Vendetta Road (Torpedo Ink 3)

Soleil was staring up at him and his heart accelerated. His cock hurt. Actually hurt. Fuck. He was losing it because he couldn’t control his body. He had to get a lock on that immediately. He loved it and he fucking hated it.

“I hear about clubs. They share women, don’t they?”

He took a breath as something dark and ugly swept over him. “Any man touches my woman, he won’t be on this earth long. That scare you, baby?” He tucked another stray strand of her hair behind her ear with infinite gentleness. “She’s protected. My club will protect her. Every single man. They know better than to touch her.” He touched the bruise on her face, just a gentle brush of his fingers. “I don’t hurt women or children. That is something you can always count on. The bastard who put these bruises on you had better run. If I find him, he isn’t going to be standin’ for very long.” Ice poured the sound of truth in his statement. He meant every word.

“That doesn’t scare me, Ice,” she said.

He stared at her mouth for far too long. This was a slow seduction, not slam her against the wall and fuck her until they both couldn’t move. That would come much later. He had to make certain she fell hard, fell for everything. Hell. He was falling hard. He didn’t even know what was happening to him.

“Come on, baby, they’re playing my kind of dancing music. Nice and slow so I can hold you tight.” He took her hand, brought it up to his mouth so he could brush a kiss across her knuckles and then led her to the small dance floor, hoping to distract her, or him—he wasn’t certain which.

He didn’t know shit about dancing, but he could hold her close and move around. The music had slowed down, which was good. He drew her into his arms, pulling her tightly against him so that he could feel her soft tits against his chest again. He was addicted to the feeling. His body reacted of its own accord, and he felt the savage ache move through him like a wave. His blood pooled hotly in his groin. He fucking loved it. This woman could do what no other woman in all the years since he was a young boy had been able to do. His body chose her.

Her arms slid around his neck. She linked her fingers at his nape, swaying with the music. He caught the rhythm and they were moving, locked together in a haze of lust and whiskey. Her head settled on his chest, ear over his heart, and he wondered if she could hear it pounding. She surrounded him with some unidentifiable fragrance, and he was lost in it. She smelled like paradise and sin.

Neither moved when the music stopped, just swaying on the dance floor until the next song started. This was slow as well, and he knew one of his brothers had selected the song for him. He dropped his head to her shoulder, nuzzling close, his breath against her neck. She didn’t stop him, not even when he tasted her skin.

Her breath turned a little ragged, and he allowed one hand to slide down her back to the curve of her ass. He loved her ass and the way it swayed when she walked. Looking at her walking away gave him the hard-on of a lifetime. But then there were her tits. She had them, more than a handful on her small frame. Soft. Her nipples were hard and pushing into his chest. His hand slid lower, shaping the curve of her ass. He rubbed gently. Little circles. His palm cupping and then once again rubbing.

His tongue found her ear and traced it. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispered it, meaning it. “You have the prenup that asshole didn’t sign with you?” He felt her heart jump and then pound hard right through the thin layer of her dress.

Her head tipped up until her mouth was against his throat. “In my pocket.” Her lips slid along his throat.

“That’s my girl.” His teeth closed over her earlobe and tugged gently.

He crowded the edge of the floor closest to the game room. His brothers moved around him, forming a wall so they could sway together. So Ice could continue his slow seduction, because this woman was his. She didn’t know it, but she was coming home with him.

“You want another drink?” He tipped her face up to his and took her mouth because he couldn’t stop himself. He was rough. Demanding. She tasted sweeter than anything he’d ever had. Once he started kissing her, he found himself lost in her taste. Wanting more. Slightly obsessed.

She was pure fire, pouring into him. Sugar. Spice. Cinnamon candy. He tried to tell himself to stop, that it was the whiskey, but he dragged her closer until they were nearly sharing the same skin. If he could have gotten their clothes off right there, and still kept her, he would have stripped her naked and laid her out right on the pool table. Instead, he slid his hand under her jacket, sliding it up gently to first cup the soft weight of her tits, his mouth on hers, lighting a match to all that whiskey.