Throttle Me (Men of Inked)

by Chelle Bliss

  My stomach rumbled seeing all the food he had prepared. “Did you cook for an army?” I asked.

  “Didn’t know what you liked, so I made a little bit of everything.” He put the spatula on the counter and walked toward me. He was so damn hot. I licked my lips and closed my eyes.

  I could feel his hot breathe on my lips and I smelled his scent. “I’m gonna fuck you, right here, right now. Yes or no?” Omg, omg, omg, yes, yes, yes!

  I swallowed hard and nodded my head before I leaned forward.

  “Words, Suzy. Now the answer needs to be ‘yes, fuck me, City’ or ‘no, I don’t want to.’” How would I ever say no to this man? I thought about the possibility of never seeing him again and I wanted one last shot at him.

  “Yes, fuck me, City,” I whispered against his lips.

  His mouth crushed mine and I could taste the coffee and sugar on his tongue. I could only hear our breath as the world around us fell away. His hands trailed up my thighs and cupped my ass. Fuck, this man is pure sin and I wanted to be his minion.

  He broke the kiss and looked in my eyes. I could hear his breathing fast and hard. “Hands on the counter,” he said with a commanding tone. Yes, sir. Gladly.

  I turned my back to him and placed my palms on the edge. He pushed down on my back and lifted my hips. I rested my head on the cold tile and waited. Looking behind me, I watched as he pulled down his pants before palming his shaft. I heard a crinkling noise coming from his pocket. He planned this – he had a condom ready to go. Lord, help me with this man. Could I resist him?

  I started to stand up when I heard “Back down, sugar.” I closed my eyes and followed his command. I felt him stroke my opening and I sighed. When did I turn into a big ole pile of mush with a guy? He slid inside of me easily; I was slick and ready for him.

  He grabbed my hips, holding me tightly as his hardness worked like a machine inside of me. I gripped the counter and my fingers began to tingle from my death grip. He felt amazing, caressing my insides with the metal piercing. My muscles ached as I stood on my tiptoes. He pounded into me, the sound of our skin slapping against each other filling the air, his grunts ringing in my ears. His grip intensified and became almost painful.

  “Fuck, your pussy is so damn tight,” he growled.

  “I love your cock,” I moaned. That just slipped out – like it was something I said every day.

  “I love being buried in your sweet pussy, sugar.”

  All the dirty words and the feeling of him stroking my depths pushed me over the edge. My body began to shake and I moaned, “City.”

  I heard a loud crack and my ass began to sting. Did he just slap my ass? The pain began to radiate throughout my body and made my orgasm grow and build. My grip began to slip as my insides clenched against his length. Crack. Fucking hell.

  “Fuck,” he yelled as his stroke became more intense and erratic. I could feel him grow harder inside me as he slammed me against the counter. He rested his head against my back as we both stood there immobile for a moment.

  “You got me all kinds of crazy, Suzy,” he said through heavy breath.

  “Makes two of us.” I was thankful the tile was cold. My body was covered in moisture and my skin was hot from the pounding I had just taken. He pulled out and I instantly felt the loss of him. I waited for my feet to uncramp before trying to stagger to a chair. He removed the condom with a quick snap and tossed it in the trash. I swayed to my seat, thankful that it was only a few steps away. He adjusted himself inside his pants and walked to the stove with a devilish grin on his face.

  “Pancake?” His blue eyes stared into mine as he held the pan up asking permission to slip it on my plate.

  I forgot how hungry I felt when I walked in. How did the man just fuck me like a maniac and now he’s cooking like Guy Fieri?

  “Yes. I never met a meal I didn’t like.” I silently prayed to God the jitters that filled my stomach would subside long enough to eat the giant meal he’d prepared.

  “I love hearing shit like that. My sister is so fucking picky it makes me bat shit crazy.”

  I buttered my pancake and watched him out of the corner of my eye as he grabbed the pan of eggs off the stove. An awkward silence filled the room as I looked at my plate. He just had his cock in me as the food sat on the stove and now what? I wanted to keep the conversation flowing and figured I’d follow his lead.

  “Just one sister?” I asked.

  “Just the one, but I have three brothers too. Eggs?”

  “Everything,” I said moving my pancake to make room for the eggs and bacon. “Five kids, wow, your mother must be an amazing woman.”

  “Yeah, I think we caused most of the gray hair on her head which she now dyes to keep her youthful appearance. We aren’t the traditional Italian family. You have any brothers or sisters?” he asked, plopping the eggs on his plate and putting the pan back on the stove.

  “A sister, she doesn’t live here. She’s still up north where we grew up.” I poured the syrup on my single golden pancake before cutting a chunk.

  I envied City. He had a big family and they have a bond that I never did with mine. He had something I always wanted.

  “Ah, I can’t imagine only having one. We’re kinda a gang. We do everything together.” He stuffed the eggs in his mouth and grabbed a piece of bacon. “You’ve missed out.”

  I loved that it seemed easy between us, we were comfortable and he made me feel that way. “I guess so, but I have some friends that I’m closer to than any of my family.” I placed the forkful of buttery goodness in my mouth and let it sit on my tongue a minute before I chewed it. “My mom’s kinda a flake and my dad works all the time, so I just have my friends.”

  “Damn, that fucking sucks. My family gets together every Sunday for dinner and it’s usually a bit loud.”

  “Every Sunday?” I see my parents every week, but sometimes it was only for an hour and dinners only happened on holidays. I tried to go slow, not wanting to eat everything on my plate. I didn’t want to look like a pig, but I was starving.

  “Every Sunday. It’s required or my parents think something is wrong. Sometimes my grandparents come over and it turns into an all-day affair. Mom usually wakes up early to make the sauce and meatballs. We’re required to be there at one for an early dinner.” It sounded nice. I never had anything like that in my life – never knew families did that kind of thing besides in the movies.

  “Hmm, that sounds like fun.” I ate my breakfast and thought about all the family things I’d missed out in my life. My parents seemed too busy to deal with us at times, let alone have me over for dinner every Sunday. I knew they loved my sister and me, but we didn’t have the close-knit family that City had described.

  “It is, but I work with my brothers and sister and sometimes it gets to be too much. So, babe, do I get to take you on a proper date?”

  “Oh, sorry,” I said. “I’d love to go on a date with you. I mean we already…” I moved my hand around lost for the right word to describe what we did the night before.

  “Fucked,” he laughed. “I don’t know if I will ever get over your good girl thing you have going on.”

  “I’m not a good girl, City.” I wasn’t and I knew it. Good girls didn’t think about the things I did. They didn’t want the things I wanted, and they sure as hell didn’t go home with strangers. “What we did last night wouldn’t have happened if I was a good girl.” I smiled at him.

  “You’re a woman, Suzy. Sex doesn’t make you a bad girl; it makes you human. That shit was explosive last night and this morning I needed to be in you again. I wouldn’t change a god damn thing.” He must have sensed I was uncomfortable with the entire conversation. “I don’t think you’re bad. If someone does, then fuck them. I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks about me.”

  “I know. It’s not always so easy.” I wanted to change the subject. “Do you want me to call my friend to pick me up?” I didn’t want to dissect my qualities at the moment.

&
nbsp; “I’ll take you home after you’re done, okay?”

  “Thank you. I have a ton of things to do today.” I had to grade papers – it was the end of the grading period and grades were due on Monday morning. I had to make lesson plans and pay the bills before the weekend ended. My work never ended, not even on the weekends. Teachers don’t walk out the door on Friday and leave it all behind – we work on the weekends and walk through the door on Monday prepared to teach the budding students not always so interested in learning. I sighed thinking about all the work I had to do, but I was the only one that could get it done.

  “No problem. I have to get to work by noon, so no rush.”

  I wiped my mouth unable to consume another morsel. “Where do you tattoo?”

  “Inked. Ever hear of it?”

  “I drive by it every day on the way to work, I think.” I remember seeing the sign, but had never stepped foot inside. “Looks like a nice place.”

  “Ever been?”

  “Oh, no. I meant from the street. Doesn’t look like the other shops in the area. Yours is pretty. How long have you worked there?”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard it described that way. My sister does all the decorating. We own the shop and opened it about five years ago.” Well, maybe he wasn’t the starving artist I thought he was, after all. “Why don’t you stop by sometime? I’d love to pop your cherry.” I started choking. “Ink, babe, I’d love to give you your first tattoo,” he laughed.

  I patted my chest and coughed. “Maybe someday I’ll let you. My parents are just anti-tattoo and I never found anything I’d want to look at for a lifetime. How’d you pick yours?” I asked.

  “Each one signifies something in my life.” He pointed to the city skyline on his arm. “This is a reminder of where my family comes from, Chicago. It’s where I grew up and I go back every summer to visit my friends. It’s part of me in more ways than one,” he laughed and rubbed the tattoo on his arm.

  “And the fish?”

  “Ah, the Koi. Well, that one I had my brother, Anthony, do when we opened the shop. It’s a symbol of determination and power to achieve goals. We always talked about opening our own shop and we’d finally achieved it. Plus, I fucking love the color orange.”

  “Looking at your house I’d think you loved white.”

  He picked up my plate and laughed. “This place is only temporary. I don’t see a point in splashing color on the walls. I’m surrounded by color all day at work. It’s calming to come home to an empty canvas.” Artists – complex creatures.

  “I understand. My walls are actually white except for one blue wall in my bedroom. I’m not the typical bubblegum pink girl.”

  He began to clean the kitchen and put the dishes in the dishwasher. His muscles rippled and flexed with each movement. My mouth watered remembering what it felt like for him to be above me and in me – I wanted more of him.

  “I’ll finish cleaning up. You go get ready to hit the road, okay?”

  I could get used to being waited on. Mind blowing sex? Check. Good cook? Check. Sexy as hell? Check. Manly, yet nice? Check. He had all the right qualities and kind of reminded me of Kayden. I didn’t want Kayden, but I wanted someone that cared enough to take care of me.

  “I’ll just be a minute,” I said as I stood from the table. “I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”

  “Take all the time you want. I can’t get fired if I’m late.” He laughed as he kicked the dishwasher closed. “By the way, is Suzy your full name?”

  I hated my full name. It sounded stuffy and old. “No.”

  “Spill.”

  “It’s Suzette.”

  “Now that’s sexy as fuck. Suzette.” It rolled off his tongue and I felt the moisture from my core begin to pool. Fuck, he’s made me a total cock-loving whore and I wanted to hear him scream my name.

  “Right.” Looking over at his beautiful skin and taut muscles, I drank him in – memorized the picture, before I walked out the door, leaving him to finish and to get the hell out of here. He could definitely become a weak spot if I didn’t put distance between us. That ying and yang bullshit didn’t really work in real life.

  Too Good To Be True

  I shut the bike off and waited for her to climb down. She tried to remove the helmet on her own and stood there looking as drop dead fucking gorgeous as she did last night. She fumbled with the straps, trying to pull it off, but she frowned and her fingers began to move frantically. “Lemme get that for you,” I said as I motioned for her to move closer.

  “Sorry,” she said, blowing a puff of air out.

  “It’s my pleasure, trust me.” I winked and watched her cheeks pinken. I worked the straps apart slowly, trying to prolong the ending to our time together. I felt like she was going to give me the brush off. Her body language didn’t match the last twelve hours. I needed to set another date with her and dig deeper into the woman she is instead of who she pretends to be.

  “Thanks,” she said trying to look me in the eyes.

  “There. So, about the real date. How about tonight?” I asked. I didn’t see a point in wasting time. I wanted her in my bed again or against the counter.

  “Um, I guess tonight is good.” She looked at me and then to her feet.

  “Sugar, it’s just a date. A real date – no strings attached.” I grabbed her chin to look into her sky blue eyes. “We kinda missed that part of getting to know each other before I took you. I’ll pick you up at nine. Wear something warm.”

  “Okay, I’ll be ready. Want me to drive?” She looked at my bike, wrinkling her nose and then noticed her car. “Wait, how did my car get here already? I totally forgot about it breaking down. What the heck?”

  “Tank fixed it for you and delivered it about an hour ago. It’s all ready, but to answer your question, no. We’re taking the bike.”

  “Oh. Do you have his number so I can pay him?” she asked, her eyes wide as she chewed her lip.

  “I got it. He did it as a favor to me.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t. Let me pay you for it, then.”

  “Suzy, let me do something nice for you. Really, it wasn’t a problem. Tank and I worked it out. I don’t want you broken down again on a dark country road.”

  “I know. I just try and watch my money. I was going to get it fixed.”

  “Well now it is. Nine tonight and warm clothes.” I leaned forward and kissed her lips. I grabbed the back of her neck and drew her closer. The light, sweet scent of her perfume filled my nostrils, as I tasted her lips. Everything about her was fucking sweet and I wanted more. I consumed her mouth and commanded her body with my kiss. I wanted to leave her weak in the knees and wanting more when I drove away. I broke the kiss, but kept my hand in place and watched her as she stood there with puckered lips and her eyes closed. Exactly the response I wanted.

  “Sugar,” I said, smiling at her as her eyes fluttered open.

  “Oh, sorry. I say that a lot around you.” Her cheeks turned pink as she bit her lip.

  “We’ll finish that kiss later. I can’t wait to crawl back inside that delicious pussy of yours tonight. Digits,” I said before she had a chance to walk away. I programmed her number in my phone and sent her a text as she walked in her house. She’d be back for more.

  I started the engine, revving it a couple times before pushing backwards and down the drive. She waved with a sweet smile on her face. My cock ached as I thought about all the dirty shit I wanted to do to her. I watched her in my side mirror as she watched me drive away. I had her.

  “Where the fuck you been, Joey?” Mikey said as I walked through the door of Inked.

  We opened Inked about five years ago. Everyone in my family has an artistic streak and we didn’t trust outsiders with our money. Growing up my father had drilled that mantra in our heads. Don’t trust others when you can do it yourself. We agreed that there would be no outsiders unless absolutely necessary. Problem with it, though, was that you could never fire family, especially when t
hey’re part owners. Mike had the spaz gene. He was known for overreacting.

  “I had to drop someone off, shithead. Who made you boss?” I asked as I set my stuff down at my workstation.

  “You’re typically here early. I started to get worried. You could’ve called or something, asshole.”

  “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Mom. I’m here now, so shut the fuck up.”

  Mikey threw his hands in the air showing his surrender or disgust, I couldn’t tell. He’s the shop manager since he has absolutely no artistic talent, but he was one hell of a piercer. His real passion was fighting. He had joined the circuit years ago and often travels out of town for a fight. Fighting with your hands and tattooing do not mix. My hands were precious to me. I needed them to work my magic and see the smiles on the faces of my customers.

  “Mom called to remind us about tomorrow,” Anthony said as he walked out of the employee only area. Anthony is my oldest brother and probably the most unsettled. He’s an amazing tattooer, but he’s a musician. He dreams of hitting it big, but for now he was ours.

  “What the fuck?” Mikey said.

  “How could we forget? It’s only been the same day for thirty years,” Isabella says as she unpacked her machine.

  Isabelle’s the youngest and the only girl beside my mom. My parents kept trying until finally they had the little princess they always dreamed about after having four boys climbing the walls and rough housing. She was girly and kind, but if you crossed Izzy, she’d kick your ass. We were all over protective of her, but we were scared of her too. In my family, the ladies ruled the roost and weren’t to be crossed. She got that commanding personality from my mom and led with an iron fist.

  “Let’s run down the schedule before I open the doors,” Mikey said, leaning over the counter looking toward the work area.

  I listened to Mikey babble on about the clients of the day. I already knew my line-up. I had to finish a back tat I’d been working on for months and a girl wanted me to fix her bad choice in a tramp stamp she had permanently placed on her body during spring break.