Tattered Love

“You, babe, stompin’ about the place like you’re gonna deck someone,” he said, trying and failing to hold back a chuckle



“I wasn’t going to hit anyone, just give you a piece of my mind.” I looked at him a little annoyed, because even when I thought he wasn’t paying attention, he was aware of my little tantrum. “How did you know what I drink?”



“Paid attention at dinner last night. You only drink one kind of beer,” he said nodding his head in the direction of my drink.



There he went again pissing me off with his noticing shit most men wouldn’t. I corrected my earlier observation.



Stupid, thoughtful, attention paying ass!



Fortunately, our conversation took a more pleasant turn when he let me order my own dinner and the next round of drinks. Though he put his foot down at me paying for anything.



“I’m more than capable of paying for a round of drinks,” I told him, eyebrows raised, my hands on my hips. To anyone else I probably seemed like a bitch, but he only found it amusing.



“A man doesn’t let his woman pay, plain and simple, babe,” he told me, his tone one not to be messed with.



Hold on, when the hell had I become ‘his woman’? It was our first date for crying out loud!



After our relaxing meal, we had a few more drinks, made all that much better with the light easy conversation. Where the back and forth dropped off, there was a comfortable silence that simply didn’t need to be filled.



“How long were you with special ops then?” I figured I had to take this slow, and then maybe he’d give me something to work with.



“Six years roughly. How long have you been a tattooist?” His answer was brief, steering the conversation back again.



“I got my first tattoo here at eighteen.” I pointed to the ink on my bicep. “After that, I was hooked. I started my apprenticeship almost straightaway. Haven’t looked back.” He grabbed my arm and looked a little closer, the contact of his rough calloused fingers bringing the flush back to my cheeks.



“An engine?” he asked with raised brows.



“My dad and I we built cars from scratch; it was our thing. We always had an old engine we’d be fixing up.”



“The Cobra? You did that?” I’d seen him eyeing my car appreciatively.



“Yep, took us about six months, but she was well worth every second.”



“And the shoe?” he questioned, tipping his head to the side slightly. Looking back to my tattoo, I smiled. It was cute, an old car engine with a high heel sitting on top; this particular piece was all me.



“I have a slight obsession for heels. Well, any cute shoe really,” I mumbled, looking down at the table. I looked up when I heard him chuckle.



“I like your shoes; they make your legs go on forever”.



Trying to steer the conversation back, I asked more about his job. He let on a little bit, but no matter how I approached, I learned very little about Mace, other than he’d been doing tours all round; the last taking him away for over two years. There was something soothing about the way he spoke about it, an almost pained vibe though. It got to a point where he told me in a very indirect way that the topic was over. I could tell that he clearly didn’t like talking about himself. Constantly steering the conversation back to me and answering questions with questions was starting to irritate the shit out of me. Fortunately, Mace suggested a game of pool just before I was about to go all “I am woman hear me roar” on his ass.



“Come on, babe. I’ll show you how to play,” he told me while heading toward the vacant table.



I hate how he does that!



I should have been miffed that he assumed I couldn’t play, but instead, I figured I’d go along with it. Little did Mace know that I had played with my father as a kid and more recently, I beat his younger brother at least once every week. Trip, Remy, Teeny and I had a ritual after closing time each Friday. We’d stop at Bob’s to shoot pool, have a few drinks and embrace the weekend. Trip hated losing to me, yet he managed to take it like a man almost every time.



Deciding I could have a lot of fun with this, I walked up real close, leaning past him to grab a cue, and whispered—with practiced innocence and a bat of my eyelashes—“I need a stick-thingy. Wait. We should make a bet, right? That’s what they do on the TV shows.”



He smirked. “Babe, I’m not taking your money. It would be damn cruel to kick a pup while she’s down.” With a small smile, he turned and started racking the balls up. I bit my lip to keep from laughing and concentrated damn hard-on keeping a straight face.



I whined, “But I really wanna bet. Just fifty dollars. C’mon, it’ll be fun, and if I lose, you can buy me drinks with it anyway. C’mon, Mace. Please?”



He looked about to roll his eyes when he muttered, “Alright. But only one game of betting, babe. I’d hate for you to be upset all night.”



Cocky asshole!



It was kinda cute how he thought he could beat me. Call me smug, but I knew I was good. Damn good, actually. I just hoped he wasn't better.



“How do I know which balls are mine though?” I asked, sounding clueless.



“Whoever sinks the first ball gets that set” He pulled me close to where he stood at the table and picked up two balls. “See, this one is smalls, this one is bigs.” Pointing out what I already knew.



Biting my lip with what I hoped came across as a clueless look, I asked, “What does that mean?”



“Stripes and solid, see? There’s a set of each.” He smiled, a cocky look taking over his face.



“Oh I get it! Wait. Who gets to hit the balls first?” I was laying it on thick.



“The pretty lady does.”



“Flattery might just get you to second base. Tell me how to hit them. Do I just poke ‘em with the stick-thing?” I asked, turning my back a little so he wouldn’t see the laugh I was trying to hold down.



He smiled at me and shook his head “No you need to come down here near the white ball and—just come here, I’ll show you”.



I could barely keep the glee off my face as I walked to his end of the pool table. Mace came up behind, molding his hard body to mine. He brushed my hair back and lightly kissed my neck. He muttered, “Here, babe. Hold the cue like this.” He positioned my hand on the pool cue, his large hand encasing my much smaller one. “Rest your hand right here on the table.” His voice got a little quieter.



I pretended to be concentrating on what was happening with the game, but my brain was fully focused on this hard length brushing up against my ass. “And pull the back.” I moved the stick minimally along the side of our bodies, my breath coming out in short bursts as I became more and more turned on. “Yeah, just like that.” Bending over me with slightly parted legs, his hands on the stick with mine, his breath tickling the side of my neck, the smell of his soap and the erection pressed tight to my backside made my panties become moist. My girl bits spasmed at the thought of him bending me over sans clothing and having an audience. I purposely missed the shot by a mile; although, it may have had something to do with his lips as he kissed directly under my ear, and whispered hoarsely, “Gotta say, I like you bent over in front of me like this.”



I briefly forgot we were in public. Closing my eyes, I melted against him. “You smell good.”



And he did. Like musk, something woodsy and all man.



Cool air brushed over me as he moved away to take his shot, leaving me feeling a small sense of loss.



I played the clueless card for the first half of the game, purposely missing shots, and asking stupid questions I already knew the answers to.



And it was so much fun that it was hard not to burst into laughter at times.



Mace helped me out by telling me where to position the cue, and how to line up the balls. “Don’t worry babe, some people just aren’t pool players.” He must have mistaken me biting my lip trying to hold back the laughter as worry.



“You’re a really good teacher though.” I batted my eyelashes and laid on a sickly sweet smile.



“A few more dates and a heap more practice, you’ll be playing like a pro in no time.”



He was getting cocky again



It was time to step up and start playing to win. I wanted to get the hell outta here, preferably somewhere I could get that sexy grey Henley off him and pop the buttons on his black jeans. As he came down to take his shot, I leaned onto the table slightly, exposing my cleavage in a barely fit-for-public showing.



His eyes snapped up, lids becoming heavy. His eyes darkening with desire.



Oh, he saw. He liked it too. Leaning forward a little more, I asked innocently, “You gonna take that shot or stand there all day, honey?”



He grunted and took the shot, missing the ball completely. I figured it was time to make my play. I stepped up to the table and promptly sunk every last one of my balls, smirking as the eight ball went down.



Using the cue to steady himself, he dipped his head. I could see his body shake with silent laughter. I couldn’t help but join in. Lifting his head, I smiled angelically when he met my eyes. I really liked the way his smile changed his whole face. He chuckled, “I just got hustled, huh?”



Chapter Six



Laying in my bed with a warm man pressed up against me, I was amazingly content. A broad smile appeared on my face as I recalled the rest of the night’s events leading up to now.



After beating Mace at four games of pool, we spent my fifty dollar winnings on drinks. By the time we’d arrived home, I’d fallen asleep pressed tightly against him in the front cab of his truck. I vaguely remembered him carrying me up stairs to my bed, taking off my shoes and jeans with a muttered, “hot as fuck,” and then the sweet kiss he’d placed on my forehead as he tucked me in. He’d been so warm and comfortable I had asked him not to go, in my slightly inebriated and very sleepy state. At the time, it probably wasn’t a genius thing to do, inviting someone on a first date to stay the night, but right in that moment, I couldn’t bring myself to care.



Mace gripped my hip tight as I moved my ass into him. His raspy voice, heavy with sleep came close to my ear, “Morning pretty girl.”



A round of goose bumps spread over my neck. Pushing back again with a slight grind of my hips, I whispered, “You stayed the night?”



“Mmm-hmm, you wouldn't let me go. Figured it was a nice place to be, you tucked up beside me.” He brushed his lips across my right shoulder. I turned my body slightly towards his. His hand shifted down to the back of my leg, hooked behind my knee, only to run it back up the inside of my leg, to the bottom edge of my lace boy short panties. Moving his finger slowly, lazily back and forth just inside the seam, his teasing touch heated my body as the anticipation took over. He lowered his head. Using his teeth, he pulled my tank down to reveal one puckered nipple. He took it in his mouth, swirling and flicking his tongue, and softly nibbled against the hard peak. Morning stubble scratched against the soft flesh of my breast causing a ripple of heat to spread through my body. A growl tore up from his throat as his finger found its mark between my dripping folds. His head snapped up, eyes met mine, “Is that a—FUCK! You’re pierced!”