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

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Isabella

I press my lips together and do as I’m told.

I know how much Carter needs this to give him back some semblance of control, but a part of me is weary.

How much more of this can the two of us take before we shatter? How much can we take before we crumble into dust and ashes?

Once the thought leaves my mind, I realize that Carter is standing at the foot of the bed, a strange twinkle in his eyes. Wordlessly, he leans forward, a small vibrator in his hands, and pauses when he’s inches away from my already wet sex. Then he uses two fingers to spread my folds apart and places the device there. I swallow, and my shoulders square together.

“I am not going to cheat on you, dove,” Carter purrs, his voice low and thick with emotion. “Nor do I have any interest in anyone who isn’t you. When are you going to see that?”

I swallow. “Carter, I—”

He steps back and holds a hand up. “I’m not done talking. I can’t control how she looks or the way that I’ve behaved in the past, but when I tell you that it’s over, I fucking mean it. Is that understood?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

I lift my chin up and hold his gaze. “Yes, sir.”

Carter nods, and a shadow falls over his face. “Good girl.”

With that, he reaches into the pocket of his pants and pulls out a remote that shines in the semi-darkness of the room. Without looking away from me, he pushes the button, and small vibrations begin between my legs, little bursts at first that shoot pinpricks of desire through my veins. I twist, my mouth parts, and just as I’m about to find a more comfortable angle, Carter powers the device off.

The whimper falls from my lips before I know what I’m doing.

“You’re mine, dove,” Carter says in a low voice. “And I’m fucking yours. Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.” I breathe, unable to look away from his cold yet handsome face. I suck in another breath when the device comes back on, and rivulets of sweat form on the back of my neck and forehead. Steadily, they drip as I squirm against my constraints and wonder what’s going to happen next.

Is Carter going to keep torturing me when there’s company downstairs? Is he making it a point to do this so Donahue can hear?

I know the kind of man Carter is and how possessive he can be. Yet, the thought of being marked, of being branded with his signature in the form of his teeth marks and scratches, seared into my very soul, doesn’t scare me as much as it should. Instead, it fills me with a strange surge of power and a sense of recklessness.

Like I’m not the only one headed straight for a cliff.

Carter presses another button, and the pressure increases. I throw my head back, squeeze my eyes shut, and moan. Suddenly, he is on top of me, one hand clamped over my mouth and the other splayed over my mound, the heat from his proximity making me feel like I’m going to combust.

And I can’t even bring myself to care.

Not as long as Carter burns with me.

Slowly, he withdraws his hand and replaces it with his lips, hot and demanding against my own. When he bites down on my lower lip, my mouth parts, and his tongue darts in. Like Carter, his tongue is harsh and unforgiving, sweeping and claiming every inch of me until I pant and writhe underneath him. All too quickly, my body jerks, and the force of my orgasm rips through me, making spots dance in my field of vision while I struggle to breathe.

My lungs are burning as I struggle to focus and realize Carter is on his feet and peeling off his clothes. He leaves them in a heap on the floor, and I can barely make out the muscles of his lean, taut body as the bed dips and creaks underneath his weight. Without warning, he nudges my legs apart and settles between them. He positions himself at my entrance, braces his arms on either side of me, and pauses.

I blink, my vision clearing, as I try not to clench my legs in anticipation.

“Fuck, dove, you smell amazing. I can’t wait to bury myself inside of you.” In one quick move, Carter thrusts inside me, filling me to the hilt. He keeps one arm on the headboard, and the other tugs on my restraints, winding them tighter. Tears prick the back of my eyes, but I ignore them.

All I can focus on is how Carter feels buried inside me, filling me completely.

Not a single inch of space exists between us.

I shudder as he throws my legs over his shoulders and eases further in. Using my legs, I nudge him closer before sliding them down to lock around his waist. Carter pinches the skin of my legs and buries his face in the crook of my neck. Another wave of pleasure washes over me, and I gasp, his name a chant on my lips. Then Carter flips me over so I’m on my knees, my arms still held above my head. His fingers are feather light and cool against my flushed skin.

When the slap comes, I’m expecting it, and it sends dual waves of pain and pleasure ricocheting through me. Carter grips my hips with both hands and then gives me another firm slap, which reverberates inside my head. I press my lips together and swallow back the whimper. A heartbeat later, Carter slams into me from behind, and I cry out, my vision going completely dark.

I can smell him on me and feel him invading every inch of me.

And it still doesn’t feel like enough.

I want to climb inside of his skin and stay there, where nothing and no one can hurt us.

Carter makes low growling sounds into the back of my neck, prompting another release. I am gasping for breath when Carter gives a few more thrusts, and warmth pools between my legs. Abruptly, he unties my hands, and I collapse face first onto the mattress. Slowly, I flip onto my back, stare at the ceiling, and wait for my vision to adjust.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a flash of movement as Carter pulls his clothes back on. “Take a shower and get dressed, dove. We’ve got work to do.”

I lift the sheets up to my chin and gingerly sit up. “We?”

Carter’s lips lift into a grim, half-smile. “Our time away from the city is over. We need to head back and show the new mayor how much we appreciate the gift he sent us.”

My throat tightens. “Carter, are you sure that’s a good idea? He sent that man to set you up. He’s dangerous, a lot more dangerous than we gave him credit for.”

Carter crosses over to me in two strides, and his features are harsh, the earlier emotion in his eyes stamped out. “Are you questioning my ability to protect you, dove?”

I shake my head. “No, of course not.”

But I do know that Carter can’t be everywhere at once. He can’t run a business and rub elbows with the new mayor, especially not one who is an ex-cop.

Carter is sinking himself further and further into quicksand, and with each passing day, the number of people willing to pull him out shrinks.

I can’t save Carter from himself, not on my own, at least.

The thought leaves a bad taste in the back of my mouth as Carter twists on the knob, the blinding white light of the hallway temporarily blinding me. When the door clicks shut behind him, I scramble out of bed and feel around in the dark. My fingers close around an unfamiliar fabric as I stagger into the bathroom. There, I pause to flick the lights on and wait for my vision to adjust. Then I glance down at the clothes and frown.

If I have Carter’s clothes, what did he wear downstairs?

With a slight shake of my head, I pad across the tile floors and switch on the water. I scrub every inch of my skin twice and try to escape the images lingering in the shadows. Every time I close my eyes, I see the mayor’s man, upright and resolute one second and the next, lying at my feet in a pool of his own blood. The sight stays with me as I step out of the shower, wrap a towel around my waist, and use my hand to clear away the fog.

I meet my own gaze in the mirror and try not to flinch.

My entire body feels like a battlefield, marred with scars of every kind. When I twist and turn to study myself in the mirror, I can’t help but compare my skin to Lilian’s.

The curvy brunette might not have Carter, but at least she’s in shape.

Frowning, I turn away from the mirror, let the towel flutter to the floor, and pull Carter’s clothes on. They smell like him, like leather and cigarettes, making butterflies form in the center of my stomach. Once I step out of the bathroom, I see a pair of socks and shoes laid out at the foot of the bed. I pull them on, tie a sweater around my waist, and make my way downstairs.

The first thing I see is Carter on the other side of the kitchen counter, with Tristan a few feet away, wearing an identical somber expression. Tristan’s gaze flicks over to me, and he gives a slight shake of his head. I look away and back toward Carter, who is gripping the counter like his life depends on it.

As if it’s the only thing keeping him from doing something stupid. Like launching himself across the room and tackling Rich Donahue to the ground.

I take the last few steps and ignore the warning look Carter gives me. With my heart hammering unsteadily against my chest, I come to a stop next to Carter and brush my hand against his. He laces his fingers through mine, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. Rich glances between us and says nothing. Without saying anything else, Carter pushes himself off the counter, dragging me behind him.

Before I can thank Rich for saving me, I am thrown into the back of Tristan’s car, and the door slams shut in my face. I twist to see Carter and Rich exchange a quick look before Rich retreats into his own car. Moments later, the passenger door is wrenched open, and Carter gets in, the door slamming shut behind him.

I fold my hands in my lap and clear my throat. “He did save my life, Carter.”

Carter’s jaw tightens. “I don’t need you reminding me why I couldn’t come after you, dove.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” I lean forward and place a hand on his shoulders. “You were being detained by the police. Hughes made sure of it.”

Carter shakes my hand off and says nothing.

In silence, Tristan drives back to the penthouse, where several of Carter’s men are already waiting for us outside, their guns barely concealed underneath their shirts and jackets. I lower my head, dig my nails into my palms, and hurry into the penthouse, which looks untouched and exactly the same way we left it. After changing into my own clothes, I crawl into the large king-sized bed and wait for Carter.

My eyelids grow heavy as I stare at the door and fight back my yawns.

When I drift off, there is a low murmur of voices outside the door and then silence. I struggle to make out Carter’s voice before I drift off. Sometime later, in the thick of sleep, I feel the bed dip and creak, and Carter’s body curls against mine. He presses a kiss to the back of my neck, mutters something into my skin, and exhales.

That night, I toss and turn, trying to figure out how to bridge the wide chasm between us.