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  Life was about to get really interesting.

  Note from Chelle Bliss

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you’ll take a moment and leave a review. Each one is vital and important. Even if it’s only a line, it’s still important.

  In 2016 I’ll be releasing some more Men of Inked, a few hot ALFA PI books, and a few special surprises.

  Click here to get a FREE copy of Delusion. You’ll also receive updates on the next Men of Inked release and other Bliss News.

  This is an ALTERNATE ending ebook.

  It’s Resisting but with a different ending and was written for the What If Anthology. It’s not available on any retailers.

  About Chelle Bliss

  I’m USA Today Bestselling author and currently live in Florida near the Gulf of Mexico. I’m a full-time writer, time-waster extraordinaire, social media addict, and coffee fiend. Currently I’ve written thirteen books and have three series available. I love spending my free time with my boyfriend, 2 cats, and my hamster.

  Before becoming a writer, I taught high school history for over ten years. I holds a master's degree in Instructional Technology and a bachelor's in history. Although history is my first love, writing has become my dream job and I can't imagine doing anything else.

  Feel free to follow me or drop me a message here:

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  Click here to get a FREE copy of Delusion. You’ll also receive updates on the next Men of Inked release and other Bliss News.

  This is an ALTERNATE ending ebook.

  It’s Resisting but with a different ending and was written for the What If Anthology. It’s not available on any retailers.

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  Men of Inked Series

  Click title below to learn more!

  Throttle Me | Hook Me | Throttled

  Resisting | Resist Me | Uncover Me

  Without Me

  For more information ~

  @ChelleBliss1

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  Men of Inked #1 Sneak Peek

  THROTTLE ME NOW AVAILABLE

  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 them 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 that 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.

 
I couldn’t hear his laughter, but I felt the rumble of it from deep in his chest. “My friends call me City, sugar.” He throttled the engine and my heart skipped a beat. Fear gripped me—there was no turning back now.

  Men of Inked Series

  Click title below to learn more!

  Throttle Me | Hook Me | Throttled

  Resisting | Resist Me | Uncover Me

  Without Me