Yeah, I have men issues. My first love was a hot biker with badass tattoos and a beard that was just the right amount of scratchy when he kissed me.
I thought what we had was real. He made me believe I was the girl for him. We were together for three years before he told me one day he wanted to see the world.
I was all for it. Thought I could finish college when we got done with our world adventure.
Only I didn’t realize he meant he wanted to go alone. I had to watch him pack up and kiss the top of my head then he told me he hoped I had a very nice life.
A nice life!
Words couldn’t come to me as he left. I was dumb-struck. I watched him ride off into the sunset and I never heard from the guy, I thought loved me as much as I thought I loved him, again.
That was a couple of years ago. I’m over him and guys in general. Who needs a man, anyway?
I have my own little house I rented at the edge of town. My little Poodle, Maltese mix pup, accurately named, Cuddles, keeps me protected. And thanks to modern technology, there are machines to do what a man can for me.
One day I will make enough money to take complete care of myself. The paltry amount I make here is enough to get me by. But just that.
With my diploma in hand, I hope to change my financial outlook in just over a year or so. I have my plan for the future. Men not need apply.
I used to dabble at the bars a little now and again, but the few guys I thought would be random one-night stands all somehow wanted more than that from me. So I stopped going to the bars.
Work and home are all I do now. My classes are all online and only once a month do I have to go and check in with a few of my professors. Life is good and things couldn’t be better.
I’ve learned how to keep men at bay with a ‘don’t fuck with me’ attitude. As one can imagine, I get a ton of hot biker guys who come in here with their broken motorcycles. And a lot of them hit on me.
I hit back, though, and not in a nice way!
There’s no reason to act as if I might actually go out with them. I won’t.
When what’s-his-ass left me, I refuse to say his name ever again, I kind of broke down.
He taught me some things. First, never let yourself fall into a deep love. You lose some of yourself in that person. When they leave, like they all do eventually, you lose that piece of you too.
The second thing he taught me is how to be tough as hell. You have to be or men will come in and tell you nice things. You’ll believe their lying asses and it will end with you crying yourself to sleep way too many nights.
The third thing he taught me was how meaningless sex is. I thought what we did was special. I mean he and I found we liked the kinky stuff. A little BDSM was fun from time to time.
He’d let me be the boss sometimes, and I’d let him be the boss too. Fun, and I thought deep. I was a dumbass. It wasn’t deep to him. We didn’t share a special bond.
It was just sex, and it meant nothing.
And the handful of times I did it after him were very meaningless. And the guys were kind of pussy-like when I smacked them with the belt. Only one let me handcuff him to the bed.
Wimps!
And not one of them would smack my ass hard enough to make a difference. They were all, ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’
How could I have explained that I like a little pain in the game?
So I just ignored the men when they tried to get me to have some type of a relationship with them. My grandmother lives thirty miles away and if I couldn’t get them to leave me alone, then I’d escape to her place until they moved on.
Me and Cuddles are fine alone. She’s kind of a bitch just like I am. When dumbass male dogs come into the yard, she barks and goes at them like she’s a Doberman.
She’s the same way with the human variety of men too. My poor mailman had a package he was trying to get to my door with. She ripped his pants leg as she tugged at it to make him stop coming to the door.
He told me I needed a vicious dog sign and if I ever got another package, I could take my ass down to the post office to pick it up unless I tied the little bitch up.
I took her inside and gave her a steak and a good-doggy pat on the head.
She tried to do her job. Keep the evil, lying, no-good men away from her mommy!
Thanks to her, I never have to worry about some man getting into my house without her trying to kill them.
A large group of bikes pass by the shop and it makes the whole metal building rattle as they do. I put on my headphones and listen to a little music on my phone to drown out the outside noise.
The annual motorcycle rally is growing very close and already large groups of bikers are coming into town. Trashy women are already showing up and strategically placing themselves on barstools in every bar and lounging around area parks, hopeful to score some biker dick.
I don’t know where most of these females come from. We have a few but not as many as pop out of the woodwork when the rally is in town. It’s quite amazing, actually.
It never fails to surprise me with all the ready-to-go-women, that I still get hit on just walking down the street. I’m always thinking as I’m flipping the men off who dare to bother me that there’s a ton of pussy walking around, leave me the hell alone.
My uncle tells me I shouldn’t dress in tight leather pants and halter tops if I don’t want the men’s attention. He may be right, but fuck, I should be able to dress the way I want!
I ride a motorcycle everywhere I go for Christ’s sakes!
I need the leather to protect my fucking skin. If I ever fall that is.
I look around and find the clipboard with the wooden back on it and knock on it three times.
No reason to tempt fate!
With the good Lord’s grace, I have never wrecked. I’ve come close a time or two, but never ate it. I knock on the wood again for even thinking about it.
The computer freezes up for a moment and it scares the crap out of me that I’ll have to start this parts list over. I mutter to myself, “Fucking, piece of shit.”
My uncle needs to buy a new computer, but he’s too cheap. This one will have to completely crap out before he’ll see fit to make the several hundred-dollar investment.
And I’ll be stuck having to use my own laptop to order parts until he does. The man is a notorious penny pincher.
Another thunderous bunch of bikes pass the shop, and it has me looking out the glass door at them. It’s a gang all wearing matching leather jackets and looking all cool.
I’ve never been in a gang. Not that I haven’t thought they looked kind of cool. I’m just a real loner and loners don’t belong in groups.
Loners like to be alone.
Do some stormy nights have me wishing for more than my puppy as a companion?
Sure.
Does watching a love story on television have me searching for someone to love and love me?
Sure. That’s why I don’t watch that shit anymore.
Does the sight of a well-tattooed, bearded man with mountains of muscles get me hot?
Of course, I am only human!
But will I give a man a chance to fill those voids?
Hell no!
That leads to the heartbreak again, and that’s a place I’m never revisiting.
But as I watch the pack of bikers ride past the garage, I see chicks riding bitch behind their boyfriends or husbands or whatever. And I secretly wish I could do that.
Maybe just one time. Maybe I wouldn’t fall in love with the douche bag. Maybe I could keep things light and easy.
Then the phone rings and it comes through on my headphones since I have them plugged in and it scares the shit out of me. “Shit!” I scream out loud as I pull the cord out of the phone.
It’s a damn eight hundred number so I’m not even going to answer it, anyway. Man, what a way to ruin a little daydream!
“Hey, a little help here, I ain’t got all day!” some man shouts from the bay
.
His voice is all gruff, and he sounds like an East coast, ass-wipe.
I want to yell back that I ain’t got all day either but Uncle Phil talked to me just this morning about not being rude to the customers. So I don’t yell anything and get up off the tall stool and go see what the prick wants.
Just as I get to the stairs that lead down into the bay I see a tall figure standing in the shadows as the mechanics turned the overhead lights off when they left for lunch.
His broad shoulders stand out against the dim backlighting. As I look past him, I see a bad to the bone Harley just inside the bay and it looks brand new.
A rich prick, I bet.
As he turns to look back at his bike and hitches his thumb, gesturing to it, I can see his long beard. “Got some bike troubles. I need to see a mechanic,” he says with a gravelly, deep, sexy voice.
But I’m sure he’s a cock-sucker like all men are!
He steps forward and I step back. He keeps walking forward and I keep stepping backward. All the way until we’re inside the lighted waiting area and then I see him.
His hair is dirty blonde and cut so close to his head on both sides it looks almost like it’s shaved. The top is a long flop of waves. His aviator sunglasses are so dark I can’t see the color of his eyes.
He pulls them off and some piercing blue eyes look at me. Running over me as he looks me up and down and it sends chills through me quickly followed by heat.
Fuck me, he’s hot!
His black leather jacket has red letters stitched into it. Seems he’s a member of a gang called The Brothers of the Scarlet Dragon. And there’s a name stitched in red just over his left very nicely defined pec.
Blaze.
Hmm, bet it’s because he’s like a flash of fire. Hot and then gone…
Tight, black, leather pants hug some massive legs. The defined muscles make the leather bend to conform to them.
They must be hard, like steel.
His motorcycle boots are dusty from the road. He must’ve ridden quite some ways to get here. Him and his gang of motorcycle riding hellions.
I’m sure he’s looking for some hot action while he’s in town. A wealthy banker on a little retreat from a wife and kids.
Cheater!
The form-fitting white T is sheer enough to see his six pack of abs and the lines are all so defined it almost seems unnatural.
Most likely all steroid muscles. No real work.
I’m sure he’s a bunch of lies all wrapped into a nice looking package.
I see no visible tats to gauge his realness from. I’m an avid tattoo adviser and very critical of ones that don’t mean anything or lend a beauty to the owner.
His caramel lips part and I can see a nice set of white teeth behind them. Then I realize I’ve pulled my lower lip between my teeth and hurry to let it go.
Damn girl!
For reasons I can’t figure out except it’s kind of hot in here and now that he’s walked in it seems a lot hotter, he’s taking off his leather jacket.
Fuck! His biceps are enormous and his arms are covered in art. I mean real artwork. Not just dumb tats that make no sense. He’s a canvas for some very skilled artist.
I’m ashamed to admit that my body is quivering, and I just got really wet.
I swallow and do my best to regain my inner bitch then say, “What can I do for you, Blaze?”
Chapter 3
BLAZE
I seem to be looking at my first conquest and man is she smoking hot!
So hot in fact, I’m having a hard time forming words. “How do you know my name?”
With a nod, she gestures to the jacket I’ve taken off and tossed on the little beat up sofa in the waiting room. “Oh, yeah. My jacket. Um, so my bike is, um…”
Her dark brows arch up as she asks, “Making a strange noise?”
She runs the tip of her tongue out just a hair to move over her plump bottom lip. A plum colored lip gloss covers them and makes them look delicious.
I shake my head as that’s not the problem with the bike but damn it, I can’t recall what the problem is as she’s so completely distracting. Her hand moves to her hip and she shifts her weight to her other leg.
Her long, black leather covered leg that looks so long, lean and fuckable. A pink sheer top she has on and a dark pink silk bra she’s wearing peeks out underneath it.
She turns around and goes back behind the tall counter and sits back on the tall stool there and looks back at the old computer on the top it if. She has a pair of angel wings on her back I can see underneath the sheer shirt.
Her deep, gorgeous blue eyes peer at me over the top of the old grease stained monitor as she asks, “Is it vibrating too much?”
“Huh?” I ask as I was looking at how pretty she has her black hair braided. The long braid lays over her right shoulder and the end of it rests on her boob. Her really perfect, pert and voluptuous boob.
“Is it vibrating more than usual?” she asks then looks back at the screen. “It’s a new Street Glide, isn’t it?”
I know the answer to that one!
“Yes, yes it is. But it’s not vibrating any more than usual. I just got it a few days ago in a Harley shop in New York. Have you ever ridden one before? I could take you on a ride.” I stop myself because I’m coming off way uncool. “If you want, I mean. I don’t need you to go on a ride with me. But if you were wondering what a beast like my bike rides like, I could take you. On a ride that is. I could take you on a ride. Not take you. You know what I mean…”
I shut up as she looks at me with her mouth slightly open then she says, “I know what you mean. No, I don’t want to ride it. I mean, it’s a badass machine and I’m sure I’d enjoy the ride but not with you.”
“Why not with me?” I ask as I lean on the counter and try to catch another glimpse of that sweet tattoo on her back. “Those wings on your back, any significant reason for them?”
Without looking at me she answers, “My name is Angel, hence the wings. And it’s nothing personal. I just kind of hate men. That’s why not you.”
Of course! She’s a lesbian!
“So, into women then. What a loss for men everywhere.” I stand back up and turn away.
No reason to make myself sick over a girl who likes girls.
“No, not into women,” she says with a huff. “Why is it when a woman says she hates men they always assume she’s a lesbian? Can’t a woman simply hate men without wanting to lick another chick into ecstasy?”
I turn back to look at her and stifle a laugh. “Crap! You are one verbal gal.”
She looks back at the ancient monitor. “Not making a strange noise, not vibrating too much. Is it getting lower?”
Shock runs through me. “Yeah! That’s it! How…”
“It’s a common problem with the air ride suspension system when you’re traveling over rough surfaces. It’s most likely a small prick that punctured the line. I’m sure our mechanic can get it going for you fairly quickly. If you have a credit card on you, I can go ahead and write up a ticket so he can get busy on it as soon as he gets back from lunch.” She holds out her hand and on the inside of her wrist there’s a little angel, complete with a halo.
I take her hand and look at the tat as I take my wallet out with my other hand. “Nice.”
She allows me to hold her hand and I find sparks shooting all through me as I touch her.
That’s never happened before!
I let it go to retrieve my credit card and find the sparks starting to dissipate. That had to mean something.
Placing the card in her hand, I purposely graze her palm with my fingertips and the sparks come back. I notice her eyes are narrowed at me. Then she looks away quickly.
I bet she felt that too!
“So how do you know so much about bikes, Angel?” I ask as I lean back on the counter since she isn’t a lesbian, and she is into men and she has such an amazing effect on me.
“I’m nine months away from
getting my Master’s in Engineering. I want to build bikes. Preferably ones with women in mind.” She looks at me with a smile after she sees my card. “Worthington? And you are Benjamin of the famous Worthington Law Firm in New York. I had pegged you as a banker, not a billionaire lawyer. A married banker with kids. Not an extremely eligible bachelor.”
And now this hard demeanor she’s had will fade away like cotton candy in a rainstorm.
“You found out.” I lean in a bit closer. “So how about that ride, now?”
“Ha!”
Not the sound I thought I was about to hear.
She goes to typing and not looking at me. So I ask, although hesitantly, “Why the loud, ha?”
“I see men with money around this town all the damn time.” Her eyes level on me. “I can become some billionaire’s bimbo anytime I want to. Thing is, I don’t want to. But you should watch out for the other ladies in this town. And when I say ladies, believe me, I am using that term very loosely.”
I put the card back in my wallet as she has taken off all the information she needed and placed it on the counter rather than placing it back in my hand. “You are one of the three people in this town who know my real name, Angel. No one else will know me by anything other than, Blaze. I trust you can keep my little secret.”
Her deep blue, sexy as hell eyes which are framed by the darkest and thickest of lashes flutter at me as she moves her hand to her chest and says, “Me? You can completely trust me to keep your name to myself. I wouldn’t want to be the one responsible for getting you mauled by the pack of hungry females which are running amuck through my hometown.”
“If this is your hometown then why haven’t I seen you around before? I’ve been here for the last two rallies. I’d remember you if I ever saw you around before.” I take the opportunity to pick her braid up and finger it a bit as she’s close enough to do that.
She yanks it out of my hand. “Look, Benny. No fucking around with my personal shit. Not my braid, not my mind, not my body!”
I stand up and feel kind of sheepish as she’s a bit intimidating, and it’s not very easy for a woman to intimidate me. But her use of a nickname for me has me wanting to laugh. And I know she’d get even more pissed if I laughed right now
Vengeful Seduction_A Submissives’ Secrets Novel Page 37