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Resisting, p.1
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       Resisting, p.1

         Part #2.2 of Men of Inked series by Chelle Bliss  
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  Dedication

  I wrote this novella for all the girls

  who have a mad girl crush on Izzy Gallo.

  Be fierce; grab life by the balls

  and follow your dreams!

  Resisting Copyright © 2014 Chelle Bliss

  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.

  Published: Chelle Bliss October 20th 2014:

  First Edition Copyright © 20th October 2014

  Editor: Mickey Reed

  Editor: Editing 720

  Proofreader: Candice Royer

  Cover Design © Melissa Gill at MG BookCovers

  Cover Photo: Eric Battershell Photography

  Cover Models: Alfie Gordillo and Colleen McMahon

  Formatted by: Chelle Bliss

  This book is intended for a mature audience only.

  Prologue

  I’m a simple woman. I grew up in a house with four brothers and loving parents who have remained married even after more than thirty years together. They showered us with love and affection. I’m the youngest of their children.

  I have four very annoying older brothers. They’re overprotective, and even though I’m adult, that’s never changed. They chased every man I ever liked (fuck the L-word) away as they screamed bloody murder and ran for their lives. Some would call the Gallo men alphas, but not me. I call them pains in my ass.

  They helped mold me into the woman I am today. I don’t take shit from anyone. I know how to throw an amazing right hook, just the right angle to knee a guy in the balls so he’ll never have children, and how to keep my mouth shut.

  A couple years ago, we opened a tattoo shop together. We simply named it Inked. Our family has money, but we were raised to not sit on our asses like spoiled brats. We get up each day and go to work. It’s our goal to stand on our own two feet. So far, we’ve been successful. Even though we fight like cats and dogs, we love each other fiercely and are very careful whom we let into our little Gallo Family Club.

  Thomas, my eldest brother and an undercover DEA agent, is the only one who doesn’t work in the shop. He’s a silent partner, and we pray that, one day, he’ll get sick of his undercover work and settle down. He’s been working inside the Sun Devils MC for some time. Moving up the ranks, he’s made his mark and is on the verge of bringing the entire club to its knees.

  Joe is one badass motherfucker. He’s kinda my favorite, but I’ll never tell him that. Shit, I’m not stupid. He’s an amazing artist and tattooist, and will be an amazing father. A while back, he rescued a little hot blond named Suzy. She’s sweet as pie and used to be innocent. His badass biker ways ruined her, but naturally, I rubbed off on her, too. Some of his friends call him City because he was born in Chicago. The name fits him, but he’ll always still be my Joey.

  Mike is our shop’s piercer, and he’s built like a brick shithouse. He trained for years to be an MMA fighter. He was moving up the ranks and making a name for himself. That was until he literally knocked the woman of his dreams on her ass. He traded in his fighting days to help the love of his life, Mia, with her medical clinic. I’d almost say that he lost his balls somewhere along the way, but that would just be my jaded, fucked-up perception of love talking.

  Anthony. What can I say about him? He’s my partner in crime most of the time. He and I are the single ones out of the group. Thomas doesn’t count, because we never know anything about his life. Anthony wants to be a rock god. He wants ladies falling at his feet, professing their love, and freely offering their pussies to him with no strings attached. It makes me laugh, because honestly, he’s already arrived if those are his criteria. He’s stunning. One day, someone is going to steal him from me and I’ll end up being a lonely ol’ biddy.

  Then there’s me—youngest child who still uses the word daddy. I’m not talking about some sick fuckin’ fetish shit either. I melt into a puddle of goo when my father’s around. I’ve always been a daddy’s girl. I don’t think that’ll ever change.

  I live by no one’s rules—well, maybe my daddy’s at times—and I try to cram as much fun as I possibly can in my one shot at this life. I don’t make apologies for my behavior. I shoot straight and tell it like it is. I never want to be tied down. Fuck convention. I don’t need a husband to complete me a la Tom Cruise in Jerry Maguire.

  Men are only good for a few things. One—they’re handy when you have a flat tire or some other thing that requires heavy lifting. Two—their cocks are beautiful. Three—did I mention cock? Four—fucking. Wait… that’s still cock-related.

  I take it back. They’re only good for two things in life: lifting heavy shit and fucking. Walks of shame are for pansy asses. I proudly leave them hanging, walking out the door, and I make no apologies for it. I’m not looking for a prince charming or knight in shining armor. I want to be fucked and then left the hell alone.

  That is where my life was headed. I was blissfully happy and unencumbered. Life was grand—one big fucking party and I was the guest of honor.

  Ever have a man walk into your life and alter your entire universe?

  I’m not talking about the small shit. I’m talking about the “big fuckin’ bang.” You’re minding your own business, enjoying yourself, and then WHAM. Everything you think is right suddenly spins on its axis and bitch-slaps you in the face.

  The party came to a screeching halt the night of my brother’s wedding.

  He changed everything. He fucked it all up.

  World altered. Party over.

  James Caldo became something bigger.

  I couldn’t resist him.

  Chapter 1

  “Everyone’s ass better be at my house tomorrow at two,” Joe said as he finished cleaning his station.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Anthony kicked back and sipped a beer.

  “Don’t give me that shit. Be there on time.”

  “Is Suzy cooking?” Mike emptied the trashcan, not turning around to look at Joe as he waited for an answer.

  “Fuck no,” Joe said, breaking out into laughter.

  We all knew that Suzy couldn’t cook. God love her, and Lord knows she’d tried, but it wasn’t in her DNA.

  “Thank fuck,” I huffed out, walking to the backroom to grab a cold one.

  “Dude, someday you have to teach her to cook,” Mike said, shaking his head.

  “Fuck that. She doesn’t need to learn how to cook. It’s not why I love her.”

  “We all fucking know that,” Anthony said, rolling his eyes as he rolled the beer bottle between his hands.

  “Shut your fucking mouth. You’re talking about my fiancée.”

  “Uh huh,” Anthony muttered, wiping the drops of beer from his mouth.

  Moments like this I loved. Sitting around, shooting the shit, and just laughing made me happy. I loved my brothers and their women, but I liked having them all to myself.

  “I couldn’t give a shit about Thanksgiving dinner, Joe. I’m waiting for the bachelorette party,” I said, smiling as I walked toward my station. Then I kicked my feet up, leaned back, and took a sip.

  “Izzy,” Joe warned, glaring at me from his chair.

  “Oh, shove it, mister. It’s a girls’ night and we’re going to have fun. Don’t tell me you boys are just going to sit around and watch sports all night. I know what the fuck happens at bachelor parties. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.”

  “What the fuck does that shit even mean?” Mike snorted.

  “Dumb fuck,” I mumbled against the rim of my Corona.

  “What the hell did you just say?” His voice boomed as he turned to stare at me.

  I gave him an innocent smile. “Love you.”

  “Dude, I can’t believe you’re getting married in a week. What the fuck? I never thought you’d be the first to be tied down,” Anthony said, getting up from his chair. “I’m grabbing a beer. Anyone else want one while I’m up?”

  I picked up my phone to scroll through my Facebook newsfeed. “Nope,” I said.

  To my delight, there was a message from Flash. We grew up together and I think I’ve known him forever. We used to play doctor when we were alone. It was the first time I ever saw a penis. As we grew up, the quick peeks turned into touching—then fucking when we hit high school.

  Flash and I had an understanding. Neither of us wanted to be tied down, and we weren’t exclusive. He was my booty call when I had an itch that needed scratched. He moved away a couple of years ago, and since then, every time he was in town, I would get the call offering a quick fuck and an even quicker goodbye. It was a match made in heaven.

  Flash: Whatcha doin’ baby?

  He was the only person in the world I let call me baby. It was patronizing and I fucking hated it. Typically, it would earn a man a punch to his junk, but when Flash said it, I let it slide.

  Me: Getting ready to head home. U?

  “Izzy, are you listening to me?” Joe asked, casting a shadow on me as his big body blocked out the light.

  I shook my head as I looked up at him. “What?”

  “Do not have naked men at the bachelorette party.”

  “What’s a little peen between friends?” I asked, laughing in his face.

  “You know I love you, Izzy. I never judge you, but do not have peen at my soon-to-be wife’s party.” He put his hands on his hips and tapped his foot.

  “Pfft,” I said, standing up. “You having pussy at yours?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “Fucking liar!” I shouted, hitting him in the chest with my finger.

  He looked down, watching me as I poked him. “I mean it, sister. I don’t want any nasty-ass stripper touching my woman.”

  I kept poking him. “Do you hear yourself?”

  “I ain’t fuckin’ deaf and neither are you. I never ask for much, but this is non-negotiable. I believe Suzy told you she didn’t want one.”

  “Suzy doesn’t know how to have fun.” I waved him off as I tossed the empty bottle in the trash.

  “Suzy does. She just prefers my dick. She doesn’t need some greasy male dancer touching her.”

  “Joe,” I said, sliding my arm around his waist, “the stripper is only there for the other girls, not for Suzy.”

  “Bullshit,” he mumbled, kissing the top of my head. “Please, Iz. For me.”

  I puffed out a breath, moving the hair that had fallen in my eyes. “Fine, Joe. As long as you’re happy,” I lied.

  There was no way in hell I’d throw a bachelorette party for my soon-to-be sister-in-law and not have a stripper. If the boys got to see snatch, then fuck yeah, we were seeing peen.

  “Thanks, baby girl,” he said, squeezing me tight.

  “Any time.” I looked up and smiled. Releasing him, I stuck out my tongue at Anthony as I sat.

  He winked, knowing I was full of shit, and started talking with Mike about the big Thanksgiving football matchups. I tuned out, picking up my phone as I waited for us to close the shop.

  Flash: Interested in a little company tonight?

  I tapped my phone as I thought about his offer. Did I want to see Flash? I didn’t have to be up early the next day, but then again, I never had to be up early. I hadn’t had sex since the last time he’d dropped by, and that was over a month ago. I could use a good fuck.

  Me: Hell yeah. Get your sexy ass to my place. Meet ya there?

  Flash: On my way. Be there in 30.

  I stood, shoving the phone in my pocket. “I gotta go, boys.”

  “Where the hell you runnin’ off to?” Mike asked, stretching out and looking comfortable.

  “None of your business. I got shit to do,” I said as I grabbed my purse out of the backroom.

  “Two o’clock tomorrow, Izzy,” Joe said as I reached for the door handle.

  “Got it!” I yelled over my shoulder, leaving my brothers behind, and headed home.

  ***

  “Yo!” Flash bellowed as I heard the door slam shut.

  “Back here,” I replied, before spitting out my toothpaste.

  He walked into the room and said, “Get your sweet ass over here and gimme a kiss, baby.”

  I turned toward him, glaring as I wiped the leftover paste from my lips. “You must have me confused with someone else.” I winked at him and laughed.

  He smiled, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. “I know exactly who I’m talking to.” Then he closed his eyes and puckered his lips.

  I threw the washcloth at him, hitting him square in the face.

  His eyes flew open as the cloth fell to the floor. “What the fuck was that for?”

  “You’re not the boss of me, Flash,” I said, putting my hands on my hips as I stared at him.

  His eyes softened as he pushed off the doorframe. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered, trying to wrap his arms around me.

  “Flash,” I warned, pushing him away. “I’m not your girlfriend.”

  “A guy can dream, can’t he?” He brushed his lips against my temples, finally gaining a firm grasp around my body.

  He felt nice. I’d never admit it, but I did like Flash. I loved him, but no way in hell was I in love with him.

  “Might as well shoot for the stars.” I giggled, snuggling my face into his chest and inhaling. My nose tickled. His normal smell was missing and seemed to have been replaced by something offensive and stinky as fuck. “Flash, you smell like shit,” I said, pushing him away.

  He lifted his arms, sniffing his pit as he wrinkled his nose. “Fuck,” he muttered, pulling off his shirt. “Let me grab a shower and I’m yours.” He kicked off his shoes and unzipped his pants. Bending over, he pushed down the jeans and tossed them to the side.

  “You’re mighty comfy here, aren’t you?” I asked, taking my turn to lean in the doorway and stare at him. He was rough around the edges but beautiful. His smile was killer, but he wasn’t the boy I’d had a crush on when I was a kid.

  As he reached in the shower, turning on the water, he turned to me and smiled. “I can fuck you smelling like shit.” His back stiffened as he stood straight, cracking his knuckles. “As long as I get some pussy, I don’t give a fuck what I smell like.”

  “Get your dirty ass in the shower,” I groaned, ready to rip my hair out but itching to touch him.

  He laughed, climbing in the shower. Flash was always cute, but as he’d aged, he’d turned into a ruggedly handsome man. Less and less of his skin was visible, replaced by tattoos that decorated his body like a storyboard—most of the work I’d done over the years. He’d been my best test subject when I was learning my craft. Stupid fucker, if you ask me. I wouldn’t let some newbie put ink that soap couldn’t wash off on my body. He was tall, a couple of inches taller than I was, and lean. He wasn’t overly muscular or bulky, but he fit between my thighs like a glove.

  “You starin’, baby?” he asked, his voice muffled by the water.

  I blinked, pulling my eyes away. “Fuck no. Hurry your ass up,” I said, stomping out of the bathroom.

  I pulled back the blankets as I waited for Flash. His whistling filled the room, along with the plops of water that cascaded off his body, hitting the shower floor. I stripped off my clothes, fell on the bed, sprawled out, and stared at the ceiling.

  I used to get so excited when he said that he was dropping by for a little while. Not so much anymore. I kept telling myself, “It’ll pass,” but it never did. He’d grown more loving and tender, and both of those freaked me the hell out. It ain’t my bag.

  Years ago, I’d be jumping up and down on the bed, waiting for the big, bad Sam, a.k.a. Flash, to come toss my apples. Now, it was—

  “Ready or not, here I come!” he yelled from the bathroom, interrupting my thoughts.

  “Yippee,” I muttered, rolling my eyes as I leaned up on my elbows.

  He strode into the room stark naked and dripping wet. “You look edible.” He stopped at the foot of my bed and stared down at me. “I think you need to come, Izzy. You’re wound tight tonight. Let me help you out.” He grabbed my feet and yanked my body to the edge of the bed.

  “Up for the challenge?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as I placed the bottom of my feet on his chest.

  “Babe, really?” he asked, holding my ankles.

  “You think you’re that good at eating pussy?” I laughed, trying not to hurt his male ego.

  “I munch like no other.”

  I knew the man tried to be sexy, but ew. He wasn’t. “Show me whatcha got. If you’re a good boy, I’ll give ya some pussy.”

  He rubbed his hands together before placing my foot on his shoulder. “I’m going to eat it like it’s my last fucking meal.”

  I melted into the bed, feeling his hot breath on me as he inhaled.

  “Better than fresh-baked apple pie.”

  “Less talking, more eating, Flash.” I threw my arm over my face, blocking out all light as he placed his mouth on me.

  Moaning, he sucked my clit into his mouth, making my eyes roll back into my head.

  “Fuck,” I hissed, drawing in a sharp breath.

  He mumbled, the vibration penetrating my skin, as he drew me deeper into his mouth. Sinking into the bed, I reached down and grabbed his head.

  “Right there, Flash,” I pleaded, grinding my pussy against his face.

 
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