Worship Me (Men of Inked Book 7)

by Chelle Bliss

  Sometimes a girl had to do what a girl had to do to get her rocks off. Plus, messing with James’s head was fun, and the spanking was the bonus.

  James stood and yanked the chain attached to my collar. I was too lost in thought about the girl being whipped and all the ways I’d make James pay if he did the same thing to me. I scrambled to my feet, ready to head to paradise, but not before doing everything I could to earn a few spankings tonight.

  James

  I knew Izzy had the wrong idea about the pleasure room as soon as the words came out of Hagan’s mouth. It wasn’t about her pleasure, but mine. She still hadn’t realized it when I locked her hands in the overhead cuffs that hung down from the ceiling because she was practically buzzing with anticipation.

  “You’ve been a bad girl, Izzy,” I told her as I closed the clasp on the ankle restraints that were bolted to the floor. “A very bad girl.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, but she wasn’t. She never was. “I think you should spank me.” She licked her lips, staring down at me with hooded eyes.

  I looked back down at her foot, grabbing her other ankle to hide my smile. This woman. She was maddening and insatiable and totally mine. While we’d waited for the room, she’d made sure to break more than a few small rules. More than once, she didn’t address me properly and looked me in the eyes when I didn’t tell her to. Plus, she made sure to do it in front of other people. She wanted the spanking so badly, but then again, I wanted to give it to her too.

  I dragged my fingertips across her bare ass and pressed my lips to her neck. “Do you deserve a spanking?”

  Her head fell back, fully exposing her neck as it rested on my shoulder. “Yes, Master.”

  “Do you want a spanking?” I smiled against her skin, knowing damn well she wanted it and was about to lie.

  “No, Sir,” she answered quickly before licking her lips and backing her ass into me.

  “I think you deserve something with more…” My voice drifted off as I palmed her ass, feeling the plumpness in my palm. “Bite.” She shivered against me as soon as I spoke the word.

  One thing I knew about my wife, and a line I would never cross, was that she wasn’t into pain. Not like some of the women I’d been with. Izzy liked the sting of my palm against her skin. Sometimes, even a slap against her clit sent her into the stratosphere, but never once did she give any inclination that she enjoyed pain.

  “You want my hand, Izzy, but I’m not going to reward you.” I stepped away, grabbing the black leather crop off the wall. It had the perfect amount of snap that would make her happy and keep my hand from hurting for hours.

  “What are you getting?” She turned, trying to see what I had, but it was hidden behind my back.

  “Do you trust me, doll?” I whispered in her ear.

  She swallowed hard but nodded her answer.

  I walked around to her front and placed my hand against her jaw, dragging my thumb across her bottom lip. “I’d never hurt you.”

  “I know,” she breathed and stared me straight in the eye.

  I slid my hand down her neck, over the swell of her breast, and straight down her middle. When I pushed my fingers between her legs, she sagged in the chains and moaned. Izzy was wet. She wanted everything. She loved the anticipation and unpredictability as much as I did.

  She spread her legs wider, wanting more contact than I wanted to give, and I stepped backward, taking my hand with me. “First, I want you on your knees. Suck my cock, and maybe I’ll spank that pretty round ass while I fuck you.”

  Her eyes lit up, and she yanked at the chains. “You gettin’ a stepladder?”

  Using the crop, I slapped the inside of her thigh. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough that it made her yelp in surprise. “Your mouth needs to be workin’, not talkin’, doll.” I dropped the crop to the floor, pulling the lever above her head to allow her to kneel before me, still strapped into the restraints.

  She worked quickly despite her restraints, undoing my belt and the zipper on my jeans and yanking them down far enough on my hips to free my hardened cock. She palmed my length, licking her lips in preparation before pressing the tip just beyond her teeth.

  I swayed backward, the feel of her mouth so consuming that my legs tingled. Izzy could suck the meanest cock. There was something about watching my mouthy spitfire on her knees, servicing me, that brought me so much happiness, something only another man could understand. Even after over ten years together, I craved her mouth just as much as I lusted after tasting her pussy.

  I rocked back on my heels as her fingers bit into the skin of my hips, holding me to her as she pressed forward and pulled back, working my cock like a master herself. At that moment, I was at my weakest. I was a slave to her and her warm, sweet mouth wrapped around my cock.

  I tangled my fingers in her long brown hair, holding myself steady as much as keeping her mouth closer to my body. My body convulsed as she swirled her tongue around the head, pulling it deeper into her throat, almost touching the back.

  “Mmm,” I groaned, wishing she could do this all night, but knowing that it would be impossible for me to last. She knew every spot to hit to send me over the edge faster, and I was powerless to stop her. “Fuck, baby.”

  Her tiny hand moved between my legs before she cupped my aching balls, pushing me closer to orgasm. My body surged forward, wanting every part of her to be touching every part of me. My eyes drifted over her body, taking in her beauty and nakedness with her legs spread and her breasts bouncing with each thrust forward, impaling her lips around my cock.

  Suddenly, I didn’t want to play. I didn’t want to be the Master with my submissive. I wanted to slide between her legs, lick every ounce of wetness from her body before I pummeled her pussy raw. I pulled back on her hair, removing her mouth from my cock and instantly missing the contact. “Up,” I said, motioning with my fingers for her to stand.

  She crawled to her feet, standing with her cuffed and chained hands at her side. I quickly removed my clothes before I unhooked her, taking the restraints off her hands and ankles and lifting her into my arms. “This won’t do.”

  She slid her palm against my chest and stared up at me. “Maybe you need a spanking.” She giggled.

  I climbed onto the king-sized bed, holding her in my arms, and laid her gently on her back. “I need to taste you.”

  Her arms drifted above her head as she stretched out, spreading her legs open with a salacious smile. “Feast,” she told me, but I didn’t need her permission, nor was I asking for it.

  I brought my mouth down, covering her middle with my lips and flicking her clit with my tongue. She quaked underneath me, moaning her appreciation for the pleasure I’d felt only moment ago. We kept our eyes locked on each other as I indulged in her flesh, and she fisted the comforter in her hands.

  When my cock couldn’t take much more, I crawled between her legs, pressing the tip to her opening and staring down at her. “I love you, doll.”

  “Jimmy,” she said, wrapping her arms around my shoulder. “Fuck me.”

  I didn’t move because I wanted more than that. She wanted to come, but fuck, so did I.

  “I love you too,” she finally replied, realizing what I was waiting for and was rewarded for her words with my dick.

  I pushed inside. Slow at first, relishing the feel of every inch of her encasing my dick like a vise. My lips crashed down on her breast as she cried out, and her legs wrapped around my waist.

  Moments like that, where I was making love to my wife, were still better than any thrill I’d ever had with a submissive at Taboo. They meant nothing to me. They were just a fuck. But Izzy…she was my everything. From the moment I set eyes on her, I knew she’d be mine.

  I took her slowly, reminding her who she belonged to as I fucked her. This wasn’t just about getting off…this was about us. The connection we’d always had, the spark that had always simmered under the surface, and the unpredictability that kept everything interesting.
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  The feel of her against me, the way she purred in my ear as I pumped into her sent me barreling toward the edge, and I took her with me. We gasped together. We moaned. We were completely in sync as if we were meant to be together, like this, for eternity.

  I stared up at Victoria’s small apartment just outside the city limits of Miami. The neighborhood was riddled with old apartments, run-down businesses, and more than a few unsavory types walking the streets.

  “Stay in the car and keep the doors locked,” I told Izzy, glancing up at the gray stucco building and hoping it was just going to be a quick visit.

  After a weekend with my parents, I was more than ready to get home to our boys and back to work. I’d gathered all I could at Taboo, and we needed to move forward with the investigation, tracking down every lead I’d been able to obtain. The rest would be grunt work, mainly done through computers by tracking the alias Matías had used.

  “I’m not staying here.” Izzy hopped out of the car before I even had a chance to touch the door handle.

  “Damn it,” I muttered, jumping out of the Challenger and locking the door as I followed her. “Do you even know where you’re going?”

  “Nope.” She stopped moving, but she kept her back to me as I caught up to her. “All I know is that I’m coming with you.”

  “Fine, but just stay behind me.”

  “I will, but I’ll keep an eye out.”

  “For what?”

  “Bad guys.” She shrugged.

  I shook my head and laughed. “You do that.” I figured if she kept a lookout, then she wasn’t getting into other trouble, so let her have at it.

  She followed me up the rusted-out staircase in front of the building, her high-priced heels clicking against the metal with every step. It was a good thing we weren’t trying to sneak up on anyone because they would’ve heard us coming from a mile away.

  “Try the handle,” Izzy said after I knocked twice with no answer.

  I jiggled the handle, but it was locked. I grabbed my phone and dialed Thomas, who answered on the third ring. “Hey, bro. We’re about to head back, but I need you to start lookin’ into a possible missing person tied to Matías.” I rattled off the details, keeping an eye on Izzy as she popped her gum and watched a drug deal happening on the sidewalk by the street.

  “How can a single woman live in this shithole?” she asked as soon as I hung up with Thomas.

  “I’ve been in worse places.”

  “Well, fuck, me too, but I’d never live in a place like this.”

  “You could always sell your shoe collection if we’re down on our luck. We could probably buy a mansion with the money.”

  I was partially to blame for her monster shoe collection. I’d added more pairs to her closet than I cared to admit. But our agreement was I got to see them on her first, and she wasn’t allowed to wear anything else at the time.

  She slapped my shoulder as we started down the staircase. “I would never part with my shoes. They’re too important.”

  “So is survival,” I reminded her.

  “Shoes are my lifeblood.”

  I rolled my eyes as I opened the car door for her and pushed her up against the frame. “I love them wrapped around my waist when I’m fuckin’ ya, but they aren’t that important, doll.”

  “That’s like saying blow jobs aren’t important.” She leaned forward, bringing her lips near mine. “Could you do without?”

  “There’s nothing sweeter than your mouth.”

  “That’s how I feel about my shoes.” She smirked.

  “You’re supposed to feel that way about my cock, Izzy.”

  She slipped under my arms, sliding into the seat of the car. “I’ll always feel that way about your cock, but you’ve never said…” She pursed her lips and tilted her head. “‘Izzy, you’ve had too much cock. You may want to stop enjoying it so much.’”

  She had me there. I didn’t have a good comeback when she put it that way. “Point taken,” I said, closing her inside before rounding the hood.

  We had a five-hour drive back home, and if I was lucky, she’d lean across the console and take my cock in her mouth while wearing her sexy, overpriced shoes. Soon we’d be back to reality with our boys and their ultimate cockblocking skills.

  Izzy

  Inked ran like a well-oiled machine after fifteen years in business. What started out as fun became one of the most popular places to get a tattoo in the Tampa Bay area. No longer did we sit around waiting for people to walk through the door. Now we were booked over a month out and had a waiting list of clients wanting to be tattooed.

  Mike still handled the books and was the same anal-retentive asshole he’d always been about it. His newest thing was a team meeting every Thursday before the clients poured through the doors.

  “So, in closing…” Mike paced around the room as everyone played on their phones and ignored him like always. “We should think about bringing on two new artists and another piercer to handle walk-ins.”

  There was a collective groan, but he finally had our attention.

  “I vote nay,” Anthony said with his feet kicked up and his face buried in whatever nonsense he was playing on his cell.

  Mike stared up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. “Why?”

  He had to expect us not to agree with bringing in a stranger. He’d brought up adding more people to the shop before, and we’d always said no. We liked our dynamic and didn’t want some young, overeager twentysomething coming in and trying to change everything.

  “Just nope,” Anthony said, probably to set Mike off.

  “I’m good with whatever.” I stayed impartial because, at this point, I could use a few more days off here and there, and help sounded kind of nice.

  “What?” Anthony finally looked up, giving me an icy glare.

  Sometimes, I wanted to take his phone and jam it up his ass. He was so busy chatting with Max or playing games that half the time he was mute when he was around.

  “We could use some help around the shop. Maybe we could actually take more time off since we’re getting older, and we wouldn’t have to be short-handed on those days.” I climbed out of the chair and started to prep my station for the first client of the morning. “Plus, more artists means more clients, which means more money.”

  “We don’t need the money,” Anthony replied.

  “We don’t, and we don’t need to work either. Wouldn’t it be nice to take a day off and not feel like we’re shafting the others?” Joe answered for me, knowing exactly how I felt.

  “I don’t want to be working every day when I’m sixty, man. Inked eventually needs to have fresh blood, or we’ll end up closing the doors someday.”

  I hadn’t thought about that. I assumed someday our children would take it over, but maybe that wouldn’t happen. We needed a backup plan just in case they wanted to branch out on their own and not follow in the footsteps of their parents.

  “I see I’m outvoted. Just don’t bring in some asshole,” Anthony said.

  “I think we need to hire another female.” I smiled.

  “I think you’re right,” Joe said.

  The cock/pussy ratio was way off at Inked. Most tattoo shops had a disproportionate number of female employees, and we weren’t any different. I could use a little more estrogen around this place to help keep the guys in check.

  Mike tossed his notepad on his work station and collapsed in the chair. “It’s settled. I’ll put out the word and see what happens, but I do have some portfolios already in the office.”

  “We all have to be in agreement on this person,” Anthony chimed in, still being a stick in the mud.

  “Shut up, man.” Joe turned his back to Anthony and started his prep for the first client of the day.

  Anthony shrugged it off, going back to his phone because he’d prepped when Mike started the meeting because he hated Mike’s weekly chats as much as the rest of us.

  “I’ll take a look at them today, Mikey. Jus
t put them out, and we’ll all start. Right, Anthony?” I quirked an eyebrow, waiting for him to get mouthy with me, but he didn’t.

  “Yeah, whatever,” he grumbled into the screen of his phone.

  Within minutes of Mike flipping the open sign on the door, our morning appointment arrived, and it was time to dig in and get to work. My first client was the easiest of the day. A small little wrist tattoo that said “I am enough” with a thin cross at the right side. It was beautifully delicate and turned out perfect. The client left satisfied and over the moon excited about her first tattoo. It went so smoothly that I had an hour before my next appointment. I wandered into the office after cleaning my station and started to power through a stack of portfolios that Mike must’ve been compiling for years.

  I opened Facebook and Instagram, figuring it was the best way to see their newest work and a great way to get a feel for the person before they stepped foot inside Inked. I sorted the pile into two stacks—cock and tits.

  I opened the first portfolio which belonged to Telula Mabel Bell. The name was a bit wonky, but hey, who was I to slight a person for their name and fucked-up parents. Her line work was decent, but her saturation left a little something to be desired. I clicked through her Facebook profile, and she looked more like a church mouse than a tattoo artist.

  We needed to find someone who could put up with the bullshit of not only the clients, but my brothers. The task wouldn’t be easy because they were…them.

  I tossed Telula to the side and grabbed the next portfolio. Kat West. I liked the name. It was totally made-up, but it was one that sounded like a tatted-up, ballbustin’ girl. I flipped through the pages, studying her line work, saturation, and style. Everything looked spot-on and creative. She included some drawings that she’d created specifically for us to show us her range and creativity.

  The one thing I didn’t want was someone who could only follow a pattern that’d already been created. This shit wasn’t paint by number. We needed another artist who was going to bring her unique skill and style to Inked along with an established clientele.