Tattered on My Sleeve
Trinity Hurst.
That girl fucking owned me the minute I laid eyes on her. At twenty-one years old she already had a cold, calculating wall around her. Porn star hair, angel eyes, beautiful cock-sucking lips. All of it smoothed into an innocent looking package. Well, to anyone else she might appear pure and innocent. Not me.
She didn’t act like any other biker chick I’d ever met. Most of them kept their mouths shut and their legs open. She didn’t take shit from anyone, and made a guy work for every little smile she tossed his way. A unique talent that drove me fucking nuts. The walls she built up around herself were designed to keep guys like me away. Underneath her tough girl exterior lay something sweet and vulnerable that I very much wanted to explore.
I had her first.
I fell in love with her.Then it all went to hell.
Wrath.
His name should have been lust.
Pure, soul-shattering lust was the deadly sin I felt when I looked up—way up—into his ocean blue eyes.
I should despise bikers. I should most definitely steer clear of this one, with his thick, muscled arms, and low sensual voice.
My normally impeccable self-preservation instinct vanished the minute he walked in the door.
Like everything else in my life, I fucked it up.
And he’s never going to forgive me.
His name should have been lust.
Pure, soul-shattering lust was the deadly sin I felt when I looked up—way up—into his ocean blue eyes.
I should despise bikers. I should most definitely steer clear of this one, with his thick, muscled arms, and low sensual voice.
My normally impeccable self-preservation instinct vanished the minute he walked in the door.
Like everything else in my life, I fucked it up.
And he’s never going to forgive me.
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