She crouched down, still looking at him, stepped out of her panties and, straightening, handed them to him. She’d been wearing a little white floral thong that looked as innocent as she did, until you factored in the sexy little twisted cords that made up the band and fell between her cheeks. His eyes meeting hers, he brought them to his nose without thinking, inhaling the scent of her. He wasn’t in the least surprised to find out she had her own unique fragrance.
His body didn’t just stir. Hot blood rushed through his veins and pooled in his cock. He wasn’t just hard, he was diamond hard, the kind of hard that meant a man could shatter if he so much as took a step. It hurt. A damn good pain that meant he was alive. That meant he didn’t have to command his body to respond, it just did it all on its own because his woman was so fucking hot, she was an inferno.
She sent him a smug little look. “Maestro, I think Ice could use another drink.”
There was that snicker again coming from someone behind him. Someone else answered, as if his brothers knew something he didn’t. He should have turned around to look but he couldn’t stop staring at her. He just took the drink Maestro put in his hand and tossed it back, letting the fire add to the steel in his cock.
Soleil racked the balls and picked up her cue stick. “You want to break?”
He should. He was taking a hell of a chance if he allowed her to break and she ran the table. She was certainly capable of it. On the other hand, he wanted the chance to distract her. He needed to see her reaction. She was so focused on him, he wasn’t certain if she was aware of the other members of Torpedo Ink moving around the room, and that was exactly what he wanted—what he needed.
He had managed to slip the wallet back into her pocket when he’d kissed her again. Code had made certain the cameras didn’t work in the back room. The others were guarding the door and turned away anyone wanting to come into the game room. His woman should be mildly and just pleasantly drunk. Maestro had gotten her a bottle of water, which she’d been drinking between sips of the screaming orgasm. Everything was lining up properly. He indicated with his cue for her to break. Maybe he needed to stop drinking and start paying more attention to what was going on, but between the whiskey and the woman, this could just be the best night of his life.
“You sink four in a row, I’ll sign your prenup. I sink four in a row, you sign mine,” he said just as she was about to take her shot.
She stopped and turned to him. Her eyes were suddenly pure focus. She didn’t look in the least drunk. In fact, she looked stone-cold sober, but as if those beautiful eyes were swimming with tears. “You’d sign my prenup?”
“I said I would. Any man would be an idiot not to. Do your worst, baby. I can take it.”
She blinked at him several times, and he swore tears looked like diamonds on her lashes. Then she turned and sank a striped and proceeded to follow it with three more. “I believe you need to find a pen, my man.”
She looked very somber, as if Ice signing the prenup was a very serious situation. She bent over the table to take her next shot. Her flirty little skirt slid up the back of her thighs and showed just the very edges of her cheeks. His heart nearly stopped.
“Got one right here, baby.”
Ice moved up beside her as if studying the table. He dropped his hand to the back of her thigh, stroking it for a moment before sliding it up under her skirt to find her bare cheeks. He rubbed gently, his palm continuing up until he was cupping one cheek, his thumb stroking caresses. Gently. He waited, his heart pounding, for her to pull away from him.
She felt perfect to him. Every stroke of his thumb over her soft skin sent hot blood thundering with desire through his body. He took his time, stroking. Caressing. Claiming her. He was careful to keep each touch light. He shaped her cheek, palmed it, then went back to those slow caresses.
Soleil pushed back into his hand, her hips moving invitingly. She didn’t stop him. She didn’t protest or move away. If anything, she moved back into his hand. He followed the curve of her cheek to find her entrance slick and hot for him. He used his fingers to edge all that scorching heat and then he caressed her cheek again before sliding his hand over the back of her thigh, leaving the skirt of her dress to ride up high.
* * *
Soleil couldn’t believe that on the last night of her life, every fantasy she’d ever had was coming true. If it was possible to fall in love, fast and hard and completely, in just a few hours, she knew it was happening. She loved everything Ice did. Everything he said. He made her feel hot and sexy and desirable. He made her feel as if he couldn’t see another woman, would never see one. She loved the fact that he touched her openly in front of everyone. That just made her all the hotter and made her feel even more desirable.
The way he touched her was beyond anything she’d ever known, and she wanted more. She wanted it all with him. She knew he liked her body. It was in the way he looked at her, in the feel of his hands on her. She felt the same way about his. Seduction wasn’t difficult when two people were both willing . . . and she was so willing. Whatever he wanted. Any way he wanted. Anywhere.
He made the suggestion to sign the prenup, not her. Still, she had to keep her mind from going anywhere permanent. It wasn’t right to get him drunk, drag him to a twenty-four-hour chapel and marry him, and then ride away where Winston and the rest of the world would have to leave her alone.
She’d make Ice so happy. She’d be happy. She’d never been happy. Not until now. Not until right that moment in a biker bar, bent over a pool table with her skirt flipped up and her very hot bottom hopefully holding Ice’s attention while she contemplated whether or not she was going to burn in hell for all eternity after sinking four balls to get her prenup signed. And if she was going to miss the next shot in order to sign Ice’s prenup to get him one step closer to the altar or stop the fantasy before things could go any further.
* * *
Soleil was gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. Ice was dripping with need, his balls so tight he was afraid he might embarrass himself. It was the most amazing, perfect night of his life.
“Try making the shot, princess,” he whispered, deliberately bending his body over hers. He pressed his cock against her inviting, bare cheeks, keeping one hand on her back.
She laughed softly. “How am I supposed to do that?”
“I’m signing your prenup. You don’t make the shot, I get the chance to get you to sign mine. I think that’s fair . . .” He pressed tighter against her, moving his hips so that his cock slid along the seam of her cheeks through his jeans. “Don’t you? Try it. You might make it.”
Soleil didn’t try to straighten. She studied the table, took a breath and lined up her shot. Ice waited until the exact moment she went to hit the ball and he pressed his cock right into that snug warmth and his hand dipped low to flick her clit. She jumped, and the ball went at an angle, crashing into several solids, sending them flying.
He kept his hand on her back while he fucked her with his finger. She was tight, surrounding him with heat. So slick. So ready for him. He took her just high enough to leave her wanting more before he pulled out of her and straightened slowly, letting her skirt fall back into place.
He caught her hair, tugged until she stood upright and then, deliberately, he licked his finger. Savored her taste. All the while staring into her eyes. Those amazing eyes of hers had gone a little dazed. He knew he’d left her wanting. That was part of the game, but he didn’t only savor the taste of her in his mouth; he savored that look of helpless hunger on her face—for him.
She didn’t seem to be aware of anyone but him, although when Maestro handed her a drink, she murmured her thank-you very politely. He handed a pen to Ice.
“Prenup, princess,” Ice said. “I’m a man of my word. You want the fuckin’ thing signed, it’s signed.”
She nodded solemnly. “It’s important.” She frowned. “I can’t r
emember why, but I know it’s important.”
“It is,” he agreed.
She pulled the paper out of her pocket, unfolded it and smoothed it out. “Kevin wrote this up for me. Isn’t it wonderful?” She acted like it was sacred.
Ice took it just as carefully, pretended to read through it, nodded his head and signed. Maestro witnessed it. “There you go. Signed. Dated. Witnessed. That is a legal, binding document. If Kevin wrote it up for you, you know it’s right.”
“It is. He always did what was right. Thank you, Ice. I appreciate it.” She sipped at her drink and indicated the pool table. “You have to sink four balls, so I can sign yours. That’s only fair.”
Ice moved around to the other side of the table and went to work. He sank four in a row fast, hardly taking time between the shots. It was Player who solemnly handed him the prenup for Soleil to sign. She did so with a small flourish, adding a little smiley face above her name.
“That was so easy,” she said. “Didn’t you think so? Why wouldn’t someone just sign?” She stumbled a little and had to use the table to keep upright.
Ice put his arm around her waist. “I don’t know, baby. He was a fuckin’ clueless dick. You’re with me now and we’re going to forget his ass and have this night for ourselves. Right?”
“That’s right. There isn’t any use in marriage at all.” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself. “Why bother with it when the man isn’t going to be worth anything? When he’s nothing but a clueless dick. I agree totally with your assessment.” She reached for the water bottle.
“There are reasons for marriage, darlin’,” Ice countered. “Quite a few, but the number one reason would be that screaming orgasm. We talked about the importance of that.”
She waved her hand in front of his face, shooing his opinion away. “No such thing, Ice. I mean they named a pretty good drink after it and all, but I’m telling you, as a woman, there’s no such thing.”
Again, she was very solemn, looking him in the eye. Ice couldn’t help but brush a kiss along her temple. He still had his arm around her waist, and he eased her back against the pool table. He took her assessment as a challenge.
“You were with the wrong man, princess, I told you that. He wasn’t worth marrying for a long list of reasons, but number one is he put his fuckin’ hands on you. Two is, he didn’t make you scream when you came. You want that, you marry me. I can give that to you a hundred times a day if that’s what you want.”
She raised an eyebrow and regarded him with a shake of her head. “Ice, you are insane to think it’s even possible. If you could do that, you are probably the only man on earth worth marrying. Even Kevin would agree. I’m certain of it.”
“Kevin absolutely would agree,” Ice said. He turned back to the pool table and took another shot, making certain to miss. His breath hissed out in pretend irritation and then he smiled at her and waved her to the table.
“You’re a good man, Ice,” she said as she moved around him to study the layout. “I’ve decided what I’m going to do with my life.”
She leaned over the pool table to eye the setup more closely. Ice slipped behind her and put a light hand on her back. He loved touching her. Claiming her. He wanted her for the rest of his life.
“What are you going to do with your life, princess?” He used his palm to rub along her spine, down to the curve of her ass. He was very fond of the way her cheeks were firm globes, round and perfect. He didn’t make the mistake of hurrying. Seduction was all about patience. Giving the other whatever they needed or wanted. She responded to him as if born for him—and he was certain she was. More importantly, he was beginning to think he had been born for her.
“Do you know what a vendetta is?” She straightened and turned toward him.
He was so close that when she turned, her breasts pushed into his chest. He didn’t move. Neither did she. “A blood feud?”
“Exactly. They killed Kevin. I know they did. They killed him and they think they’re going to kill me, but it isn’t going to happen. You know why?” She put her lips against his ear. “I’m on to them.”
Ice glanced around the suddenly quiet room. His brothers had heard every word Soleil had said. Whatever had made them laugh and snicker was gone. They had all sobered up as well. He glanced again at Absinthe, who nodded. Soleil still didn’t seem all that far gone, but drunk or not, she believed what she was saying. Someone had killed her lawyer? That was her belief? This was getting complicated. His woman needed him a lot more than he’d first thought. He was beginning to feel a lot less guilty for what he was doing.
Yeah, he knew what a vendetta was. He lived one every fucking day. They were a wolf pack, spreading out, hunting prey and bringing them down when they were certain they had uncovered the filth walking among the innocent. Vendettas weren’t for soft, sweet creatures that were clueless when they stumbled into a pack of wolves.
He swore under his breath. Soleil needed him more than ever. She wasn’t going to hunt anyone. That was his job. She was going to stay safe, locked away from predators who killed lawyers and threatened women, scaring them so badly that they ran to a biker bar. What the hell was wrong with the world?
“I was going to get married, have babies, spoil my husband rotten and paint. I’m good at art. Really good. I would love to have a family, but no more. Now, I’m going to go after Kevin’s killers. All of them. Cops or not. Lawyers. It doesn’t matter. I can get to them.” She nodded as if to emphasize what she believed and then turned back to the table.
She bent over the table, her dress sliding up to the backs of her thighs. She had killer legs. Killer legs. He could imagine them wrapped around his hips very easily. In fact, if he wasn’t careful, it was going to happen right there in the bar. Or he’d put her on the pool table and devour her the way he wanted. She wasn’t going to waste her life on a vendetta. She might think she knew what she was doing, but he was taking that off her hands.
His palm slipped to the back of her thigh, and he rubbed gently, soothingly. “I like the part where you spoil your man. Tell me about that. Not sure what spoiling means.”
“Haven’t you ever been spoiled?” Still bent over the pool table, she looked at him over her shoulder. Again, when she looked at him, she didn’t look drunk. Her face was flushed, her eyes bright, but she looked completely and utterly focused on him. “You’re beautiful, Ice. Truly beautiful. When I look at you, sometimes I can’t breathe. Other women must have spoiled you.”
He heard a little snicker when she told him he was so beautiful she couldn’t breathe. He sent a glare around the room. His palm never stopped sliding up and down her thigh and then finally, finally, slid around to her inner thigh. Very gently he applied pressure until she shifted her weight, spreading her legs for him. He was fairly certain she was barely aware she was doing it, but she widened her stance at his insistence. Triumph burst through him. Another sweet victory. She wanted this with him, right there, anywhere he asked. Was it the alcohol, or was it her? Was she that perfect for him?
“Never once, princess. I don’t live in an ivory tower. I live in the gutter, remember?”
She shook her head. “If you were mine, I would spoil you until you couldn’t stand it.” It was a declaration. A solemn promise. “If I didn’t have to go after Kevin’s killers, I would find a way to make you so happy you’d never want to leave me.”
He already didn’t want to leave her. Her gaze had drifted over his body, stopped and dwelled on the bulge stretching the confines of his jeans. Her tongue touched her lips. The full bottom lip glistened. His cock jerked hard. Throbbed. Pulsed. The monster wanted out, and Ice wanted it out. Her gaze stroked him like the touch of fingers.
“You like giving head, baby?” he asked, one hand still stroking up and down her thigh, and then rubbing along the seam between her thigh and buttocks, while the other cupped his raging cock. Just the
thought that his little innocent angel might talk to him about blow jobs sent his dick into a frenzy of pulsing, throbbing and jerking. He was going to spill everything if they kept it up, but he didn’t want to stop.
She looked so sexy, with her innocent eyes and that skin of hers that invited a man to touch her just to see how soft it was. Then there was that mouth. That perfect, perfect mouth.
Ice pushed the hem of her dress up to her waist, exposing her gorgeous ass. He continued to use the pad of his finger to trace the seam where her cheeks met her thighs. Back and forth, a hypnotic rhythm. He wanted to drop his jeans and ram his cock home. Her mouth. Her pussy. Her ass. All of her. Claim every fucking inch. He already felt as if she belonged to him.
“Answer me, Soleil.” He poured steel into his voice.
She blinked, but she responded to his order. “Depends,” she said. “I wanted everything for my man, so I practiced until I thought I was pretty damn good. But seriously, he wasn’t worth the effort.”
“The right man?” He wanted to yank his cock right out of his jeans and stroke himself for relief. Maybe push her to her knees and have her swallow him down right there.
“On the right man, yes, isn’t that spoiling him?” She smiled at him. Sexy. Alluring. “I could spoil you every morning. I bet you taste yummy.” She turned her head back to survey the table. “What did you think spoiling a man entails?”
He couldn’t move or speak for a moment. He thought dragging her to the altar right then was the only solution. Mornings with her lips stretched around his cock sounded damn good to him. He forced air into his lungs. His fingers danced along the tempting seam between her thigh and cheek. She didn’t realize or maybe she just didn’t care that he’d pushed her skirt up above her ass, exposing her perfect cheeks. She’d look good with his handprints on that pale skin. Hell. He wanted to take a bite out of her. Instead, he palmed one cheek, letting the heat from his body warm her. She pushed back into his hand and his heart stuttered.
Vendetta Road Page 11
