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

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Isabella

Carter yanks me from the dressing room at once, maneuvering me to the floor, and if this store was open and full of customers, I doubt he would do anything differently.

I lay on my back in trembling desperation, his fingers still damn from my sex. He drags his long, rough tongue down his knuckles and buries them into his mouth like he pressured them inside of me moments ago. I blush as he yanks his fingers out and grins wildly.

“Spread your legs for me, dove.”

I do as I’m told, as I’m constantly commanded by this power-hungry, sensual man. My knees part as I lay on my back, seeing him stalk forward ever so slowly, his eyes draped over me, just waiting for him to satisfy my never-dying urge.

He kicks my ankle a little, spearing my legs further than I think I can keep them—but I try to.

“Touch yourself for me,” he hums. “Get close to needing to come and then stop. You think you can manage?”

My shy edge returns, and my body is fresh with embarrassment. “Carter, I—”

“Do it,” he snaps, “or call mercy. Otherwise, your lips don’t move unless I say they can.”

I oblige at last, my fingers toying with my sensitive wet pussy and rubbing the core button of my clit, sending chills through my body. Everything is so heightened, so magnified, even when it feels dirty and wrong and dangerous.

We’re in a public store! What if we get caught?

That nervous fact keeps me from coming near the lapse of an orgasm, but being under his glare is so difficult at the same time. He grins, pacing slowly before me, while I twitch and gasp and moan and completely soak myself in the thought of his cock returning to my sex.

He tips his head back when he reaches for his belt, and my hands stutter over my clit.

He notices it almost immediately.

“Did I say you could stop?”

“N-no, Carter.”

“And yet, you have.”

I try to continue onward with this endeavor, but the fear of his belt has my mind muddled elsewhere, far away from pleasure. I don’t want another punishment—his threat at the office the night prior is enough to make me rethink ever buying a belt again for my own use.

Let alone be comfortable when Carter reaches for his.

He stands over my waist, undoing his belt completely. I breathe somewhat easier when he tosses it aside, but his frustration and taut features don’t relax just yet. He uses his boot to kick my wrist somewhat abruptly, yanking my fingertips from my soaked pussy.

“Carter, please,” I pant.

What am I asking for? I have no idea. I don’t think it matters, though.

He grins at my desperation, at my need to be fucked by him in the middle of an empty store, and I watch with satisfaction as he rubs the bulge of his erection gently.

“You want to be fucked by me?” he purrs, more of a statement than a question. “You’re so wet already, dove. I think you already came for me when I asked you not to.”

I shudder, my spine going stiff against the floor. “N-no!”

“Shh,” he whispers. “They could be watching on the security cameras in the break room.”

The realization of that sends me into a panic. I bolt upright, slipping from his hands that grab for me, and find the closest, empty fitting room that I can. I’m happy the doors are long enough to go to the carpet; that way, I’m sure no one can see me naked again.

Especially while being forced to pleasure myself by Carter Blackthorne!

“Little dove, you better come out of there,” Carter calls, his knuckles running down the thick wood door. “You really shouldn’t run from me. It turns me on, Bella.”

Well… dammit.

I just escaped the jaws of a shark only to find out I threw in a few drops of blood first, just to send him into a frenzy! I know I can’t escape him for long, it’s just us in the store, but eventually, the workers will grow irritated and come out.

I unlock the door first, and Carter bursts inside the room at once.

He stands over me so unbelievably fast that my feet catch when I step away, slamming me into the floor on my wounded, throbbing ass. I cover my body with my arms, shielding his sight from my nipples and sex, even with the door closed on us together.

“I think I like having you down there,” he breathes.

He undoes the zipper and takes his arousal in his fist. I know where this is going, but when I level my lower lip under the tip of his cock, a secondary noise catches my focus.

“Boss!”

Tristan’s voice reigns through the store, his frustration clear as he nears the fitting rooms.

“I’m a bit busy,” Carter calls back, not an ounce of embarrassment in his voice. “What’s the problem?”

“Jacob Lacey,” Tristan exhales. “I had the guys sneak into the Lacey Construction downtown district project that Frances is backing. It’s some kind of high-tech, new-age office tower, but I had a feeling it wasn’t good.”

Carter rolls his eyes, looking back at me on the floor, his eyes bright in reply. He leans forward, brushing my chin with his hand while he shoves his dick preciously slow over my lips. I dare to moan, but in the company of Tristan just outside the door, I hold back.

Carter tips his head up, grinning in pleasure. “I’ll deal with it soon.”

“He’s manufacturing guns, dammit,” Tristan barks. “He’s stepping on our international trade.”

I wish Tristan would shut up. The more bad news he gives to Carter, the harder the thrusts into my lips become. He’s choking me now, practically edging to come halfway into my throat, and his pulsing hips are moving so hard that my back hits the wall, making the mirror creak in noise.

“I’ll figure it out,” Carter breathes.

Tristan is obviously irritated, his steps not retreating and his tone becoming thicker. “Fuck, Carter. We have work to do.”

“I am the boss. Not you.”

Carter breaks, his voice unruly and harsh. He leans forward, gripping my hair in a fist as his cum leaks down the back of my throat.

When he pulls back, I choke, falling forward for air.

“Are you done now?” Tristan says, somewhat snide. “Can we get back to work?”

Carter folds his arms, looking down at my exhausted state, a certain warmth and dampness built between my thighs. “I don’t think so. Not yet, at least.”

“I’ll be in the car out front waiting for when you’re done then,” Carter’s right-hand man grumbles, leaving the store at once.

I’m happy that Tristan has left, mostly because if he stays, I don’t think it would stop Carter from caring if he had his way with me in this dressing room—or even out in the store!

It’s impossible to track what Carter will do next.

Mercilessly, he moves so fast that I can’t process it.

I’m flipped onto my back, Carter Blackthorne lowering his pelvis onto my throbbing, sore thighs. He brushes my knees aside and strokes his length, still full in anticipation of pleasure. I swallow hard, watching him lower himself down, his lips daring to embrace mine.

Kissing Carter is never an easy feat. Normally, it’s harsh and rough, bruising and greedy.

Tonight, though, it’s gentle and soft. I hold back my edge of surprise, feeling his hips writhe in between my legs. His movements are fluid and calm, each thrust sending peaceful waves of pleasure through my every fiber. I unravel at his gentleness.

I know he threatened punishment, but this is quite the opposite.

I arch in orgasm, my body trapped between his and the floor, bringing warm, wet cum from my sex and teasing his movements to a kind halt.

No whippings with his belt. No yanking of my hair. No threats of pain or savageness…

He sits up slowly, exhausted, and I can’t help but examine his features carefully. This is Carter Blackthorne, right? The man who threw me on my knees in his office. The man who killed someone in cold blood with the mayor as a witness.

The man who marked my ass and back with unrelenting ferocity.

It’s definitely him, though, and he dresses himself at a leisurely pace, staring down at me through every excruciatingly passing minute. Eventually, he ducks out of the dressing room and returns with a new outfit and that wretched red bra and panties.

He hangs it up, along with a pair of new, expensive black heels, and as much as I want to argue against wearing such a nice dress that will hug my every curve, I feel a small sense of obligation to do so. He was gentle and passionate in sex—do I want to make him angry after having him so calm and tamed?

I slip into the tight, ruffled black dress and try to hide the gorgeous red set underneath. The heels are taller than I’m used to, but I wear them anyway, trying to settle my appearance in the mirror after being ravaged on the dressing room floor.

Carter is paying for the haul of clothes that the workers are quickly carrying out in bags to the car. I settle in my black dress, catching Tristan’s glare from afar.

For once, he has soft features, and he nods me leisurely over to the car.

Carter stops me, a look passing between the two men, and I hitch a breath as Carter brings his lips into mine in crashing default. He holds my back, pressing me into his hips, and warm relief flows over me at his soothing, gentle touch.

I pull back first, my brows knit. “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” he mutters, turning to shoot Tristan a warning look. I know the look well. Carter brushes his hand across my lower back, moving us both toward leaving the store. “Let’s go handle some business, then we will go to dinner like I promised you before.”

I swallow, the tension clear as Tristan and Carter cross each other. Carter’s right-hand man climbs into the driver’s seat, and Carter takes the spot next to him, leaving me alone in the back, my sore legs finally able to stretch out forward.

The drive is stiff and stoic.

Whatever cold feelings these two have for one another are made apparent in the long, silent drive downtown. At least for once, the tension isn’t centered around me.

At least, I hope not.