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  • Home > Chelle Bliss > Men of Inked > Resist Me (Page 44)     
    Resist Me(Men of Inked #5) by Chelle Bliss
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    Her message was still vague and cagey, but perfectly Izzy. She wasn’t a f**king fool. No one likes to admit they were wrong, especially not someone as stubborn as she is.

    Me: I wouldn’t use that term.

    Sexy Fugitive: I didn’t mean to be a cunt.

    I cringed at her colorful wording. Cunt wasn’t a word I threw around when describing a woman. That shit would be immediately met with a punch to the face or a kick to the balls.

    Me: I hate that word, especially when thinking about you, unless…

    Sexy Fugitive: Unless what?

    Me: Unless we’re talking about your beautiful, selfish pu**y and how it milks my cock.

    I waited a moment, but there was no quick response. I turned my attention back toward the screen, watching as the prospects, including Flash, exchanged a duffel bag with an unknown man for a package. I didn’t know what was inside, but the group was heavy in the drug trade in the central Florida region. Most likely it was heroin or meth.

    Sexy Fugitive: You scare me, James.

    I knew I’d come on strong, but f**k. I didn’t want to waste time playing a bullshit game. I’d laid my feelings out for her, made my intentions known. Izzy wasn’t just another easy f**k to me.

    Me: Nothing to be scared of, doll. I’m not the boogeyman.

    Sexy Fugitive: You’re scarier.

    I paused the video, Izzy taking precedence over the grainy images on my laptop.

    Me: Why?

    Sexy Fugitive: I don’t want to like you.

    I deconstructed her words. She didn’t want to, but she did. I smiled, rubbing my lips as I chose my next words carefully.

    Me: What scares you most?

    I needed to cut off the head of the beast. Face her fear head on and alter her perception. The last thing in the world I wanted was a scared Izzy Gallo. She needed to know that I wasn’t the enemy.

    Sexy Fugitive: I swore off men like you.

    Men like me? What the f**k did that mean? I knew I could be demanding in the bedroom, but besides that, I was like every other red-blooded American man. She wanted easy, someone she could control. That shit I was not down for. Just like her, no one told me what to do.

    Me: Men like me?

    I wanted her thoughts. She needed to voice her fears to me. Maybe it wasn’t my demanding ways in the bedroom. I didn’t want to expand until I knew her reasoning. I always believed in not giving too much information without knowing the enemy you faced. My enemy in this battle was Izzy’s fear.

    Sexy Fugitive: You’re demanding and bossy.

    I laughed when I read her message. Izzy wasn’t a f**king cream puff. Those exact words could be used to describe her.

    Me: The only time I’m bossy and demanding is when we’re f**king, doll. I like things done my way in the bedroom.

    I had particular tastes. Most people do. I didn’t do missionary style with rose petals spread across the bed. I liked shit raw and rough, and I wanted to be in total control. That’s not to say I wouldn’t hand over the reins from time to time, but I was a man, after all, and the bedroom was my domain.

    Sexy Fugitive: You want shit done your way all the time.

    Me: That’s bullshit. I like you because you’re the most aggressive and strongest woman I’ve ever met. I don’t want a pushover who’s going to do everything I ask.

    Sexy Fugitive: You want me to fight back?

    Me: Outside of the bedroom, yes. I love that f**king smartass mouth of yours. When you get mouthy, it makes me rock f**king hard.

    Sexy Fugitive: And inside the bedroom?

    Would Izzy understand the difference? Would she be able to give herself willingly during sex? She’d seemed to enjoy herself this weekend when I’d told her to strip. She’d had me by the balls during her striptease.

    Me: I’m the boss in the bedroom.

    Sexy Fugitive: I don’t know if I can deal with that.

    Me: Did you like when I told you to strip?

    Sexy Fugitive: Not at first.

    Me: And then?

    Sexy Fugitive: I liked teasing you as I danced.

    Sitting there, I thought of her naked, shaking her ass and hips as she took off her clothes. Her dark olive skin and brown hair had made me hard in the dim lighting of the room. It had taken everything in me not to throw her to the ground immediately and f**k her brains out.

    Me: Did you like when I f**ked you?

    Sexy Fugitive: Yes…

    The dot dot dot told me that she wasn’t happy with admitting it, but she had nonetheless.

    Me: Was there anything I did that you didn’t like?

    I wanted to know where her head was with what I did to her. Maybe I moved too fast, but I wouldn’t apologize for who or what I was.

    I started the video again, needing to get my head in the game. I wanted to nail these motherfuckers as soon as possible so I could get the f**k out of this town. Five minutes later, there still wasn’t a reply from Izzy, but I knew we weren’t over.

    Chapter 13 - Opinions Are Like Assholes

    “Hey, Terri,” I said as he walked through the door, interrupting my conversation with James. I knew it was shitty spot to leave him hanging, but I didn’t have a choice. It would be hours until I could answer the question.

    “Hey, babe. I’m ready,” he said, cracking his neck.

    I winced and patted the chair in front of me. The piece was a monster—an entire back design. I had done the outline previously, and today¸ we’d finish it. The dude, although not a pu**y, didn’t like to talk while he got inked. He put on his headphones and blocked out the world while I worked.

    My workstation was set with everything I needed, so I was ready to go when he arrived. After a few kind words, I got down to business. I shaded the massive design while he faced the opposite direction.

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