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

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Isabella

Carter seems to consider that request very carefully. Maybe it’s my own personal need for punishment, or it’s the degrading curiosity in the back of my head telling me this is the right thing to do—I can’t be sure, but either way, I want Carter Blackthorne to care for me, even if he really only cares for Brooke.

He finally leans forward, his lips gently meeting mine at first before moving more rapidly, kissing me like I’m made of glass. His hands rest lightly on my cheeks, holding my face still so he can taste my lips, throat, and neck.

Everything this time is calm. Sex with Carter has always been thrilling and a little angry on his part, but he relaxes this time, pulling me higher onto his waist so my legs part against his midsection. I let him have his lead, knowing he needs closure of some sort, no matter if it makes my heart ache a little.

He would kiss her gently, but with me, he is full of fire.

My hands undo his pants, and he simply tears the cloth between my thighs apart with one strong hand. I gasp at the feeling of his erection jittering in my palm. Before I can make a move to climb onto his shaft, he picks me up and lays back on the floor by the warm fire.

The buttons on his shirt that he draped over my body scatter all over the floor when he rips the seam aside. I center myself over his lap, letting him lay back with only his hands left to roam and pinch and squeeze me all over.

He’s so calm and beautiful, lacking control for once. Maybe that’s what he wanted with Brooke, or that’s what she would have done. I find myself pausing while I try to make sense of this situation and the answers to my many baffling questions.

His hands slide up my bare sides, and he sports a light, gentle grin. “Isabella, it’s okay. It’s you and me.”

I shake my head, fighting back the urge to break. “Are you sure? You’re different, Carter. You’re… nicer.”

“I’m nicer because I hurt you, and I never want that to happen again,” he pants. “You will never be Brooke Blackthorne, and I’m so thankful for that. I want you, Isabella. Just you.”

He brings my core over his tall, twitching erection, and I can’t help but writhe with pleasure, coming down over his size with a moaning yelp that drowns on and on. He helps me but doesn’t force me, setting the pace against his hips in front of the warm, flickering fireplace.

He sports a hint of a smile, his hips lifting off the floor and forcing a wave of pleasure to fill me at once. The delight piques, and I come at once, almost falling backward if not for his quick reflexes. He sits up, wrapping me in his arms and keeping our chests pinned together.

“You’re okay, Isabella,” he whispers, kissing my wounded cheek. “It’s all okay now.”

I shake my head, finally cutting loose while my eyes well with fresh tears. He is still deep inside of me, wanting the same release I just had seconds ago, but he doesn’t seem too concerned about coming.

“This isn’t right,” he declares after a long, painful pause. “You don’t need to know a hypothetical that doesn’t exist, dove. You’re the only one I want.”

“What if you can’t have me?” I weep. “Then what?”

He tucks my hair back behind my ear and shrugs. “Then I guess I’ll have to win you over all again.”

Something about his confidence now is brutal and pushy—and it’s kind and gentle. I let him hold me, pulling me off the ground while he maneuvers back into his pants and out of my warm, wet sex. I moan when he pulls free, and he smiles, kissing my forehead while my feet finally graze the floor again.

“You’re nicer now,” I admit in a whisper. “Why is that?”

He only shrugs, his eyes lighter in color too. “Because I realize my mistake, and I never want it to happen again. Besides, we’re about to have a war coming our way, Isabella. Jacob is going to come after you and me both. I will have to be ready for that.”

I nod, my stomach turning. “Is he going to kill me?”

“No,” he shoots back quickly. “I wouldn’t let him do that. Besides, it’s me he wants dead, not you.”

I sulk at the thought of him dying at the hands of Jacob. Even if I’m not back to normal with Carter after our last spat, I don’t want to lose him. I would rather Jacob take me as collateral than allow him to even think of hurting Carter Blackthorne.

I step forward, reaching for my glass of wine nearby, fumbling forward while my back bleeds in agony. I yelp and slump down, Carter pulling the fabric of my top up, so he can see my back. I can feel the sticky, hot crimson on my skin now more than ever before.

“Come here, dove. I’ll take you upstairs.”

He lifts me up before I can protest, and we’re soon back in the beautiful bedroom where I woke up earlier. He walks by the bed where I would rather be right now, and I slip out of my clothes while he fills the large porcelain tub with hot steaming water.

We both sink into the water, facing one another so my back doesn’t press against his chest. He stares at the bubbly water and stays silent, his hands rubbing at my legs and knees methodically. I can’t help but see through the man in front of me now.

All this time, I thought he was untouchable, but it’s clear now he’s as breakable as I am.

“Whose house is this?”

“Mine,” he mumbles, massaging my feet next. I tip my head back and shiver in delight. “It was my childhood home. When I was adopted, my parents lived here. This was their room, actually. Once I moved out, and everyone died, the furniture was covered, and the house sat vacant for a few years.”

“Why wouldn’t you want to live here?” I ponder. “It’s so secluded, and the house is huge.”

“It holds too many memories,” he says with a short, grumpy shrug. “I don’t want to talk about it, dove. You don’t need to know what happened, and it’s nothing you should know, considering our last conversation and the things Tristan said to you.”

I lean forward, hoping he would just open up to me without me having to beg for him to do so. He meets my eyes, and his fingers rub my ankles deeper, trying to distract me with his massaging pleasantries, but it won’t work right now.

I need him to tell me what happened to Brooke, so I know how to help him.

“Dove, please don’t look at me like that,” he whispers. “I don’t want you to hear all of this.”

“Then tell me the short version,” I beg.

He looks away for a moment, chewing on his lip while he mulls over the idea of what to reply with. I can see the battle in his mind, and after his last few outbursts, I know the pressure is getting to him with the election and the trouble with Jacob.

He needs to unload some of his burdens, and I can only hope he will let them loose now.

“Fine,” he sighs. “This is the last time we talk about her, though. I want you, Isabella, no matter what anyone says or what you may think I want. Okay?”

I nod vehemently. “Yes, of course.”

After a deep inhale, he frowns deeper. “She was dating a guy in my new criminal world that hurt her a lot. When I thought she was getting away from him, he was only tormenting her more, and she never told me.”

My heart trembles. “Did he kill her?”

He shakes his head, chewing on his words for a long time. “No. She took her own life, leaving a note that said she couldn’t take it anymore. She never told anyone how bad he was abusing her, and I was the only family she had left. I didn’t protect her. I failed her.”

I sulk at his explanation, realizing what his ferocity was about at the penthouse. He doesn’t even want to think he can’t protect the woman he cares for, and by me saying I didn’t trust him to protect me at the fundraiser, he felt helpless like he must have when Brooke killed herself.

Maybe it’s my forgiving edge, but I give in at last, turning so I can lean onto his warm, soapy chest. He brushes my hair back and kisses my scalp, his movements ridged and cold. He doesn’t want to hold me like he used to, but eventually, he does.

“So, what’s the next plan, Carter?”

He exhales, happy to move on from that last conversation. “Your father is well protected. Sam is going to be discharged soon, and I’ll have her sent to Anita’s house in the Bronx, so she can be safe. Frances is planning to host an election party in a week, and until then, the three of us will stay here.”

I nod, thankful for the break from the city but still worried about Sam and my father. Jacob is crazy now, and so is his greedy father, so there’s no telling the extent they will go to in order to take Carter and me down.

“What are we going to do here for a week?”

He shrugs, wiping soap over my shoulders and chest without a hint of sexual intent. Being touched and kissed by Carter tonight is different, and maybe it’s not because of Brooke at all. Maybe it’s because he truly does feel sorry for what happened in his penthouse.

It’s only a matter of time before the war sparks back up again.

“We can do whatever you want, dove,” he replies with a gentle tone. “You’re in charge for now.”