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[Men of Inked 01.0] Throttle Me, page 1

 part  #1 of  Men of Inked Series

 

[Men of Inked 01.0] Throttle Me
 


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[Men of Inked 01.0] Throttle Me


  Throttle Me

  Chelle Bliss

  Copyright © 2014 by Bliss Ink LLC

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Published by Chelle Bliss on March 30th 2014:

  Editors Tee Tate & Silently Correcting Your Grammar

  Cover Design © Chelle Bliss

  Formatting by Chelle Bliss

  Cover Photographer © Wander Aguilar

  Cover Model: Shane MacKinnon

  Contents

  Don’t miss out!

  Also by Chelle Bliss

  1. The Darkness

  2. Ray of Sunshine

  3. Down & Dirty

  4. Wicked Ways

  5. Only in My Fantasies

  6. Too Good To Be True

  7. I’m not too uptight, am I?

  8. Angles

  9. Broken Rules

  10. Anticipation

  11. Friday ~ Worlds Collide

  12. Passing the Test

  13. Fork in the Road

  14. Stitches

  15. Tattoos and Torment

  16. Fantasies

  17. Wants and Desires

  18. Family Headaches

  19. Friday Countdown

  20. What Dreams Are Made Of…

  21. Sometimes Shit Needs to Stay Fiction

  22. Who’s the Boss?

  23. Mouth-Watering Goodness

  24. Hot for Teacher

  25. Riding’ Dirty

  26. Surprises

  27. Christmas Blessings

  Preview of Hook Me

  About the Author

  Also by Chelle Bliss

  Acknowledgments

  This book is dedicated to my family,

  friends, and readers.

  Don’t miss out!

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  Connect with me at:

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  MEN OF INKED SERIES

  Throttle Me - Book 1

  Hook Me - Book 2

  Resist Me - Book 3

  Uncover Me - Book 4

  Without Me - Book 5

  Honor Me - Book 6

  Worship Me - Book 7

  ALFA INVESTIGATIONS SERIES

  Sinful Intent - Book 1

  Unlawful Desire - Book 2

  Wicked Impulse - Book 3

  ALFA Investigations Novellas

  Rebound (Flash aka Sam)

  Top Bottom Switch (Ret)

  NAILED DOWN STANDALONES

  Nailed Down - Book 1

  Tied Down - Book 2

  TAKEOVER DUET

  Acquisition - Book 1

  Merger - Book 2

  FILTHY STANDALONE SERIES

  Dirty Work

  Dirty Secret

  Dirty Defiance

  SINGLE READS

  Mend

  Enshrine

  Misadventures of a City Girl

  Misadventures with a Speed Demon

  LOVE AT LAST SERIES

  Untangle Me - Book 1

  Kayden the Past - Book 2

  Stay up to date on the next big release by visiting chellebliss.com/preorder

  Fall 2018 Releases

  Gallo Family Novel

  Maneuver

  Southside Gallo Series (Fall 2018)

  Flow - Book 1

  Hook - Book 2

  Hustle - Book 3

  To learn more about Chelle’s books visit chellebliss.com

  1

  The Darkness

  Suzy

  The moonlight filtered through the pine trees lining the fields, leaving shadows on the pavement. The crisp air that had been missing for months caressed my skin. Cranking up the radio, I sang along to Justin Timberlake’s “Rock Your Body.” It was just the cool breeze, JT, and me. I couldn’t wait to crawl in my bed and close my eyes, getting lost in a dream world that had nothing to do with my current reality.

  The night had been perfect. I’d had dinner and drinks with my best friend, Sophia, and although I was exhausted from a long workday, I felt a sense of serenity. Spending time with Sophia always made me happy. She was like a sister to me, especially when she had lived with me for over a year. I felt like part of me had been missing since the day she moved out, leaving me behind.

  Dancing in the seat, screaming out the lyrics, I thought about how I wanted someone that would do everything the song described. No one had ever made me feel the way that JT sang about women. The steering wheel shook in my hands and a screeching sound pulled me out of my JT trance.

  “Damn it,” I said, hitting the steering wheel with my palm.

  The orange flash from my hazards blinked against the dark pavement as I pulled off the road and my car sputtered to a stop. Bad luck seemed to follow me. I squeezed the steering wheel, trying to calm my frazzled nerves. I knew the day would come, the day my car would die, but I prayed it would happen after my next paycheck…no such luck.

  Resting my head on the wheel, I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. “Great, just fucking great.” I rocked back and forth, feeling sorry for myself, hitting my head on the cool plastic. I thought about whom to call or where to walk. I hadn’t passed a gas station or even a damn streetlight in miles. Without picking up my head, I reached for my phone, bringing it to my eyes.

  “Shit.” The screen wouldn’t power on after I hit every button I could think to press. It was useless. It was dead and now I was totally stranded. What else could possibly go wrong? Sighing, I sat up and glanced in the rearview mirror, but only the shadows from the trees filled my view. No cars, neon signs, or streetlights. Fuck.

  I placed my hand on my chest to feel the beat of my heart, which was so hard I swear it was audible. Visions from slasher movies flooded my mind. Girl deserted on the side of the road until she’s found by a handsome stranger that ends up being a serial killer.

  Should I start walking to God knows where? Do I just sit there and wait for a stranger to offer me help? I never liked feeling helpless—I was too smart to be helpless, but it was the only thing I felt in this moment. It could be hours before someone found me in my car.

  I grabbed my purse, dead phone, and keys, and climbed out of the car. My feet ached in the extra-high heels I wore. Leaning against the car, I gave my feet a moment to adjust, as I looked in both directions. Neither of my options were good and I was exhausted. My feet fucking screamed from standing still. Thank God I could sleep in tomorrow after the way this evening was ending. There was a gas station a couple miles back—better to go with what I knew than to walk into an uncertain future. I tapped the lock button on my key chain one more time, helping relieve my OCD need to double-check everything, before I started walking away.

  Barely clearing the trunk, a single
light came over a small hill in the distance, hurting my eyes with the brightness. The roar of the engine grew louder as the distance closed. I waved my arms as a figure came into view, but the asshole biker drove right passed me as I screamed, “Hey! Hey!” The wind from his bike caused the dust on the road to kick up and fill my mouth.

  I turned around, coughing, and screamed toward the bike. I knew it was pointless. There was no way in hell he’d heard me yelling above the roar of his bike, but he had to see me. The red taillight lit up the road as he turned the bike in my direction. I swallowed hard, unsure if this was my best idea of the night—but I’d already made too many mistakes to dwell on that. He was my only hope of getting home.

  I stood there like a deer in headlights, unable to move, as I gaped at him. My hands trembled as the figure on the bike came to a stop. The engine was almost deafening, as I took in the sight of him on the machine. The bike was a Harley, a Fat Boy, with no windshield, chrome handlebars, and a dark body. He wore black boots, dark jeans, and a dark t-shirt. He was large and muscular, and I sucked in a breath as my eyes reached his handsome and rugged face. A playful grin danced on his lips as he watched me ogle him. Fucking hell.

  “Need some help, lady?” he asked, removing his helmet, running his fingers through his disheveled hair. The dark peaks stood up on the top, the sides were short and clipped, and the color matched the sky—dark. I couldn’t see his eyes; a pair of tinted glasses hid them. Could serial killers be so sexy?

  “Um, do you have a cell phone I could use to call for a ride?” I asked without taking a step in his direction. Don’t get too close—leave room to run. Who the fuck was I kidding? I couldn’t make it five feet in these damn shoes.

  “Sure.” As he leaned back on his bike, I studied his body as he dug in his pocket. The skintight jeans showed his muscles through the denim fabric. Everything clung to him. I wanted to poke him to see if he felt as hard as he looked. What the fuck was wrong with me?

  I was too busy staring to notice what he was holding out for me. “Lady, you wanted my phone?”

  Snapping back to reality with the sound of his deep voice, I took a step toward him, reaching for the phone. “Oh, sorry.”

  My fingertips grazed his palm, and a tiny shock passed between us. His fingers closed on my hand as I pulled away. My heartbeat, which had calmed, now began to pound feverishly in my chest. It had to be my hormones. I hadn’t had sex in God knows how long—I stopped counting after three months. The man in front of me wasn’t my type, but his sex appeal wasn’t lost on me. He looked like a whole lot of trouble, and I didn’t need that in my life.

  I stepped back, keeping my eyes trained on him, as I dialed the only person close enough to help—Sophia. The phone rang and his eyes traveled up and down the length of my body—with each ring, my stomach began to turn. I didn’t have anyone else to call.

  Tapping the end button, I sighed. “There’s no answer. Thanks.” I gave him a sheepish smile as I handed him the phone.

  “Let me take a look and see if there’s anything I can do. Okay?” he asked, as he began angling the bike to shine the headlights on the hood.

  “Sure.” I hit the unlock button on my car key before climbing in. I put the key in the ignition, but stayed aware of his proximity. No one would hear me scream if he tried to kill me. I couldn’t let my guard down.

  He put the kickstand down, climbed off the bike, and placed the helmet on the seat. Pulling the hood latch next to my seat, I watched him from the relative darkness of my car, my face hidden by shadows. He was large, larger than he looked sitting on the Harley. He had to be more than a foot taller than me, and looked more solid with the bike illuminating his body. I stared at him, mouth open slightly, my breathing shallow as I looked at him like a piece of meat through the gap between the hood. He oozed masculinity and ruggedness, and I tried to picture him without all the skintight clothes. The muscles in his arm rippled as he touched the parts under the hood.

  What would it be like to be with a man like him? Every man I’d dated just didn’t work out. They were nice guys, but the spark I wanted was always missing. People think I’m a good girl, and I am, but my mind is filled with dirty thoughts that I could never share with a mate. I’d shared them with Sophia, but she doesn’t count. No one had ever done anything fantasy-worthy with me. I can barely speak the words that are needed to describe the things I want done to me, or that I’d want to do to another person in this world.

  “Ma’am,” he said, snapping me out of the evaluation of my sex life, or lack thereof.

  “Sorry, yes?”

  “Can you try and start it for me, please?” he said, leaning over the hood, his hands placed on either side of the opening. “Now,” he said. The car churned and churned. “Stop,” I heard him yell over the screeching noise. He moved methodically around the engine. “Try it again.” I turned the key, causing the engine to rattle, but not start.

  He stood, rubbing the back of his neck as curses spilled from his lips. The only thing I could see was his crotch. I stared, motionless. His t-shirt covered the belt loops and stopped just above his groin. Damn. He filled out those jeans. He had to be big. Everything about him was big—he couldn’t, just couldn’t, have a small cock, could he?

  The last guy that I’d slept with was more the size of a party pickle. It was the most unsatisfying sexual experience of my life. He was a teacher, and I wanted someone who was educated and self-sufficient, but he was boring in and out of the bedroom. I thought I’d found that with Derek, Mr. Pickle, but I was wrong. He was a wreck, and filled with more mental issues than anyone I’d ever know. He was germophobic, which was problematic when having sex. He’d jump right out of bed immediately after sex to shower and wash the dirty off. I sighed to myself, remembering his need to be clean—never mind that he was an asshole, too.

  The hood of my car made a loud thump as the man slammed it. “Your car is a little tricky. Foreign cars can be complicated. I can’t seem to get it to start,” he said, walking toward the driver-side door.

  “It’s okay. Thanks for trying.” I climbed out, not wanting to be trapped inside. What the hell was I going to do now?

  “I was heading to the bar up the road. Want to join me?” He smiled and tilted his head as he studied me. “You can call a tow truck from there. It may take a while for them to get out here.”

  I couldn’t think of any other option. He was my only hope, my saving grace from the dark roadside, and a means to an end. There were worse things than climbing on the back of his motorcycle and wrapping my arms around him. “Okay, but I’ve never been on a bike.”

  “Never? How is that even possible?” he asked, shaking his head, a small laugh escaping his lips. His teeth sparkled in the light, straight and white. His jaw was strong, his cheekbones jutted out more when he smiled, and a small dimple formed on the left side of his face.

  I looked down at the ground, my cheeks heated. “I don’t know. I just never knew anyone that had one and I find them totally scary.”

  “It’s not far from here and there isn’t much traffic. I’ll keep you safe,” he said, holding out his helmet.

  My stomach fluttered as I closed the car door and thought about my first motorcycle ride. The black, round helmet felt cool against my fingers as I took it from him. I scrunched my eyebrows together as I studied it. I didn’t know if there was a front or a back, or how to put it on.

  “Here, let me help you,” he said as he reached for the helmet, removing it from my grip. His hand touched mine and I felt the spark again. Not a real spark, but electricity that I felt with every fiber of my being from the slightest touch. My body wanted his touch, but my mind was throwing up the caution flag.

  Placing it gently on my head, he ran his rough fingers down the straps, almost caressing my skin, to adjust it to fit my face. I inhaled deeply, trying to fill all my senses with him. He smelled different than any other man I’d smelled. He didn’t smell of cheap cologne, but there was a spicy, woodsy scent th
at reminded me of home. I closed my eyes and relished the feel of his warm skin against mine.

  “All done. Are you ready?” he asked.

  I opened my eyes, heat creeping up my neck, as I had been lost in his touch. “Yes.” I prayed my voice didn’t betray me.

  He climbed on the bike, sliding forward, making room for me. “Lift your leg and climb on.”

  Placing my hand on his shoulder to help balance myself, I followed his instructions; my body slid forward, smashing against him. Rock solid. He turned his head, looking me in the eyes. “Put your feet on the pegs and wrap your arms around me. I don’t bite—well, unless you want me to.” He smirked, and my heart felt like it was doing the tango in my chest as I pressed against his back. He didn’t just say that to me, did he? I lifted my feet off the ground, turning over complete control to the stranger I was entrusting with my life. I locked my hands together, completely wrapped around him.

  “Ready?”

  “Wait! I don’t even know your name. I mean, I’m putting my life in your hands and I don’t even know who you are.” I gripped his body tighter, clinging to him.

 
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