He’d fucked a million times and it had never felt like this. His wife. Her perfect little pussy. He wasn’t ever giving that up. Not ever. He plunged into her over and over until he knew he was going up in flames. Then her body clamped down on his, a vicious vise, strangling his cock, milking with those tight muscles as her orgasm took her. The wave was so intense it took him with her, so they both erupted together.
His cock jerked hard, over and over, coating the walls of her sheath, triggering another huge wave that traveled on the tail of the first one. He rode it out with her, his head thrown back, his cock on fire, bathed in their combined cream. He loved the smell of sex, but now, there was only their sex. That fragrance. That steamy, sexy combination that added to his addiction.
He lowered her legs gently to the floor, triggering a third orgasm. His cock loved it. He loved it. So perfect.
“You okay, princess?”
“I think I’m still alive.”
Her lashes lifted and she searched his face. Seeing too much. He couldn’t let that happen, especially tonight. Ice pulled out of her a little reluctantly, half expecting his cock to be burned, but he was intact, and he leaned forward to press a kiss onto her bare mound. She immediately dropped her hand into his thick hair and massaged his scalp with gentle fingers. The moment she did that, he didn’t want her to stop.
He had no choice. He remained there for a few minutes, savoring the feeling of belonging to someone before he pressed another kiss on her skin and then hurried to the bathroom to clean up and bring her a warm washcloth. She washed herself thoroughly and then suddenly stopped, looking anxious.
“Ice, we didn’t use a condom. I can’t get pregnant, but . . .”
“I’m clean, baby. You?” What the fuck was wrong with him? Why hadn’t he thought about using a condom with her?
“Yes. I always made a partner wear a condom. Even Winston, although it made him angry. I should have been thinking.” She scooted up to the pillows.
He flung himself on the bed beside her, framed her face with both hands and kissed her. He wanted more time with her. His cock wanted more time. The moment he had cleaned himself, returned to the bedroom to see her naked and sprawled out, his seed running down her thigh, all of a sudden, the steel was back. He wanted her again. He wanted her in so many ways. He’d like to take her by the windowsill, bend her over and fuck her with her tits pushed up against the glass and her staring out wondering if someone would walk by. Just the thought excited him.
He kissed her over and over, drowning in her, wanting to consume her, to bury himself in her all over again in a million different ways. One hand in her hair, bunching it in his fist as he explored her mouth, demanding her response, he made certain she was only thinking of him, surrendering fully to him. Another orgasm or two and she’d be too wiped out to notice when he slipped out of the room to take care of business.
EIGHT
Ice pulled on his gloves and sent Savage a look that said he’d had enough bullshit. “We know that bastard is at the hotel. He’s fuckin’ staying in the room she’s payin’ for. I want to pay him a visit after we get this done. Housekeeping can find him in the morning with his throat slit.”
“Ice,” Savage cautioned. “You’re supposed to be the voice of reason, not me. We can’t do him in a hotel. Too many cameras. No way to control it. You know that. We’ve got his name . . .”
“Winston Trent,” Ice said, making the name a bad taste in his mouth. “Who the hell is named Winston? I want to take him apart just for that crap.”
“He lives in San Francisco. We’ll arrange a match at the fight club and have a reason to go there. A couple of the brothers will pick him up and take him to one of the safe houses and we’ll have a friendly chat with him.” Savage looked at the two men sitting in the chairs in the center of the warehouse floor. “Like we’re doing here. We’re keeping it friendly.”
Paul Bitters and a man by the name of Rich Marshal sat tied to the metal chairs. They looked worse for wear. Savage and Player had been there earlier, and Savage wasn’t gentle by any means. He didn’t mind hurting pedophiles, and both these men, fairly high up in a very active ring, qualified.
Torpedo Ink had been hearing for some time that a man would take an order for a child, boy or girl, find a family with no other relatives and kill the parents and take the child so no one would put a tremendous amount of effort into looking for him or her. At first, when Code searched for similar cold cases, he couldn’t find anything, but then he widened the search and began to see more than they liked over the last few years, which meant the rumors were true.
Ice walked over to Rich Marshal’s chair and toed the front foot. “Got married tonight, you son of a bitch, and I’d much rather be fuckin’ a beautiful woman than cuttin’ you into little pieces. Don’t get me wrong, a piece of shit like you usually is a top priority, but not tonight. So, call me pissed as hell.”
“What he’s sayin’ in a nice way,” Maestro said, “is don’t pretend to be a hero. Answer the fuckin’ questions so he can get back to his woman.”
Rich Marshal had been the driver of the pickup truck that had been following Jarvis and Kent to ensure that no one was tailing them before the men met up with Paul Bitters for the auction.
Rich looked at Bitters and shook his head. “I don’t know what you want from me. I was hired to tail a couple of guys, make sure no one followed them. Your friend ran me off the road and I ended up here. That’s it. I don’t know anything else.” His gaze shifted from Bitters to Savage and immediately he looked leery.
Savage sat on the edge of a table where all kinds of tools were laid out. He calmly took a bite out of an apple. “Waste of time, Ice. Fuckin’ waste of time.” He didn’t look up as he gave his two cents.
Ice barely moved, but when he did, his speed was blurring. He slammed a knife straight down into Rich’s thigh, burying it to the hilt. The blade was only a couple of inches long, but it was wide, and it was sharp, slicing through skin and muscle like it was butter. Rich screamed. Paul Bitters paled and drew back, trying to throw himself sideways out of his chair.
Ice ignored both reactions, shaking his head as he pulled the blade slowly from Rich’s thigh. “Don’t like lies, Richie. I can hear them. I can feel them. I can even smell them. You like little kids, and Bitters supplies you with them. I already know that about you.”
Code had been busy getting as much information on Marshal as possible, even while he was doing the paperwork to ensure Ice and Soleil could get married legally. Rich Marshal was every bit as dirty as Paul Bitters. He might not be as high up the ladder in the pedophile network as Bitters, but he had been working within the ring for some time. He preferred girls, he liked them six to eight. When they got too old, he sold them either in online auctions or to a trafficking ring.