JACKSON (The Billionaire Croft Brothers, Book One)

by Paige North

  Her eyelids fluttered. “I don’t know what’s happening to me anymore.”

  “Good,” he said. “Then let me tell you.” He suddenly spun her around and pushed her towards the bed.

  She cried out, losing her balance and falling into the soft mattress face first.

  “Cullen,” she moaned, her cheek against the comforter. It smelled like fresh laundry, and she inhaled the scent. Somehow, she smelled him too. He’d handled this bedding himself.

  “You’ve forced my hand,” Cullen announced from above. “I’m going to have to discipline you severely for your bad behavior.”

  Ivy nodded, closing her eyes tightly. She was scared, but also excited. From the tone in his voice, she knew he was going to do something new to her.

  They were entering uncharted waters.

  Suddenly, she him pulling her sweatpants and panties down to her ankles as she lay on her stomach with her eyes closed.

  And then there was the soft tinkling of what sounded like a belt buckle as he undid his belt. Was he taking his pants down? Was he going to fuck her?

  She had no idea what was coming next.

  When he spoke next, his voice was rigid, tense. “This will be painful,” he said. “But hard lessons are often painful. Do you consent to receiving your punishment?”

  “Yes,” she said, clenching her fingers against the bedspread and keeping her eyes firmly shut.

  “Good,” he replied, and then he grabbed her by her bare hips and pulled her so that she was hanging off the bed, her feet sliding into contact with the floor, as her ass stuck outwards.

  “I’m scared,” she told him softly.

  “It will be over quickly,” he replied.

  And then she felt it, a whip crack followed by a sting, as his belt swung hard into her bare buttocks. She closed her eyes and grunted, gritting her teeth.

  The sharp, stinging burn was intense, and tears sprang to her eyes.

  “That was for questioning my decision to let you sleep in this room,” he told her. “You will not question my decisions, ever.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she said, breathless. The sting was fading now.

  And then it came again. A harsh jolting sting as he whipped the belt across her ass. She cried out, but the pain wasn’t quite as bad as she’d been anticipating.

  It hurt, but it was bearable.

  “That was for trying to bait me into an argument when I told you I didn’t want to discuss my personal life with you.”

  “I’m sorry for being argumentative, Sir,” she said, her voice shaking a little.

  Why? Why does he have to punish me like this?

  She didn’t know the answer. And furthermore, why was her pussy getting wet each time he did it? She wondered. Her mind whirred and her emotions cascaded and crashed into one another, conflicted.

  Somehow, he was getting off on doing this to her. But what was even stranger to Ivy, was that she was getting off on it too.

  And she had no idea why.

  She felt wind against her skin just milliseconds before feeling the crack of his belt against her butt cheeks yet again. This time, she half-cried, half-moaned, and her pussy throbbed in time with the blow.

  “And that,” Cullen said, his breathing heavier now, “was for going outside when I expressly forbid you from talking to that woman.”

  Ivy opened her eyes as two tears dropped onto the bedspread beneath her face. “I apologize—“

  Her apology was interrupted by yet another painful belt snap on her ass, surprising her. She yelped.

  “And that was to remind you that I’m the one who asks the questions around here, Ivy. It’s not ever going to be different.”

  “Yes, Mister Sharpe,” she said, shuddering.

  She could still hear his heavy breathing from behind her as she lay there, exposed, half-naked, vulnerable.

  “Keep those pants and panties down so I can see your ass.”

  She kicked the sweatpants off her ankles and then her panties slid off her feet too. She was now completely naked from the waist down.

  “My butt is very sore, Sir.”

  She could hear the floorboards creak as he walked closer. “It had to be done. You’ve been very, very bad.”

  “I know, Sir.”

  Suddenly, she felt him lowering his body onto her, pressing down on her from above, his weight slowly causing her to sink into the mattress.

  He was still fully clothed, and she could feel his bulge pressing into her butt and his mouth was on her neck, biting lightly. “Who the hell do you think you are?” he growled, taking her by the hair and pulling her head back. His lips sucked her earlobe as his hips thrust into her behind.

  “I’m just a silly girl who needs to be taught a lesson, Sir.”

  He pulled on her hair. “Don’t patronize, me.”

  “I’m not, Sir.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “I swear, Sir. I want you to teach me.”

  “What you want, is my cock to make you come.” He unzipped his pants and then she felt his large, fleshy shaft dropping onto her hot, burning ass. “You want this to slide up into that tight, wet little pussy. Isn’t that the real truth?”

  “Yes,” she said, her breath catching as he grabbed a handful of her hair again.

  “Because in the end, you can’t resist it when I fuck you.”

  “I can’t, Sir.” She arched her hips upwards, and then Cullen was feeding his cock into her hole, surprising her with the quickness of his entry.

  He groaned as he slid all the way in, and she felt his balls slapping into the underside of her pussy as he did so.

  “You’re too tight for your own good, and now I’m going to stretch you out,” he whispered in her ear, as he began fucking her from behind.

  Each time his lower belly slapped against her ass, she felt the sting from where he’d punished her with his belt.

  But somehow, it turned her on, too. The pain intermingled with the pleasure he was giving her, and she could feel him on her, coiled, excited, thrusting.

  Her pussy was throbbing and juicy, and soon his dick was soaked in her need and he was lubricated fully. He slid in and out, fucking her hard and fast, whispering in her ear. “You’re mine. You do what I say. Don’t you?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she agreed, each and every time he asked.

  The sound of his skin slapping into hers, and the sound of juices dripping were loud in her ears and the smell of sex hung heavy in the air.

  Ivy moaned louder and louder.

  “Tell me how you like it,” he growled, pulling her hair as he jammed himself deep into her.

  A bolt of pleasure flowered in her pussy and she cried out. “I like it, Sir,” she moaned.

  “Louder,” he said, withdrawing and then hammering into her again.

  “I love it when you fuck me hard, Mister Sharpe.”

  “What do you love?”

  “Your cock, Sir.”

  He began fucking her even harder, so hard and fast that she had to hang onto the blanket, her eyes rolling back. He was completely taking her as his own, dominating her, and she loved every second of it.

  “You don’t want to make me so angry that I stop fucking you for good,” he warned, as his flesh pierced her slit over and over again, reminding her why she must always keep him happy.

  “I never want you to stop fucking me, Sir.” She groaned and moaned as he continued impressing this point, swiveling his hips in time with her moans.

  “I’m bringing you closer and closer to cumming,” he said, slowing down as he lay directly on top of her, his hips pounding rhythmically onto her buttocks.

  She nodded emphatically, not sure how he knew.

  But he was right.

  It felt like it was building to a crescendo and she was starting to need the release. His dick felt so good. Being possessed by him completely felt so good.

  His body.

  His voice.

  The smell of him.

  Cullen Sharpe’s cock is f
ucking my wet pussy. His huge dick feels amazing.

  “But you’re not going to come, Ivy. Not until I tell you.”

  “I, I can’t—“

  He stopped fucking her for a moment, his dick still inside her, but his body still as he whispered. “You can and you will. I tell you when to come.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She grit her teeth as her body broke into sweat.

  Now he was moving slowly again, and—Oh God—it felt even better. It felt like magic, and her insides were sending out pleasure signals, over and over and she was so wet.

  She wanted nothing more than to come right then.

  But he was torturing her, teasing her, fucking her so slowly as he whispered in her ear.

  “Now,” he said, “come on my dick. Gush for me.” His hips swiveled up and down, back and forth, and his hand slid underneath her leg, his long fingers stimulating her clit.

  The climax hit her hard and she cried out in pure pleasure, pure sexual ecstasy. How could one thing feel this good?

  Her entire body became rigid as she came, and came, and she was gushing on him.

  “Fuck,” he groaned. “That’s very good. That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do for me.”

  She moaned again, letting her hips go loose as he began pounding her again.

  “Now I’m going to come,” he told her.

  She could hear his voice change. He was forgetting himself. It didn’t sound so formal, so restrained. He began hammering her from behind, and her butt stung and her pussy dripped, and she came again.

  “Ivy,” he whispered over and over again in her ear as she felt his cock releasing everything deep into her. “Oh, Ivy. Oh, Ivy.” He repeated it as he crammed himself deeper inside, sending all of his seed inside her.

  He lay atop her like that for a long while, his body shuddering, his breath coming deep, as he whispered in her ear.

  Finally, Cullen rolled off her and lay staring at the ceiling. She turned her head to look at him.

  He was just staring upwards, and Ivy suddenly knew that this intimacy between them had broken something inside him, opened him up in a way.

  “Can I touch you?” she whispered.

  “Yes,” he whispered back.

  She saw tears in his eyes, but she didn’t comment for a long time. She pushed his shirt up over his belly and slid her hand beneath it to feel his warm, soft skin. And then she stroked his chest softly as she watched him stare at the ceiling.

  “That woman outside was not an ex-girlfriend,” he said. “In fact, I hardly know her.”

  This strange admission shocked Ivy, but she decided to act like this was the most normal thing in the world. “Oh,” Ivy said, still softly stroking his chest with her fingertips.

  “She has a sister who needs a very complicated surgical procedure, and that woman is convinced I’m the only one who can perform it.”

  Ivy couldn’t believe that Cullen was opening up like this. Her heart began beating faster and faster, and her cheeks tingled. “But you don’t want to do it,” she said.

  He shook his head. He still hadn’t looked at her.

  “I can’t do it,” he replied.

  “Why not?” she asked.

  He didn’t answer for a long time.

  Well, there you go, Ivy. You had to keep asking questions and now you’ve gone and probably ruined it. He’s going to clam up and withdraw.

  But Cullen started talking again. “I performed a very similar surgery some time ago, and…” he seemed to struggle to find the words. “It…did not have a good outcome.”

  Ivy licked her lips, searching for the right response. “Does that mean you can’t try again with a different patient?”

  “You don’t understand,” he said, finally turning his head and meeting her gaze. His eyes were terribly haunted, like empty orbs. “I killed her.”

  A chill went deep through Ivy’s soul at his confession. “Cullen—“

  “I made the simplest mistake and she died.” He grimaced, swallowing, and then looked up at the ceiling once more. “My stupidity cost her everything. I lost her—I lost someone who mattered very much to me.”

  “Everyone makes mistakes,” Ivy said.

  He just shook his head again. He didn’t bother to try and hide the pain that was etched on his face. “It’s over,” he said softly. “I’ll never perform surgery again. And that,” he said, finally regaining control of his emotions, “is why I can’t have that woman standing in front of my house all day long. She needs to let it go, and find someone else to do that operation on her sister.”

  Ivy sighed, wishing she could say something to help, something to give him comfort.

  But he was lost in his own private hell and there was no way in. It was amazing enough that he’d told her this much about his life.

  She was overwhelmed to hear him discuss this subject in such a personal way.

  That email Xavier Montrose had sent her had indicated that people at the hospital thought Cullen had done something intentionally wrong. They’d thrown around the word murderer when describing him.

  But Cullen was admitting to something very different than murder. He was confessing to a screw up, to having perhaps made a very big mistake—a mistake that obviously still tormented him.

  So maybe he had screwed up and perhaps a woman had died because of it. Didn’t that happen sometimes? Wasn’t the unfortunate truth that surgeons were human beings, fallible as anyone else, and sometimes their mistakes cost people’s lives?

  They lay in silence for a long while, and then Cullen turned onto his side and watched her for a moment. “I’m a very difficult man,” he said, after a time.

  She smiled. “You’re not what you think you are.”

  “I’m not?” he asked, curious.

  “Nobody is.”

  He looked momentarily surprised. “Why is it that you continue to say the most unexpected things?” he asked, a hint of a smile appearing on his face. “You really do astound me, Ivy.” He reached out and stroked her cheek with his fingers.

  Ivy closed her eyes, relishing the feeling of his hand on her cheek, and his unexpected softness and vulnerability.

  He’s a good man. I don’t care what anybody says about him. I believe in Cullen Sharpe.

  But then something occurred to her, and her smile faded.

  “What’s wrong?” Cullen said.

  “Nothing,” she lied, as she realized that her secret was becoming an unbearable weight on her soul.

  If you really think he’s a good man, than how can you justify hiding the fact that the FBI is investigating him? And that they’re trying to force you to help them?

  Ivy sat up and then slid off the bed, grabbed her panties and sweats off the floor and pulled them on.

  “Ivy,” Cullen called to her.

  She looked back at him, her stomach feeling sour and nervous. “Yeah?”

  “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  “There’s…there’s nothing to tell.”

  “You’re disappointed about what I told you?” he asked. “About the woman who died during surgery?”

  She hated to think that he would believe such a thing. “No, of course not,” Ivy said, brushing her hair back and trying to gather her thoughts.

  The guilt was becoming almost unbearable now. He’d revealed himself and she was letting him down.

  “Something happened,” Cullen said. “Between when I told you and now. Your whole demeanor—“

  “Please, stop analyzing me,” she nearly shouted.

  Cullen looked taken aback. “I only want to ensure you’re okay,” he said stiffly.

  And then she hung her head and started to break down. “I’m not cut out for all of this,” she said, as the tears started in earnest.

  “Cut out for what?”

  Ivy looked up at him. “Oh, God, Cullen.” She felt sick. She put a hand to her mouth and a wave of nausea rolled through her, then seemed to pass.

  He slid forward on the bed. “You ca
n be honest with me.”

  “You’re going to hate me for it, but I swear—I swear it wasn’t my fault.”

  He breathed heavily through his nostrils. “Just say it, whatever it is, and then we can deal with it.”

  “The FBI is investigating you,” she blurted out, the words coming so quickly she could hardly believe they’d been spoken aloud.

  Cullen didn’t react. His eyes were blank. “I have no clue what you’re talking about,” he said. He sounded truly shocked.

  Ivy sat back down on the edge of the bed. “Remember how you saw me talking to Lucas on the bench outside the office?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Yes.” He scratched his chin, his eyebrows lowering. “You’re saying he has something to do with this?”

  “He works for the FBI, Cullen. He’s a federal agent.”

  Cullen began laughing. “This is a joke?”

  “No,” she told him, shaking her head.

  His smile faded. “Ivy, if you’re playing some kind of game…I really don’t get it.”

  “It’s not a game. I’ve been keeping it to myself because he threatened me. He said they could send me to jail for telling you. Obstruction of justice or something.”

  Cullen’s smile was totally gone now and his eyes were hard as diamonds. “You’re fucking serious,” he said, his voice a whisper.

  “I don’t know what they think you’ve done,” she began, but Cullen had risen from the bed and paced over to the window. He threw the curtain aside and peered out. “They’re following me? Conducting surveillance? What else?” He spun around and looked at her with suspicion. “Tell me what you told them about me.”

  “I couldn’t tell him anything,” she said, desperate to make that paranoid look on his face go away. “Cullen, you’ve never told me anything. So I didn’t give them any information.”

  He shook his head. “How can I trust you?” he asked. “You’ve been lying to me.”

  “I was terrified. The U.S. government considers you an enemy. That’s what he told me.”

  Cullen came towards her, pointing at her. “I need to know absolutely everything that happened, Ivy. Every word that was spoken between you two.” He glowered, as if the fury was building, but then his shoulders sagged.

  It was as if what she’d told him had broken something in his spirit. “I need to know everything. Everything,” he said softly.