Men of inked 01 0 03 0.., p.1
[Men of Inked 01.0 - 03.0] Boxed Set, page 1part #1 of Men of Inked Series
Men of Inked
Throttle Me Copyright © 2014
Hook Me Copyright © 2014
Resist Me Copyright © 2014
Published by Chelle Bliss
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Throttle Me published March 30th 2014
Hook Me published June 5th 2014
Resist Me published August 13th 2014
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?
9. Broken Rules
11. Friday ~ Worlds Collide
12. Passing the Test
13. Fork in the Road
15. Tattoos and Torment
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
27. Christmas Blessings
Throttled Bonus Novella
Resisting Bonus Novella
2. Flash is a Dumbfuck
4. The Great Escape
6. Lying to Myself
8. Gallo Family Clusterfuck
9. The Chase
10. Hard to Swallow
11. Finding an Inroad
12. Sunday Fuckin’ Funday
13. Thrown for Loop
14. Opinions Are Like Assholes
15. Playing Dirty
16. Mother Knows Best
17. Nagging Feeling…
19. Wild Wild Love
20. Time Keeps on Tickin’… Two Months Later
More Men of Inked
About the Author
Also by Chelle Bliss
Nailed Down Series
Nailed Down - Book 1
Tied Down - Book 2
Flow - Book 1
Hook - Book 2
Hustle - Book 3
NAILED DOWN SERIES
Nailed Down - Book 1
MEN OF INKED SERIES
Throttle Me (FREE) - 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
Men of Inked Bonus Novellas
The Gallos (Bonus Book .5)
Resisting (Bonus Book 2.5)
Men of Inked Xmas (Bonus Book 6.5)
Rebound (Flash aka Sam)
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)
Acquisition - Book 1
Merger - Book 2
Misadventures of a City Girl
Misadventures with a Speed Demon
LOVE AT LAST SERIES
Untangle Me - Book 1
Kayden the Past - Book 2
To learn more about Chelle’s books visit chellebliss.com
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
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.
“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 t
“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.”
by Chelle Bliss / Fiction / Romance / Contemporary have rating 5 out of 5 / Based on50 votes