Tattered Love (Needle's Kiss)

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