Ice took her over, needing her wild, crashing orgasm as much as or more than she did. Her voice swelled, a crescendo in a beautiful symphony, until there was a long, drawn-out scream of pure pleasure. Ice grinned and wiped his face on her thighs.
He slowly stood, his hand rubbing her perfect ass cheeks gently, bringing her down slowly. “You can have this every damn day, baby. I think we should make us permanent, don’t you?”
Her lashes fluttered. She looked up at him as if the stars and sun revolved around him. “Yes,” she agreed. “Absolutely yes.”SIXSoleil had never known happiness. She’d never felt a part of anything. She had more money than most people saw in a lifetime, but she had never had anyone to share her life with. She’d lived in hotels, and wandered from city to city, country to country, seeing every sight alone.
It was a strange night. She’d gone from having one of the worst days of her life to having the absolute best. She felt as if she were walking through a dream. A fairy tale. Floating. She didn’t ever get drunk, yet she knew, somehow, she was actually tipsy. The combination of drinks, maybe, when she never mixed them? It didn’t matter. She still knew exactly what she was doing.
She’d always believed in taking responsibility for her actions, and alcohol or not, she was responsible. She lay over a pool table, very aware of where she was and what she’d done, knowing she was surrounded by a lot of bikers and her body was still rippling with strong aftershocks, sending waves of pleasure spreading through her. She should feel shame, and she tried to, but all she could feel was amazing. Alive. Exhilarated. She wanted more.
She’d wanted what Ice had given her. She’d practically begged him to give her an orgasm. Even with her irresponsible, very risky behavior—so typical of her—she couldn’t say she hadn’t gotten the best of the deal. Her body had never felt like that before. She hadn’t known it could feel that way. She had deliberately seduced Ice into this position, and she actually thought his “brothers” had aided her.
Instead of laughing and walking away, Ice soothed her body with his hands, stroking caresses over her back. Rubbing her gently until she felt like her spaghetti legs could hold her up. His hands went to her waist and he gently lifted her off the table.
She heard him talking to her. She wasn’t certain what he said, but he tucked her close under his shoulder, her front to his side, and leaned down to whisper in her ear that they were getting out of that place.
She couldn’t look at the others, certain they knew she was seducing Ice and that she was a terrible person. She couldn’t make herself look at him; the guilt was overwhelming, but still not enough for her to walk away from him. He was so caring, and she was grateful to him for that. She’d never known caring. They left the bar, going out into the cool night air.
“Baby, you okay with walking? Some of the brothers will ride, but we’ll have protection. I don’t want you on the back of the bike until I know you can hold on. And I think maybe I drank a little bit more than I should have.”
It was the last thing she expected him to say. “I did drink way too much,” she admitted. She had. And she shouldn’t have mixed her drinks, but she’d do it again. She wouldn’t change one single thing of this strange, wonderful night. “You didn’t drink any more than I did, Ice.” She had to take the blame for that. “I was plying you with liquor, matching you drink for drink, remember?”
“We’re both fine,” he assured.
He kept his arm tightly around her waist, so it was impossible to feel unsteady. The night air was cool, and she hoped it would help clear her head. She’d gone off the deep end. Just because her life was about to end didn’t mean she had the right to screw up Ice’s. This was one night. Seduction. Sex. Fun. Nothing else. She could be the girl she’d always wanted to be. She loved to show off. She craved attention. Was starved for it. She loved to be looked at. Her fantasies had always been safe ones, but the need in her was very real. The only thing that had kept her from being the way she was right now was her sense of responsibility. Where had that gone? Because she was still, in the back of her head, thinking, Would it really be that bad to wake up married to her badass biker?
She heard several motorcycles fire up, the pipes loud, roaring through the night air. She stumbled over an uneven spot in the concrete and staggered a few steps. Ice’s arm tightened around her waist. Maestro and Player, two of his Torpedo Ink brethren, steadied her by gripping her arms. She was surprised. Shocked even. They let go of her the moment she had her equilibrium, but their touch had been caring, not at all handsy. Their touch felt respectful. She knew they thought she’d stumbled because she’d been drinking, but was it awful of her to let them think that when it wasn’t the case?