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  • Home > Chelle Bliss > Men of Inked > Throttle Me (Page 18)     
    Throttle Me(Men of Inked #1) by Chelle Bliss
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    “Every Sunday?” I see my parents every week, but sometimes it was only for an hour and dinners only happened on holidays. I tried to go slow, not wanting to eat everything on my plate. I didn’t want to look like a pig, but I was starving.

    “Every Sunday. It’s required or my parents think something is wrong. Sometimes my grandparents come over and it turns into an all-day affair. Mom usually wakes up early to make the sauce and meatballs. We’re required to be there at one for an early dinner.” It sounded nice. I never had anything like that in my life – never knew families did that kind of thing besides in the movies.

    “Hmm, that sounds like fun.” I ate my breakfast and thought about all the family things I’d missed out in my life. My parents seemed too busy to deal with us at times, let alone have me over for dinner every Sunday. I knew they loved my sister and me, but we didn’t have the close-knit family that City had described.

    “It is, but I work with my brothers and sister and sometimes it gets to be too much. So, babe, do I get to take you on a proper date?”

    “Oh, sorry,” I said. “I’d love to go on a date with you. I mean we already…” I moved my hand around lost for the right word to describe what we did the night before.

    “Fucked,” he laughed. “I don’t know if I will ever get over your good girl thing you have going on.”

    “I’m not a good girl, City.” I wasn’t and I knew it. Good girls didn’t think about the things I did. They didn’t want the things I wanted, and they sure as hell didn’t go home with strangers. “What we did last night wouldn’t have happened if I was a good girl.” I smiled at him.

    “You’re a woman, Suzy. Sex doesn’t make you a bad girl; it makes you human. That shit was explosive last night and this morning I needed to be in you again. I wouldn’t change a god damn thing.” He must have sensed I was uncomfortable with the entire conversation. “I don’t think you’re bad. If someone does, then f**k them. I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks about me.”

    “I know. It’s not always so easy.” I wanted to change the subject. “Do you want me to call my friend to pick me up?” I didn’t want to dissect my qualities at the moment.

    “I’ll take you home after you’re done, okay?”

    “Thank you. I have a ton of things to do today.” I had to grade papers – it was the end of the grading period and grades were due on Monday morning. I had to make lesson plans and pay the bills before the weekend ended. My work never ended, not even on the weekends. Teachers don’t walk out the door on Friday and leave it all behind – we work on the weekends and walk through the door on Monday prepared to teach the budding students not always so interested in learning. I sighed thinking about all the work I had to do, but I was the only one that could get it done.

    “No problem. I have to get to work by noon, so no rush.”

    I wiped my mouth unable to consume another morsel. “Where do you tattoo?”

    “Inked. Ever hear of it?”

    “I drive by it every day on the way to work, I think.” I remember seeing the sign, but had never stepped foot inside. “Looks like a nice place.”

    “Ever been?”

    “Oh, no. I meant from the street. Doesn’t look like the other shops in the area. Yours is pretty. How long have you worked there?”

    “I don’t think I’ve ever heard it described that way. My sister does all the decorating. We own the shop and opened it about five years ago.” Well, maybe he wasn’t the starving artist I thought he was, after all. “Why don’t you stop by sometime? I’d love to pop your cherry.” I started choking. “Ink, babe, I’d love to give you your first tattoo,” he laughed.

    I patted my chest and coughed. “Maybe someday I’ll let you. My parents are just anti-tattoo and I never found anything I’d want to look at for a lifetime. How’d you pick yours?” I asked.

    “Each one signifies something in my life.” He pointed to the city skyline on his arm. “This is a reminder of where my family comes from, Chicago. It’s where I grew up and I go back every summer to visit my friends. It’s part of me in more ways than one,” he laughed and rubbed the tattoo on his arm.

    “And the fish?”

    “Ah, the Koi. Well, that one I had my brother, Anthony, do when we opened the shop. It’s a symbol of determination and power to achieve goals. We always talked about opening our own shop and we’d finally achieved it. Plus, I f**king love the color orange.”

    “Looking at your house I’d think you loved white.”

    He picked up my plate and laughed. “This place is only temporary. I don’t see a point in splashing color on the walls. I’m surrounded by color all day at work. It’s calming to come home to an empty canvas.” Artists – complex creatures.

    “I understand. My walls are actually white except for one blue wall in my bedroom. I’m not the typical bubblegum pink girl.”

    He began to clean the kitchen and put the dishes in the dishwasher. His muscles rippled and flexed with each movement. My mouth watered remembering what it felt like for him to be above me and in me – I wanted more of him.

    “I’ll finish cleaning up. You go get ready to hit the road, okay?”

    I could get used to being waited on. Mind blowing sex? Check. Good cook? Check. Sexy as hell? Check. Manly, yet nice? Check. He had all the right qualities and kind of reminded me of Kayden. I didn’t want Kayden, but I wanted someone that cared enough to take care of me.

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