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  • Home > Chelle Bliss > Men of Inked > Throttled (Page 15)     
    Throttled(Men of Inked #3) by Chelle Bliss
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    Michael cleared his throat, looking away from Anthony. “I’m with Joe. I’d rather drink and bullshit than look at any other women. Mia would have my balls in a sling if I even thought about looking at another woman. I’ll hang with my brother while you bastards find your next victims.” He laughed as he walked by and slapped me on the shoulder. “I got your back,” he said softly so only I could hear.

    “More for us,” Tank said, heading toward the door.

    “Yeah, this looks like your type of place, Tank.” I shook my head. “The girls are going to run away screaming from your ass.” The warm air of the Florida night felt good against my skin. The salty smell of the air and the gentle breeze of the ocean were soothing.

    “I’ll show them what a real man looks like. They’re too used to these pansy ass boys that pluck their eyebrows and wax their body hair. They need a little Tank in their life. What the f**k are those douchebags called again?”

    I rolled my eyes. The man was clearly full of himself. “Yeah, I’m sure they do. How the f**k am I supposed to know what they’re called?”

    “Metrosexuals,” Bear said, giving a week smile.

    “What the f**k?” I said, totally in shock. I never ever in a million years though Bear would know that f**king term. A big burly biker like him should not know that term. “You reading Vogue magazine or some shit?” I raised an eyebrow, studying his face.

    His cheeks turned pink as he looked at the ground. “I have sisters, ass**le. Their boyfriends are metrosexuals. Beats the f**k outta me. They throw the term around like it’s the most glorious thing. Someday they’ll figure out what they’re missing being with such a pu**y.”

    I laughed along with the rest of the guys. “Had us worried there for a second,” Tank said, smacking Bear in the back of the head. “I was about to do a dick check.”

    “I know you’ve always wanted to get your hands on my cock, Tank. I don’t swing that way. Sorry, buddy.”

    I smiled as we walked through the lobby. I had the best friends and brothers in the whole f**king world. Before Anthony pushed open the doors to the pool, the glass panes started to shake from the bass of the music on the other side.

    “Ready boys?” Anthony asked, looking like he was about to enter a little piece of Heaven.

    “Just open the f**kin’ doors already,” I growled.

    He nodded, pushing open both doors at once. We took two steps and stopped dead to take in the sight before us. Girls in bikinis, skimpy dresses, and various other tiny barely there clothing writhed and danced to the beat of the techno music.

    “Wow, I’ve been missing out at that hick bar,” Tank said, his voice filled with disbelief.

    “Neon Cowboy women do not look like that.” Bear held his hand out, moving it up and down, motioning toward the crowd and licked his lips.

    “There sure as f**k something to be said for city girls.” Tank headed toward the crowd, winding his way through the ladies.

    At least Tank and Bear didn’t come in their camo or some other redneck attire. They wore clean denim jeans, black t-shirts, and boots. We looked like the redneck biker version of the Rat Pack. Our tats were clearly visible on our arms—metrosexuals we most definitely were not.

    “Bar,” I growled, pulling Tank off the back of some chick. He had her by the hips and she was pushing back against him with a big smile on her face.

    “What the f**k, man? I was enjoying myself.”

    “She had a ring on her finger, dumbass,” I yelled over the loud music.

    “Who cares? I was looking to hit it and quit it.” He laughed, making a smacking motion while thrusting his hips.

    “Shots. We need them in mass quantities.” Bear threw a fifty on the bar.

    “That won’t get you far here, Bear.” Michael threw an extra fifty on top. “This isn’t the Podunk bar you’re used to. This is the city and everything is three times as much.”

    We leaned against the bar studying the dance floor like a scene from Saturday Night Live as we waited for our tequila shots and beers. I reached in my pocket for my phone as panic started to set in. Fuck.

    “What’s wrong, Joe?” Michael asked, resting his hand on my shoulder.

    “I don’t have my phone. Suzy’s going to be pissed if I don’t text her back.”

    “I got it in my pocket. You’ll get it back tomorrow. Tonight it’s all about us and not our ladies. She’ll be fine. It’s her party night too. Trust me, those girls have her too busy to even bother looking at their phones. So chill the f**k out and drink.” Mike shoved the tequila shot under my nose as a smile crept across his face.

    “You’re right.” I grabbed the drink from his hand and turned toward the guys. “What are we drinking to?” I asked, raising the glass.

    “Platinum pu**y and unlimited blow jobs.” Anthony clinked his glass to mine as all the guys joined in with a laugh.

    I grimaced as I downed the liquid. Tequila and I were never friends. We slammed the shot glasses on the bar, grabbing our beer to wash it down.

    “Another,” Tank said, motioning to the bartender. “Same,” he yelled as the man approached.

    “Gonna be one of those nights, huh?” I said, sipping my beer as I looked around.

    The setting was amazing. Suzy would love it here. She didn’t like to dance when I met her, but when we were on the dance floor together, our bodies moved as if they’d known each other a lifetime. She knew how to move, but being with me gave her the confidence to feel uninhibited in the sack and in a club.

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