Vendetta Road (Torpedo Ink 3)

“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.