by Chelle Bliss
chair, tossing garbage that was on his station in the trash. “Up for it?”
“I’m famished,” she responded, walking toward me.
I slid my arm around her, tucking her under my arm. “How was the room, love?”
“It’s beautiful. Way nicer than I’d expect for a room that inflicts so much pain.”
“It’s not painful, Ma,” Mike stated, shaking his head as he locked up the register. “Some find it a turn-on actually.”
Maria’s body jerked as she turned toward Anthony. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Nope,” Mike replied with a small smile.
“I finally understand when Izzy says it’s too much information. I don’t want to know anymore. Take me to lunch.”
“Anything you want, my love.” I smiled at her, holding her by the shoulder as we walked toward the door. “We’ll wait for you outside while you lock up,” I said, pushing opening the door and walking outside with Maria.
“I’m proud of them, Sal. They’ve done so well, you know?”
I stopped, moving her body in front of mine. Holding her face in my hands, I kissed her lips, inhaling her scent. “I do. They’re great kids. You’ve blessed my life more than I can ever express, Maria. I’m eternally grateful for everything you’ve done for our family. My family.”
“I couldn’t have done it without such an amazing husband,” she whispered, rubbing her nose against mine.
“I can’t wait to get you home.” I kissed her again, taking my time as I held the back of her neck, pulling her body against mine.
“You’re insatiable,” she murmured against my lips.
“Only for you.”
I slid my hands down her back, groping her ass and grinding my cock against her. “This is only for you.”
“Sal,” she moaned, her body stiffening as the door opened behind us.
“Can’t leave you two alone for five minutes,” Anthony said, walking past us with a small smile on his face.
“How do you think you were all born?” I asked, releasing Maria from my grasp and holding her hand.
“I like to believe it was like the Immaculate Conception,” Izzy stated, standing behind us as we walked into the parking lot.
“Someday you’ll have someone you can’t keep your hands off of, baby girl,” Maria said, squeezing my hand as we approached the car.
“Shh,” I whispered. “I don’t want to hear that.” I wrinkled my nose, unable to think of my daughter as anything but a little girl.
“Enough talking about love and all that mushy shit,” Anthony said, opening the car doors for everyone to pile in. “One car?” he asked, turning to face me as I was about to open our car door for Maria.
“Where are we going?” I asked, opening the passenger door for my lovely wife.
“Let’s hit the diner down the street. They have amazing burgers,” Joe said, climbing in the passenger seat of Anthony’s SUV.
“We’ll meet you kids there. I want to be alone with your mother, and then we can head home from there.”
“Okay, Pop,” Anthony replied, jogging around to the driver’s side as the rest of the gang piled into the vehicle.
I closed Maria’s door, strolling to my side and climbing in. Starting the car, I placed my hand on the back of her seat, looking back before pulling out.
“We could’ve gone with the kids, Sal.”
I shook my head, looking at my beautiful wife. “Not as long as I have a hard-on. I don’t know what has gotten into me, Mar, but I feel like I did when I was twenty-five.” I pulled out of my parking spot, following behind Anthony as we left the parking lot.
“They say we only get better when we age.” Maria smiled, touching my cheek with her soft fingers.
“I can’t wait to see what the next thirty years holds, love,” I said, bringing her hand to my lips, kissing each finger tenderly as I drove.
“Me either, Sal. There’s no one else I’d rather spend it with.”
I don’t know what I did to deserve such a blessed life. To have the love of a good woman, amazing children who have grown up to be spectacular adults, and health on our side—it was more than I could’ve ever dreamed for when I was young. I was a proud father and husband, the best thing in the world.
I had a feeling the best was yet to come.
Men of Inked Series
Reading Order
Throttle Me - Book 1 - Joe’s Story
Hook Me - Book 2 - Mike’s Story
Throttled - Novella - Joe & Suzy
Resist Me - Book 3 - Izzy’s Story
Resisting - Izzy & James before the story
Uncover Me - Book 4 - Thomas’ Story
Untitled - Book 5 - Anthony’s Story
All Men of Inked books are available on Amazon, iTunes,
Barnes &Noble, Kobo, and GooglePlay.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading The Gallos, which is part of the Men of Inked series. For current readers, I hope this fills a void and makes you smile. I loved writing Maria & Sal, giving everyone a small glimpse into their lives. I can’t deny it, I felt dirty write their sex scene. I wanted to scrub my brain, erasing that image. It’s like walking in on your parents and being scarred for life, but as we know — everyone has sex, even our parents.
Please take a moment and leave a review. They mean the world to me. I try and take time to read every review. Without readers and reviews, indie authors would have nothing.
Sincerely,
Chelle Bliss
About the Author
USA Today bestselling author Chelle Bliss is an American author who writes stories about real-life scenarios with fantasy Alpha males. Her works include humor as well as steamy sex.
Find Chelle here
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Please continue reading for a sneak peek of Throttle Me – Book 1
Throttle Me (Now Available)
Copyright © 2014 Chelle Bliss
The Darkness
The moonlight filtered through the pine trees lining the fields, leaving shadows on the pavement. The crisp air that had been missing for months caressed my skin. Cranking up the radio, I sang along to Justin Timberlake’s “Rock Your Body.” It was just the cool breeze, JT, and me. I couldn’t wait to crawl in my bed and close my eyes, getting lost in a dream world that had nothing to do with my current reality.
The night had been perfect. I’d had dinner and drinks with my best friend, Sophia, and although I was exhausted from a long workday, I felt a sense of serenity. Spending time with Sophia always made me happy. She was like a sister to me, especially when she had lived with me for over a year. I felt like part of me had been missing since the day she moved out, leaving me behind.
Dancing in the seat, screaming out the lyrics, I thought about how I wanted someone that would do everything the song described. No one had ever made me feel the way that JT sang about women. The steering wheel shook in my hands and a screeching sound pulled me out of my JT trance.
“Damn it,” I said, hitting the steering wheel with my palm.
The orange flash from my hazards blinked against the dark pavement as I pulled off the road and my car sputtered to a stop. Bad luck seemed to follow me. I squeezed the steering wheel, trying to calm my frazzled nerves. I knew the day would come, the day my car would die, but I prayed it would happen after my next paycheck…no such luck.
Resting my head on the wheel, I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. “Great, just fucking great.” I rocked back and forth, feeling sorry for myself, hitting my head on the cool plastic. I thought about whom to call or where to walk. I hadn’t passed a gas station or even a damn streetlight in miles. Without picking up my head, I reached
for my phone, bringing it to my eyes.
“Shit.” The screen wouldn’t power on after I hit every button I could think to press. It was useless. It was dead and now I was totally stranded. What else could possibly go wrong? Sighing, I sat up and glanced in the rearview mirror, but only the shadows from the trees filled my view. No cars, neon signs, or streetlights. Fuck.
I placed my hand on my chest to feel the beat of my heart, which was so hard I swear it was audible. Visions from slasher movies flooded my mind. Girl deserted on the side of the road until she’s found by a handsome stranger that ends up being a serial killer.
Should I start walking to God knows where? Do I just sit there and wait for a stranger to offer me help? I never liked feeling helpless—I was too smart to be helpless, but it was the only thing I felt in this moment. It could be hours before someone found me in my car.
I grabbed my purse, dead phone, and keys, and climbed out of the car. My feet ached in the extra-high heels I wore. Leaning against the car, I gave my feet a moment to adjust, as I looked in both directions. Neither of my options were good and I was exhausted. My feet fucking screamed from standing still. Thank God I could sleep in tomorrow after the way this evening was ending. There was a gas station a couple miles back—better to go with what I knew than to walk into an uncertain future. I tapped the lock button on my key chain one more time, helping relieve my OCD need to double-check everything, before I started walking away.
Barely clearing the trunk, a single light came over a small hill in the distance, hurting my eyes with the brightness. The roar of the engine grew louder as the distance closed. I waved my arms as a figure came into view, but the asshole biker drove right passed me as I screamed, “Hey! Hey!” The wind from his bike caused the dust on the road to kick up and fill my mouth.
I turned around, coughing, and screamed toward the bike. I knew it was pointless. There was no way in hell he’d heard me yelling above the roar of his bike, but he had to see me. The red taillight lit up the road as he turned the bike in my direction. I swallowed hard, unsure if this was my best idea of the night—but I’d already made too many mistakes to dwell on that. He was my only hope of getting home.
I stood there like a deer in headlights, unable to move, as I gaped at him. My hands trembled as the figure on the bike came to a stop. The engine was almost deafening, as I took in the sight of him on the machine. The bike was a Harley, a Fat Boy, with no windshield, chrome handlebars, and a dark body. He wore black boots, dark jeans, and a dark t-shirt. He was large and muscular, and I sucked in a breath as my eyes reached his handsome and rugged face. A playful grin danced on his lips as he watched me ogle him. Fucking hell.
“Need some help, lady?” he asked, removing his helmet, running his fingers through his disheveled hair. The dark peaks stood up on the top, the sides were short and clipped, and the color matched the sky—dark. I couldn’t see his eyes; a pair of tinted glasses hid them. Could serial killers be so sexy?
“Um, do you have a cell phone I could use to call for a ride?” I asked without taking a step in his direction. Don’t get too close—leave room to run. Who the fuck was I kidding? I couldn’t make it five feet in these damn shoes.
“Sure.” As he leaned back on his bike, I studied his body as he dug in his pocket. The skintight jeans showed his muscles through the denim fabric. Everything clung to him. I wanted to poke him to see if he felt as hard as he looked. What the fuck was wrong with me?
I was too busy staring to notice what he was holding out for me. “Lady, you wanted my phone?”
Snapping back to reality with the sound of his deep voice, I took a step toward him, reaching for the phone. “Oh, sorry.”
My fingertips grazed his palm, and a tiny shock passed between us. His fingers closed on my hand as I pulled away. My heartbeat, which had calmed, now began to pound feverishly in my chest. It had to be my hormones. I hadn’t had sex in God knows how long—I stopped counting after three months. The man in front of me wasn’t my type, but his sex appeal wasn’t lost on me. He looked like a whole lot of trouble, and I didn’t need that in my life.
I stepped back, keeping my eyes trained on him, as I dialed the only person close enough to help—Sophia. The phone rang and his eyes traveled up and down the length of my body—with each ring, my stomach began to turn. I didn’t have anyone else to call.
Tapping the end button, I sighed. “There’s no answer. Thanks.” I gave him a sheepish smile as I handed him the phone.
“Let me take a look and see if there’s anything I can do. Okay?” he asked, as he began angling the bike to shine the headlights on the hood.
“Sure.” I hit the unlock button on my car key before climbing in. I put the key in the ignition, but stayed aware of his proximity. No one would hear me scream if he tried to kill me. I couldn’t let my guard down.
He put the kickstand down, climbed off the bike, and placed the helmet on the seat. Pulling the hood latch next to my seat, I watched him from the relative darkness of my car, my face hidden by shadows. He was large, larger than he looked sitting on the Harley. He had to be more than a foot taller than me, and looked more solid with the bike illuminating his body. I stared at him, mouth open slightly, my breathing shallow as I looked at him like a piece of meat through the gap between the hood. He oozed masculinity and ruggedness, and I tried to picture him without all the skintight clothes. The muscles in his arm rippled as he touched the parts under the hood.
What would it be like to be with a man like him? Every man I’d dated just didn’t work out. They were nice guys, but the spark I wanted was always missing. People think I’m a good girl, and I am, but my mind is filled with dirty thoughts that I could never share with a mate. I’d shared them with Sophia, but she doesn’t count. No one had ever done anything fantasy-worthy with me. I can barely speak the words that are needed to describe the things I want done to me, or that I’d want to do to another person in this world.
“Ma’am,” he said, snapping me out of the evaluation of my sex life, or lack thereof.
“Sorry, yes?”
“Can you try and start it for me, please?” he said, leaning over the hood, his hands placed on either side of the opening. “Now,” he said. The car churned and churned. “Stop,” I heard him yell over the screeching noise. He moved methodically around the engine. “Try it again.” I turned the key, causing the engine to rattle, but not start.
He stood, rubbing the back of his neck as curses spilled from his lips. The only thing I could see was his crotch. I stared, motionless. His t-shirt covered the belt loops and stopped just above his groin. Damn. He filled out those jeans. He had to be big. Everything about him was big—he couldn’t, just couldn’t, have a small cock, could he?
The last guy that I’d slept with was more the size of a party pickle. It was the most unsatisfying sexual experience of my life. He was a teacher, and I wanted someone who was educated and self-sufficient, but he was boring in and out of the bedroom. I thought I’d found that with Derek, Mr. Pickle, but I was wrong. He was a wreck, and filled with more mental issues than anyone I’d ever know. He was germophobic, which was problematic when having sex. He’d jump right out of bed immediately after sex to shower and wash the dirty off. I sighed to myself, remembering his need to be clean—never mind that he was an asshole, too.
The hood of my car made a loud thump as the man slammed it. “Your car is a little tricky. Foreign cars can be complicated. I can’t seem to get it to start,” he said, walking toward the driver-side door.
“It’s okay. Thanks for trying.” I climbed out, not wanting to be trapped inside. What the hell was I going to do now?
“I was heading to the bar up the road. Want to join me?” He smiled and tilted his head as he studied me. “You can call a tow truck from there. It may take them a while for them to get out here.”
I couldn’t think of any other option. He was my only hope, my saving grace from the dark roadside, and a means to an end. There were worse thin
gs than climbing on the back of his motorcycle and wrapping my arms around him. “Okay, but I’ve never been on a bike.”
“Never? How is that even possible?” he asked, shaking his head, a small laugh escaping his lips. His teeth sparkled in the light, straight and white. His jaw was strong, his cheekbones jutted out more when he smiled, and a small dimple formed on the left side of his face.
I looked down at the ground, my cheeks heated. “I don’t know. I just never knew anyone that had one and I find them totally scary.”
“It’s not far from here and there isn’t much traffic. I’ll keep you safe,” he said, holding out his helmet.
My stomach fluttered as I closed the car door and thought about my first motorcycle ride. The black, round helmet felt cool against my fingers as I took it from him. I scrunched my eyebrows together as I studied it. I didn’t know if there was a front or a back, or how to put it on.
“Here, let me help you,” he said as he reached for the helmet, removing it from my grip. His hand touched mine and I felt the spark again. Not a real spark, but electricity that I felt with every fiber of my being from the slightest touch. My body wanted his touch, but my mind was throwing up the caution flag.
Placing it gently on my head, he ran his rough fingers down the straps, almost caressing my skin, to adjust it to fit my face. I inhaled deeply, trying to fill all my senses with him. He smelled different than any other man I’d smelled. He didn’t smell of cheap cologne, but there was a spicy, woodsy scent that reminded me of home. I closed my eyes and relished the feel of his warm skin against mine.
“All done. Are you ready?” he asked.
I opened my eyes, heat creeping up my neck, as I had been lost in his touch. “Yes.” I prayed my voice didn’t betray me.
He climbed on the bike, sliding forward, making room for me. “Lift your leg and climb on.”
Placing my hand on his shoulder to help balance myself, I followed his instructions; my body slid forward, smashing against him. Rock solid. He turned his head, looking me in the eyes. “Put your feet on the pegs and wrap your arms around me. I don’t bite—well, unless you want me to.” He smirked, and my heart felt like it was doing the tango in my chest as I pressed against his back. He didn’t just say that to me, did he? I lifted my feet off the ground, turning over complete control to the stranger I was entrusting with my life. I locked my hands together, completely wrapped around him.
“Ready?”
“Wait! I don’t even know your name. I mean, I’m putting my life in your hands and I don’t even know who you are.” I gripped his body tighter, clinging to him.
I couldn’t hear his laughter, but I felt the rumble of it from deep in his chest. “My friends call me City, sugar.” He throttled the engine and my heart skipped a beat. Fear gripped me—there was no turning back now.
My grip became viselike, fear overcoming any need to be cool or seem calm in front of him. He patted my hands before the bike began to move, and I couldn’t bear to look. I buried my face in his back, avoiding any chance of seeing the road. The wind caressed my skin, causing it to feel like ice compared to the warmth my palms experienced. Did this man have any soft spots? I flexed my fingers against his chest, wanting to feel his hardness, praying like hell I made it seem natural and not like I was molesting him.