Throttle Me(22)

“No problem. I have to get to work by noon, so no rush.”

I wiped my mouth unable to consume another morsel. “Where do you tattoo?”

“Inked. Ever hear of it?”

“I drive by it every day on the way to work, I think.” I remember seeing the sign, but had never stepped foot inside. “Looks like a nice place.”

“Ever been?”

“Oh, no. I meant from the street. Doesn’t look like the other shops in the area. Yours is pretty. How long have you worked there?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard it described that way. My sister does all the decorating. We own the shop and opened it about five years ago.” Well, maybe he wasn’t the starving artist I thought he was, after all. “Why don’t you stop by sometime? I’d love to pop your cherry.” I started choking. “Ink, babe, I’d love to give you your first tattoo,” he laughed.

I patted my chest and coughed. “Maybe someday I’ll let you. My parents are just anti-tattoo and I never found anything I’d want to look at for a lifetime. How’d you pick yours?” I asked.

“Each one signifies something in my life.” He pointed to the city skyline on his arm. “This is a reminder of where my family comes from, Chicago. It’s where I grew up and I go back every summer to visit my friends. It’s part of me in more ways than one,” he laughed and rubbed the tattoo on his arm.

“And the fish?”

“Ah, the Koi. Well, that one I had my brother, Anthony, do when we opened the shop. It’s a symbol of determination and power to achieve goals. We always talked about opening our own shop and we’d finally achieved it. Plus, I fucking love the color orange.”

“Looking at your house I’d think you loved white.”

He picked up my plate and laughed. “This place is only temporary. I don’t see a point in splashing color on the walls. I’m surrounded by color all day at work. It’s calming to come home to an empty canvas.” Artists – complex creatures.

“I understand. My walls are actually white except for one blue wall in my bedroom. I’m not the typical bubblegum pink girl.”

He began to clean the kitchen and put the dishes in the dishwasher. His muscles rippled and flexed with each movement. My mouth watered remembering what it felt like for him to be above me and in me – I wanted more of him.

“I’ll finish cleaning up. You go get ready to hit the road, okay?”

I could get used to being waited on. Mind blowing sex? Check. Good cook? Check. Sexy as hell? Check. Manly, yet nice? Check. He had all the right qualities and kind of reminded me of Kayden. I didn’t want Kayden, but I wanted someone that cared enough to take care of me.

“I’ll just be a minute,” I said as I stood from the table. “I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”

“Take all the time you want. I can’t get fired if I’m late.” He laughed as he kicked the dishwasher closed. “By the way, is Suzy your full name?”

I hated my full name. It sounded stuffy and old. “No.”

“Spill.”

“It’s Suzette.”

“Now that’s sexy as fuck. Suzette.” It rolled off his tongue and I felt the moisture from my core begin to pool. Fuck, he’s made me a total cock-loving whore and I wanted to hear him scream my name.

“Right.” Looking over at his beautiful skin and taut muscles, I drank him in – memorized the picture, before I walked out the door, leaving him to finish and to get the hell out of here. He could definitely become a weak spot if I didn’t put distance between us. That ying and yang bullshit didn’t really work in real life.





Too Good To Be True



I shut the bike off and waited for her to climb down. She tried to remove the helmet on her own and stood there looking as drop dead fucking gorgeous as she did last night. She fumbled with the straps, trying to pull it off, but she frowned and her fingers began to move frantically. “Lemme get that for you,” I said as I motioned for her to move closer.

“Sorry,” she said, blowing a puff of air out.

“It’s my pleasure, trust me.” I winked and watched her cheeks pinken. I worked the straps apart slowly, trying to prolong the ending to our time together. I felt like she was going to give me the brush off. Her body language didn’t match the last twelve hours. I needed to set another date with her and dig deeper into the woman she is instead of who she pretends to be.

“Thanks,” she said trying to look me in the eyes.

“There. So, about the real date. How about tonight?” I asked. I didn’t see a point in wasting time. I wanted her in my bed again or against the counter.