Heartless (Merciless Book 2)

I don’t know how I slept at all.

I keep wondering if he’s really going to do it. If Carter is going to call my father and if he does, what would he say? I almost ask Carter if I can call Nikolai, just to tell him I’m safe but I don’t know how Carter would react, and I don’t want to push him when he’s given me this hope.

If my father knew Carter gave me Stephan to kill, literally forced to stay put with a knife placed in my hand, wouldn’t that offer some sort of truce between them?

My hands are shaking so much from the anticipation and anxiety of what they’ll say that the picture in front of me is blank, not from lack of inspiration, but from the inability to create even a simple line.

An hour has passed with me sitting on the floor of Carter’s office, listening to the tapping of keys and the steady tick-tock of the clock. All the while, I can’t focus on anything. Not a damn thing except for when Carter’s going to call him like he said he would.

Glancing up at Carter, I catch his gaze and I know the look in my eyes is pleading and expectant.

“You need more.” Carter’s voice is deep and low, and it booms through the office. Or, maybe it’s just that I’m on high alert and everything is thrumming to life as I wait for what’s to come.

My throat tightens, feeling the dejection once again for the one thing that could change everything, but I stand on shaking legs and go to him.

It doesn’t escape me that he has me under control again. That my only desire is to obey him, so he’ll give me what he claimed he would. He may have given me false hope.

My heart flickers like a candle so close to its flame going out. He wouldn’t do that to me. I refuse to believe it. I know he feels something for me. He must. I can feel it in the very marrow of my bones.

Carter pushes the phone farther away from him, an old desk phone, and I stare at it as I hear him push the laptop and stacks of papers out of the way.

It’s right there. Just call him.

Pat, pat, he pats the top of the desk and I take the hint, lying on my belly, knowing he’s going to lift the dark red chiffon dress up my thighs and bare my backside to him.

My cheek presses against the hard desk and I can feel my heart hammer against it. Gripping on to the edge of the desk, I wait for the cool gel to hit my sore ass. There aren’t any bruises this time, but somehow it hurts more. This morning I nearly cried waking up to the pain until Carter used the ointment.

Sucking in a deep breath, my eyes close and I feel Carter rub the soothing balm into my hot skin. It’s tender still, but even more so, it makes me crave more of his touch.

A soft hum of gratitude and want leaves my lips, and it’s met with a rough chuckle from Carter. Opening my eyes, I glance up at him, although I have to push the lock of hair out of my face.

My heart does that flickering again.

“It looks much better than how it was last night and this morning.”

“It feels better now too,” I tell him easily, watching his expression as he pays close attention to where he’s rubbing the balm.

“You didn’t tell me the entire truth last night,” Carter says before opening a drawer and then closing it. My heart thumps once, thinking of what I left out but having nothing come to mind.

I don’t know if he just put the gel back or if he’s taken something else out.

Before I can answer, Carter tells me, “You forgot to mention your birthday.”

He finally meets my gaze and there’s a softness there that I hardly ever see from him, but it’s the side I pine for most.

“I didn’t think it was important,” I try to speak, but my words are whispered. Of every reason I’m breaking apart, that fact is meaningless and even speaking it as if it could contribute to this pain is disrespectful to the tragedies that surround us.

He’s gentle as he repositions me on the desk but doesn’t pull my dress back down. It’s bunched at my hips and that’s what I’m thinking about when I hear the first cuff open and look up at the feel of metal grazing the skin on my wrists.

“Your other hand,” Carter commands and I give it to him although I’m riddled with a slight fear.

“Carter?” His name comes out as a question as he handcuffs me to two metal loops on the side of his desk. Again, he repositions me, sliding my body down so I’m stretched on my belly across his desk.

“I don’t have a gift for you at the moment,” he says absently as he steps away from me, leaving the cool air to hit my ass which is still very much exposed to him. “But I’ll have to find something nice for you.”

The flicker instantly morphs into a thrumming with a slight fear of the unknown.

I try to turn around and look at him as he fiddles with something on the shelf. I don’t see what he has but whatever it is, he has it in his hand.

“Carter, I’m sorry.” My first instinct is to beg my way out of another punishment. My ass is still so sore. But even as the adrenaline spikes through me, I can’t imagine he’d do it. That he’d punish me for not telling him it was my birthday. “Please,” I whimper.

“Hush,” he says, and his voice is calming as he lays a hand down on my lower back. His touch is an instant salve to my nerves. The rough pads of his thumbs rub soothing circles and that alone calms me. “This is for pleasure, songbird.”

A slick oil drizzling between my ass crack makes me jump, but I’m held down by his hand and the cuffs. Again, he chuckles, deep and low at me, ever amused but I love it.

I love that sound.

“I need to spread you, and then you need to push back,” he commands, and I force myself to swallow, feeling the pressure of a cool metal object press against my forbidden hole. I’m instantly hot and tense. The nerve endings come alive and the heat spreads like wildfire through my body and along my skin.

The thrumming intensifies, my heart slamming and lust consuming the ounce of fear that lingers.

A shudder of pleasure and a hint of stinging pain make me clench everything, but the second the tension is gone, Carter pushes the plug deeper inside of me. Oh. My. God.

I can barely breathe as the new sensation takes over. My nipples pebble and rub against the desk as I squirm beneath his ministrations. He fucks me with the butt plug, pushing it in and out, over and over.

“Carter,” I moan and then whimper, feeling close to cumming so soon. I feel so full. So hot. The little hairs on the back of my neck rise as my head thrashes.

“Your cunt is clenching around nothing,” Carter observes, and his deep voice forces my eyes open. Just as I feel the need to raise my ass higher, Carter pushes the plug in deeper and stops everything, leaving me feeling full and hot and on the edge of desire.

“Arch your back,” Carter demands as he presses his fingers against my inner thigh, spreading my legs for him even though they tremble with the threat of an orgasm so close.

I swear I can feel it in my pussy. The arousal is there even though I’m so aware that nothing’s inside of me… not there.

The metal of the cuffs digs into my skin, my ass is in the air, and each wrist bound to the desk. A soft moan escapes and the heated blushes rise up my face to my crown as Carter brushes his fingers across my clit and then up and down my pussy. “Should I tell your father the truth?” he asks me.

“Should I tell him I wanted you so badly that I was willing to start a war to keep you?”

While his words force a moan from me, they push my emotions over the edge.

It wasn’t me he wanted.

The little voice in the back of my head reminds me, and I have to close my eyes tightly, pushing away the immediate sadness and dejection.

I feel tense and on edge in more ways than one. The swell of both emotion and lust beg me to tell him, but Carter’s silent and his touch absent. I force my eyes open to see him watching me. His dark eyes staring deep into mine, searching for something.

I know I should tell him, but if he knew the girl who banged on the door calling out that she was in need wasn’t me, would he want me still? I can’t bear for that answer to be no.

“Do I need to gag you?” Carter asks. My heart hammers and my pulse quickens.

“For what?” I ask in return, but then immediately assure him, “I can be quiet,” for whatever he’s thinking. I’ll do anything he asks.

“It’s time to call your father,” he tells me, and a mask slips over his face. An expression of indifference that makes the angular lines of his jaw look that much sharper. I can see the moment he changes into the Carter I first knew and hated. It happens right before my eyes; I see the darkness take over.

“You can stay on edge for it.” His voice is a hum of both desire and amusement. “Think about how good it’s going to feel when I fuck you and finally let you cum.”