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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The evening turned into night and laughter continued, but Ice had reached the point where he wanted to be alone with his woman. She was a little bit tipsy. She never really seemed to get drunk, just like she said, but tipsy sex sounded good to him. More than good. Evidently, he wasn’t alone in deciding tipsy sex was a major perk. Reaper caught up his woman, Anya, tossed her over his shoulder, as he often did when he was ready to leave and she wasn’t cooperating, and strode off with her.

Reaper was generally the first to go and rapidly, the others followed. Steele and Breezy said their good-byes and made their way to his bike, hand in hand. Ice almost envied Steele in that he could walk out and ride away while he was stuck with the grill that kept having parts fall off of it. He was still working on it, trying to figure out why the bolts didn’t line up properly, when the last member of Torpedo Ink was gone, and Soleil wandered out onto the patio.

“This thing is defective, Soleil. Completely, utterly, defective. I should write to the company and complain. Or at least get our money back.” He gave the stupid thing a kick. The wheel wobbled. He cursed. She giggled.

She wrapped her arm around his waist and looked up at him, her smile lighting his world. “Just leave it, honey. You haven’t seen that second little wedding album. Alena brought it with her tonight. She and Lana had it made up for us.”

“We actually have another wedding album?” He liked the first one just fine.

Ice abandoned the grill, leaving it lurched to one side, the top rack lying partially on the bottom one.

Soleil looked back at it and immediately started laughing. “Look, Ice, it’s drunk.”

He glanced over his shoulder, and the damn grill really did look a little drunk. He couldn’t help but laugh, although it was more that she was laughing than how the grill looked that made him want to smile. He wouldn’t have minded shoving the grill into the ocean.

“I think you’re a little drunk yourself, baby,” he teased.

She nodded. “A little. Just enough for a buzz.”

His hand dropped to her ass. He cupped her left cheek and gently began a slow massage. “Just enough for me to get down and dirty with you?”

Her eyes shone bright. “How dirty?”

“Baby, you know me. I go for it. I’d have to say very dirty. I’ve got plans.”

She shivered and leaned her body into his. “I can’t wait.”

He held the door open so she could get inside. Warmth instantly enveloped them. He loved this room. The fire was on in the fireplace, and the entire room was very warm. He pulled her down onto the couch, where they could look out at the sea or into the dancing flames. Soleil did what she always did. She kicked off her sandals and curled up close to him.

He liked her close and felt very lucky that she liked to be touched as much as he enjoyed touching. Truthfully, it was a need. He needed to touch her. Sometimes all he did was drift his fingers over her breast or take one finger and rub the underside. She never protested or slapped his hand away. She just smiled at him.

“They made us another album?” He reached for it. It was far thicker than he’d thought possible.

“Yes.” She ran her finger over the first page. The way she did that caught at him—as if the album really meant something to her. He was grateful for his sister and Lana thinking of it. He wouldn’t have. He was trying to learn the things that meant the most to Soleil to anticipate her needs—or wants.

The first few pictures were taken inside the boutique where they’d bought her wedding dress. There was a variety of pictures of the two of them standing in front of the various items of clothing she had needed. Some of them kissing. All of the pictures were shadowy, and very artsy. He could only guess that Maestro had taken the photographs. He was good behind a camera, and he could make almost any shot look special.

Ice turned the page and his heart nearly stopped. There were a series of photographs of Soleil on her knees, her back to the wedding gown, which was on a mannequin, Ice in front of her, his cock in her mouth. Each photograph was different, taken from an assortment of angles, some so the ecstasy was plain on his face, and others captured that sweet adoration she often got on hers when she went to work on his cock.

“Maestro has talent.” Ice turned his head and looked at his woman. “So do you, princess. I had no idea he was doing this. You managed to distract me, and that just doesn’t happen.”


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