Vendetta Road

by Christine Feehan

  “Baby, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful, I can’t believe it.” He ripped his shirt off with one hand and tossed it aside, his eyes on her breasts, that small rib cage narrowing even more to her waist. The chiffon fell gracefully over the curve of her hips, and he wanted her out of that dress. He wanted to see her body. All of it.

  He went to the floor to remove her shoes. He couldn’t help running his hand up and down her calf. Her skin was incredibly soft, even on her legs. He removed the classy heels and dragged the dress down her body. He peeled the peekaboo panties off of her, and without the dress she was entirely naked. His breath caught in his throat. Not only was she an elegant princess, but she had the body of a temptress combined with the innocent look of the proverbial girl next door.

  “Ice.” She breathed his name, and her hand went to his shoulder to trace one of his many scars.“What happened to you?”

  He liked the feel of her fingers on his skin. A soft touch, but it burned like a flame. “I’ll tell you the story some other time. Now, I just want to eat you alive. Like candy, princess, devour you until you’re screaming for me.”

  He pulled her with him to the bed and indicated she sit on the very edge while he removed his motorcycle boots and tossed them aside. One hand on her belly had her lying down. He dropped to his knees and pulled her thighs apart. Wide. He wanted room. Her little pussy was like a flower. He could never say that corny crap to her, but it was. He opened her with his fingers, rubbing gently. Making little circles, hearing her breath leave her lungs in a rush.

  “Should have kissed you, Soleil, but once I start, I can’t seem to stop, and I wanted this. I thought about this all the way back to the motel. The way you taste.” He licked his fingers. “Eating you out on a fucking pool table. Couldn’t help myself. Love the way you taste. Love that you let me, baby. All mine. All for me.”

  Her hand went to his hair, burying her fingers deep so she was stroking caresses and massaging him, connecting them. “You go right ahead, honey, and do whatever you need to do. You certainly gave me the best night of my life.”

  “It isn’t over, Soleil. Not by a long shot.”

  He wanted her first time with him to be a memory she’d never forget. He wanted her to feel as if he cared about her. Strange thing was, he did. She’d gotten under his skin very early on, but there was a moment that he absolutely knew what he was doing was right. That moment when she stayed on her knees and risked exposure just to give him paradise. She’d gotten inside him, deep, and somehow twisted around his heart.

  He put his mouth on her and again, just like before, the world dropped away completely. One hand on her belly to keep her where he wanted her, he started out with the best of intentions, to drive her up as gently as possible. Her taste was like an aphrodisiac. The addiction grew fast and he found himself lost in a world of pure erotic sensation. Every cell in his body was alive. Every demon was banished because there was no room for anything but his mouth devouring her and the fire running through his veins.

  Her breathy moans became soft little pleas that began to rise to a crescendo. She writhed under his hand. He didn’t stop, driving her higher. Keeping her right on the edge, licking and sucking and using his tongue like a weapon until she was nearly sobbing his name. Her cries fueled his hunger. She was giving him so many firsts. He wasn’t setting her up for seduction, he was totally consumed with lust. With desire. With something else that was undefined in his mind.

  She came apart for him, nearly sobbing, her hands fisting in his hair. He wiped his jaw on her thighs, his hands dropping to his jeans, the last barrier between the two of them. His wife. Soleil was his wife.

  He liked looking at her, sprawled half on and half off the bed, naked, her skin gleaming in the moonlight streaming through the window. Knowing she was his. His body was on fire for her. He stroked his cock, shocked at how hard he was, how sensitive to every movement of his fist. The woman was fucking paradise, a miracle. She set up such a craving in him.

  He lodged the head of his cock between the bare lips of her pussy. Her heat blasted him. Surrounded him. Wet. Scorching. His heart thudded. He looked into her eyes as he pushed deeper, invading that tight tunnel that was his alone. Her muscles resisted, refusing to give way, but he persisted with that slow penetration.

  “You’re so fuckin’ tight, baby. Your little pussy is so damn hot, princess.” For him, it was like being surrounded by a fucking inferno, a silken fist full of flames. “What’s it feel like, Soleil?” He kept up that deliberate leisurely assault, refusing to go fast as his body urged him to do. “To have me in you. What’s it feel like?”

  “Burning. You’re big and you’re stretching me. Full. Watching your cock disappear inside of me is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  He caught her leg and wrapped it around his waist, lifting her beautiful ass with his palms, changing the angle so she gasped. “Wrap both legs around me, princess.” His hands slid to her hips. He flexed his fingers.

  Obediently, Soleil did what he asked, hooking her ankles behind him. Just that movement sent flames rocketing up his spine. The sight of her on his bed, her tits swaying with every movement, made him want to see more. He buried the last couple of inches in her fast, sliding through those tight muscles so that the friction sent heat waves rushing through both of them.

  Her fingers caught the blanket and fisted it, holding on as he began to move in her. Again, he tried to stay slow and gentle, but it was impossible, not with her lifting her hips to meet his every surge. He couldn’t believe his body was reacting of its own accord, fire racing through him. Every nerve ending responding.

  “Fuckin’ paradise, princess, that’s what you are, you and this little pussy of yours.” He hadn’t thought it possible, but that hot, wet, silken fist squeezed and massaged, such a tight tunnel that he thought he might not make it through every time he withdrew and then surged forward, driving through the small, resisting muscles. Streaks of fire burned through him, and if anything, his cock swelled more, forcing her to take his length and girth, pushing against the tight sheath and adding to the friction.

  “Look at you, baby,” he hissed, “you look so beautiful. Your tits, your pussy. Look at us together.” Her skin was flushed a soft rose all over. “I’m going to have Ink tat my name on your tit. He can tat your name on me as well. You want it on my dick? Property of Soleil?”

  She smiled at him and shook her head. “Not taking a chance on damaging that beautiful cock. Love it. Love it so much. It’s pure magic, Ice.”

  He grinned at her and watched her gasp when he picked up the pace, letting the fire get just a little out of control.

  “Appreciate that, princess.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  He fucking loved hearing her say that. Every man wanted their cock treasured. She wasn’t shy about telling him, and that added to the building hunger in him for her. She was the treasure.

  “Love your ass too. Tits and ass. My name might have to be on both.” He leaned forward and licked at her nipple before he caught her hips again and began to fuck her the way he needed to.

  Each stroke was hard and deep, so that her tits jolted, and her breath turned ragged. Her gaze clung to his face, but he could see a daze developing, that beautiful flush spreading over her face, the haze in her eyes, her mouth open as she struggled for air.

  Her body moved with his, harder, faster, the rhythm perfection. Every stroke sent flames streaking through his body. His cock was surrounded by a silken inferno that locked down on him tighter than he ever thought possible. He could feel her body gathering, coiling tight. He didn’t want paradise to end, but he couldn’t stop moving. It was impossible when every time he buried himself deep, that erotic ecstasy surged through him like an intense wave.

  He’d fucked a million times and it had never felt like this. His wife. Her perfect little pussy. He wasn’t ever giving that up. Not ever. He
plunged into her over and over until he knew he was going up in flames. Then her body clamped down on his, a vicious vise, strangling his cock, milking with those tight muscles as her orgasm took her. The wave was so intense it took him with her, so they both erupted together.

  His cock jerked hard, over and over, coating the walls of her sheath, triggering another huge wave that traveled on the tail of the first one. He rode it out with her, his head thrown back, his cock on fire, bathed in their combined cream. He loved the smell of sex, but now, there was only their sex. That fragrance. That steamy, sexy combination that added to his addiction.

  He lowered her legs gently to the floor, triggering a third orgasm. His cock loved it. He loved it. So perfect.

  “You okay, princess?”

  “I think I’m still alive.”

  Her lashes lifted and she searched his face. Seeing too much. He couldn’t let that happen, especially tonight. Ice pulled out of her a little reluctantly, half expecting his cock to be burned, but he was intact, and he leaned forward to press a kiss onto her bare mound. She immediately dropped her hand into his thick hair and massaged his scalp with gentle fingers. The moment she did that, he didn’t want her to stop.

  He had no choice. He remained there for a few minutes, savoring the feeling of belonging to someone before he pressed another kiss on her skin and then hurried to the bathroom to clean up and bring her a warm washcloth. She washed herself thoroughly and then suddenly stopped, looking anxious.

  “Ice, we didn’t use a condom. I can’t get pregnant, but . . .”

  “I’m clean, baby. You?” What the fuck was wrong with him? Why hadn’t he thought about using a condom with her?

  “Yes. I always made a partner wear a condom. Even Winston, although it made him angry. I should have been thinking.” She scooted up to the pillows.

  He flung himself on the bed beside her, framed her face with both hands and kissed her. He wanted more time with her. His cock wanted more time. The moment he had cleaned himself, returned to the bedroom to see her naked and sprawled out, his seed running down her thigh, all of a sudden, the steel was back. He wanted her again. He wanted her in so many ways. He’d like to take her by the windowsill, bend her over and fuck her with her tits pushed up against the glass and her staring out wondering if someone would walk by. Just the thought excited him.

  He kissed her over and over, drowning in her, wanting to consume her, to bury himself in her all over again in a million different ways. One hand in her hair, bunching it in his fist as he explored her mouth, demanding her response, he made certain she was only thinking of him, surrendering fully to him. Another orgasm or two and she’d be too wiped out to notice when he slipped out of the room to take care of business.

  EIGHT

  Ice pulled on his gloves and sent Savage a look that said he’d had enough bullshit. “We know that bastard is at the hotel. He’s fuckin’ staying in the room she’s payin’ for. I want to pay him a visit after we get this done. Housekeeping can find him in the morning with his throat slit.”

  “Ice,” Savage cautioned. “You’re supposed to be the voice of reason, not me. We can’t do him in a hotel. Too many cameras. No way to control it. You know that. We’ve got his name . . .”

  “Winston Trent,” Ice said, making the name a bad taste in his mouth. “Who the hell is named Winston? I want to take him apart just for that crap.”

  “He lives in San Francisco. We’ll arrange a match at the fight club and have a reason to go there. A couple of the brothers will pick him up and take him to one of the safe houses and we’ll have a friendly chat with him.” Savage looked at the two men sitting in the chairs in the center of the warehouse floor. “Like we’re doing here. We’re keeping it friendly.”

  Paul Bitters and a man by the name of Rich Marshal sat tied to the metal chairs. They looked worse for wear. Savage and Player had been there earlier, and Savage wasn’t gentle by any means. He didn’t mind hurting pedophiles, and both these men, fairly high up in a very active ring, qualified.

  Torpedo Ink had been hearing for some time that a man would take an order for a child, boy or girl, find a family with no other relatives and kill the parents and take the child so no one would put a tremendous amount of effort into looking for him or her. At first, when Code searched for similar cold cases, he couldn’t find anything, but then he widened the search and began to see more than they liked over the last few years, which meant the rumors were true.

  Ice walked over to Rich Marshal’s chair and toed the front foot. “Got married tonight, you son of a bitch, and I’d much rather be fuckin’ a beautiful woman than cuttin’ you into little pieces. Don’t get me wrong, a piece of shit like you usually is a top priority, but not tonight. So, call me pissed as hell.”

  “What he’s sayin’ in a nice way,” Maestro said, “is don’t pretend to be a hero. Answer the fuckin’ questions so he can get back to his woman.”

  Rich Marshal had been the driver of the pickup truck that had been following Jarvis and Kent to ensure that no one was tailing them before the men met up with Paul Bitters for the auction.

  Rich looked at Bitters and shook his head. “I don’t know what you want from me. I was hired to tail a couple of guys, make sure no one followed them. Your friend ran me off the road and I ended up here. That’s it. I don’t know anything else.” His gaze shifted from Bitters to Savage and immediately he looked leery.

  Savage sat on the edge of a table where all kinds of tools were laid out. He calmly took a bite out of an apple. “Waste of time, Ice. Fuckin’ waste of time.” He didn’t look up as he gave his two cents.

  Ice barely moved, but when he did, his speed was blurring. He slammed a knife straight down into Rich’s thigh, burying it to the hilt. The blade was only a couple of inches long, but it was wide, and it was sharp, slicing through skin and muscle like it was butter. Rich screamed. Paul Bitters paled and drew back, trying to throw himself sideways out of his chair.

  Ice ignored both reactions, shaking his head as he pulled the blade slowly from Rich’s thigh. “Don’t like lies, Richie. I can hear them. I can feel them. I can even smell them. You like little kids, and Bitters supplies you with them. I already know that about you.”

  Code had been busy getting as much information on Marshal as possible, even while he was doing the paperwork to ensure Ice and Soleil could get married legally. Rich Marshal was every bit as dirty as Paul Bitters. He might not be as high up the ladder in the pedophile network as Bitters, but he had been working within the ring for some time. He preferred girls, he liked them six to eight. When they got too old, he sold them either in online auctions or to a trafficking ring.

  “You’re married to a woman with three little girls, ages three, five and seven. You’ve been molesting the seven-year-old for two years already. Your wife suspects but she’s afraid of you, but not so afraid that she didn’t try to leave you once. You made certain she didn’t try again by making a video of her with two men and threatening to put it online. One of those men is a good friend of yours, Yeger Kushnir, and he, along with Basil Alanis, raped your wife. She cooperated and stayed with you, but you put that video online anyway. A friend of ours found it and took it apart. He saw things no one got to see, such as her fighting and then cooperating when you threatened the girls. What I learned from that, Richie, is that you’re a fuckin’ liar and you don’t keep your word.”

  Bitters cleared his throat. “You don’t seem to understand—”

  Ice spun around and backhanded him so forcibly it knocked him over, chair and all. Despite the fact that a tarp lay on the floor, Bitters slammed hard into the cement floor. “I wouldn’t speak if I were you,” Ice warned. “I don’t like you. I don’t like anything about you. You locked that little boy in the basement inside a cage with a bomb on it after you molested him for years. You don’t want my attention if you can help it, so shut the fuck up.”

&nb
sp; He didn’t right the chair, just left the man lying on the cement floor, because he wasn’t kidding or trying to be intimidating. He wanted to fuck Bitters up, slice off his dick and shove it down the man’s throat until he choked and suffocated. He’d told Savage and Maestro that before coming. Maestro and Savage didn’t make a move to help Bitters either. They left him lying on his side, still tied to the chair. Ice turned back to Marshal, dismissing Bitters as if he didn’t exist.

  “Let’s try again, Richie, and keep in mind, I’m on a time limit here. I ask you a question, you jack me around and I’m going to get creative where I put my blades.” He watched the man’s eyes widen and he nodded. “I believe we understand each other. I’m looking for the name of the man who is the collector. He scouts for a small family, either a single mother or parents without any other family members. They have a toddler, boy or girl, doesn’t matter. He takes pictures of these children and then sends out a little brochure. I know this is familiar to you. If it is to me, then it has to be to you.”

  Code had discovered the brochure online, little toddlers, both male and female. The collector had their pictures, and if someone put in an order for one of those children in his advertisement, he murdered the parents and took the child. Sometimes there were special orders; he advertised that as well. Twins were rare, very hard to come by. Usually there was an extended family that would continue to raise a fuss, not let the murders fade away, so finding the right child or children was imperative.

  Marshal hesitated, his expression betraying him. Ice moved again with blurring speed. The knife slipped in about two inches higher up the thigh. Marshal screamed and screamed. Blood ran down his leg. He stared in horror at the hilt that couldn’t be seen when it was in Ice’s hand. Now it was sticking out of him. He began to cry.