by Chiah Wilder
Her heart beat wildly against her rib cage as the indiscernible voices from the people around her rushed in her ears. In vain she tried to swallow, but her throat and mouth were filled with cotton. She knew she should walk away, but she couldn’t; their connection grounded her, and she couldn’t move even if she wanted to. Without a word, he yanked her to him, and she offered no resistance. He tilted her head back, then took her mouth with a savage intensity. Instead of backing out of his embrace, her trembling limbs clung to him as he rammed his tongue into her mouth, its writhing and pushing motions sending a burst of passion through her from the tips of her breasts to her aching sex.
After what seemed like forever, Throttle pulled back, winked, and sauntered back to the pool table. Picking up his cue amid whistles and hoots, he prepared for the next shot.
Kimber, wild-eyed and panting, watched him as the blonde sized her up. With all her strength, she forced herself to move, taking a few shaky steps to Hawk’s office. Once she left the great room, she was safe from his magnetic pull; she gathered up the work orders, held her chin high, and reentered the main room. She glanced furtively at the pool table, but Throttle was gone. Scanning the room, she didn’t spot him. Disappointment crawled through her. Quit being such a fool. It’s a good thing he’s gone. He’s such an arrogant SOB. She left the clubhouse, happy to be out in the sunshine and away from Throttle’s presence.
After she placed the files in the saddlebags, she swung her leg over her Harley. Gathering her hair up, she coiled it on top of her head and covered it with her bandana once more.
“Figures you have a pink Harley.” Throttle’s voice startled her.
“You’ve seen it before,” she said curtly.
“I was gonna mention it then, but we got kinda… sidetracked.” He slowly ran his finger from her earlobe down to her collarbone. She sucked in her breath.
“I gotta go. Hawk’s waiting for me to give him some papers.” She put on her sunglasses, relieved that he couldn’t see the arousal in her eyes.
“What’s up with all the pink shit?”
She shrugged. “It’s my favorite color.”
“Guess what mine is.”
“I don’t know. Black?”
“Nah.” He leaned in close and ran his tongue down her neck. “Pussy pink has become my favorite. Yours in particular.”
Red stained her cheeks, and she pulled back. “I gotta go.”
“Really?” He flashed her a boyish, lopsided smile, the kind that women went mad for, and her stomach fluttered. He brushed his lips against her ear and she shivered despite the ninety-seven-degree temperature. “My cock wants back in your pussy. Don’t tell me you don’t want that too.”
She pushed him back and switched on her bike. Kimber had to get far away from him before she lost herself forever. She had plans; a relationship with Throttle wasn’t possible. Sex with him wasn’t either because if she let him back in, she’d be forever hooked on him, and she couldn’t allow that to happen. “I told you that night was a mistake.”
“Babe, a woman doesn’t kiss a man like you just did if our fucking was a mistake.”
“I have to go.”
“All right, ride your pretty little ass outta here on your pink Harley. I’ll wait until you come to me. There’s no way in hell you’ll ever be satisfied with any other man.”
“You’re pretty sure of yourself, you cocky bastard.”
He laughed. “Damn straight.”
“Well, if you wait for me to contact you, you’ll be old, wrinkled, and bald.”
He put his arm around her and pressed her against him, then lowered his head and kissed her hard and rough. Just the way she liked it. A small moan escaped through her parted lips, and she hated her body for betraying her like that.
He released her and chuckled. “Like I said, babe. I’ll be waiting when you want a good fucking.”
Anger curled around her nerves as she watched him swagger back inside, leaving her aching for his touch. She revved the engine and peeled out of the parking lot, wanting to create as much distance as she could between them.
He’s dangerous because he knows the effect he has on me.
Damnit!
* * *
The minute Throttle came back in, his brothers were on him for kissing the chick in coveralls. Rock laid down his pool stick, went up to him, and punched him in the arm. “Is that the woman mechanic at Hawk’s shop?”
Throttle braced himself and nodded.
“You sure in hell got over your contempt. Now I know why you haven’t been fuckin’ any of the club whores—you’ve got new pussy for now. She must be a pretty good fuck for you to pass on Big Tits for No Tits.”
The brothers standing around Throttle and Rock howled. “Damn, man, how in the hell could you find her tits? Her pussy must be extra special to make her worth fuckin’,” Wheelie joked as the other brothers threw in their jabs.
Throttle’s jaw tightened. The brothers knew he loved big tits, and a few weeks ago, he’d have agreed with them. But now that he’d tasted Kimber, sucked her perky, soft breasts and pink nipples, he couldn’t imagine wanting her to be anything more than what she was—perfect. Even her sassy attitude appealed to him. She was a challenge that set off high voltage shocks in him. He fucking loved it.
“You planning on sharing your little secret?” Rock asked.
Before Rock could pick up his beer, Throttle had him by the throat, hissing, “Don’t you ever fuckin’ ask me that again. You show her respect or I’ll beat your ass.”
Rock shoved Throttle back, his nostrils flaring. “You wanna beat my ass? Come on, let’s go.” He stood in a fighter’s stance, his fists clenched.
Throttle stepped toward him and raised his arms, but then Rags, Wheelie, Chas, and Bear intervened. “What the fuck you gonna fight about? Pussy? Shit, that ain’t worth it.” Wheelie grabbed Lola and pulled her to Throttle. “We got good pussy whenever we want, so why let a chick get between you?”
Rock breathed out, his face relaxing. “He’s right, brother. Pussy is just pussy.” He picked up his beer and guzzled it.
Throttle, still tense and pissed as hell, leaned back against the bar. Lola wrapped her arm around his waist and whispered in his ear, “Rock’s right. I’m always here for you, baby. Rosie, Wendy, and I have been dying to do a stint with you, but lately, you never have time for us. We miss you. You don’t need a woman who has grease between her nails ‘cause she’s doing a man’s job. You need women who are soft and sweet-smelling and know how to get your dick up and sucked good. Real good.” She licked his earlobe.
Throttle unwrapped her arm from him and gently pushed her away. “There’re other brothers to pleasure, and you know a lot of them love spending time with you, Rosie, and Wendy. Hit on Rock. He’s always ready.”
“You used to be too.”
He ran his hand through his hair. “I know.” What the hell was he doing? He was passing up a sure thing with Lola and the other club girls for a maybe with Kimber? “I got something in my blood that needs some time to work out. After I have my fill, I’ll be back in business.” I just need to get Kimber out of my system. His cocky demeanor pleased Lola, but deep down he suspected it wouldn’t be that easy to walk away from the woman who’d gotten into his head and dick.
He watched Lola walk away, the curve of her ass cheeks shaking in her Daisy Dukes. She stood by Rock, her talons running down his back, as he and Axe played pool, her gaze fixed on Throttle. Turning away, he motioned for another beer.
Kimber’s scent lingered on his T-shirt, and the taste of her was still on his lips.
Chapter Fifteen
Kimber screeched her bike to a halt and jumped off, storming into the shop. Without a word, she handed Hawk the file and made her way to the service garage.
“Don’t you wanna check out the 1936 Harley? It’s a beauty,” Hawk said.
“I got work to finish. Maybe later,” she grumbled as she closed the door behind her. Who the fuck does Throttl
e think he is? Like I’m gonna come looking for him. Arrogant sonofabitch! If I want to screw I don’t need him. Kimber went to her area and picked up the torque wrench. She was madder than hell about losing her head at the club. How could she have let him kiss her like that in front of all the other bikers? She bent down and secured the bike jack. What the hell was she thinking? And who was the blonde bitch who couldn’t keep her hands off him? He’s probably banging her right now. What’s it gonna take for me to learn that bikers, especially one-percenters, are bad news? Just because he was good-looking didn’t mean squat.
She went over to the radio and turned the volume to the maximum level, blasting the music loud so she could extricate him from her mind. She didn’t want to think about him, the kiss, or the ache between her legs. None of that would do.
Throwing herself into her work, she’d successfully avoided thinking about Throttle for the past three hours. During her break, she sat at the table in the employees’ room, sipping on an iced tea. Her beeping phone made her jump, and she held her breath before she noticed the text was from Riley. She groaned aloud.
Riley: Hi. What’re u doing?
Kimber: Working.
Riley: Right now?
Kimber shook her head and drummed her fingers on the table. She was finished with this dumbass. She’d told him to get lost politely, and he obviously hadn’t caught on.
Kimber: Ya. Don’t text anymore.
She placed the phone in her uniform pocket and ignored the incessant pinging. It seemed like the day would never end. She rose from the table and went back to fixing the Harley.
After work, she’d gone for a long, fast ride around the dirt roads that crisscrossed the mountains and valleys. By the time she pulled into her driveway, the heat of the day had receded as the sun sank to the horizon, the sherbet orange and pink hues giving way to a dusty purple sprinkled with the occasional sparkle of a distant star. By habit, she glanced around, hoping to see Throttle on his powerful machine, his corded legs hugging it so perfectly, but the street was quiet. The only sounds were the sporadic din of dinner dishes and the garbled voices from random television sets. She pulled her bike into the garage and entered her home.
Deep down, she knew Throttle would never have been waiting for her on his iron horse. She was being silly; the summer sometimes made her yearn for romance. The long carefree days and breezy nights made her crave something out of the ordinary, but by the end of the season, her life was just the same as it was before summer began. Maybe if she went to him she could at least have a helluva summer fling, but she had no intention of running after him. He was cocky enough, and if she sought him out, he’d be downright impossible. Let the macho prick come to her.
But she knew, since he was a biker, he’d never chase her.
Sweaty from her ride, she took a cool shower. With a towel wrapped around her, she went over to her window to close her blinds, glancing out. She gasped and clutched her towel tighter around her. Straining, she fixed her stare on the cluster of pine trees across from her, her heart thumping. She swore she saw someone watching her from behind the trees. Quickly, she switched off her light and moved to the side, pinning herself against her wall, then peeked out the corner of the blinds.
She stayed like that for a very long time, and just when she was ready to abandon her post, deciding the light had been playing tricks on her, a shadowy figure emerged from behind the group of trees. Goose bumps carpeted her arms, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. From her view, he looked as if he were going to cross the street and come over to her house. Her stomach lurched as she tried to remember whether she’d closed her front door. She knew she’d latched her screen, but a hard jerk could open it in a second. Her thumping heart filled her ears, but then she switched her bedroom light on and off in rapid succession. The figure stopped, then bolted away. Leaning her head against the cool wall, she struggled to regain her normal breathing.
After she shut her blinds, she slipped on a nightshirt and went to the living room, checking that her front door was closed and locked. She debated about calling the police, but what could she tell them? That a figure of what appeared to be a man crossed the street, then jumped away after she turned the lights on and off? She couldn’t describe him nor could she even tell them that he was coming to her house, even though she had a strong feeling he was. He was fuckin’ watching me. She shivered.
For a long while, she sat on her couch trying to piece together what had happened, finally deciding that it was probably a neighborhood teenager who’d wanted to catch a glimpse of her taking her towel off. If he’d meant something harmful, he wouldn’t have run off so quickly. She made a mental note to make sure all her drapes and blinds were closed the minute darkness hit.
She padded into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of sweet tea and a leftover burrito, then settled on her couch and flipped on the TV. After she finished eating, her eyelids kept drooping so she stretched out. Within minutes, she fell fast asleep.
* * *
The headline in the morning paper read “Woman Photographed and Raped. Is this the work of the Lingerie Bandit?” Detective McCue threw the paper across the desk, his jaw clenched. “Fuck!”
“What’s up, Earl?” Carlos, one of the other detectives, asked.
“The newspaper is having a field day with this ‘Lingerie Bandit’ shit. The goddamned reporter didn’t spend most of the night with a traumatized victim who’d been humiliated, degraded, then raped for hours by this sick bastard.”
“They don’t give a shit. Only interested in what’ll sell more copies.”
“The poor woman,” McCue muttered under his breath. In his gut, he’d known it was only a matter of time before masturbating, stealing underwear, and taking lewd pictures of women wouldn’t be enough for the perverted bastard. The perpetrator’s urges had now risen to a whole new despicable level. He sighed.
The victim was a nice, twenty-three-year-old clerk for the county court. The rapist had broken into her house a little bit after midnight. The woman had woken up when she felt something crushing her, and fear had spread through her when she’d looked into his cold, flat eyes. Before she could scream, he’d secured duct tape over her mouth and tied her hands behind her back. He’d cut off her pajama top, then removed her panties. After he’d raped her for several hours, he’d forced her to put on different bras and panties before he took photographs of her in various poses. After he’d finished, he’d helped her put on her pajamas, tucked her into bed, removed the duct tape from her mouth, and told her he was sorry. He’d thanked her and left.
The victim told the detective he’d used a condom, but McCue hoped the CSI was able to get something that they could test for DNA. He wanted to compare it with what they had picked up at one of the earlier crime scenes; if there was DNA found in the present case, he was pretty sure it’d match the one from before. Not having any strong leads was frustrating as hell, because there weren’t any solid suspects. The usual registered sex offenders and newly released criminals who’d committed sex crimes were brought in for questioning, but after checking out their alibis, they were all cleared. Another dead end. Whoever this bad guy was, he definitely was staying under the radar.
“You know this doesn’t bode too well,” Earl said as he went over his report from the previous night again.
“What?” Carlos asked.
“Escalating to physically hurting women. It’s just a matter of time before he wants a bigger thrill, and the only thing left is murder.” He reclined in his swivel chair, his face taut. “We fucking have to stop him before that happens.”
He tossed the paper aside and pushed his large frame into his jacket. “I’m going back to see if I can’t find a neighbor who saw or heard anything last night.”
“Do you want me to help you canvas the area?” Carlos asked.
“No. You’re working on the stolen cars case. I can handle it.”
“Okay. Just let me know if you need anything. Unless an emerg
ency comes up, I’ll be at my desk for the next few hours.”
“Noted.” With slumped shoulders, Detective McCue headed out.
Chapter Sixteen
A week had passed since Throttle had kissed Kimber at the clubhouse, and he was damn surprised she hadn’t come looking for him. What the hell was up with that? From the way she’d responded to him, he knew she’d felt the connection between them, so why was she staying away? She probably wants me to come after her. Like that’s gonna fuckin’ happen. She had a real “I don’t give a damn” attitude, but she didn’t fool him for one bit. She wanted him just as bad as he wanted her, but she was acting like a fucking princess in a tower. Screw that. If she wants it, she better take her own ass out of the tower and come and get it. I’ll be ready. He chuckled as he drove the lawn mower around a large yard.
Business had been very good for the past month, and he and Rags were hustling their asses most days. Working under the sun’s piercing rays had colored his skin a rich golden brown. Most days he and Rags worked shirtless, much to the delight of the housewives whose husbands paid for their landscaping services.
When he finished the lawn, he killed the motor and jumped off, then grabbed a bottled water from the cooler and walked over to the shade of an oak tree. He sat on the ground, his back against the trunk, and took a long drink. A light breeze rustled through the tree, and wisps of sunlight filtered through the branches thick with green leaves. He pulled out his phone to see if anyone had tried to call him. It was a habit of all the Insurgents—checking their phones often. Being in an outlaw club, a member never knew when they’d be needed to take care of something that threatened the brotherhood, or if another brother needed a helping hand. He noticed a missed call from his sister and dialed her number.