Tattered Love (Needle's Kiss) (3 page)

“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.

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.”

What a jackass!
I thought to myself as I watched Mace walk himself across the road to Trip's. I was left standing on shaky legs, my nipples strained against the thin cotton of my tank while I stared after him like some lust-sick fool. How dare he touch me and make a comment like that only to walk away like it didn't affect his ass in the least! Annoyed at his cocky attitude, I decided two could play at the game he started. If he wanted me quivering at his feet, then he'd be in for one hell of a wakeup call.

Scarlett Garcia fell at the feet of no gloriously delicious man!

I turned and stomped toward my house in my
“sexy as fuck”
boots. I needed a nice hot shower. While I was in there, my mind was forming a plan to make him wish he’d never crossed me. Payback was going to be so sweet and it would be served with an extra side of sexy. One last eye sweep of the floor length mirror, and I’d declared myself ready to turn heads, one head in particular.

Figuring I needed something sexy as sin to get his attention but not trashy, I’d worn my favorite blood-red Mary Jane peep toe pumps so my black toenails with tiny cherries could be seen. a simple skintight sleek, black pencil skirt that accentuated my hips and ass, ending just above my knees, teamed with a silk red blouse which draped in front, giving a tiny hint of cleavage, tied with a string across my shoulder blades and another across my lower back. It barely covered my sides, leaving the rest of my back completely bare showcasing my favorite tattoo.

Happy with my image, I slowly slipped on a pair of red see-through, barely-there panties. My finishing touch that always helped to make me feel as sexy as hell. With a smile on my face, I strutted out the front door, confident with the knowledge Mace had no idea Trip had invited me to his welcome home party.

I had known Mace’s family, with the exception of Mace himself, for almost three years. I’d become fast friends with Trip after a blind date gone wrong. His mother, Marcy, was so sweet and caring; I adored her. Marcy was the mother I wished I’d had growing up rather than the stone-cold selfish woman I was given. She was everything I imagined a real mother would be, open and kind, always with a loving word to say; chastised her children when they needed it, even though they were grown, but always did it with humor and a warmth that left no doubt she loved them regardless. She was a short-framed round woman with greying hair and a soft smile. Since I’d know the family, I had been taken in as a sort of surrogate child, so when I stepped out of line, Marcy had no qualms telling me off like I was one of her own. She even insisted I call her Mom. I had been told every friend of the kids growing up had been coerced to do the same.

Trip answered the door. He looked me up and down with a knowing smirk and a head shake. Leaning forward for a one-armed hug, he quietly asked, “Scar, are you trying to kill him from loss of blood to the brain?”

“Now why would you think that?” I smiled and batted my eyelashes. Trip never missed a beat; he knew exactly what I was up to.

“God help the fucking lot of us,” he mumbled, chuckling as he walked off.

I made my way through the house and was met with the usual boisterous noise that came from the Torres family being in one house together; I stopped to kiss Milla on the cheek quickly, before being engulfed in a big soft hug from Marcy. Pulling back, I heard the rumble of a voice from somewhere behind me. “Scarlett? I didn't expect you to be here.”

His voice instantly sent a shiver running through me. I briefly wondered how a man’s voice could be so sinfully sexy, and sound so damn erotic.

I turned, looked up and was met with Mace's beautiful blue eyes flashing with mild surprise, followed by desire as he did a slow, blatant body scan. He was dressed much like he had been earlier in the day, except the jeans he wore now were well-worn and fitted to his hips and legs like they were custom made. His t-shirt had been swapped for a black long-sleeved button-down, rolled up to the middle of his thick, sinewy forearms.

I smirked, “Mace, how’s your tattoo feeling?”

To my surprise, he graced me with a thousand-watt, panty-dropping smile, the first I had seen from him, making me swoon slightly before I corrected myself.

Traitorous body!

Needing a few moments, I turned back and asked, “What do you want me to do in the kitchen, Mom?”

Marcy looked from Mace and back to me again, eyes twinkling slightly with a mischievous look before she spoke. “Dip, sweetheart. You make it better than anyone else.” She patted me on the backside as I walked past, calling out to Mace who was still watching me. “Mace, get some drinks will you, honey?”

On the way to the kitchen, I had to squeeze past Mace's bulky frame which was partially blocking the doorway. As I did, my ass gently brushed his jean-covered crotch, sending a tingle down my spine and butterflies fluttering in my belly. I’d briefly noted his intake of breath as I approached the long marble countertop which was covered in an array of dishes.

A little too pleased with myself, I was wiping down the counter top when Haven arrived. I could hear her loudly greeting the family, laughing.

Conversation was loud as I helped with the food and drinks. Seeing the perfect opportunity to mess with him, I leaned over Mace to put a big dish of potatoes on the large dining-room table when he knocked his water glass. With unbelievably quick reflexes, he righted it before it spilled. I put a hand to his enormous shoulder, leaned in close and whispered, “Careful, Mace, you don’t wanna be getting me all wet now do you?” The brazen vixen in me whooped at the opportunity to talk dirty.
Score 1 to me!

A strained groan came from his throat as he picked up his beer and downed the rest of it in one long gulp. “Playin’ with fire there, babe,” he ground out under his breath.

“Oh, but I like when it’s hot, Mace,” I virtually purred, biting down on my lip to stop from laughing at his reaction.

Somehow, I found myself seated next to Mace when it was time to eat, which worked perfectly considering I still had work to do. Everybody loaded up their plates with the ridiculous amount of food that could’ve fed an army, and dug in. The table was filled with Trip’s family all eating and chatting animatedly.

I noticed the appreciative spark in Mace's eyes when I leaned forward to pick up my drink, revealing the slight swell of my breast from the side of my blouse. He paused and leaned in slightly closer, whispering in a strained voice, “Not sure what's better, that shirt or those boots you had on earlier.”

I looked at him through my peripheral vision and took a slow drink, licking my lips with exaggeration. His eyes grew darker and hooded with desire. I decided it was time to up the ante. Just as he took in a mouthful of his own drink, I reached under the table and ran my manicured red-tipped fingers up the inside of his leg. A whisper soft touch starting from above his knee, up further and further, only stopping millimeters from his jean-clad cock. He went rigid with surprise. A little too surprised. He choked on his beer, coughing and sputtering, causing all four heads to pop up and stare at the intentional scene I’d caused.

Trying to hide my victory grin, Trip looked over at me with a knowing smile, tipping the corners of his lips briefly, only to look down at his food quickly.

Milla immediately asked, “You okay, Mace?”

I gave him a small pat on the back telling him as sincerely as I could muster, “You should probably be more careful there.” It earned me a delicious scowl that made his face look sexy, regardless of the incredulous expression he shot my way. I quickly changed the subject and struck up a conversation with Haven, though I didn’t miss the smile he tried hiding behind his fork full of food.

After dinner was over, I was standing in the kitchen, bent over, stacking the dishwasher when I felt a hard heat at my back. Straightening slightly, a large hand wrapped around my hip causing my heart rate to increase and my nipples to instantly pebble. Mace's head tipped to the side, lips hovering over my neck. My breathing hitched, praying for his sensual lips to touch my neck

“What are you doing?” I asked in a choked voice, unable to believe the instant effect he had on my body.

“Babe, if you don't quit it, you’re going to find yourself bent over this counter with that sexy-ass skirt around your waist, and I won’t give a shit who fucking walks in.” His breath blew on my sensitive skin sending a pool of wetness into my pretty panties.

I turned my face a fraction toward his and lied breathlessly, “Don't know what you’re talking about.”

He moved into me. His front plastered to my back. Placing his hand on the counter beside me and tightening his grip on my hip—effectively pinning me to the spot, he ground his impressive hard-on against my rear. “Oh, I think you know exactly what you’re doing. You win this round, Princess. Feel what you’ve done to me.”

Breathing heavily, I sunk into him. Just as I was about to grind my ass into him some more, he turned and walked back toward the rest of the party.

Well, shit!

I was pretty pleased knowing he was struggling with his self-control, mostly because he sure as hell wasn’t the only one on the edge.

A soft whimper escaped my lips as I gripped the cool edge of the marble counter and considered how damn good he was at this game. In three seconds flat, he’d made me want to throw him to the ground and do all sorts of nasty wicked things to his body, starting at that luscious but dirty fucking mouth of his.

I righted myself, sucked in a few deep breaths, steadied my jelly-like legs and made my way back into the living room to say goodnight.

I made it to my front door when I heard something behind me. Turning at the noise, I saw Mace step up in front of me. A million erotic thoughts passed through my equally dirty brain. I bit my lower lip slightly at the mental image of pushing him into my living room, dropping to my knees and spending a considerable amount of time and effort in finding out if he was as well-endowed as he felt to be. The idea of his thick—

Damn, girl. Get a hold of yourself!

I needed to shake those thoughts off and get my shit together; I’d only planned on messing with him a little, maybe just one night of fun; it had been far too long since I’d had a little fun. The butterflies, goose bumps and other nonsense were what concerned me. Men like Mace would only leave you heartbroken. This I knew from experience.

“Mace, what can I do for you?” I asked as I had looked up at his unusual blue eyes. I held my breath waiting for his answer.