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  • Home > Chelle Bliss > Men of Inked > Throttle Me (Page 61)     
    Throttle Me(Men of Inked #1) by Chelle Bliss
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    He kicked his pants in the air and caught them. “Don’t look at me like that, sugar.” His shaft bobbed catching my attention, my mouth suddenly felt dry.

    I blinked and looked at his face, “Like what? I was just thinking about how skilled you are at catching your pants,” I giggled.

    “You just looked at my dick in a way that makes me want to jam it down your throat.” He grinned at me and even though my face hurt, I wanted nothing more than for him to do that to me. “Not today, sugar.”

    “Tomorrow?” I raised my eyebrows hoping that I could entice him or at least get a promise of something before the weekend ended.

    “We’ll see. I decide when and how. What can I get you?”

    “Your cock.” I knew when I said ‘dirty’ words that he couldn’t resist me. If he continued to deny me I sure as hell wouldn’t make it easy on him.

    He rubbed his face and muttered something I couldn’t quite make out. “Want something to drink or eat?”

    He stood there, buck-naked and mouth wateringly delicious, and waited for my answer. How could I think of water when his beautiful body was on full display? I shook my head and patted the mattress with a crooked smile.

    “Tomorrow, sugar.”

    A pout hung on my lips, but inside I was happy to at least get a concession. “Good enough. I don’t have anything in the fridge, City. I didn’t think I’d be here much this weekend.” Admitting to an Italian man that you lack even the staples in your pantry isn’t easy.

    “My mother wants to drop off food later. Are you okay with that?”

    “Really?” My mother had never brought me food even when I had the flu. I always fended for myself even if it meant crawling to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. His mother, a woman I’d never met, would bring me food, and I had a twinge of jealousy. What would it have been like to grow up in a house like his?

    “I can call her anytime and she’ll drop something off. You just say the word.”

    “Word, word, word! Does your mom use Ragu like mine?” My mother never cooked from scratch. As a child I thought Chef Boyardee was the bees-knees until I grew up and realized it was closer to vomit in a can.

    City laughed and his smile made my chest ache. “Don’t even mention the word Ragu to her. She’ll have a mental breakdown.”

    “Good to know,” I said. “Remind me to never cook for her, okay?”

    City grabbed his phone as he crawled in bed. “Hey, Ma. Suzy’s going to rest for a bit, but we’d love for you to drop by with some food.” I could hear her talking on the phone and it reminded me of Charlie Brown’s teacher. I couldn’t make out the words, but I heard a garbled voice as I put my head on his chest. I played with the piercing which earned me a stern look. “I’ll text you her address. Thanks, Ma.”

    He put the phone down and stared at me, but I just smiled. “What?” I asked innocently.

    “You must’ve hit your head harder than I thought.”

    “Maybe.” I kissed his nipple, tugging on the hoop with my lips. He inhaled sharply as I bit down.

    “Sugar, not now. I’m trying to be real good here and you’re not in any shape right now to do the things to you I want. Later, when you’ve rested and had something to eat, I’ll give you more than you can handle… if I feel you’re up to it.”

    “Party killer,” I said, as I laid my head back down in the crook of his arm.

    “Be a good girl and sleep.” His fingertips trailed down my back, leaving a wake of warmth against my skin. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feel of his hands on me even if it wasn’t the way I wanted.

    I don’t know how long I slept, but when I woke up, I was alone in the bed. His side was still warm. My muscles rebelled and ached as I stretched. “Damn,” I whispered, wanting to move without pain.

    The doorbell rang and my heart started to pound – his mother. I didn’t look presentable and my face had to be a mess. I stared at it in horror this morning at the hospital. This wasn’t the way I wanted to meet his mom.

    I could hear them talking in the kitchen. The door cracked open and I turned my head praying it was City. “Hey, sugar, ma’s here. Do you want to meet her?”

    “I look like crap, City. I can’t have her see me like this.”

    He sat down next to me. “Sugar, she was at the hospital this morning. She’s seen your face. She’s not going to stare at you.”

    I sighed. “You didn’t tell me.”

    “Sorry. Come on, just a quick hello. She made you lasagna.” He brushed the hair away from my face, following the curve of my cheek.

    I’d do anything this man asked me to. A smile, touch, or kiss and I was totally and utterly his. “Let me get dressed and I’ll come out.”

    Meeting parents always scared me to death and it meant a step deeper into a relationship. His mother obviously loved her son enough to bring us food and I wanted to at least thank her for her kindness.

    I looked into the mirror, touched the stitching on my lip with my tongue, noticing the irony taste of blood. There was no need to bother with makeup. I couldn’t look any worse than I did and if she liked me now then I’d knocked her socks off when she’d see me at my best. Dressed in my favorite hoodie and sweats, I walked out to meet Mrs. Gallo.

    “There she is,” City said, standing from the couch with a smile plastered on his face.

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