Vendetta Road – Torpedo Ink Read online Christine Feehan

Categories Genre: Erotic, Fantasy/Sci-fi, MC, Paranormal, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 174
Estimated words: 159159 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 796(@200wpm)___ 637(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
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“He was after Soleil,” Lana informed them haughtily. “I had plans to ruin him for life. He was hideous.”

A roar of laughter went up. Soleil smiled, but it faded quickly when she found herself looking into a glacier of blue. Her heart skipped a beat.

“It was him, from the site next to us, wasn’t it?”

She ran her hand up and down his arm. “It was nothing. Lana handled it. And then Preacher and Ink came along, and he took off.”

“What did he say to you?”

“He talked to Lana mainly. He said if she wouldn’t tell him her name, the club could have trouble, or something to that effect. He left, Ice.”

Ice turned to look at Lana. “Thanks, Lana. Means the fuckin’ world to me, right here.” He swept his hand down from Soleil’s head to the curve of her butt. “You want to walk around before we eat?”

She could tell he wanted to be alone with her, so she nodded. He threaded his fingers through hers, and they began moving through the pathways between the campsites. The grounds were packed. Everywhere she looked, people were dancing, gyrating, drinking, laughing, catching up with one another. Very few women were wearing tops, and she was feeling a little overdressed in Ice’s shirt.

“This is actually far different than I pictured it. It’s wild and fun.”

He sent her a little grin. “I’m glad you’re having a good time. Thanks for getting the grill started. By the time we usually get around to it, we start eating around three in the morning.” He pushed her deeper into the trees. “I fuckin’ missed you. I had things to do and all I could think about was getting back to you.” He cupped her face and bent to brush his lips over hers. Gently. A barely there kiss that sent butterfly wings fluttering through her stomach. “Did you miss me, Soleil? Did you miss my hands on you?”

“So much,” she admitted. “I always miss you, Ice, when you’re not with me.”

He kissed his way over her chin, down to her throat. “Open your shirt for me.”

She obeyed without hesitation. There was a small picnic table set to one side of the long sweeping strands of a willow tree. He backed her right up to the table so that the edge pressed against her lower back. His lips continued to travel down her throat to her chest and then over the top curves of her breasts.

Everywhere he touched her, kissed her, little flames lingered. He ignited every nerve ending without trying. She was always acutely aware that she was female and he was male whenever they were near each other. Her breasts ached for him, for his touch, for his mouth. His hands were gentle, his mouth even more so. It was so unexpected she found tears burning in her eyes.

“Hold your shirt open for me.”

He framed her breasts with his hands and steadily bent her backward over the table. His mouth followed her down, finding her left nipple as she pulled the shirt out of his way. It took a moment to realize he’d left her shirt on to protect her from the top of the table. His mouth was powerful, sucking at her breast with a strong, steady rhythm that instantly made her go damp. Without warning the vibrator began to buzz, stimulating the nerve endings inside her butt. She gasped and squirmed. His fingers tugged at her other nipple, rolling and pinching until her breath hitched in her throat.

“Open your jeans, princess. Push them down your legs.”

He whispered the order and somehow that soft intimacy sent a shiver through her body. It wasn’t easy to obey him. He didn’t let up with his hands and mouth, and the sensations were growing until her legs felt like rubber. The vibrations seemed to move through her body like waves of heat.

He kissed his way down her breasts to her belly button, his tongue tasting every inch of her skin between. He took his time, his hands gentle on her, whispering over her skin, the way his mouth was. Her breath hissed out of her lungs, and she tried not to thrash. Tried to stay still. It was beautiful, what he was doing to her. Amazing. She was drenched in desire for him, the need for him so strong she couldn’t stop her hands from stroking his shoulders, his back, from moving through his thick hair.

He dragged her jeans down to her shoes. She’d worn her pull-on boots and was thankful she had when he pulled them off and set them with her jeans on the bench. He was precise about each movement but very fast, as if every detail was already seen to in his mind. He kept one hand on her belly, pinning her to the table almost the entire time.



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