[Men of Inked 01.0 - 03.0] Boxed Set

by Chelle Bliss

  Michael

  “Dude, you okay?” Anthony asked, nudging me in the shoulder.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off her. “Yeah.”

  “Who you looking at?”

  I motioned toward her with my chin before taking a sip of my beer. “Her,” I said.

  “The blonde?”

  “Fuck no, the brunette in the short jeans.” She looked fucking edible.

  “You gonna go talk to her?”

  “Not yet.” The connection was there—a strong enough one that she felt me staring and stopped dead in her tracks. I’d never had an issue with pursuing a woman, but based on her reaction to me at the gym, I’d wait before I approached her.

  “Never took you for a pussy.” Anthony laughed and slapped my shoulder.

  She leaned into her blonde friend and turned.

  Fucking women, I’d never figure them out.

  The blonde looked over her shoulder at me. Her face lit up before she spoke something into her friend’s ear. They danced and laughed, and I became transfixed by the scene before me. Their bodies moved together, hips bumping, tits shaking, and I wanted to go on the dance floor and take her right there.

  I swear to shit, God wanted to punish me, and used my cock to do it.

  Her face shimmered, and her hair flew through the air haphazardly as they danced together. I envisioned her beneath me, on top of me, and against the wall, re-enacting her moves.

  I sipped my beer, the bottle gripped tightly in my hand, as I felt the familiar throb in my dick.

  When the song ended, they stood in the center of the dance floor and laughed. I didn’t move. I called her over with my finger.

  She shook her head, and started dancing when the next song started.

  Fuck.

  I thought I had the market cornered on cockiness, but she could be stiff competition.

  Facing me, she put her hands above her head and shook her ass.

  I caught a glimpse at her stomach muscles, and I wanted to run my tongue over the smooth skin. It met her hips to create a fuckin’ knockout figure.

  A man placed his hands on her hips, and she froze, holding my gaze. The cocky grin on her face disappeared, replaced with a pissed-off sneer. She slapped his hand away, but he didn’t let go.

  What the fuck?

  I didn’t want the sleazy bastard to have his hands all over her. I couldn’t blame the guy, but you don’t touch a woman unless she wants you to.

  Clearly she didn’t.

  She turned to face him, her arms waving in the air as she laid into the guy.

  His eyes grew large but he didn’t back away.

  I moved closer to them and waited for the moment to step in. I couldn’t let her handle this guy alone.

  He reached for her waist, but before he gripped her, her knee rose and met his balls in one quick thrust.

  Ouch.

  I winced, knowing the pain that just shot through his body. I smiled, knowing he deserved it, as he clutched himself, rolling back and forth on the dance floor.

  “Fucker, when I say keep your hands to yourself, I fucking mean it!” she roared.

  Clearing my throat, I drew her attention away from the asshole at her feet. I wanted to touch her, but thought better after what I just witnessed.

  I liked my balls too damn much to let that shit happen.

  She turned slowly, her eyes growing wide as they flickered to the floor. “Hey,” she said as I caught a glimpse of her small smile.

  “That was quite impressive. You took him down pretty hard.”

  “Thank you. I have bony knees,” she said, laughing. She looked too sweet and angelic to have just taken down the overgrown asshole writhing on the tile floor.

  “I don’t think we were properly introduced earlier. I’m Michael, and you are?” I held my hand out, wanting to touch her skin again.

  She placed her tiny fingers in my palm. “I’m Mia.”

  I closed my fingers around her small hand, lifting it to my mouth. “You smell different than this morning.” I kissed the delicate flesh on the top of her hand gently.

  Her scent was sweet and reminded me of fresh-baked cookies. I couldn’t forget her flowery scent from this morning.

  She laughed, and her eyes twinkled. Honest to God, fucking twinkled.

  “Not being a creep. Just making an observation.” I’d never been such a dumbass with a woman before. She made me nervous and turned me into a horny teenaged boy.

  “It’s my lotion. Vanilla Bean Noel.” Her cheeks turned pink as she looked behind her and waved to her friends.

  “You smell like a cupcake.” I licked my lips and now felt like the creep. “Can I buy you a drink, Mia?” I needed to do something to break the awkwardness and my inability to stop saying stupid shit in front of her.

  Her eyes returned to mine, the corner of her mouth turned up before she answered, “Sure, Michael.”

  I held my hand out, letting her walk in front of me. Her hips swayed as she sauntered to the bar. I wanted to smack her ass for the wicked shit it did to my cock.

  Leaning against the bar, shoulder to shoulder with her, I motioned for the bartender. “What’ll it be? Pick your poison.”

  I expected her to say she wanted a girlie drink, something that required an umbrella, but I would’ve been dead fucking wrong.

  “Dirty martini, please. Straight up, with extra olives.”

  The bartender approached, giving Mia the once-over.

  It took everything in me not to punch his fucking lights out as he lingered a little too long on her chest.

  “What can I get you?” he asked her without looking in my direction.

  “Another beer, and a dirty martini straight up with extra olives for the lady,” I said, without caring who he asked.

  I wanted to take the rag he had in his hand and stuff it down his throat. He gave me a sour face before leaving us. I threw a twenty on the bar, trying to avoid as much contact between him and Mia as possible.

  Mia began to laugh as he walked away. “Are you two going to have a pissing match next?”

  Her laughter was infectious.

  “I didn’t like the way he looked at you.”

  “Used to being the center of attention?” she asked, with a cocked eyebrow and a grin.

  “No. Are you clueless to the way he just eye raped you, woman?”

  Her grin turned into a giant smile. “He’s a man. It’s what you all do.”

  “Glad you think so highly of us.” I leveled my gaze and grabbed the beer that had been left for me.

  “How would you describe how you were looking at me on the dance floor?” she challenged.

  “I wasn’t eye raping you, sweetheart.”

  “Call it what you want. Your eyes told a different story, Michael.”

  “What’d they say?”

  “Something along the lines of, ‘You and me and a little tryst in the bathroom stall.’”

  She was a feisty little thing.

  “You wouldn’t go home with me if I asked?”

  She coughed, almost spitting out her drink. “No, not even after five of these babies,” she said as she held up her glass before taking another sip.

  “I like a challenge. I don’t like to lose, either.”

  She smiled over the rim of her glass. “I’ve never been called a quitter.”

  I never liked easy.

  My life had been filled with hard choices and challenges that kept me moving to bigger and better things.

  Everything came easy to my family. We grew up with money, not the kind that Paris Hilton had that caused her to turn into a fucking train wreck, but my parents made sure we never wanted for anything.

  “What do you do, Mia? What makes you tick, besides kneeing a man in the balls?”

  She placed her glass on the bar and twirled it in her fingers. “I’m in medicine.”

  I couldn’t take my eyes off her mouth. Her lips were full and red from the lip-gloss, or whatever shit she had coating them. I w
anted to know if it tasted like strawberry.

  “You’re a nurse?” I felt like I had to pull information out of her.

  She turned toward me with her mouth set in a firm line. “No. I’m a doctor.”

  I whistled, being thoroughly impressed by the statement.

  Dr. Mia was sexy as hell, and had a brain to match. “Impressive. What kind?”

  “I work in the emergency room at County.”

  “Wow, that’s some hard shit. Wait, that’s where I know you from.” Her sassy mouth, beautiful looks, and sparkling hazel eyes made it all click when she said “County Hospital ER.”

  “You do?” Her brows shot up as her eyes grew wide. “I hope it wasn’t for anything too horrible.”

  “Cracked ribs a couple months back. You called me a cocky bastard, I believe,” I said, smiling as I remembered her playfulness.

  The corner of her mouth twitched as she tilted her head. “Ah, it’s all coming back to me now. I knew I met you before. Sorry I was mean to you.” She blushed.

  “Nah, I liked it when you called me that. You said you’d go to dinner with me, and I’m holding you to your word.”

  Her brows knitted together as her eyes moved around my face. “I don’t remember it that way. If memory serves me right, I told you no.”

  “You were supposed to come back after the x-ray, but you sent in some schmuck instead. You blew me off.”

  She snickered as her eyes flickered to her drink. “Michael, I don’t remember blowing you off. It gets hectic, and another patient probably needed my attention more than you.”

  “I don’t envy you, doc. You work a stressful job. I couldn’t do it.”

  “Some days are harder than others.” A flash of sadness splashed across her face before quickly disappearing. “It has its rewards too.”

  “I give you a lot of credit. To hold someone’s life in your hands is some heavy shit, and a lot of responsibility.”

  “Some days I question my sanity. I wonder why I didn’t settle for a nice family practice with an office, treating the flu, but I’d probably grow bored quickly.”

  “Ah, you like the rush,” I said, rubbing my chin and studying her body language.

  “Yeah, I guess I do. What do you do, Michael, besides fighting?”

  “Ah, you remember me now. I’m part-owner of a tattoo shop, where I pierce the willing, but my true love is fighting.”

  “I spend my nights repairing damage that people like you inflict.”

  I saw the flash of sadness again before it disappeared. That wasn’t the reaction I expected. “I never do anything that isn’t asked of me, whether it’s in the shop or the cage. Which one are we talking about here?”

  “The fighting.” Her face hadn’t changed.

  Most women cooed when they found out, but Mia? Nothing.

  “I don’t street fight—cage matches, MMA style. They’re professional. I have a big one coming up.” I smiled and felt proud to be able to utter those words, but Mia still didn’t seem impressed, with her lips set in a firm line as she brought the martini glass to her lips.

  “Still, it’s the opposite of my job. I help people and heal them and you injure them. Maybe they spend more time injuring you. I don’t know.” She cocked her eyebrow at me and took a sip.

  “Don’t be silly, woman. It’s a job. We all go into the cage knowing someone isn’t coming out looking as pretty as they did when they went in. All injuries heal. And wait a minute here…you just injured the hell out of that douchebag. He’ll probably never be able to have children because of that wicked knee.”

  “Fighting for money is barbaric.” She shook her head, but I didn’t buy her distaste for the sport. “What I did was self-preservation. There’s a difference.” She looked me straight in the eye and didn’t blink.

  A bullshitter could smell another bullshitter a mile away.

  “Liar.” I brushed my fingers against her arm, and she shivered with the contact.

  Maybe she didn’t like what I did, but I could tell it turned her on.

  She didn’t smile, but there was a twinkle in her eyes. Her body responded to mine…no matter how hard she tried to deny it.

  6

  Mia

  “I don’t condone violence.” The words fell from my lips in a flat tone, even as my body still vibrated from his touch.

  Traitor.

  My body betrayed me when Michael touched me. I tried to play it cool.

  “Not buying it.” He lifted the beer to his lips and took a sip.

  I stared at them as they hugged the rim of the glass.

  I wanted to smack the cocky grin off his face. His rich brown eyes sparkled, and were filled with mischief as he called me a liar. His words were true no matter how hard I wanted to deny them. Michael was pure man—strong, sexy, and self-confident.

  “Can we agree to disagree?” I asked, pretending not to look at his mouth.

  He licked the beer from his lips. I had the overwhelming urge to use my tongue to capture the few drops of liquid still left behind. “Want a taste?” he asked with a hearty laugh as he tipped the beer in my direction.

  I could feel the blush as it crept up my neck. I wanted to avoid his eyes but couldn’t give him the satisfaction. I always believed in fighting fire with fire.

  “You missed a little,” I said before I reached up and used my thumb to wipe the few drops on his lips.

  His eyes stayed locked with mine as I touched his soft flesh, slowing dragging my fingers across his skin.

  I placed my thumb in my mouth, closing my lips around it.

  He leaned in close enough for me to smell the musky cologne on his neck. “You’re wicked,” he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear.

  Pulling my thumb from my lips, I replied, “I’m just getting started, hot stuff.”

  He backed away and stared at me before giving me a giant smile. “I may have met my match with you, Mia.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” I couldn’t help but smile. I forgot how much fun it could be to flirt with someone, especially when they were handsome and a smooth talker.

  He made it easy and made me feel sexy.

  At work, I never felt sexy wearing my drab scrubs and knee-length lab coat, and with my hair up in a ponytail. I looked half dead by the time my shift ended at the hospital.

  “Shot?” he asked.

  “I’ve given thousands,” I replied, laughing at my hospital humor.

  “You’re difficult, Mia.” He eyed me as he fiddled with the beer.

  “You have no idea, Michael.” I laughed, wanting to throw myself at him and give in to any wild sexual ideas he currently had, but I wouldn’t allow myself to be so reckless. “What do you have in mind?”

  He looked me straight in the eye and didn’t crack a smile. “Blue balls.”

  “Seems like a personal problem. I could write you a prescription, if you’d like.”

  “Um, fuck no to a prescription, but I’m sure it’s nothing you couldn’t fix.” He smirked. “Wanna help me out?”

  I leaned forward, my lips almost touching his as I said, “Usually when someone walks in with an erection that won’t subside, we drain the fluid with a very large needle. I’m a pro. Interested in seeing my skills firsthand?”

  His mouth hung open as he gaped. “That’s just inhumane. I mean, Jesus, Mia, how could you do that to another human being?” He stepped back, shaking his head.

  “Better than it having to be amputated from lack of circulation. So, what did you want to drink, again?” I smiled until my cheek muscles ached. I couldn’t remember the last time I had smiled or laughed as much as I had with him tonight.

  “Lemon drop. Let’s skip the blue balls,” he said, swallowing hard, probably still reeling from the thought of the long needle in his dick.

  “Good choice, and they’re my favorite.”

  “I gotcha.” He looked away and motioned to the bartender.

  I studied him as he ordered our drinks. Without talking to him, I
’d think he was just another meathead muscle guy without the ability to think quickly and hold a witty conversation, but I would’ve been dead wrong.

  Michael was a conundrum to me—brains, brawn, and beauty. His eyes moved in my direction for a moment, but his attention was drawn away from me by the clinking of the glasses on the bar.

  Grinning, he slid the clear liquid in front of me. “What shall we drink to?” he asked as he placed the sugar-soaked lemons in between us.

  “To blue balls?” I asked, holding up the shot glass.

  “Fuck that shit. Don’t ever mention that to me again,” he said, picking up his glass. “To new beginnings.” He raised his glass and tapped it against mine.

  Warmth cascaded throughout my body before the liquid ever touched my lips. I didn’t want to read into his words and feel like a fool, but the thought of getting to know this sexy-as-hell man made my toes curl. “Cheers.”

  I watched him over the rim; he stared at me, never wavering, and I winked as the liquid slid down my throat. It burned for a moment, and I winced from the vodka before I slammed the glass down. I reached for the lemon, needing something to cover the taste of the vodka. He was one step ahead of me, and already had the lemon in his hand.

  I blinked slowly. The martini and shot coursing through my system was already starting to cloud my vision. Opening my lips, I stuck out my tongue and waited for him to place the lemon on it.

  I closed my lips around his fingers as the sugar made my mouth water. Running my tongue across the coarse pads of his fingers, I sucked the juice and swallowed. His eyes narrowed as he watched my mouth with parted lips.

  I had him right where I wanted him. Two could play games.

  “Fuck me,” he muttered, and looked away as I opened my lips, allowing his fingers to slide out.

  “You okay? You look a little off.” I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to hide my laughter.

  He leaned in, brushing the hair away from my shoulder. “If you keep that shit up, I’m going to find another way to occupy your mouth.”

  I’d like to say it was the alcohol that caused him to have that effect on me, but I’d be lying. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  He wrapped his fingers around the back of my neck, bringing his lips within centimeters of mine. “You know exactly what you’re doing to me. Let’s not play games here, Mia.” He searched my eyes.