Vendetta Road

by Christine Feehan

  “Ice?” She kept her eyes on the pool table. “What would it take to keep you happy?”

  Was there a little quiver in her voice? He was certain there was, and he wanted to reassure her that her ex-fiancé was a worthless dick who didn’t know a good woman worth keeping when he saw her. Ice, on the other hand, had no intention of allowing her to get away.

  “I want my woman to give me everything anywhere I want it, anything I ask. And it has to be mutual spoiling. I want to give her everything. Including a screaming orgasm.”

  She laughed softly, and drunk or not, the melody was still pure gold. He could almost see the notes dancing in the air between them.

  “I think any woman who belonged to you, Ice, would give you whatever you wanted when you wanted it, whether or not you could actually give her the mythical screaming orgasm.”

  His fingers whispered down her cheeks, slid over her lips to catch the slick honey spilling from her. He rubbed his fingers through the liquid and then did the barely there over her clit. Her entire body shuddered and she pushed back against his fingers.

  “God, baby, you’re too easy. I love the fact that you think I can’t do it.”

  She turned her head again to look at him over her shoulder. Her face was flushed. Her breathing had gone ragged. “Not you, Ice. I think you could do anything. It’s me.” Her voice was sad. “I’m just not built that way.”

  His finger strummed over her lips. She kept herself bare and he liked that. He wanted to put his mouth on her and suck all that honey right out of her. Instead, he placed one hand on her back to hold her down over the table while he pressed his finger into her. She was tight, surrounding him with such heat his finger burned. He let out his breath, just his breath moving over her left buttock while he worked her pussy.

  Her body sent him another fresh wave of liquid heat. With the pad of his thumb he rubbed circles around and over her clit. Again, just whispers. His teeth scraped gently on her cheek, tongue stroking a caress and then just his breath.

  Her body pushed back onto his hand. She felt like a sheath of silken flames.

  “That’s it, baby, ride my finger. Just like that.” He whispered the words against her left cheek and then bit down gently and was rewarded with more liquid honey.

  A low moan escaped her mouth and she rested her head on the table, her fingers clutching the cue stick as if it could save her. Nothing could. Ice had made certain of that. She needed his brand of care and he was feeding it to her slowly, expertly, making certain she would get hooked. Addicted. She would need him. He wanted her to need him, to be addicted. He wanted that desperately.

  He took her up slowly, higher and higher, backing off, taking control, until her breath was so ragged, she was almost sobbing, and her hips were riding his finger in desperate need. He had had no intentions of using his mouth to bring her off, but he couldn’t resist her or the terrible temptation. He tried, but his own control was slipping beyond his ability to carry out his perfect seduction. He needed to taste her. He thought he might go insane if he didn’t. He kicked her legs farther apart, crouched down and fit his mouth over her pussy. His tongue slid in and dove deep, pulling out her sweet, spicy honey.

  She cried out, the sound almost agonized yet at the same time pure bliss. It wasn’t the scream he was looking for, but it was close, and he didn’t want that yet. It couldn’t be over. He needed his mouth on her as much as she needed a catastrophic release. When she was close to exploding, he pulled back, just sending warm air over her clit and pussy, his mouth a breath away. She was nearly crying, pushing back, trying to get to his mouth.

  He attempted to stay in control, this was for her, not him, but damn, she was so fucking responsive he couldn’t see straight. He couldn’t resist those bare lips, licking at them, using his teeth to nip and tug while she writhed and began to press her hips back into him in desperation. And her taste . . . he was already addicted when it was supposed to be the other way around.

  She cried out when he fucked her with his tongue, then went to suckling her clit until it was inflamed. He experimented, flicking with his finger and thumb. Each strike sent a shudder through her body and she moaned louder. She was so perfect for him, as if she’d been born to be his. Everything that came before her was gone in that instant. Her taste, her soft skin, her cries, rising for him, wiped out the images of death and torture until there was only Soleil. His sun.

  Ice took her over, needing her wild, crashing orgasm as much as or more than she did. Her voice swelled, a crescendo in a beautiful symphony, until there was a long, drawn-out scream of pure pleasure. Ice grinned and wiped his face on her thighs.

  He slowly stood, his hand rubbing her perfect ass cheeks gently, bringing her down slowly. “You can have this every damn day, baby. I think we should make us permanent, don’t you?”

  Her lashes fluttered. She looked up at him as if the stars and sun revolved around him. “Yes,” she agreed. “Absolutely yes.”

  SIX

  Soleil had never known happiness. She’d never felt a part of anything. She had more money than most people saw in a lifetime, but she had never had anyone to share her life with. She’d lived in hotels, and wandered from city to city, country to country, seeing every sight alone.

  It was a strange night. She’d gone from having one of the worst days of her life to having the absolute best. She felt as if she were walking through a dream. A fairy tale. Floating. She didn’t ever get drunk, yet she knew, somehow, she was actually tipsy. The combination of drinks, maybe, when she never mixed them? It didn’t matter. She still knew exactly what she was doing.

  She’d always believed in taking responsibility for her actions, and alcohol or not, she was responsible. She lay over a pool table, very aware of where she was and what she’d done, knowing she was surrounded by a lot of bikers and her body was still rippling with strong aftershocks, sending waves of pleasure spreading through her. She should feel shame, and she tried to, but all she could feel was amazing. Alive. Exhilarated. She wanted more.

  She’d wanted what Ice had given her. She’d practically begged him to give her an orgasm. Even with her irresponsible, very risky behavior—so typical of her—she couldn’t say she hadn’t gotten the best of the deal. Her body had never felt like that before. She hadn’t known it could feel that way. She had deliberately seduced Ice into this position, and she actually thought his “brothers” had aided her.

  Instead of laughing and walking away, Ice soothed her body with his hands, stroking caresses over her back. Rubbing her gently until she felt like her spaghetti legs could hold her up. His hands went to her waist and he gently lifted her off the table.

  She heard him talking to her. She wasn’t certain what he said, but he tucked her close under his shoulder, her front to his side, and leaned down to whisper in her ear that they were getting out of that place.

  She couldn’t look at the others, certain they knew she was seducing Ice and that she was a terrible person. She couldn’t make herself look at him; the guilt was overwhelming, but still not enough for her to walk away from him. He was so caring, and she was grateful to him for that. She’d never known caring. They left the bar, going out into the cool night air.

  “Baby, you okay with walking? Some of the brothers will ride, but we’ll have protection. I don’t want you on the back of the bike until I know you can hold on. And I think maybe I drank a little bit more than I should have.”

  It was the last thing she expected him to say. “I did drink way too much,” she admitted. She had. And she shouldn’t have mixed her drinks, but she’d do it again. She wouldn’t change one single thing of this strange, wonderful night. “You didn’t drink any more than I did, Ice.” She had to take the blame for that. “I was plying you with liquor, matching you drink for drink, remember?”

  “We’re both fine,” he assured.

  He kept his arm tightly around her wa
ist, so it was impossible to feel unsteady. The night air was cool, and she hoped it would help clear her head. She’d gone off the deep end. Just because her life was about to end didn’t mean she had the right to screw up Ice’s. This was one night. Seduction. Sex. Fun. Nothing else. She could be the girl she’d always wanted to be. She loved to show off. She craved attention. Was starved for it. She loved to be looked at. Her fantasies had always been safe ones, but the need in her was very real. The only thing that had kept her from being the way she was right now was her sense of responsibility. Where had that gone? Because she was still, in the back of her head, thinking, Would it really be that bad to wake up married to her badass biker?

  She heard several motorcycles fire up, the pipes loud, roaring through the night air. She stumbled over an uneven spot in the concrete and staggered a few steps. Ice’s arm tightened around her waist. Maestro and Player, two of his Torpedo Ink brethren, steadied her by gripping her arms. She was surprised. Shocked even. They let go of her the moment she had her equilibrium, but their touch had been caring, not at all handsy. Their touch felt respectful. She knew they thought she’d stumbled because she’d been drinking, but was it awful of her to let them think that when it wasn’t the case?

  They had a group of five members walking down the street together. She was in the center with Ice, and they were halfway down the street when she realized they were protecting her. The members of Torpedo Ink recognized that she was afraid of someone.

  She had deliberately let her fears about Kevin’s death not being an accident slip out because when she turned up dead in an accident, she wanted someone to know it was murder. Maybe they would remember her and care, maybe they wouldn’t, but at least she’d told someone the truth.

  Ice suddenly leaned into her and brushed a kiss along her jaw. That little brush of his lips set her heart pounding. Her body had come to life after being frozen for so long. Blood rushed like a fireball, pooling low and reminding her she was really alive and that not only could she respond to a man, but rockets had gone off. More, he responded to her. He thought she was beautiful and sexy, and he wanted her. She could see it in his eyes and feel it in his touch. See his body’s staggering reaction to her. For the first time ever in her life, she felt everything she had ever wanted to feel as a woman.

  “I can’t imagine what your friends think of me,” Soleil whispered. She didn’t care that she’d been bent over a pool table in a bar with Ice’s hands and mouth all over her, but he might. She might have embarrassed him.

  Ice stopped dead on the sidewalk, turning to block her forward momentum. He framed her face with both hands and bent until his head was level with hers. “You don’t worry about what anyone else thinks but you or me, Soleil. My brothers have our backs at all times. They won’t judge you. They’ll always look out for you. But you’re mine. I stand in front of you. Some asshole wants to say something to make you feel bad because we make each other feel good, they better know they’re sayin’ it to me too—and all of them as well.”

  His glacier-blue eyes stared directly into hers, mesmerizing. Hypnotizing. She couldn’t look away. He had some kind of power or, more likely, he was saying all the right things to her, things she desperately needed to hear. She had told herself a hundred times that she didn’t need anyone. That they were after her money, and time and again that had been a proven fact. She’d all but thrown herself at Ice because he was that prince in the fairy tale and she desperately wanted to be a princess—his princess—if only on what could be the last night of her life.

  She couldn’t help it when tears filled her eyes. “I don’t know what happened, Ice.” But she did. She had set out to seduce him and she’d done it. She was still doing it. She wanted him exactly the way he was. She couldn’t help touching his face, stroking the pads of her fingers down his jaw. He was so incredibly gorgeous. Maybe when someone only had one night, they were given the perfect gift—and Ice was hers.

  “What happened was perfect. You’re so fuckin’ beautiful I can’t believe it.” He kissed her eyelids. Brushed kisses down her face to the corner of her mouth. This time, when he kissed her, he was so gentle her heart turned over.

  She’d never had that kind of caring from anyone. She didn’t remember much about her time with her parents. Aunt Deborah had been gentle and kind with her, but her life after she’d died hadn’t been that way at all. Her aunt Constance had made an art out of slapping her, reminding her constantly that she was costing her money. That she was in the way. That she was an ugly, stupid child that no one wanted. She still felt like that unwanted, ugly child, and Winston had only confirmed her aunt’s opinion of her.

  Ice was physically a gorgeous man. He had scars, but they enhanced his good looks rather than detracted from them. He looked scary dangerous, she wasn’t so far gone on him that she couldn’t see or acknowledge that, but with her he seemed unfailingly sweet. She needed sweet. She needed someone to be nice to her. To be kind. Gentle. Caring. Not want to kill her just because she had money.

  The liquor continued the buzz through her veins. It rushed along with her blood, hotter than ever before. No one had ever treated her so kindly or said the things Ice said to her, and God help her, she needed that tonight.

  “You still with me, princess? You going to come with me tonight and let me have you?”

  No one, not even Kevin, had wanted her in their life. No one. She ate alone. She slept alone. She was always alone. Ice had turned the worst night of her life into something wonderful. He hadn’t complained about what she was wearing, even though she clearly didn’t fit in. He hadn’t made fun of her when she didn’t know something and when she’d gone a little crazy in the bar, throwing herself at him. Rather than act like she would be entertainment for his friends, he’d protected her.

  She couldn’t keep the stars out of her eyes, or her brain. She wanted it all. She wanted the fairy tale. With him. With Ice. For this one night. Didn’t she deserve one wonderful night when not one but a group of people wanted to kill her? She nodded because she would have followed him straight into hell if he’d asked her.

  “Say it, baby. Tell me you’re with me.”

  “I’m totally with you,” Soleil said decisively. She dared to glance around her at the men surrounding them, waiting patiently while Ice reassured her.

  Ice flashed a heart-stopping grin of approval that sent blood running like a hot, steamy river through her veins. He tucked her under his shoulder again, wrapping her arm around his waist, almost at his belt buckle. That put her fingertips dangerously close to his cock and she couldn’t help glancing down.

  Her heart accelerated. Her mouth watered. There was a distinct bulge in his jeans. Not a small one—it stretched the denim to a danger point. She tried not to be so thrilled. She shouldn’t be thinking about how impressive that cock was or what she could do with her mouth to make him want to keep her with him for a long, long time, if not forever. She wanted him forever.

  She would be so good to him. So good. She knew Ice was all about sex. He’d relate that way. He’d solve arguments that way. He’d expect and want sex often. She needed that from her man. She needed that to feel he wanted her, that he found her beautiful and sexy. She’d tried telling Winston that. He hadn’t wanted her. Their sex had been mediocre at best. It didn’t matter what she’d tried, Winston had barely been able to get it up for her. And he’d said he wanted to marry her.

  “Why would a man pretend he wanted a woman when he couldn’t even manage to get hard around her? Does that make any sense to you?” She slapped a hand over her mouth when she realized she’d spoken aloud.

  Ice gently removed her hand. “Baby, if you’re saying that limp-dick asshole couldn’t perform when he had you in his bed, I’m telling you straight up, he’s gay. Nothin’ wrong with that, but any straight man is going to take one look at you and get hard as a fuckin’ rock. Look at me, haven’t been able to calm my monster down sin
ce I laid eyes on you.”

  He casually dropped his hand to the front of his jeans and rubbed, as if trying to ease the ache. His little grin was a bit boyish, as if he was actually happy his cock was hard.

  Soleil wanted to rub his cock for him. She dared to drop her hand over his jeans, and he immediately took it and laid her palm over that thick bulge. Heat pressed into her. Hot and inviting. She touched her lips with her tongue. “I can’t wait.” And she couldn’t. She wasn’t trying to seduce him. She was telling him the absolute truth. She wanted him in her. Wherever. Anywhere. Just in her.

  “That’s two of us, baby,” he assured.

  She looked around her and realized they were walking away from the seedier streets, back toward the main boulevard. She dragged her feet. “Ice, we don’t need to go to the strip. Why are we headed in that direction?”

  Winston had the cops under his thumb. A lawyer. She knew there were others, she just didn’t know where they were, but she knew they’d be looking for her. Winston couldn’t afford to let her go, not after what she’d heard.

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of, princess. We’ve got your back. Anyone trying to take you away from us is going to find themselves with more trouble than they’ve ever known.”

  Soleil had the distinct impression not only Ice but the others would welcome a fight. She was terrified Winston would take out a gun and shoot them. If any were left alive, his cop friends would arrest them and throw them in jail. It would be her fault.

  She stopped completely. “Ice, I’m not sure where you said we were going . . .”

  The cool night air wasn’t helping with those screaming orgasms; instead, walking sent the liquor rushing through her bloodstream to pool low. Hot. Scorching and burning. It didn’t make sense that she was so mesmerized by Ice, other than the fact that he had a wicked tongue that could do all sorts of things to her along with his incredible fingers.