Chapter 1: The Devil's Bargain
The elevator ride up to the penthouse was a slow, suffocating climb. Chloe’s fingers dug into the strap of her purse, her knuckles white as she stared at her reflection in the polished brass doors. The city lights blurred into streaks of gold and blue behind her, but all she saw was the way her breath hitched, the way her pulse hammered in her throat. *This is for Kyle,* she reminded herself. *This is for Kyle.*
The doors slid open with a quiet *ding*, and the scent of whiskey and leather hit her before she even stepped out.
Chloe's heels clicked on the hardwood floor, the sound swallowed by the vastness of the penthouse office. The space stretched before her like a predator's lair, all dark wood and sleek lines, the city skyline sprawled beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows like a kingdom at his feet. A kingdom Carter owned.
She had never been here before, but she knew the stories—how he kept his enemies close, how he made deals in this very room, how he broke people without ever raising his voice. The air hummed with something electric, something dangerous, and Chloe forced herself to breathe.
A low chuckle cut through the silence.
Carter didn’t even look up from the papers he was signing—just smirked, as if he’d known the exact second she’d stepped off the elevator. His fingers stilled over the Montblanc pen for a fraction of a second before he set it down with deliberate precision.
“Chloe,” he said, his voice smooth as aged bourbon, “I was wondering when you’d come to your senses.”
She squared her shoulders, ignoring the way his gaze lingered on the swell of her chest before dragging up to meet hers. His eyes were dark, unreadable—like a storm rolling over still water. “Cut the bullshit, Carter.
You know exactly why I’m here.”
Chloe’s voice came out sharper than she intended, but she refused to let it waver. She stepped further into the office, her heels sinking slightly into the plush carpet as she stopped just short of his desk. The air between them crackled with something she couldn’t name—something that made her skin prickle.
Carter leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight as he folded his hands behind his head. The sleeves of his crisp white shirt were rolled up, revealing forearms dusted with dark hair and a watch that probably cost more than her car. His smirk deepened, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring the moment.
"Do I? Why don't you tell me then" He tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. The corner of his mouth quirked up as he gestured vaguely toward the leather chair across from him. "Go on, Chloe. I'm all ears."
She gripped the strap of her purse tighter, her nails digging into the leather. "You know damn well why I'm here." Her voice was steadier now, laced with steel. She wasn’t about to back down—not when Kyle’s job, his dignity, his *everything* was on the line. Carter had made that clear in the voicemail he’d left on Kyle’s phone, the one that had sent her into a blind rage.
*"You’ve got one week to get your act together, or I’ll find someone who can actually handle the pressure."* The threat had been casual, almost bored—like a king swatting at a fly. But Chloe knew better.
She had seen the way Carter operated. The way he dismantled people, piece by piece, until they were nothing but hollow shells begging for scraps of his approval. And Kyle? Kyle was already cracking.
The thought of it made her stomach twist.
Carter’s smirk widened, as if he could read the storm brewing behind her eyes. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the desk, his fingers steepled.
The movement brought him closer to her, close enough that she could see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw, the way his shirt stretched just a little too tightly across his shoulders. "You're here to beg, Chloe. Let's not pretend otherwise."
The words hit her like a slap. She flinched, but only for a second. Then she lifted her chin, meeting his gaze head-on. "I'm not begging for anything. I'm telling you to back off."
Carter chuckled, a low, dark sound that sent a shiver down her spine. He pushed back from the desk and stood, slow and deliberate, his tall frame unfolding with a grace that made her stomach clench.
Every movement was controlled, predatory—like a big cat savoring the moment before the kill.
Chloe’s breath hitched as he rounded the desk, his black shoes clicking against the marble floor with each step. He stopped just short of her, close enough that she had to tilt her head up to meet his gaze. The heat from his body radiated toward her, mingling with the scent of his cologne—something rich and spicy, undercut with the faintest hint of cigar smoke.
"You’re trembling," he observed, his voice a low rumble. His fingers lifted, hovering just above her cheek before he tuck a loose strand of her blonde hair behind her ear.
The brush of his knuckles was fleeting, but it sent a jolt through her chest. Chloe’s breath came faster, her pulse roaring in her ears. She should step back. She *should*. But the way he looked at her—the way his eyes darkened, the way his lips curled just slightly—made her feet root to the spot.
Carter’s gaze dropped to her mouth, lingering just a second longer than necessary before flicking back up to her eyes. The air between them thickened, charged with something unspoken. Something *dangerous*.
She swallowed hard, forcing herself to find her voice again. "This isn’t a negotiation, Carter.
You’re bullying Kyle, and I won’t let you." Chloe’s voice was firm, but the slight tremor in her hands betrayed her. She crossed her arms over her chest, as if that could shield her from the way his presence seemed to press against her skin.
Carter’s fingers dropped from her hair, trailing down the curve of her shoulder before he stepped back, giving her just enough space to breathe. The absence of his touch left her skin tingling, and she hated herself for noticing.
"Bullying?" He raised an eyebrow, his expression mockingly thoughtful. "No, Chloe. I’m *motivating*.
" Carter’s voice dropped into something rougher as he circled her, his gaze raking over her body like fingers tracing invisible lines. The slow pace of his movement made Chloe’s breath hitch—each step deliberate, calculated. She forced herself to keep her back straight, jaw tight, though her pulse thrummed erratically beneath her skin.
His fingers brushed the small of her back as he passed behind her, and she flinched, but didn’t move away. The contact was electric—a spark that shot straight between her thighs before she could suppress it. *No.* This wasn’t part of the plan. She wasn’t supposed to *feel* anything. Not in this room. Not in this man’s presence.
Not when he was the reason Kyle had been coming home with dark circles under his eyes, his shoulders slumped like a man carrying an invisible weight.
Carter’s breath was warm against the shell of her ear as he leaned in, his voice a low, velvet murmur. “You know what your problem is, Chloe?” His fingers traced the curve of her waist, just above the flare of her hips, before slipping away. “You think this is about Kyle.”
She stiffened, her nails digging into her palms hard enough to leave crescent-shaped marks. “It *is* about Kyle.”
“No,” he corrected, his tone almost gentle.
“It’s about *you*. And about *me*.”
His fingertips grazed the underside of her wrist, feather-light, before he stepped back again, reclaiming his space and power with a casual shift of his weight. Chloe’s pulse hammered in the sudden silence that followed, her skin still tingling where he’d touched her.
She forced her hands to unclench, her voice low and controlled. “You’re twisting this into something it’s not.”
Carter merely smirked, rounding the desk once more before reclaiming his chair. He leaned back, the leather creaking as he folded his arms over his chest, the fabric of his shirt stretching just enough to hint at the lean strength beneath.
His gaze never left hers, dark and knowing, as if he could see straight through the carefully constructed walls she’d built around herself.
“Am I?” The question was a challenge, a dare. His voice wrapped around her like smoke, curling through her defenses, leaving her breathless.
Chloe swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the strap of her purse again. She needed to regain control, to remind them both why she was here. “You’re threatening Kyle’s job, his reputation. You’re playing games with his life.”
Carter’s smirk never wavered. “And you think you can just walk in here and make me stop? Like some kind of avenging angel?” He chuckled, low and dark.
“You’re cute when you’re angry.”
Chloe’s jaw clenched. She wasn’t here to be *cute*. She wasn’t here to play games. She was here to protect her husband.
“Cut the crap, Carter,” she snapped, her voice sharp as broken glass. “You know exactly what you’re doing. You’re pushing him to the breaking point, and for what? Because he made one mistake?”
Carter’s smirk softened into something almost thoughtful. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, his fingers steepled. “One mistake?” His voice was dangerously quiet. “Chloe, Kyle has been making mistakes for months. Little ones, sure, but they add up.
Sloppy reports. Missed deadlines. A failed pitch that cost the firm half a million.” Carter shifted in his chair, his voice dropping into something rougher, more intimate. “You really want to know what your husband’s greatest flaw is?”
Chloe’s throat tightened. She knew. She *knew* exactly what Kyle’s flaw was. He cared too much. He stayed late to help the interns. He double-checked contracts until his eyes burned. He was kind, and in this world, kindness was weakness.
“And you think punishing him for that makes you stronger?” Chloe’s voice was a blade wrapped in silk, sharp enough to draw blood if he let it.
She held Carter’s gaze, refusing to flinch as the weight of his presence pressed down on her. The air between them was thick with unspoken tension, the kind that left her skin humming and her thoughts tangled.
Carter exhaled through his nose, a sound that was almost a laugh, but darker, sharper. He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight, his fingers drumming lightly against the armrest. The motion was slow, deliberate—like a predator savoring the moment before the strike.
”Kindness is a liability,” he said, his voice low and measured.
“But you already know that, don’t you Chloe?
He stood again, his chair rolling smoothly back before he walked around the desk, each step deliberate, each movement designed to make the space feel smaller. The scent of his cologne wrapped around her wrists, sweet and dark, like black licorice and burnt sugar. She could feel his presence before he even stopped in front of her, could taste the whiskey and cigar smoke on her tongue without him having to say a word.
His fingers brushed her cheekbone again, just for a moment, before his hand dropped to her collarbone, resting there with possessive ease. The warmth of his palm seeped through her blouse, branding her even through the fabric.
Chloe’s breath hitched, her vision momentarily blurring at the edges as she forced herself to lock her knees. She was not going to sway. She was not going to tremble.
Carter’s chuckle rumbled through the room like distant thunder. “You’ve got backbone, I’ll give you that.” His thumb grazed the swell of her collarbone, tracing slow, deliberate circles that made her ribs ache with every heartbeat. “But backbone won’t save your husband from himself. And it sure as hell won’t save Kyle from me.”
Chloe’s fingers twitched at her sides, knuckles white around the leather strap of her purse. She wanted to rip his hand away. She wanted to scream.
"Then what will?" She forced herself to say the words through clenched teeth, her gaze locked on some point over his shoulder rather than looking into the dark abyss of his eyes.
Carter’s thumb stilled against her skin. For once, there was no mockery in his expression—only something contemplative, something almost... calculating. He tilted his head slightly, studying her with an intensity that made her stomach twist.
"Tell me, Chloe." His voice dropped lower, rougher, the words wrapping around her like a shawl of warm silk and cold steel all at once. "How badly do you want to protect Kyle?"
She swallowed hard, her pulse hammering against her ribs. The question wasn’t about Kyle’s job anymore.
It went deeper, darker, sliding beneath her skin like a serpent curling around her spine. Chloe’s breath hitched, her fingers tightening around the strap of her purse until her knuckles blanched.
“That’s not—” she started, her voice sharper than she intended.
“That’s *exactly* it,” Carter interrupted, his thumb tracing upward, brushing the delicate skin beneath her jaw. His touch was possessive, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world to savor the moment. “You want to save him. But you’ll have to pay a price.”
Chloe’s breath came faster, her mind racing. She knew what he was implying.
The words hung in the air between them, thick and suffocating, like the moment before a storm breaks. Chloe’s pulse roared in her ears, her fingers trembling where they gripped her purse. She should have known. Should have *seen* this coming. But the way he said it—so casually, as if he were discussing the weather—made her stomach clench.
"You can't be serious," she managed, her voice barely above a whisper. The words tasted like ash on her tongue.
Carter’s smirk deepened, his thumb still tracing slow, deliberate circles against her skin. His eyes never left hers, dark and unreadable, as if he were waiting for her to crumble.
But Chloe refused to break.
"Listen to me very carefully," she said, her voice low and steady despite the storm inside her. "You don’t get to dictate the terms of this. Not like this."
Carter’s fingers stilled against her skin before he stepped back, finally giving her space. The absence of his touch left her skin hypersensitive, as if his very presence had branded her. He circled her once more, his movements slow and deliberate, like a lion circling its prey.
"You misunderstand me, Chloe," he said, his voice smooth as silk over steel. He leaned against the edge of his desk again, crossing his arms over his chest.
The fabric of his shirt pulled taut across his shoulders, emphasizing the lean strength beneath. His eyes never left hers, dark and unreadable as he studied her with an intensity that made her feel stripped bare.
"You think this is about power," Carter said, his voice a low rumble. "But it's not. It's about *choice*."
Chloe's fingers tightened around the strap of her purse. "Choice?" she repeated, her voice sharp with disbelief. "You don't give people choices, Carter. You give them ultimatums."
A slow smile curved his lips, but there was no warmth in it. "And yet, here you are. Standing in my office.
Willing to fight for your husband. *Choosing* to walk into a lion’s den because you thought you could win.” Carter pushed off the desk, moving closer again until the heat of him radiated against my skin. His cologne wrapped around me—dark spice and expensive bourbon, something base and purely male that made my pulse skip. “Tell me, Chloe. Did you ever stop to think that maybe Kyle doesn’t want to be saved? That maybe he’s tired of fighting his own battles… and instead, he needs someone to *take* control?”
The words slithered under my skin, slick and venomous. I wanted to slap him. I wanted to scream.
To slap the smirk right off his face. But his words coiled around me, tight and suffocating, and for the first time, I hesitated.
Kyle had been different lately. Quieter. Distant. He came home late, his tie loose, his eyes tired, but he never spoke about work—not the way he used to. Not the way a man should when he was drowning.
I swallowed hard, forcing my voice steady despite the storm inside me. "You don’t know anything about my husband."
Carter’s smile deepened, slow and deliberate, like he’d already won. "I know he’s weak. I know he can’t handle pressure.
I know he relies on others to keep him afloat—like you, for example.”
Chloe’s breath came out in a sharp, controlled exhale through her nose. The words weren’t just an insult—they were a calculation, a careful strike meant to unravel the foundations of everything she believed in. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks, not from shame, but from pure, unfiltered anger. Her fingers twitched at her sides, once, twice, before she squeezed her purse strap until the leather creaked.
“You’re wrong,” she said, each word measured like gunfire. “Kyle is stronger than you’ll ever be.
He’s *good*. And that’s something you’ll never understand.”
Chloe’s voice didn’t waver, but the air between them thickened, charged with something raw and electric. Carter’s smirk faded just slightly, his dark eyes narrowing as he studied her with a new intensity. The silence stretched, taut as a wire about to snap.
Then, without warning, Carter’s hand shot out and gripped her wrist—not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to make her pulse jump. His thumb pressed against the delicate skin just above her pulse point, and she could feel the heat of his touch seeping into her veins.
“Good?” he repeated, his voice low, almost a growl.
His thumb began to trace slow, deliberate circles against her wrist—just over the flutter of her pulse, right where her skin betrayed her. “Good doesn’t win promotions, Chloe. Good doesn’t command respect. Good doesn’t last in this world.” His grip tightened infinitesimally, not enough to bruise, but enough to ground her in the moment. “Strength is what matters. Control. Dominance. And right now? Right now, you’re not strong enough to protect him.” He leaned in, his breath warm against the shell of her ear, each word deliberate and dripping with challenge.
”You want to save your husband, don’t you? Prove it.“
Chloe’s breath hitched, her pulse roaring in her ears like the hum of a freight train at close range. His words weren’t just a question—they were a command wrapped in silk and steel, and she felt every syllable coil around her like a lasso, tightening before she could resist.
His grip on her wrist wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t gentle either. It was possessive.
"H-how?" She stammered.
Her tongue felt thick, lips parting in shock, but no sound came out at first. Every nerve in her body was thrumming, buzzing from his touch, from the dark promise in his voice, from the way his thumb circled her pulse point with slow, deliberate precision.
Carter’s lips curled into a smirk, satisfied and predatory. He didn’t release her wrist. Instead, he drew her closer, the heat rolling off him like a furnace, making her skin burn where it touched.
“On your knees,” he murmured, his voice dropping into something raw and velvet-dark. “Where you belong.”
Chloe’s breath came in shallow gasps, her vision tunneling slightly at the edges.
The weight of his words pressed down on her like a physical force, each syllable a stone dropped into the still water of her resolve. *On your knees.* The phrase echoed in her skull, sharp and jagged, like shattered glass.
She should have been disgusted. She *should* have ripped her wrist from his grip and stormed out, her pride intact, her dignity unbroken. But the way he said it—low, rough, like a growl rumbling from his chest—made something dark and traitorous coil deep in her belly.
Carter’s fingers tightened just slightly, his thumb still tracing those slow, deliberate circles over her pulse point.
The pressure was enough to anchor her—to keep her from bolting, from collapsing under the weight of his words. Chloe’s breath came in shallow, uneven bursts, her mind racing in circles.*
The words played on repeat in her skull, each syllable laced with something she couldn’t name. Something that made her skin burn. Something that made her thighs press together just a little tighter.
She couldn’t do this.
She *had* to do this.
The realization was a knife twisting in her gut.
Chloe’s jaw clenched so tight her molars ached, her pulse hammering in her throat as she forced herself to meet his gaze.
Every nerve in her body screamed *no*, but the way he *dared* her—like he already knew she’d break—made her spine lock into place. She wasn’t weak. She wasn’t a pawn. And she *certainly* wasn’t going to kneel for anyone.
Not even him.
"You want me to beg?" she spit the words out, her voice razor-sharp despite the way her hands trembled. "I’d rather burn the whole damn building down."
Carter’s lips twitched, amused. His grip was steady, unrelenting, like he was carved from stone while the world around them burned.
"Beg? No, I want you to submit to me. He would never have to know. Our little secret" His thumb shifted, tracing the inner curve of her wrist. Slow. Deliberate. Each stroke sent a pulse of awareness through her, betraying her before the first syllable of protest passed her lips.
Chloe's breath hitched, her fingers curling into tight fists at her sides. She wanted to pull away—God, she *wanted* to—but his touch anchored her in place, a physical reminder of the dark game he was playing.
She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. "And if I refuse?"
His dark eyes gleamed, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across his face as he finally released her wrist.
"I don't even think you want to refuse. Do you?" He brought his hand to her hip and pulled her a little closer. His touch was possessive, firm enough to ground her, but she could have stepped away at any moment. She didn’t.
Chloe’s voice came out harsher than intended, but she refused to let it waver. “You don’t know what I want.”
Carter’s smirk deepened, his fingers flexing against her hip, pulling her just a breath closer. “Don’t I?”
She wanted to deny it. She wanted to claw the smirk off his face with her nails and storm toward the elevator, slamming the doors behind her like a shield. But the way he looked at her—like he already owned her, like he’d been waiting for this moment—made her lungs burn.
He pulled her hand to his pants, where his large cock was hard against the seam. Chloe’s breath caught in her throat as she felt the heat of him through the fabric. He was thick, heavy, the outline of him pressing against her palm with an insistence that made her stomach clench.
“You feel that?” Carter’s voice was a low growl, his breath hot against her ear. “That’s what you do to me. Every time you walk into a room. Every time you look at me like you want to tear me apart.”
Chloe’s fingers twitched against him, her pulse hammering in her throat. She should have pulled away. She *should* have.
But the heat of him, the way his cock pulsed against her palm, the way his breath hitched just slightly when her fingers curled—it all tangled in her mind like a snare.
Chloe’s throat tightened. The air between them was thick, charged with something she couldn’t name—something that made her skin prickle and her breath come faster. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her, dark and unrelenting, as if he were daring her to look away.
Instead, she let her fingers press a little harder, just for a second, before she forced herself to pull back.
"On your knees. Our little secret" Carter repeated, his voice a dark thread weaving through the heavy silence between them. The glint in his eyes sharpened like the edge of a blade, and Chloe felt the weight of the command settle over her like a second skin.
She opened her mouth, ready to refuse, but the words lodged in her throat. Because suddenly, she realized the truth:
She wasn’t here to beg.
She was here to *trade*.
Chloe swallowed hard, the taste of it bitter on her tongue. "You’re a bastard," she said, voice low but steady. Her gaze flicked to the floor, to the soft gray carpet beneath his shoes. It would be so easy to drop to her knees right now. So *simple*.
And so she did. And Carter said "I believe the words you were looking for are 'Yes, Daddy". "
Chloe’s knees hit the plush carpet with a soft thud, the impact vibrating up her thighs. The air left her lungs in a rush, her fingers curling into the fabric of her skirt as she knelt there, her pulse hammering in her ears. The position felt wrong—*humiliating*—but the way Carter’s dark eyes burned into her, the way his breath hitched just slightly as she lowered herself, made something dark and traitorous coil deep in her belly.
She was doing this for Kyle.
She was doing this for Kyle.
The mantra repeated in her mind like a prayer, but it did nothing to quiet the way her skin burned under Carter’s gaze.
The way his eyes raked over her—slow, deliberate, like he was memorizing every inch of her—made her breath come faster, her fingers tightening in the fabric of her skirt.
Carter didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He just stood there, looming over her, his dark eyes gleaming with something dark and satisfied as she knelt before him. The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating, until Chloe could hear the blood rushing in her ears, the way her own ragged breaths filled the space.
*"Good girl,"* Carter finally murmured, his voice rough, like gravel under a boot. The words sent a jolt through her, something sharp and electric that settled between her thighs.
*Good girl.* The phrase should have made her recoil, should have made her want to spit in his face and storm out. But instead, it made her pulse kick harder, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she knelt there, her skirt riding up just enough to expose the tops of her stockings.
Carter’s gaze dropped to her mouth, lingering there for a long, heavy moment before dragging back up to meet her eyes. His fingers twitched at his sides, as if he were fighting the urge to reach for her, to tangle his hand in her hair and force her to look up at him.
But he didn’t. Not yet. Instead, he let the silence stretch between them, thick and suffocating, until Chloe could feel the weight of it pressing down on her like a physical force.
“You’re trembling,” Carter observed, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the air between them. His gaze flicked down to her hands, where her fingers were still curled into the fabric of her skirt, knuckles white. “Are you scared, Chloe?”
She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. “No,” she lied.
Carter chuckled, a dark, knowing sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “Liar,” he murmured, stepping closer.
His polished shoes brushed against her knees, the faint scent of leather and whiskey wrapping around her like a second skin. Chloe’s breath hitched as his fingers finally tangled in her hair, gripping just tight enough to make her scalp tingle. He tilted her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, almost black in the dim light of the office, burning with something that made her pulse hammer between her thighs.
“You’re *terrified*,” Carter said, his voice a low growl. “But you’re also *wet*. Aren’t you?”
Chloe’s lips parted, but no sound came out."Well if you aren't going to talk, how about you unzip me and use those lips for something else." Carter's voice was a dark growl that sent a jolt straight between Chloe's thighs.
The command hung in the air between them, thick and suffocating. Chloe's breath hitched as Carter's fingers tightened in her hair, his grip possessive and unyielding. His other hand moved to his belt buckle, the leather creaking as he began to unfasten it with slow, deliberate movements.
"Go on," he murmured, his voice rough with anticipation. "Show me how badly you want to protect your husband."
Chloe's fingers trembled as she reached for the zipper of his slacks.
The weight of his cock pressed against the fabric, thick and heavy, making her mouth water despite the shame burning up her throat. This is for Kyle.* The mantra looped in her mind, but it did nothing to quiet the way her pulse hammered when his belt clattered against the marble floor.
The sound echoed in the vast office like a gunshot.
Carter’s grip on her hair tightened, not enough to hurt but enough to remind her of who was in control. “That’s it, baby,” he growled, his voice rough with anticipation. “Take it out.
Tease me with that pretty mouth of yours.” Carter’s voice was a low rumble, his fingers twisting in her hair just enough to make her scalp sting—just enough to *focus* her.
Chloe’s breath came in shallow gasps as she obeyed, her fingers trembling as she slipped two fingers under the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, pushing them down along with the slacks until his cock sprang free between them.
It was thicker than she’d expected. Long. Heavy. Veins pulsed along the underside, the bulbous head flushed dark, already leaking a bead of pre-cum that glistened in the low light.
Chloe’s throat tightened as she stared at it—at *him*—her fingers curling into the carpet beneath her knees. The scent of him hit her first: musk and salt and something darker, something that made her stomach clench in a way that had nothing to do with disgust.
*"Fuck,"* Carter exhaled, his voice rough as sandpaper. His free hand came down to wrap around the base of his cock, stroking himself once, twice, the thick length twitching in his grip. *"Look at you.
So pretty on your knees for me."*
Carter’s voice was a dark growl, his fingers tightening in Chloe’s hair as she stared at his cock—thick, heavy, the veins pulsing with every ragged breath he took. The tip glistened with pre-cum, a pearly bead that made her mouth water despite the shame burning through her veins. She could feel the heat of him, the way his cock twitched in his grip, the way his breath hitched when her fingers brushed against his thigh.
*"Go on,"* he murmured, his voice rough with command.
*"Wrap those pretty lips around me. Show me how much you want to save your husband."*
Chloe’s breath came in shallow gasps, her fingers trembling as she leaned forward. The scent of him—musky, masculine, with a hint of expensive cologne—filled her senses, making her head spin. She hesitated for just a moment, her lips hovering over the swollen head of his cock, the heat of him radiating against her skin.
*"That’s it,"* Carter growled, his fingers tightening in her hair, guiding her closer. *"Take me in your mouth, Chloe.
Let me feel that tight little throat of yours wrapped around me. Show me how badly you want to protect your husband."*
His thumb stroked the underside of her jaw, forcing her lips apart slightly, parting them just enough to let the blunt head of his cock press against her waiting tongue. The first taste of him hit her like a jolt—salt and musk and something darkly addictive that made her stomach clench with shame and need.
Chloe’s eyelids fluttered closed for a heartbeat before her lips sealed around him, her tongue swirling experimentally over the sensitive underside of his shaft. She could feel the way his thighs tensed beneath her fingers, the way his cock jerked in response to her touch.
Carter groaned, a rough sound that vibrated through the room, and Chloe took him deeper, her lips stretching around the thick girth of him as she hollowed her cheeks and swallowed around the swollen head.
"Fuck—*fuck*." Carter’s free hand came down to grip her shoulder, his fingers digging into the fabric of her blouse hard enough to bruise. "That’s it, baby. Just like that. Take me all the way to the back of your throat."
She gagged slightly as the tip of his cock pressed against her gag reflex, her eyes watering as she fought to relax her throat around him.
But the way Carter groaned above her—deep, guttural, like he was on the verge of losing control—made her whimper around his length, her fingers curling into the hard muscle of his thigh.
"Good *fucking* girl," Carter growled, his voice rough as gravel. His hips gave a slow, deliberate roll forward, pushing himself deeper into her mouth, his cock sliding over her tongue with slick friction. "Look at you, taking me like you were *born* to serve.
That’s right, Chloe—*fucking* choke on it." Carter’s voice was a dark growl, his fingers tangling tighter in her hair as he guided her head back and forth, forcing her to take him deeper with each thrust. His cock pulsed against her tongue, the thick veins throbbing as she struggled to breathe around him.
Chloe’s eyes watered, her throat burning as she gagged, but she didn’t pull away. She couldn’t. Not when the way his cock hit the back of her throat sent a shameful, wet heat pooling between her thighs. Not when the way he groaned—rough, desperate—made her clench her thighs together, her panties already damp with arousal.
She moaned around him, the vibrations making his hips stutter, his grip in her hair tightening almost painfully.
"Fuck—*yes*—just like that, baby," Carter growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her skull. His hips rolled forward again, forcing her to take him to the root, his balls slapping against her chin with each deep thrust. "Swallow around me. *Now.*"
Chloe’s throat worked obediently, her tongue pressing flat against the thick vein running along the underside of his cock as she swallowed around him, her lips sealing tight around the base.