by Chiah Wilder
“We need to help ‘em out. What does Steel want?”
“He wants to know if we’re down to kick some Skull Crushers’ asses if they don’t heed his warning and quit selling smack and crystal on Night Rebels turf. Since we get a percentage of all monies collected at the club’s dispensary, the fuckers are also selling on Insurgents’ turf. Again.”
“Don’t these fuckers ever learn? You’d think that, after we eliminated some of their members last summer, they’d fuckin’ get that we mean business. These punks are dumber than shit,” Chas said.
“Agreed. We just need to take a vote on whether we’re gonna haul our asses down to help our affiliate brothers.”
The consensus was unanimous—help the Night Rebels stamp out the new club in town who didn’t give a shit about respect or rules. After church was over, the brothers shuffled into the great room to down a few drinks, play pool, and enjoy the club whores. Throttle sat at one of the tables, a bottle of beer in front of him, as he surveyed the room. Rags was practically buried in Wendy’s pussy and Rock sat on a chair, his knees spread wide to give Rosie the access he wanted while his fingers played with her swaying tits.
Throttle leaned back, his hands laced together on top of his head, and realized he hadn’t fucked a woman in nearly three weeks. That was a record for him. The closest he’d come to fucking was when he’d kissed that smart-ass witch at Hawk’s shop. He hadn’t been to the VP’s shop in over a week, and he was surprised he hadn’t heard from Miss Know-It-All. Maybe she was getting it from the cowboy; that thought made him madder than hell. Not too sure why, because he’d decided he didn’t need to put up with her shit. He’d only wanted to try her out, but he had no interest in her other than another fuck to add to his overflowing list. Hell, he could fuck the club girls anytime he wanted—and he usually did—although he hadn’t wanted to for the last few weeks.
Throttle grabbed his beer and guzzled it. He and Rags had been killing themselves working in the hot sun for ten hours a day. When he got back to the club, he was beat. Anyone would be. He stared at Rags as he pounded into Wendy’s heat. Rags is younger than I am. He’s twenty-nine to my thirty-five. Each year makes a big difference. It was funny that a month before he’d been able to fuck three club whores and still be up for a foursome romp with Rock. But then it wasn’t as hot outside a month before. That was it. He was sure of it.
“Why aren’t you getting in on some fun?” Jerry asked as he sat down next to Throttle. “Isn’t this your scene?”
“I’m beat. Working in the heat is a bitch.”
“Never seemed to bother you before.”
“Well, today it is. Are you taking notes on who’s fuckin’ since you can’t do it with anyone but Kylie now?” He was sick of Jerry’s stupid questions. Couldn’t he be tired? Shit, I need to get my own place.
Jerry laughed. “I don’t give a damn who’s banging who. I’m so happy with Kylie. I still can’t believe she’s all mine.”
“Glad your fuckin’ Pollyanna dreams came true.” He finished his beer and saw Hawk coming over to him. He wanted to ask about Kimber, but he wouldn’t dare. Since the day they’d shared the searing kiss, he’d wanted to drive by the shop to see if he could catch a glimpse of her. Pissed for even thinking of doing a pansy-assed stunt like that, he forced himself not to go near Hawk’s shop. But at night, when he drifted to sleep, his dreams were filled with her softness, her scent, and the taste of her mouth.
“I haven’t seen you at the shop this past week. Have you already lost interest in Kimber?” Hawk chuckled then downed his shot of Jack.
Throttle stiffened. “We’ve had a lot of gigs, and I’ve never been fuckin’ interested in her.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” Hawk’s blue eyes twinkled, mocking Throttle. A slow burn rode up his spine.
“Who’s Kimber? I thought a chick was behind your sulking,” Jerry said.
“She works at the shop. She’s one of my best mechanics.”
“Isn’t she the one you were spastic about?” Jerry looked at Throttle, who stared straight ahead, his jaw taut. “Can’t say I blame you. I can’t wrap my head around a chick fixing my Harley.”
“Don’t let Kylie hear you say that or she’ll rip your ass.” Hawk threw back another shot. “Come to think of it, Cara would too. You do know my woman is Kylie’s mentor, right?”
Jerry groaned. “Just fuckin’ great.”
Throttle pushed his chair back and stood up. “I gotta go.”
“Didn’t mean to drive you out,” Hawk said.
“You didn’t.” He stomped out, slamming the door behind him. As he sat on his bike, breathing heavily, his phone beeped. He looked down and saw it was his sister, Dawn.
Dawn: Whatcha doing?
Throttle: Not much. Y?
Dawn: A big spider in the basement.
He laughed aloud, glad his sister’s paranoia cut through his anger.
Throttle: Where’s Pedro?
Dawn: Out on his ass.
Throttle: Already?
Dawn: Shoulda done it sooner. Olivia says hi.
His sister played the Olivia card whenever she wanted him over right away. She knew Throttle adored his eight-year-old niece. He was like a surrogate father to her since her own dad disappeared once Dawn had told him she was pregnant. The douche was a tourist staying at the Hot Springs Hotel the summer Dawn had worked there. They’d had a two-week affair, and then he’d gone back to Phoenix, promising to call her, only he never did. When she’d found out she was carrying his child, she’d reached out to him but he’d shut her out—changed his phone number, moved from his old address, and shut down all social media. So Throttle had stepped in, and he’d tried to be there for her whenever he could.
Throttle: Leaving the clubhouse now. See u in a few.
The Harley jumped forward and headed out the parking lot. He took a shortcut to his sister’s house and came up the alley, parking his bike in her backyard. The neighborhood was an up and coming one, but there were still enough worn houses with overgrown weeds to classify the area as shabby. He’d told Dawn many times that he wanted to buy her and Olivia a nicer house in a better neighborhood, but she told him she didn’t want his handouts. Throttle was determined to move them out and place Olivia in a private school. The girl was very smart, and he sensed she was bored with her current classes.
Before he could get off his bike, a girl with long brown braids, dark almond-shaped eyes, and a wide grin came barreling to him. “Uncle Throttle,” she said. She flung herself at his open arms and he easily picked her up, her small arms clinging around his neck. “Why haven’t you been over to see me? Do you know it’s been over ten days since you came over here?”
“You sound just like your mom. And I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy that I lost track of time.”
“Don’t do that again, okay?”
He laughed. “Okay. I hear you got a badass spider hanging out in the basement.”
She nodded. “You gonna catch it?”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
“Mom’s gonna be mad at you if you don’t. She’s been real scared and won’t let me go downstairs.”
“I’m gonna kill the fucker. You wanna help me?”
She shook her head. “I’ll wait upstairs for you.”
He kissed her cheek before he planted her on her feet. “Let’s go.”
Twenty minutes and one less spider later, Throttle sat on his sister’s couch drinking a beer and watching Olivia play a video game with rainbows, ponies, and a shimmering princess. She was damn good at finding the princess’s jewels and hiding them from the ogre who was always trying to steal them. Her small fingers worked the control like a pro, and whenever she secured a jewel she’d turn to him and smile.
Dawn came in and sat on the other side of the couch. She lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply. “Guess who I bumped into yesterday at the Stop and Shop Market.”
He shrugged, his eyes glued on the princess in the tower.
“Mariah.”
He turned his head sharply. “Mariah?”
“Yep. She’s back in town. She came up to me. I didn’t even see her. I was looking for a bag of Cheetos, and she called my name. At first it didn’t register that it was her, and then I recognized her.”
Throttle took a gulp of beer. What the fuck was Mariah doing back in town after all this time?
“The first thing she did was ask about you. Wanted to know if you were married or had a girlfriend.”
He snorted and leaned back as an image from deep in his past surfaced: a pretty brunette with hazel eyes smiling at him.
“I told her you were having too much fun. She seemed happy that you didn’t have anyone special in your life.”
Kimber’s blue piercing eyes and jet-black hair dipped in pink replaced the image from his past. Every time he thought of a woman, Kimber would wiggle into his brain; it was like her image was burned on it, branding him.
He felt a small yank on his jeans and he looked down to see Olivia’s small hand pulling on them. “Did you see me get the tiara? That’s the best of the princess’s jewels.”
He leaned down and gently tugged one of her braids. “I did. You kicked that green dude’s ass.”
She giggled. “He’s called an ogre.” He smiled at her.
“Anyway, she told me to tell you hi and that she’ll be in town for some time,” Dawn said, refocusing him back to her.
“So?”
“I think she wants to see you.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t have any interest in seeing her. That was all in the past.”
“But it couldn’t—”
“Leave it alone, Dawn. This conversation is over.”
She closed her mouth and shook her head. “You can be so stubborn.”
He shrugged. “Whatever.”
After Olivia made it through ten levels, the princess was finally free and the green ogre was banished from the kingdom. She set down her control and crawled up next to Throttle. As she curled up beside him, the front doorbell rang, and Dawn went to answer it. Olivia looked up at Throttle. “I’m sure it’s Ella. She’s my friend and she’s sleeping over.”
“That sounds like fun.”
“Olivia,” a small voice called from behind them.
Olivia leapt up from the couch and rushed over to her friend. Throttle rose and saw a blonde girl about Olivia’s age with freckles and cornflower-blue eyes standing by a woman who wore shorts and a scooped neck T-shirt that showed off her nice cleavage. Throttle’s gaze lingered on her chest and Dawn cleared her throat. “Throttle, this is Ella’s mom, Clarisse. This is my brother, Throttle.”
Throttle jerked his head back. “Hey.”
The woman boldly ran her eyes over his toned body, her gaze eventually landing on his. “Hey,” she breathed.
“I gotta go, sis. I’ll call you about the three of us going out to dinner next week.” He pulled his niece to him and hugged her. “Can you fit your uncle into your busy social schedule?”
“Oh, Uncle Throttle.” She laughed and hugged him back.
“I take it that’s a yes?”
She bobbed her head up and down.
“Do you have to leave so soon?” Clarisse asked.
He scanned her curvy body, loving the way her big tits strained across her top. He could have her legs spread and his cock inside her, pounding away, in a matter of minutes, but he wasn’t interested. He didn’t want a complication like her; he was better off with the club girls. But for right then, he didn’t want any of them. He did want a small-titted smart aleck who had a great pair of legs and an ass he needed to fuck. Go figure.
He saw the hopeful gleam in Clarisse’s eyes. “Yeah, I gotta go. I’ll call you,” he said to his sister. Olivia had already disappeared to her room with Ella. He jumped down the concrete steps and settled on his bike. He shifted on the seat. He was horny as hell and this bullshit of not getting laid in three weeks was driving him crazy. Maybe he should make it with the sex-starved housewife. He needed something… someone. Pressing his lips together, he decided to go back to the clubhouse and see who struck his dick. He had to exorcize the sassy-mouthed woman who’d cast some crazy-ass spell over him. Never had he cared about any woman since Mariah, and now this kooky woman who worked as a mechanic and had pink streaks in her hair invaded his mind and body. He exhaled. Damn. I gotta fuck Rosie and Lola.
He accelerated sharply, smirking when he spotted Clarisse standing on the porch, disappointment carved on her face. He turned the corner and never looked back.
Chapter Nine
As he came to the stop sign on Adams Street, he saw a woman in jean shorts who looked mighty damn fine. Glancing to the left, he saw a pink metallic Harley parked in the driveway of the woman’s small bungalow. His gaze darted back to the woman watering flowers in front of her porch then he noticed pink tips brushing against the curve of her neck as they fell from her messy bun. Without hesitation, he made a U-turn into her driveway. Crossing his arms, he sat on the idling bike, knowing the hum of the motor would draw her attention.
She turned slightly, then placed her fingers over her mouth when recognition set in. They stared at each other for several seconds, and then she walked over to the side of her porch and turned off the hose. He killed the engine. Standing by her porch, her hand shielding the western sun from her eyes, she quirked her lips. “You stalking me?”
He climbed off his bike and leaned against it, his ankles crossed, his tanned arms made darker by the sunlight, and slowly took off his sunglasses. “A guy’s got to be interested in a chick to stalk her.”
“How do you know where I live?”
“I didn’t. My sister lives a couple blocks away on Madison. Spotting you in your sexy shorts was just luck.” He threw his best panty-melting smile—lopsided and smug.
She came closer, her hands pulling down her shorts. He had to laugh at the way she seemed so self-conscious. Her usual confidence seemed to have taken a backseat at that moment, and he loved that he was having an effect on her. It seemed fair since she’d been having an effect on him since the day he’d met her.
“I don’t think you pulling your shorts down is gonna make them longer. Seems like the only thing you’re gonna accomplish is pulling them down and giving me a glimpse of your sweet heat.”
She gasped, but she didn’t stomp away or wag her finger at him. Yeah, she likes my dirty mouth. And my mouth can’t wait to taste her all over. “You got something cold to drink inside?”
“Yeah, but maybe I don’t want you inside my house.”
His gaze was riveted on her face, then moved over her body slowly and seductively. “You want me inside.”
“Do I?” she asked playfully, glancing at him.
He slowly nodded, chuckling inwardly when color stained her cheeks under the heat of his gaze. He pushed away from his Harley, came up to her, and brushed away the tendrils from her face. Under his touch, he felt her shudder.
She looked away hastily, then cleared her throat. “I got some beer.” Kimber moved away from him and sprinted to her porch.
Throttle glanced around the small living and dining room, liking the way she’d decorated it with punches of bold pinks, blues, and purples. The in-your-face color scheme and acrylic paintings adorning the walls reflected her personality, and he liked how she’d pulled it all together. “You did a nice job with your place.”
“Thanks,” she said over her shoulder as she rifled through the refrigerator.
“You like living in the neighborhood?”
“It wouldn’t be my first choice if I had any money, but since I’m on a shoestring, it’ll do. Some of the neighbors are sketchy, but I keep to myself most of the time. Where do you live?”
“At the club.”
“Really? How long have you been doing that?” She set down a bottle of Coors and a bowl of pretzels on the coffee table.
“I’ve been living there since I patched in when I was twenty. So ‘bout fifteen y
ears.”
“Wow. Don’t you get tired of living in one room and having all those people around you all the time?”
He crunched on a few pretzels, then washed them down with a gulp of beer. “Not really. There are advantages to having some of the people around all the time.”
“I bet. I know all about the free sex you guys have.”
“Do you? Did you learn about it through TV shows or the one-sided documentaries the fuckin’ FBI puts out?”
“Neither. I dated a biker. I was his ol’ lady.” She leaned back on the couch and stared at him.
His eyes bulged; he was caught off guard by her sudden revelation. “Fuck. I didn’t know you were a biker’s bitch.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d be offended by your choice of words.” She smiled and it melted over him. “That was a while ago. Me and leather dudes don’t mix so well.”
“I don’t know about that.” He reached out and placed his hand on hers. “We seemed to have mixed pretty well that day at the shop.”
She exhaled and shook her head. “See, that’s what I’m talking about. You bikers are all alike. None of you can see a woman as just a person. It’s always about sex. It drives me crazy.”
“Don’t think it’s only bikers, babe. It’s all men. We’re just wired differently. We see a hot babe and we want in. If she’s cool with it, then what’s the problem?”
“It just seems like you guys magnify the battle of the sexes by a million percent. Anyway, I’ve had my fill of the brotherhood.”
“Have you?” He gently stroked the back of her hand with his finger.