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  • Home > Chelle Bliss > Men of Inked > Throttle Me (Page 6)     
    Throttle Me(Men of Inked #1) by Chelle Bliss
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    “That’s the Chicago Skyline,” he said, as he took another bite.

    “You from there?”

    “Born and bred, baby.” He grunted and continued to chew. I couldn’t take my eyes off his mouth. Watching him eat was erotic to me, his lips moved as he chewed and sucked each finger in his mouth to clean off the juices that flowed from the sandwich. Damn. It had been too long since I had sex – when eating becomes sexual. Houston, we have a problem.

    2

    Ray of Sunshine

    I could’ve easily started her car, but I didn’t want to. Her beauty caught my eye and I wanted to know more about her. Shit, I wanted to f**k her. I couldn’t just drive away and leave her out there to fend for herself. I’m a dick usually, but I couldn’t just leave her there.

    She looked helpless as I almost drove by her. When the lights of my bike shone on her, dirty thoughts flooded my mind. She had on ‘fuck me’ heels with a short as hell skirt and a lacy white tank top that instantly made my dick hard. Her hair fell across the top of her br**sts and sparkled in the light. It was gold and I wanted to pull it while my c**k was buried deep inside of her.

    I pretended to come to her rescue and try to help, but I wanted to keep her as long as I could. I’d have one of the guys at the bar tow her car back to her place.

    I could see fear in her eyes when we walked in tonight. They were large like saucers, her mouth hung open and she looked around the room like she’d never been in a bar before. The guys here could be ass**les, especially when a beautiful woman enters the room. Bear was always a total prick, but he did have a point. I wanted to f**k her and I wanted it dirty.

    “How about I buy you a real drink? Just one. You aren’t driving tonight, so what’s the harm?”

    I watched as she chewed her lip. “I guess you’re right. My week’s been crappy. I could use something… stronger,” she said, blowing out a puff of air causing her hair to move.

    “Well, let’s change that. Bad date?” I asked. I looked at her shoes before moving up her entire body before I stopped at her face. “How can I make it better?”

    Her lips parted and her chest heaved as she sucked air in quickly. “It’s not so bad anymore. Tonight started out great, I went out with a girl friend of mine, but it’s just my friggin’ car that put the icing on the cake.”

    Friggin’? Do grown women really use that word?

    “I’m sure the car is no big deal,” I said as I motioned for the bartender. “Know what you want?”

    “Martini. A sweet one, please.” She polished off her virgin daiquiri. She didn’t swear and barely drank liquor; she wasn’t like most girls I knew – even her clothes weren’t as sexy as I’d expect for a girl her age.

    “What can I get you, honey?” Sandy asked.

    “Sunshine here will take a sweet martini, Sandy. Anything you can make flavored preferably.” I looked over at Suzy. “Right?” I asked.

    “Yes, thank you.” She looked out of place in a bar like this, but I wanted her at my side. She appeared to be a good girl with a clean mouth, but I could tell her mind was littered with filthy thoughts. She looked at me, no stared at me, watching every movement and studying my entire body. She wanted me as much as I wanted her, even though she didn’t want to admit it or couldn’t. “You come here a lot, huh? Everyone seems to know you.”

    “The guys and I hang out here a couple nights a week after work and it’s close to my house. It’s just a place I like to come to relax and unwind a bit after a long day.”

    She licked her lips and I swear to f**kin’ Christ my c**k twitched. I adjusted myself trying to stop a full on hard on from catching her eye. I watched her legs as she shifted in her seat, rubbing them together before crossing them. I had her and I knew it, but the trick was to not scare her off.

    “What do you do, City?” She glanced at her hands trying not to look at me.

    “I’m an artist. You?” I left it at that – sounded classier than ‘I’m a tattoo artist.’ I was an artist at heart, but my canvas was human skin.

    “Teacher. What kind of artist?”

    She didn’t look like any schoolteacher I’d ever had. I wouldn’t have been able to pay attention in class with her walking around in heels and stretching to write on the chalkboard. “Tattoo,” I said as I pointed at the artwork on my arm. “ You have any?”

    “Tattoos?” she asked as her eyebrows rose and her eyes grew wide.

    “Yeah, by the look on your face I’d say the answer is ‘no.’”

    “Oh no,” she laughed. “Needles scare the heck out of me.” Grabbing her drink she gulped down half the martini without even blinking.

    “Do you swear?” I asked as she set the glass back on the bar.

    “What?” She gaped at me.

    “Do you swear? Simple question. You’ve said ‘heck’ and ‘friggin’’ so far, but nothing dirty.”

    “Oh, um, yeah, I swear.” Her cheeks turned pink and a small smile spread across her face. “I’m just used to watching my words with the kids around all day.”

    “Prove it,” I said, staring in her sapphire eyes.

    “What? Why?”

    “Cause I need to know if it’s in you. Are you all good girl? Or is there something more underneath dying to come out?” I hid the smile and laughter that was so close to breaking free from my lips. The pink of her cheeks spread across her face. I know I embarrassed her, but f**k, I needed to know if I stood a chance.

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