by Chiah Wilder
Looking down and back up, she boldly met his gaze. “Yes.”
He pulled his hand away. “Which club did your old man ride with?”
“The Demon Riders.”
His face grew taut. “Which chapter?”
“Iowa.”
His face darkened. It was the chapter Dustin and Shack—the Insurgents renegades—had joined up with after Banger ordered their charter club in Nebraska closed for not following the Insurgents MC’s bylaws. “Do you have any contact with him?”
“Nah. I ran away from him when he wasn’t around. He doesn’t know where I am. Probably doesn’t give a shit anyway.”
“A man having his old lady leave him always gives a shit. He loses face with the brothers. Why’d you split?”
“The cheating, the stealing, the all-night partying, the lack of employment, the fists to my face—take your pick.” She stood up. “You want another beer?”
“Yeah. The fucker hit you? What a fuckin’ pussy.”
“My sentiments exactly,” she said as she took two beers from the refrigerator. “It’s in the past now. I’m so over it.” She gave him the beer and sat back down.
“You not wanting to go out with another biker means you’re not as over it as you think. Fuck, baby. I pegged you as a biker chick when I saw you. You going out with a damn cowboy is crazy. You got the leather and denim in your blood. I see it in your eyes when you look at me.”
She laughed. “You are persuasive, I’ll give you that. Let’s cut through the bullshit, okay? You know you’re damn good-looking, and I’m sure I’m not the first woman to tell you that. I’d think you’re good-looking with or without the leather. Being a biker is the turn-off. I’m done with that way of life.”
“You letting one fuckin’ asshole turn you off of all of us?”
“Try several fuckin’ assholes.” She grimaced. “You were right—I was a biker chick.”
Silence spread between them, and all he could think about was how beautiful she looked with the early evening’s glow washing over her. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her hard, fuck her harder, and dispel all hurts and memories of the goddamned Demon Rider. If he ever ran into him, he’d beat the shit out of him. Maybe even kill him for striking her. He reached over and grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it. When his gaze met hers, the arousal in them lit him on fire. In one smooth movement, he had her pressed to him, his mouth ravaging hers as he held her tight.
She pulled away, and the fire in him burned fiercely as he took in her swollen lips and smoldering eyes. “I need you bad, babe,” he said.
Without a word, she grasped his hand and stood, taking him with her. She shuffled to a room in the back of the house. When they entered, his gaze landed on the bed, and the current they had between them exploded. He swung her to him and she jumped up, hooking her legs around his waist before he rushed forward, slamming her against the wall as his mouth assaulted her neck with hard, biting kisses—the kind that left deep red marks for days. She clawed his back through his thin T-shirt, and Throttle was sure she was shredding it with each rake of her nails. His cock was granite—harder than it’d been for quite a while—and he needed to shove it inside her before he exploded.
Running his hands through her hair, he gripped it firmly with his fingers and pulled her head back. “I’m gonna fuck your pussy rough and hard, and you’re gonna fuckin’ love it,” he murmured against her mouth before he took her bottom lip and sucked it. Each moan that came from her, he swallowed, his fingers digging into her smooth, toned thighs. Her hot skin quivered beneath his touch, and he had to have it right at that moment before his cock erupted.
He carried her to the bed and pushed her down, then yanked his T-shirt over his head. When he’d kicked his boots off and threw off his jeans and boxers, he stared down at her, loving the way her body rose and fell with her panting. “Take your fuckin’ top off.”
Kimber complied and she lay back down, her black hair spreading around her head like spilled ink. He whistled under his breath and cupped her breasts in his hands. They fit with some room to spare and he squeezed and pinched them, pulling at her rosy nipples until they were hard. Fuck, he loved the sight of hard nipples on tits, and hers were the perkiest he’d ever seen. He sucked one hard bud into his mouth while his hands shoved down her shorts and panties. Normally, he’d admire her nakedness but for a small bit of fabric covering her pussy, but he didn’t have time for that right then; he wanted her naked so he could feel their skin fused together.
As he bent over, sucking her tits and squeezing her inner thighs, a sting of pain then pleasure coursed through him. He looked down at her and she smiled wickedly at him as she bit his shoulder again. “You love rough fuckin’. I knew you were a hot one.”
“Yeah. The rougher the better.”
“Fuck, baby. I’m gonna blow before I even get into your wet pussy.”
“Then you better hurry the hell up.”
“Don’t you like me sucking your tits?”
She nodded. “But I also like this….” She ran her hands along his broad shoulders. “And this….” She squeezed his taut biceps, then traced the tattoos with her fingernail. “And I love this.” She circled her hand tightly around his pulsing cock.
Fuck! “Get on all fours. Now.” He had to see her sweet ass as he plunged into her.
Kimber kneeled and he pushed her down to the mattress, making her luscious ass rise up. And she did have a tempting one, just like he’d imagined: round, creamy globes begging to be smacked, a small puckered opening inviting a good fucking. Rubbing his hands all over her ass cheeks, he lowered his head and bit them hard. She yelped and he rubbed the red area, peppering it with light kisses. “You like that?” he said against her skin. Her moan was her only answer.
He placed his finger against her opening and ran his other hand down her ass to her slick pussy. Slipping between her folds, he played with her clit while she whimpered and writhed against the mattress. “Feels so damn good,” her muffled voice said.
“You’re so wet for me, babe. I can’t stand it. Before I push my cock in you, I need a taste.” He pulled back and spread her knees wider apart, her dripping heat splayed open before him. With a long sweep, his tongue stroked her from the tip of her clit to her rounded cheeks. In response, she lifted her hips and pushed back against him.
“Fuck me. I’m on the pill. You clean?”
“Yeah. I always use a condom. You sure you want it raw?”
“You don’t?” she panted.
“Fuck yeah.” He hadn’t done it unprotected since he’d walked away from a bad relationship many years ago.
“What the hell are you waiting for?” she nagged.
He chuckled. “Damn, you want it bad” He couldn’t wait a second longer. Covering his dick in her arousal, he shoved it in, her cry of pleasure the best fucking music to his ears. Then he rode her, faster and faster. The harder he pummeled her heated core, the louder she screamed, “More!” until she stiffened then let out a yell which bounced off the walls and filled his ears, his dick, his body. With a grunt, he shot his hot seed in her tight heat as she panted into the pillow, the sheet crumpled in her fists. He kissed the back of her neck and crashed on the mattress, taking her with him. She fit perfectly under the crook of his arm, and he loved the way her damp arm felt on his sweaty chest.
“Fuck. That was hot.” He kissed the top of her head.
“I fuckin’ needed that.” She brushed a kiss on his chest.
They held each other as the setting sun dyed the sky pomegranate pink. After a long while, he asked, “You up for round two?”
She tilted her head back and with a devilish smile plastered on her face, said, “Bring it on.”
Chapter Ten
Through the white blinds, lemony bars of sun slanted across the hardwood floor as Kimber cracked open her sleep-blurred eyes. At first she was disoriented, her eyes scanning the room, but then she heard him breathe and panic set in. Flun
g across her stomach, his arm pinned her to the bed, and she tried to slide out from under it without any luck. She turned and watched him, and he was gorgeous as he slept, his face peaceful with wisps of hair across his cheeks. His strong jaw was somewhat softened by his slumber, and his lips—oh, those wicked lips—were slightly parted, as though they waited for her tongue to enter. She wanted to sweep away the tendrils of hair and feel his rough stubble against her fingertips. He was an incredible lover, and she couldn’t believe she’d let him fuck her brains out for the better part of the night.
She turned away and focused on the dust particles in the sunlight as they flitted about. A knot formed in the pit of her stomach as the enormity of what she’d done weighed down on her. Really, Kimber? Another biker? Fuck. Why didn’t you resist him? But how could she have ever resisted him? He was all man—raw and powerful—and she’d been screwed the first day she’d met him at Hawk’s shop. She’d been drawn to him, fluttering right to the center of his flame even though she’d pretended nonchalance. And ever since they’d kissed for the first time, a deep, slow burn had started inside her, making her yearn for him on the long summer nights until she’d almost relented and sought him out.
Then he was in her driveway, looking way too sexy in his tight jeans and sleeveless tee, his tattoos beckoning her to touch and lick them. When he’d pulled her to him on the couch, a blind passion like a fire swept over her, and she knew there was no way in hell she could stop. The previous night, he’d awakened a desire in her she never knew existed. Their fucking was better than she’d imagined. She sighed. Continuing with Throttle wasn’t an option; she’d be a goddamned fool if she did, knowing the biker lifestyle. And she was pretty damn sure Throttle was very popular with the club women and hang-arounds who were voracious for biker cock. Kimber didn’t want to fall for the dangerous man who slept so peacefully beside her. She’d run away from the craziness of the brotherhood, and she had no intention of jumping back into the boiling water.
She carefully lifted his arm and shimmied out from under it, then tiptoed to the bathroom to wash up. After she slipped on a gauze sundress, she closed her bedroom door and went to the kitchen to have a glass of orange juice. In the bright light of the morning, she realized she’d made a mistake that she would never repeat, even though she didn’t regret her night with Throttle.
She placed two pieces of buttered bread in her toaster oven and pushed down the lever, thinking maybe she should wake him up; she definitely didn’t want him to hang around. She wasn’t in the mood for chit chats, and knowing his sexual appetite, he’d probably want seconds. That was something she didn’t want to give.
Leaning on her white tile counter, her elbows propped on it with her chin on her hand, she watched as the neighborhood woke up: kids riding their bicycles, mothers pushing strollers, vehicles backing out of garages, and service trucks searching for addresses. His familiar scent of soap, leather, and expensive whiskey caressed her before he encircled her waist and placed a kiss on the back of her neck. “Morning.” His voice was like molten lava, scorching her.
Don’t even think it, Kimber. “Morning,” she answered, pushing away from the counter and him. “You want some orange juice?” She scooted over to the refrigerator to create some distance from him.
He swept his eyes over her face, a scowl threatening to form. “Sure.” She filled a glass and plunked it on the table, then leaned against the stove, her arms crossed over her chest. “What the fuck’s going on with you?” he asked.
Exhaling, she uncrossed her arms and fixed her gaze on his. “Last night was an awesome mistake. Awesome because you totally know how to fuck a woman, but a mistake ‘cause I’m not looking for anything right now. I know we’ve had this lust thing going on between us, and we took care of that last night real good….” She laughed nervously.
Throttle’s expression tightened and his flinty stare unnerved her. She picked at a mosquito bite on her arm. “I’m trying to finish school, save money, and start my own business. I don’t have time for—”
“I never do seconds with citizens. I’m glad you’re not the clinging type. A one-night fuck suits me just fine.” His curt voice lashed at her.
She swallowed the small lump forming in her throat and placed two pieces of bread on a stoneware plate. “I made you some toast.” She handed it to him.
“I don’t eat toast.” His icy voice chilled her. “I’m outta here.” Without a good-bye, he marched out of her house and slammed her screen door. She rushed over and watched him through the mesh as he sped away on his Harley. The prickly heat filtered in through the screen door and she closed it.
Don’t you dare cry. This is what you wanted. They’d shared an incredible night together, satisfying the lust they’d harbored since they met. It was finished, and it was time to get back on track. Everything turned out the way she wanted it to, but why was she so miserable right then? Her phone alarm rang and she realized she was going to be late for class. Rushing to the kitchen, she poured his untouched orange juice down the sink and threw away the toast. She wiped down the counters, grabbed her books and keys, and made her way to her afternoon classes.
As fast as she rode, she still ended up being ten minutes late to her business class. Professor Redman stopped mid-sentence and pressed his lips into a white slash when she came in. Red stained her cheeks, and she shuffled over to a seat in the back of the classroom. Opening her laptop, she hid her face behind the screen. After a few seconds, the professor continued where he left off.
Kimber was lucky to have been able to be in Professor Redman’s course. He was head of the business department at the college and was an esteemed academic. He’d written numerous books on a gamut of business-related subjects, and he was an in-demand national lecturer. The prof was by far the best teacher she’d ever had, and his class was one of her favorites.
While she typed copious notes, her phone vibrated. She glanced at it and saw she’d received a text message. For one brief second, she held her breath, hoping it was Throttle; then she remembered he didn’t ask for her phone number, and disappointment set in. She looked at the sender—Riley. There was no way she was going to open it with Professor Redman already annoyed at her for being late. Slipping her phone in her backpack, she focused on the rest of the lecture.
After class, she sat at a table in the student center and opened Riley’s text.
Riley: It’s been too long. U wanna go for dinner?
Ever since she and Throttle had kissed at the shop, she’d pushed Riley away. It wasn’t like they had anything going between them. He seemed nice enough, but he wasn’t her type. She didn’t feel anything even remotely like the electric charge that sizzled between her and Throttle whenever they saw each other. She supposed she was hopeless, destined to be mistreated by the bad boys instead of cherished by the good ones.
Kimber: Been busy. Tonight won’t work. Don’t want to lead u on, but too busy for anything other than studying and working right now.
Riley: U gotta eat. Right?
Kimber: Too busy for that too. Frozen or takeout while I study.
Riley: So u don’t want to go out with me?
Kimber: Not looking for anything with a man right now. U’re nice. U can find another girl.
Riley: I want u. I always get what I want.
Kimber reread the text a couple times. Wow, he’s starting to sound kind of creepy. Time to sign off.
Kimber: Gotta go to class.
Maybe Riley wasn’t such a nice guy. The guy did give off weird vibes. When they’d gone on their second and last date, he kept asking her what she was wearing under her clothes. It was like he wanted her to engage in some kinky talk by describing her underwear, and they were only on their second date. Although, she’d fucked herself to exhaustion the previous night with Throttle and they hadn’t even gone out on a date. She groaned. That’s it. I’m done with all men until I’m out of school and have my own business. But damn, she couldn’t deny the pull that connected her
and Throttle; it was something she’d never felt with any man before.
Later that night, she closed her laptop, rubbing her sore eyes. She’d studied too much and her mind was foggy; it was time to call it quits. Grabbing an ice-cold root beer, she popped the top and took a long, refreshing drink. The TV blinked on and she channel surfed for a while as she tried to quell the restlessness growing inside her. Even though she hated to admit it, she wished Throttle were with her, but he was probably fucking some slut at the club. She knew bikers, and everything for them was for the moment: the booze, the ride, and the women. Throttle was no different than any of the others. Maybe he wouldn’t smack her around like her old man had done, but she knew he’d carouse and cherish his brothers more than he would any woman. It wasn’t for her. Not at all. When she decided to get involved with a man, she’d want someone she could trust and respect. Having her old man cheat on her and seeing the brothers fool around with the club women behind their old ladies’ backs had disgusted her. She wasn’t a glutton for punishment.
Kimber finished her root beer and stared at the TV screen, not really seeing it. A big grin danced across her face when snippets of the previous night flashed in her mind. Damn, the man could fuck! Content to relive the best banging she’d ever had in her mind, she propped her legs up on the coffee table, leaned her head back on the cushion, and closed her eyes. She could survive on the memories of his touch, his kisses, his thrusting dick and forget him if he would just stay the hell out of the shop. And if she didn’t make excuses to see him.
Yeah. Fat chance.
Chapter Eleven
The stench of the weed killer permeated Throttle’s nose as it soaked through his shirt. Flinging the stainless steel tank off his back, he whipped off his shirt, his back glistening from the chemicals. “Fuck!” He kicked the tank with his boot, grabbed the sledgehammer lying on the grass, and struck the leaking tank over and over, his face red and contorted.