[Men of Inked 01.0 - 03.0] Boxed Set

by Chelle Bliss

  “Listen, boys, I don’t need a man in my life to complete me. I’m not weak.” Fuck it. I was the fiercest bitch I knew. People didn’t fuck with me unless I let them. Many men had been brought to their knees by a swift kick to the balls by me. The only people in the world I let talk to me this way were in this room.

  “Weakness is walking away,” Mike muttered, grabbing his chair and pushing it close to my station. “It takes strength to face the unknown and do it in the name of love.”

  “You’ve been listening to too much Barry Manilow or Lionel Richie or some bullshit. Who’s filling your head with this nonsense?” Where had my tough-ass brother gone? I mean, a year ago he wouldn’t have been telling me that it took strength to take a chance on love.

  “Listen here, smartass. Love doesn’t make you weak. You’re stronger as a couple than you are apart. If he’s the right man, he’ll know how to bring out your strengths. He’ll make you a better person. If you lose yourself, then you weren’t strong to begin with. Man the fuck up and take a chance for once. Prove you got a set of balls on you like you always claim.”

  Mike was challenging me and being all philosophical and shit. I turned toward Joe, hoping he’d have something better to say. “And you?” I challenged.

  “What he said,” Joe replied with a smile and a wink.

  I looked over at Anthony, who was staring at the ceiling, avoiding eye contact with me. “Anth, I know you have something to say. Tell them they’re wrong.”

  Slowly, he brought his eyes to mine and shrugged. “You know I think relationships are bullshit, Iz, but I think James is a great guy.”

  “When did everyone jump off team Izzy and hop on the James train?” I asked, ready to pull my hair out.

  Before anyone could answer, Terri walked back into the work area. “Sorry,” he coughed, plopping his ass back in the chair.

  “No worries, Ter. You rescued me,” I said as I picked up the gun and got back to work.

  Terri was a big-ass biker around fifty, and he had an old lady at home. He’d been coming to the shop for a couple of years and I knew some things about him, but we didn’t spend much time chatting like two old friends.

  “Ter, let me ask you something before you disappear into your Led Zeppelin haze.”

  He placed the headphones around his neck and leaned forward, displaying his back. “Sure thing, kid. Shoot.”

  “You’re married, right?”

  “Twenty years.”

  “You happy?”

  “Well, yeah, or I wouldn’t be married anymore.”

  “She a pushover?”

  “What?”

  “You like your woman weak?”

  He shook his head, turning slightly to look over his shoulder at me with his unibrow arched inward. “Babe, I don’t do weak.”

  “Is your wife a ‘yes, sir’ kind of woman?”

  “She’s the toughest woman I know.”

  “You seem like a badass dude, yet you’re with a tough chick. Why?”

  “I said that I don’t do weak. I wanted a partner. If I just wanted someone who would fill my bed, I would’ve stuck with club whores, kid.”

  “I thought tough guys liked weak,” I said, placing the needle against his skin and starting on the heart I’d woven with the skull.

  “Weak pricks like weak chicks. I want someone to keep me on my toes. You have some fucked-up thoughts on men, babe.”

  I thought about his words, letting them sink in before I spoke. “I have four brothers who act like the missing link between modern-day man and cavemen,” I said, laughing to myself as I pictured them beating on their chests.

  “They’re men and not pussies like boys are today. Video games, manscaping, and metrosexuals have fucked up society. We’re raising a generation of pansy-ass motherfuckers. Your brothers are solid dudes. I’d want them at my back when shit went down.”

  “Huh,” I said, knowing that his words were true. My brothers always had my back and were there when I needed them. I’d never feared shit because of them.

  “We done?” he asked, holding his headphones in his hand.

  “Yep,” I answered, not looking at my brothers as I continued to work. I knew they were all smiles with shitty “I told you so” looks on their faces.

  Opinions were like assholes—everybody had one.

  15

  Playing Dirty

  James

  Four hours had passed since I’d sent Izzy the message asking her what she didn’t like. She could’ve been writing a goddamn novel to describe everything that drove her ass crazy. Just when I was about to lose my shit, my phone beeped.

  Sexy Fugitive: Sorry. I had an early client and it took for fucking ever… HUGE piece of work covering his entire back.

  At least I knew her quietness hadn’t been intentional.

  Me: I thought you were giving me the brush-off… again.

  Sexy Fugitive: I don’t even know where to start, James.

  Me: Anywhere you want, beautiful. Tell me one thing you didn’t like.

  I was possibly inviting disaster.

  Sexy Fugitive: You’re bossy.

  I laughed as I read her words. Izzy was a bossy little thing too. She wasn’t a patsy for anyone, especially someone with a dick between their legs.

  Me: Only when I need to be.

  Sexy Fugitive: So all the time basically you feel the need.

  She was a ball buster. Her brothers had raised her right and hadn’t sheltered her.

  Me: When I feel the need to protect something important, then yes.

  Sexy Fugitive: I’m capable of protecting myself, James.

  Me: Never said you couldn’t, but I’d rather be your shield and take the brunt of anything thrown your way.

  A few minutes passed and I waited, sipping on a beer as I let ESPN play in the background. Seventy-two hours ago, I’d walked out of her house and waited for her to make the first move. It hadn’t come, but I’d been man enough to suck it up and take the first step.

  Sexy Fugitive: You’re cocky.

  Me: Wait a second here. Are we listing your traits or mine?

  She had cocky down pat. The girl had the shit in spades.

  Sexy Fugitive: Don’t be an ass. We’re talking about you.

  Me: Confused me there for a second. I am who I am just like you are who you are… Smug, bossy, and beautiful.

  Sexy Fugitive: Flattery will get you nowhere.

  Me: I know. You like the challenge as much as I do.

  Sexy Fugitive: Bullshit. You’re infuriating.

  Me: And it makes you wet.

  Sexy Fugitive: You can’t be serious.

  Me: I’d never joke when talking about that sweet-ass pussy of yours, Izzy.

  I had a hard-on just thinking about her. It took everything in me not to hop on my bike and have this conversation face to face.

  Me: Touch yourself. I’m sure you’re wet right now.

  Her reply was swift and made me laugh. She didn’t like the thought of me being right.

  Sexy Fugitive: Fuck off, James.

  Me: If you were here, I’d have you on all fours, begging for more.

  Sexy Fugitive: Maybe I’d want to be on my back and looking in your eyes.

  Me: Lying through your teeth, doll. You’d be slamming yourself against my cock, taking all I had to give.

  Sexy Fugitive: STOP.

  My dick throbbed, aching for release. My balls had to be blue with the way they felt. Bastards may burst at any moment. I needed inside Izzy and I didn’t want to wait. I knew that if I jerked off, it wouldn’t fucking help. My hand didn’t compare to her milking the life out of my dick.

  Me: Panties soaked?

  Sexy Fugitive: I didn’t wear any today.

  She didn’t understand how her trying to shut me the hell up was a total cocktease. I loved it. I could go out and find some nameless woman who would lay herself out and offer her pussy to me to relieve the ache deep in my balls. I didn’t want that. I only wanted her. After
having a few tastes, I was hooked. No one else would ever compare.

  Me: STOP.

  Sexy Fugitive: I’m almost dripping thinking of you jamming your hard, long cock inside me.

  She was the devil.

  Me: STOP.

  Sexy Fugitive: My fingers don’t feel as good as your dick driving into me.

  I closed my eyes, rubbing my hard-on through my jeans as I thought about her fingering herself. I refused to let myself come until I was buried deep inside her.

  Me: You’re wicked.

  Sexy Fugitive: Spank me.

  I thought that she needed a visual. I unzipped my jeans and pulled out my cock. Gripping it from the base in one hand, I snapped a picture and sent it to her. Let her choke on that.

  I gave my cock a quick squeeze, trying to stop the ache before I shoved it back in my jeans. Tonight, I’d need an ice bath to quell my hard-on.

  Sexy Fugitive: You don’t play fair.

  Me: When it comes to you…no fuckin’ way.

  Sexy Fugitive: I have a client. Gotta go.

  Me: Think of me when you touch yourself tonight.

  Sexy Fugitive: Arrogant asshole.

  I left it at that. I had her.

  16

  Mother Knows Best

  Izzy

  “What’s troubling you, Isabella?” Ma asked as she sat down next to me at her kitchen table.

  James and I had been texting for the last twenty-four hours—a constant volley of messages to drive each other insane. I didn’t know what I wanted anymore. The world seemed to be conspiring against me when it came to James. Was I the only one who thought we were a terrible idea?

  “James,” I whispered without looking at her as I rubbed the smooth wooden table with my fingertips.

  Placing her hand over mine, she stopped my nervous motion. “Izzy, look at me.”

  I met her soft, kind eyes. My mother was and would always be my best friend. I looked up to her and how she lived her life. From the outside, people would assume that she didn’t run the show, but make no bones about it—she was the boss of this family.

  “What are you so scared of?” she asked, stroking the back of my hand with her thumb.

  “He’s just so…“

  “Perfect for you?” she asked, smiling wide.

  “Ma, are you crazy?” I asked, flabbergasted by her question.

  “I know when a man is smitten. I’ve seen you with other men, Izzy. No one got the reaction out of you that James did.”

  “Isn’t that a bad thing, Ma?”

  “Oh, honey, no. Your father still gets a rise out of me. It’s what keeps us going after all these years of marriage. Without the fire between us, we would’ve ended long ago.”

  “But you and Pop love each other.”

  “Fiercely,” she said, staring out the window as she watched my dad tend the garden. “Even after all these years, he makes me batshit crazy.”

  “Pop isn’t bossy like James.”

  “Isabella, you look at your father through rose-colored glasses. Salvatore was the bossiest man I’ve ever met.”

  “Not Daddy,” I said, following her eyes to watch him as he handpicked some tomatoes.

  She laughed, patting my hand. “Child, that man made your brothers look soft. I’ve worn him down throughout the years. Don’t tell him that, though.”

  I giggled, thinking of my mother laying into my dad. “I remember what you told us before Suzy and Joe were married.”

  “Men like to think they have all the power, but we really know who rules the roost.”

  “Ma, if you start talking about sex, I’ll puke right here.”

  “James will make you happy.”

  “He makes me miserable. What if I become one of those women who changes for her man?”

  She shook her head, turning her attention back to me. “Izzy, baby. I raised you to be strong and independent. That’ll never happen. A man like James needs someone who is his equal. I can see it in his eyes when he looks at you.”

  “What do you see?” I asked, wondering how I missed all the signs.

  “He looks at you like your father looked at me when we dated. Hell, he still looks at me that way now.”

  “Like a piece of meat?”

  “Like a challenge worth the fight, baby girl.”

  “I don’t know, Ma.”

  “Have I ever given you bad advice?”

  I thought about it for a moment before I answered her. Shaking my head, I said, “No.”

  The door opened as Dad walked in. “Baby girl, what are you doing here?”

  “That happy to see me, Daddy?” I asked, jumping to my feet to kiss him.

  “I’m always happy to see my favorite child.”

  I slapped him on the shoulder and smiled. “You say that to all of us.”

  “You’re my favorite daughter,” he said, setting the tomatoes on the counter.

  “Your only daughter.”

  “You mince words. Give me a hug,” he demanded, holding out his arms.

  I buried my face in his chest, wrapping my arms around my dad. Even at his age, he was still toned and muscular. It was in the male genes in the Gallo family. They didn’t breed them small.

  He stroked my hair and spoke softly. “What’s troubling you, Isabella?”

  “You and Ma are scary,” I said, moving from his arms to look up at his face.

  “Why?” he asked with knitted brows, lines creasing his forehead.

  “She asked the same exact question.”

  “What was your answer?”

  “James.”

  “Ah. I like that man.”

  I rolled my eyes, releasing my grip from my dad’s shirt. “Who doesn’t?”

  “I know you’re sweet on him too, baby girl.”

  “Dad—”

  He put his finger against my lips. “I always have your best interests at heart. No one will ever be good enough for my baby girl, but James is a man’s man. I know he’ll protect you when shit gets bad. I won’t ever have to worry about your safety.”

  “I’m kind of old for you to worry, Daddy,” I grumbled, smiling and rubbing his face.

  “You’ll always be a little girl in pigtails to me, Isabella. The little tiny thing playing with her Barbies in her room or trying to tackle her brothers in the backyard when they played football. You may be a woman, but I don’t see you that way. I just can’t.” He sighed, brushing a hair away from my face.

  “I love you, Daddy.”

  “Love you too, baby girl.” He leaned forward, kissing me on the cheek. “What did you say, my love?”

  My mother sniffled, rubbing her eyes as I turned to look at her. “I said the same, sweetheart.”

  “There is just too much loving going on in this room. I need to go.”

  “Where are you headed off to today?” my pop asked as I grabbed my keys.

  “I have to work and then I’m headed out with the girls tonight.”

  “Mia and Suzy?” Ma asked.

  “Yep. It’s a girls’ night out. The boys are all going to play poker at Joe’s place while we have drinks.”

  “Just be careful,” he said as I kissed him quickly.

  “I will, Daddy.”

  “Call me tomorrow, dear,” my ma said as she walked me to the door.

  “I will, Ma. Love ya.”

  “Love you too, my sweet child.”

  After we kissed goodbye, I headed to my car feeling entirely different than what I’d felt when I’d arrived.

  Maybe I needed to give James another chance. Either that or I needed my head to be examined. I’d think about it over drinks.

  ***

  I downed another shot of Patron, sucking on a lemon before I wiped my lips. My legs felt numb from the three shots I’d already ingested.

  “Izzy, you may want to slow down,” Suzy suggested, sipping her virgin something or other.

  “I got this shit,” I said, slurring my words as I threw the lemon on the napkin in front of me. Picki
ng up my phone, I typed out a little message to James.

  Me: What are you wearing?

  I giggled, figuring I’d turn the tables on him. He wasn’t the only one who could send nudies.

  “Okey-dokey,” she whispered, rubbing her belly and frowning. “I can’t carry you out of here tonight.”

  Cocky Bastard: How much have you had to drink?

  Me: Enough.

  Cocky Bastard: Clearly you’ve reached your limit.

  “What?” I asked, missing what Suzy had just said.

  “I can’t carry your drunk ass out of here,” she repeated.

  I blinked, my vision partially clouded and my mind a little muddled. “Mia can do it,” I slurred, laughing before I typed another message.

  Me: You’re always so serious. Do you even know how to have fun?

  I set my phone down on the table, resting my head in my hand.

  “Bitch, I’ll roll ya out, but I sure as fuck am not carrying you anywhere.”

  “Whore.” I laughed, moving my head to rest on the table.

  “I think we should get the check,” Suzy said, touching my chair.

  I lifted my head, squinting toward her to bring her face into focus. “Don’t you dare! We’re not done here.”

  “What’s crawled in your snatch and died tonight?” Mia asked, polishing off her martini.

  “James.” I smiled, the dopey grin spreading across my face. I felt heat creep up my neck and settle in my cheeks. My entire body overheated. I pulled at the scoop neck on my shirt, trying to cool off.

  Cocky Bastard: I think I showed you a good time not so long ago. Let me remind you.

  Suddenly a picture of his cock, piercing and all, popped up on my screen. I blushed as I stared at it, almost in a trance.

  “He has your panties in a wad,” Mia teased, raising her hand to get the attention of the waitress.

  “He hasn’t been in my panties since last weekend,” I croaked with a frown as I scrubbed my hands across my face.

  “Missing him?” Suzy asked with a cocked eyebrow.