There was even one photograph that captured a passerby in the background, peering through the window at them.
“I’m not certain we can show anyone this album.”
He laughed. “I want to show the world.”
“You would.”
He turned the pages, seeing her dressing, having her hair styled, putting on jewelry. There were close-ups of his ring, the one he’d meticulously drawn out, cut out and then had laminated. He had since made her wedding ring and his, and both wore them. She’d kept the laminated one. He’d seen it in her drawer, wrapped carefully in a silk scarf. He planned to find her something fancy to keep it in.
There were more pictures of her getting onto his bike in her wedding gown. The chapel with the little grimy man who was all about the money. Ice didn’t care, he’d pronounced them man and wife. Kissing his bride. The bar. Walking in, his hand on her tit.
His cock stirred just looking at the faces of the men in the bar as they came in. She looked regal. His princess. Gorgeous. His mouth feeding on her breast, leaving those beautiful marks that told the world she was his.
Their party. The cake. The toasts. So many of his brothers raising their glasses to wish him well. He turned more pages and then he stopped abruptly when her hand came down to prevent him from turning to the next page. He was deliberately slow when he turned his head to look at her. Inside he was laughing, but he did his best to look innocent.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I believe Maestro is now back taking the pictures.”
He pretended to study the series of photographs. “I think you’re right.”
“You know I’m right.” There was pure accusation in her tone.
“You really didn’t mind at all.”
She hadn’t protested, not when he’d undone the lacy halter of her wedding dress to leave nothing between his mouth and her tits.
“You have amazing tits.” He touched one reverently. “They photograph so well I’m wondering if you could make a good living just having shots taken of them.”
She laughed, just like he knew she would. He turned the page and she was lying on the pool table, spread out for him like a feast and he was eating cake off her. Smearing her tits and bare pussy lips with frosting to lick it off.
Then there was a series of Ice devouring her. He loved the ones Maestro got of her face as an orgasm rushed over her. He’d fucked her with his fingers, right there on the pool table, with his brothers cheering him on. She was beautiful. Glowing. Her skin was flushed and marked by his mouth and hands. Maestro had captured every image. She had reciprocated, using her mouth to get him off, swallowing him down. He remembered every single moment and was very happy they had a pool table so he could re-create that scene, but not tonight.
“I think you’re the most amazing man that has ever been born,” she said, and touched the photograph of him devouring her, his face between her legs.
“It’s my favorite place to be, especially when I wake up,” he said. “You’re so beautiful, babe, and so—” He broke off and turned back one page. “Look at you, Soleil. The way you look when you stroked my cock. When you crawled in a circle around that pool table top, following me around, your gaze on me. You look so—” He broke off again.
“In love with your cock?” She laughed softly. Her fingers stroked him through his jeans.
“Yeah, but more than that. As if I counted. As if I mattered and what I needed or wanted, you would give me.”
The smile faded from her face, to be replaced by so much tenderness he almost had to look away. “I love you so much, Ice. I want to find every way I can to make you happy.”
He closed the album reluctantly. There were more pages, but he’d look at them later. Right now, he needed to get his woman upstairs into bed.
“So, babe, gotta ask you.” He took his time, using the remote to turn off the fire as they stood to head upstairs. “This morning . . .”
Soleil looked up at him quickly, her long lashes veiling her eyes so she looked innocent. He knew that look. That meant just the opposite.
“Boys were over. We’re talking and laughing and having a good time at breakfast, which was fabulous, by the way. You’re an amazing cook.”
He put his hand on the small of her back as they went up the stairs. He loved the shape of her. The way she felt under his hand. So feminine. That little sway in her hips.
“Thank you, honey. I love my lessons. I’ve learned so much from Alena.”
She had thrown herself into making their house a home. One by one, she was working on each room in the house, slowly redesigning the interior. All the while, she worked at learning to cook. She seemed to really enjoy it. When they went out, which wasn’t that often, they went to Alena’s restaurant. Usually, she would go into the kitchen to talk to Alena about a specific recipe or Alena would come out to sit and talk with them if she wasn’t too busy—which was almost never.