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  • Home > Chelle Bliss > Men of Inked > Hook Me (Page 10)     
    Hook Me(Men of Inked #2) by Chelle Bliss
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    It reminded us of our college days, bringing us right back to where we all met at a frat party. The song was dirty as hell and perfect. It wasn’t the same song that we heard in the nineties, the DJ had spiced it up, making it techno, but the words were the same.

    The mass of bodies moved to the rhythm, bumping and grinding with the music. I swayed, shaking my ass with the girls as we laughed. The colorful lights moved across the floor. I closed my eyes, getting lost in the beat. The alcohol made my legs feel weak as I continued to dance.

    Running my fingers through my hair, I bumped into Sarah and leaned against her. We danced back to back, holding each other up. As I opened my eyes, I had the feeling that someone was staring at me.

    I looked around and saw him. His eyes were focused on me.

    My breathing stopped, my heart stuttered, as my body froze and I returned his stare.

    I couldn’t look away as he held my gaze. Leaning against the bar, he paid no attention to the man by his side. He raked his eyes up and down my body and felt flush as heat crept up my chest to my neck.

    “Why’d ya stop?” Sarah yelled from behind me.

    All I could do was shake my head. My body felt frozen in place and my eyes were zeroed in on him.

    Mike, the brick wall from the gym, stood there, watching me.

    The dark pants and a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up that he wore, showed off the tattoos on his forearms. He looked calm and collected, but his eyes were fierce and pierced right through me.

    The butterflies in my stomach from earlier came back with a vengeance.

    What are the odds that I’d run into him again? Did he follow me or was it some cosmic force pushing us together.

    “Mia, are you okay?” Sarah asked, as she stepped in front of me, breaking our eye contact.

    My cheeks heated as I exhaled. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s dance.” I turned my back to where he stood and focused on the music, trying to forget he was there.

    Watching me.

    Chapter 4

    “Dude, you okay?” Anthony asked, nudging me in the shoulder.

    I couldn’t take my eyes off her. “Yeah.”

    “Who you looking at?”

    I motioned toward her with my chin before taking a sip of my beer. “Her,” I said.

    “The blond?”

    “Fuck no, the brunette in the short jeans.” She looked f**king edible.

    “You gonna go talk to her?”

    “Not yet.” The connection was there – a strong enough one that she felt me staring and stopped dead in her tracks. I never had an issue with pursuing a woman, but based on her reaction to me at the gym I’d wait before I approached her.

    “Never took you for a pu**y.” Anthony laughed and slapped my shoulder.

    She leaned into her blond friend and turned.

    Fucking women, I’d never figure them out.

    The blond looked over her shoulder at me. Her face lit up before she spoke something into her friends’ ear. They danced and laughed and I became transfixed by the scene before me. Their bodies moved together, hips bumping, tits shaking, and I wanted to go on the dance floor and take her right there.

    I swear to shit; god wanted to punish me and used my c**k to do it.

    Her face shimmered, and her hair flew through the air haphazardly as they danced together. I envisioned her beneath me, on top of me, and against the wall re-enacting her moves.

    I sipped my beer, the bottle gripped tightly in my hand, as I felt the familiar throb in my dick.

    When the song ended, they stood in the center of the dance floor and laughed. I didn’t move. I called her over with my finger.

    She shook her head and started dancing when the next song started.

    Fuck.

    I thought I had the market cornered on cockiness, but she could be stiff competition.

    Facing me, she put her hands above her head and shook her ass.

    I caught a glimpse at her stomach muscles and I wanted to run my tongue over the smooth skin. It met her hips to create a f**kin’ knockout figure.

    A man placed his hands on her hips and she froze, holding my gaze. The cocky grin on her face disappeared, replaced with a pissed off sneer. She slapped his hand away, but he didn’t let go.

    What the f**k?

    I didn’t want the sleazy bastard to have his hands all over her. I couldn’t blame the guy, but you don’t touch a woman unless she wants you to.

    Clearly she didn’t.

    She turned to face him, her arms waving in the air as she laid into the guy.

    His eyes grew large but he didn’t back away.

    I moved closer to them and waited for the moment to step in. I couldn’t let her handle this guy alone.

    He reached for her waist but before he gripped her, her knee rose and met his balls in one quick thrust.

    Ouch.

    I winced, knowing the pain that just shot through his body. I smiled, knowing he deserved it, as he clutched himself rolling back and forth on the dance floor.

    “Fucker, when I say keep your hands to yourself, I f**king mean it!” she roared.

    Clearing my throat, I drew her attention away from the ass**le at her feet. I wanted to touch her, but thought better after what I just witnessed.

    I liked my balls too damn much to let that shit happen.

    She turned slowly, her eyes growing wide as they flickered to the floor. “Hey,” she said as I caught a glimpse of her small smile.

    “That was quite impressive. You took him down pretty hard.”

    “I have boney knees,” she said laughing. “Thank you.” She looked too sweet and angelic to have just taken down the overgrown ass**le writhing on the tile floor.

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