Tattered Love

Finishing off his ink, I put my tattoo gun down on the small metal table and wiped the excess ink away with paper towel. I held the mirror in place and softly spoke by his ear. “All done, how's that look?”



Mace's head snapped up. His eyes, hooded and slightly darker, met mine in the black iron-gilded mirror, making my insides heat as my breathing picked up to match his. Nothing was said for a few beats before his eyes lowered to take in the new artwork that had looked slightly red around the edges, fresh, angry and downright beautiful.



He’d nodded once with a grunt, and moved to stand as I rolled backward on my chair. I stood, trying to ignore the tingling feeling running over my body and the butterflies going crazy in my belly. While he grabbed his shirt, standing only in a pair of perfectly fitting faded jeans, heavy army boots, and a thick black belt with chunky silver buckle, I found it impossible to pull my gaze away.



I reached up to smear on some tattoo cream and put a clean dressing over the newly marked skin of his broad back, with slightly shaking fingers. As I did, he sucked in a sharp breath.



“Sorry, did I hurt you?” I all but whispered.



A slight shake of his head in the negative was the only reaction I received as he pulled his shirt back on. Which in my opinion was a shame, even though his well-worn grey shirt accentuated his large chest and made for a spectacular view.



“You done?” Trip asked from someplace behind my station, scaring the shit out of me.



“Mmm-hmm, yeah. You okay to do aftercare?” I asked looking to Trip. I needed some space before I embarrassed myself by doing something as stupid as reaching up and biting the tribal scorpion on his neck.



“Sure, I'm gonna grab a bite with Mace, you want anything?”



Shaking myself out of a lust induced stupor, I answered, “Yeah, whatever you grab me will be fine, thanks. Take your time. Remy'll be in soon; I can handle anything that comes in before then.” I started cleaning my station down, studiously ignoring the two buff men staring down at my no doubt very flushed face.



“Later, babe.” I could hear the amusement in Trip’s voice.



“Later,” I murmured



“Thanks, Scarlett,” Mace said, his voice making my nipples peak and my body give a slight shiver. My mind instantly wondered what he'd sound like that just before he came.



“Sure,” I almost whimpered, before clearing my throat to continue, “Erm, no worries. Make sure Trip grabs you some cream on your way out. Was nice to meet you, Mace.”



I finished wiping down my table, re-wrapping everything with plastic and went into the kitchenette at the far back of the shop, grabbing a bottle of water. I threw myself on the black leather sofa against the far wall, trying to shake off the effect from my first encounter with Mace Torres, and hoping—against my better judgment—that it wouldn't be the last.



Chapter Two



I made it across the road and inside the coffee shop before Trip started with the questions. He might have been the fun joker of the family, but he had the uncanny ability to read between the lines, and pay far too much attention to what was going on around him.



“So how long you back for? What’s the plan?”



“For good now. I got out. Gonna find a place round here, settle it down.”



“You’re out? Like done? Finished? Does Ma know?” Trip rambled.



“Nah, haven't spoken to her yet. First stop, little brother, told you this,” I laughed, his excited ramblings were something I always gave him shit about.



“Right, well, I’ve got an extra room you want it? It’s all set up. I just gotta make up the bed and shit.”



I figured this would be a good solution. I really didn’t want to be staying at Ma’s while I was searching for a place, and I wasn’t used to living in the quiet seeing as I’d just spent a good chunk of time with a bunch of rowdy men, so having my baby brother as a house mate would be damn near perfect. “That’d be good. I gotta go buy a new truck and sort a few things out first.”



“Take my bike, the car dealerships just down the road. Leave it there and I’ll pick it up when I’m done with work.”



I nodded my head in thanks and asked, “You still ridin’ that hunk of metal?



“Watch it! That hunk of metal’s my girl. Only chick I’ll ride twice, so be nice to her.” He gave me a cocky smile. Clearly, he still hadn’t settled down any. Trip never was a commitment kind of guy. He was looking for conquests not contentment.



Halfway through lunch, Trip asked quietly, “What's that shit with Scar just now? Saw the way you were looking at her, man, and I gotta tell you, she's not the one-night-stand kinda girl.”



My eyes snapped up to meet Trip’s. I cleared my throat wishing he wasn’t so damn clever. “Nothin’, she's hot. Haven't laid eyes on a woman lookin’ like that in over two very long years, brother.” I attempted to keep my face neutral, and ignored my increased heartbeat at the thought of a night with Scar.



“Just keep what I said in mind. Unless you’re ready to move on and make something of it, stay outta her pretty little panties, yeah?” Trip warned. I felt my eyebrows come down into a furrow. How the fuck did he know her panties were pretty? Either my face gave me away or he read my mind. “Settle down. I’ve never been there; she’s just a good friend.” I relaxed knowing that he’d stayed clear.



“Might just be ready to do that, Trip. It’s been near on three years. I gotta sort my shit sooner or later, and she might be a girl worth sorting shit out for.”



“She is,” Trip mumbled, nodding his head in thought. “Well, I gotta get back.”



My hand came up instantly, and caught the keys Trip threw my way. “Later,” Trip threw over his shoulder as he made his way out the cafe door with a nod.



“Later,” I mumbled, already thinking back to the moment I stepped in Needle’s Kiss's front doors. I knew my little brother worked for a woman; we’d kept in contact through regular letters over the last two years, but I had no idea the woman in question would be such a knock out.



I had taken a quick glance around my surroundings as I entered the shop, my gaze halting right on the stunning, hotter-than-Hades vixen standing by the counter. I did a good sweep of her top to gorgeous toe; all thought had left my head, along with half the blood, and travelled directly south. I noticed first the bright-red “fuck me” heels that encased her tiny feet. My gaze travelled up the purposely torn and well-worn jeans. All I could imagine were those glorious legs wrapped around my waist, and the spikes on those heels digging into my ass, making my comfortable jeans become slightly less comfortable. I dragged my eyes up and was met with the image of her well-endowed chest, pressed tight and slightly pushed up and out in the blood-red corset, with black glittered skulls, setting off her clear green eyes and black hair with red streaks through it.



When she’d spoken in what could only be described as a husky-bedroom voice, all I could think to do was grunt a few words about my shit of a little brother. I’d gotten myself together, only to have had to endure watching her bent over at the workstation drawing up my ink, treating me to a view of her perfectly rounded ass that was guaranteed to bring even the strongest of men to their knees. That, followed by about an hour of her delicate hands on my body, caused lust-fuelled thoughts that had strung me so tight, I had been sure I'd stepped back to being a hormonal sixteen-year-old boy again, rather than the twenty-eight-year-old man I was. Damn, I wanted a piece of that.



I knew the moment her eyes met mine in the mirror, I wasn’t alone in my dirty thoughts when her voice had turned breathless. I couldn't help but think if this was how she would sound when she was about to come.



When her bare fingers ran softly across my taut shoulder, I would have liked nothing more than to have her pinned beneath me, her nails scrapping down my back. The last few years had been a series of hard lessons learned; I was nearing thirty years old. Just three years earlier, I’d had darn near everything a man could have wanted. Unfortunately, I had soon realized, good and well, that nothing was ever guaranteed, everything you held close could be taken in one soul-crushing swoop, leaving you destroyed and feeling hopeless.



I had never thought I would run smack dab into exactly the thing that had the potential to sooth my sorrow-filled heart, all wrapped up in a sexy, tattooed killer body.



After leaving Trip, I made a few stops to let friends and Ma know I was home before heading over and picking out a new truck.



Ma made a few calls to my sisters, and organized a family welcome-home dinner at Trip’s place that night. Even with all that was going on, there was one thing at the forefront of my mind. I needed to figure out exactly how to get one fine-ass woman, named Scarlett, into my bed, pronto. It shouldn’t be too hard right?



Later that afternoon, I pulled up to Trip’s house in my new, sleek gun-metal grey Chevy pickup. Jumping down, I noticed a stunning pair of legs under the hood of a sweet ride across the road; I recognized the car. I’d seen it in the parking lot of the shop when I picked up my brother’s Harley. I watched as those sexy long legs slipped out, joined by the rest of a seriously stacked female body which belonged to none other than the potential star of all my future dirty dreams. Fuck me. By the looks of it, I’d be living directly across the road from her; I shot a silent prayer of thanks to the big man upstairs.



As I approached, Scarlett pulled herself out from under the Cobra, clad in a pair of army boots that made her look adorable, tiny denim cut off shorts—that barely covered her perfect ass—her fantastic tits were strained against the thin cotton material of a well-worn grey tank—fuck me she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her hair was piled in a messy bun on her head; the red from her hair was now gone, replaced with bright blue streaks. Her pretty face was completely void of makeup.



Shit, I was hard just looking at her.



She’d spotted me, a gorgeous smile forming on her face, causing my groin to throb even more; fuck, she was beautiful. I walked up her drive and noticed Daughtry was playing from somewhere in her open garage. My respect for her just jumped another notch.



Scarlett tilted her head up to look at me while she wiped her greasy hands on a rag. Leaning her backside against the hood of the car, she reached back, picked up her bottle of beer, and took a long pull as a droplet of sweat ran down her cleavage. My gaze immediately dropped to her neck as I watched the movement of her throat while she swallowed; the cool amber liquid sending my thoughts careening towards what else I would love to see her swallowing with that perfect mouth.



I snapped myself back to reality, and leaned in close to her as she shut her eyes, her breathing instantly picking up. She squirmed as I reached a hand out and wiped her cheek. She looked up at me confused. My eyes crinkled as I felt my lips form into a small grin. “You got grease on your pretty face.”



Scarlett took a small step back on wobbly legs. I nodded toward her boots and observed, “Got a pair just like those. Never seen ‘em lookin’ like that though.”



“Like what?”



Sauntering away from her, I smirked. “Sexy as fuck.”