his belt smacking against my clit so perfectly that a sting of pain and pleasure ripples through me.

“Dove,” he pants, obviously enjoying this, “look at me. Now.”

I finally open my eyes, freeing a tear down my cheek from the throbbing, aching marks he has made against my ass already. Looking up at his carved abdomen and his stern, tense face, I fight to keep hold of his cold eyes. He thrusts harder into my throat, his belt resting in a bundle against my spine.

“Do you want me to fuck you, dove?”

I flinch at the sharp edge of his words but, ultimately, nod briefly with him still in my mouth. I feel my teeth brush the tip of his cock, and his exterior goes sternly unhappy when he feels it happen.

The belt breaks against my ass harder than I’ve ever felt it.

I break his hold against my head, ripping my lips from his erection and falling backward onto the floor, laying on my back and lifting my ass up off the pressure of the hit, trying to bite back a scream.

Carter’s ferocity is clear now. I’ve broken a few rules at once, no longer in the position of his choosing, the impression of my teeth brushing his cock still lingering with us both. I don’t know whether to call mercy or cry for forgiveness.

“Stand up, dove,” he snarls.

I shake my head in refusal, still weeping from the sharp sting he left on my ass. He charges forward, his hands maneuvering me onto my stomach, both of my wrists caught in one of his hands. The belt brushes my back before I realize what he’s doing.

He ties my hands behind me with that torturous belt and then forces me to stand, shoving me to lean forward while he catches me to stand upright still by the union of my arms behind me.

I stare at the floor, then down my chest, watching him center himself against my hot, throbbing wounds where his erection brushes the wet lace of my panties.

“Tell me what you want.”

My body trembling, his erection taunting me at the gate, I swallow my fear and try to sound as confident as he is, although it’s so hard while I’m spread open for his use. He caresses my folds through the lace, using the tip of his dick to tease my soaking wet spot endlessly.

“Fuck me, please,” I pant.

Holding my wrists with one hand, he uses the other to pop my breasts free of my bra. He toys with my hard nipples, and I hiss, my thighs trembling in need.

“This is for being late to the club,” he mumbles.

He pushes my panties aside and fills me at once. I bark a scream, daring to fall forward if not for his hold on my tied wrists. I stammer a yelp, his girth and sheer force bringing me to the edge of an orgasm already. I’m wet enough for him to enter with ease, but as I’ve come to realize, he doesn’t want ease.

He wants discomfort and brutality.

He fucks me savagely, my knees finally buckling as I hit the floor, my chest slapping into the carpet while he lowers himself with my ass, still keeping the same force through his thrusts the entire way to the floor.

He yanks me back by my wrists, his pelvis grazing my wounded, pained ass, but it still sends waves of pleasure through my body at once.

I come roughly against him, shivering and fighting and weeping through it all.

“I’ll let that pass,” he adds, too focused on his panting, hearty thrusts to punish me for coming first. “Fuck, dove. You feel so good in every hole.”

I hiccup, knowing just by the firm tension of his erection in my folds that he’s seconds away from coming. I beg for it to happen, going limp in his grasp while he haphazardly gives a final, epic push into my core.

He settles behind me at last, releasing my hands but keeping them tied in his belt while his palms take possession of my ass. The heat of his marks is still fresh, and I whimper when he draws his fingertips against the old and new stripes.

“I can’t wait to explore this,” he murmurs, his thumb pressing into the tight entrance of my asshole. I flinch at the mere thought, and he laughs lightheartedly at the movement. “Not today, dove. Not until I’ve got it trained to take my size.”

He finally pulls free of my folds and undoes the belt from my wrists. I collapse in finality onto his office floor and feel my heart settle back to a manageable speed. He stands over me, still stark naked and holding the belt in a cruel taunt.

I readjust my bra and my panties, feeling so small under his pressuring, thick glare.

“Who is Brooke?” I blurt out before thinking, but it comes back to the surface of my thoughts after examining the state of his office, Tristan’s broken lip, and when he asked about Brooke and was met with harsh retaliation.

Carter’s face goes cold. “You heard Tristan say that name, huh?”

I only nod, his fist turning white as he grips his belt tighter.

“You don’t like punishment, dove, do you?” he asks, his head cocking sideways in the absence of an answer to my initial question.

“No, Carter. Not really.”

“So you saw how I punished Tristan for uttering that name, right? And you still decide it’s a good idea to bring it up?”

I cower into a feeble ball. “I just… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. Please, Carter… don’t…”

“Too late,” he says through gritted teeth. “Put your dress on. I have office workers coming in soon. You and I are going to my penthouse downtown, where you’ll learn that punishment from me isn’t something I take very lightly—so you shouldn’t, either.”

I blink back nervous tears. “I’m sorry I overstepped, Carter, please. I’m already bruised and in pain from your anger. I can’t take much more of it.”

“Then call mercy,” he spits.

I flinch backward but keep my lips sealed.

“Say it!”

His voice echoes through every fiber, but still, I can’t bring the word to my mouth. He is abrasive and pushy, and no matter how much I need this job, when I finally get my first paycheck in a month, I only have one truth…

I really like being fucked by Carter Blackthorne.

“Say it, or take the punishment at my penthouse,” he barks. “Pick.”

It’s harder than I’ve imagined, but I drop my head and cling to the dress that puddles in pink fabric nearby.

“Punishment.”