Throttle's Seduction: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 7) (12 page)

“That’s right. I talked to her last night on the phone. I hope she has a good time.”

“She will. Ella and some of her other friends are there. It’s good for her ‘cause it gets boring around here.”

“I know. When she gets back, I’ll take her to Arrow Lake for the day. And the carnival is coming in town next month. We’ll all go to that. You got a beer?”

“Sure.” She walked over to the refrigerator. “Mariah called me this morning,” she said as she handed him a can.

He took a long pull. “So?”

She sat cross-legged on the other end of the couch. “So… she wants to get together with you and set things right. She feels awful about how things ended between the two of you.”

He grunted. “Yeah, I bet she does.”

“I think she’s found religion or something.” She giggled when Throttle gave her an incredulous look. “No, I’m serious. It’s like she needs your forgiveness. Like she wants to make amends.”

Throttle stared at the dark TV screen. Picking up the remote, he turned it on, flipping through the channels until he settled on a wrestling match.

“I think she’s sincere. So, what do you say? It could be good for you. I think you’ve been hanging on to all that bitterness for a long time.”

He took another gulp, his gaze fixed on the two men trying to pull each other down on the mats. “I’m not interested in seeing Mariah. I already told you that a few days ago, and I haven’t changed my mind. Nothing needs to be set right. I’ve moved on. All that shit was a long time ago.” He placed his foot on top of the coffee table. “If she wants forgiveness, she should see a priest. He’ll absolve her. You got another beer?”

“Why are you so hard? I know she was a bitch to you at the end, but you were both young. She’s changed. I always thought you two were good together.”

“You getting me that beer?” His body tensed and he rubbed his thigh with his fist.

“Don’t go getting pissed at me. I’m just trying to help,” she said as she rose to bring him another can.

“I don’t remember asking you for any fuckin’ help. Leave this alone.” His voice had a steely edge.

“Okay, but you need a permanent woman in your life. Damnit, Throttle, you’re too old to still be living your lifestyle. Aren’t you tired of mindless sex with women who spread on command? Don’t you want a woman who loves only you and not all your club members? You’re going to want someone when you get old.”

“Stay the fuck out of my life. And since you’re so great at giving advice, what about you? Why don’t you find a nice man to take care of you? You only seem to fuck losers, and bringing in different men in front of Olivia pisses me off. It makes her think it’s okay to be a slut.” He finished his beer then crushed the can in his hand.

Dawn narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you talk to me that way. I’m a damn good mother, and I don’t bring a bunch of men over here. Pedro and I were together for over six months and I didn’t let him move in. You can be a real sonofabitch. You asshole!” She sniffled.

He stood up and threw the crushed can in the bin. “I didn’t come over for this shit. I’m outta here.” He marched out the door and went to his Harley, then stopped and looked back at the house. Why the hell did he have to go and say all that shit to Dawn? She didn’t deserve it; he thought she was an awesome mother and sister.
I gotta fuck the pink-haired bitch outta my system.

He rubbed his chin, then trudged up the walk to the house. Looking through the screen door, he saw Dawn on the couch, blowing her nose. He opened the door slowly, his gaze catching hers when she looked up. “Forget the shit I said. I’m just having a real shitty day.”

She smiled. “Thanks for coming back and telling me that. I shouldn’t have prodded.”

“Yeah, so… We good here?”

“Yes.” She bobbed her head up and down as she wiped the corner of her eyes. “We’re just great.” She started to get up from the couch, but he stopped her with a wave of his hand. He didn’t go in for the hugging and sobbing shit women loved to do. “You still have to go?”

“Yeah. I got stuff to do. Just wanted to come by and see how you and Olivia were doing. I’ll call you about dinner next week. If you need something, let me know.” Then he walked down the porch stairs and climbed on his Harley.

Instead of going straight, he made a U-turn and went back the way he came, hoping Kimber would be outside watering her flowers. When she’d done that before, it led to the best fucking he’d ever had with a woman. She wasn’t outside when he passed her house; she was inside and he wished he were with her, snuggling her in his arms. He continued on his way to the club. He passed by Ruthie’s Diner and spotted Big Tits through the window, thinking maybe he should stop in and ask her to Arrow Lake. He knew she’d jump at the chance, but he drove by knowing that he didn’t want Big Tits or any other woman near his dick, except for Kimber.

Fuck. She’s taken hold of my cock.

She’s in my blood.

Aw, hell.

H
e walked straight
to the bar and slid on the barstool. Puck placed a shot of whiskey and a bottle of Coors in front of him. The club was busier than usual for a weeknight. Most of the brothers were there, and a large number of hoodrats cozied up to them. Against the back wall, he saw a long table set up with sandwiches, corn on the cob, potato salad, and ribs. Normally, food was set up when there was a big party on the weekend, a special occasion like one of the brother’s birthday or a bachelor party, or a family gathering. Maybe something was up that he forgot about. The smoky smell of barbecue made his stomach growl, and he pushed off his seat and moseyed over to the food. As he scooped a large helping of potato salad on his plate, Rock clapped him on the shoulder. “How’s it goin’?”

“Good. Why all the food and brothers?”

“It’s Rags’s birthday.”

“It is? Did we talk about this at church or something?”

“Yeah. It was a few days ago, when all you wanted to do was beat the shit outta anyone who looked at you.” He chuckled.

“I didn’t hear shit about it. I worked with him today, and he never mentioned it.”

“He’s only here for the pussy like most of the guys. He chose Brandi to do his lap dance. I was happy ‘bout that one. She’s fuckin’ hot.” Rock placed three sandwiches and a pile of ribs on his plate.

“She’s got big tits, that’s for sure.”

“And they’re fuckin’ real. I’d love to bury my face between them. Damn.”

“Are you ready to have an old lady?”

Rock looked at him in horror. “Watch your fuckin’ mouth,” he growled.

Throttle laughed. “Didn’t think so.”

“There’re plenty of chicks with big racks around here. There’s no way I’ll ever take an old lady. Fuck all these brothers settling down with one pussy. Not for me. I know you’re on the same page.” He took a bite out of his roast beef and cheddar sandwich.

“You’re damn right. There’s no way in hell I’m aiming to have any woman wear my patch.”

As was customary, whenever a brother had a birthday, the club threw a party and the recipient could pick any of the strippers from Dream House to give him a lap dance. The dancers at the Insurgents’ strip club were not treated the same way as the club girls or the hoodrats; they danced and nothing else. The Insurgents were strict about it, didn’t want the women to be public wells for the raunchy and wild parties at the clubhouse. Mixing business with pleasure never worked out. When big weekend parties were thrown, sometimes the dancers would be asked to entertain the local and out-of-state brothers. They’d perform and then be escorted out of the club right after. Every once in a while, a brother fell for a dancer, like Jax did for Cherri, and she’d become his old lady, but it wasn’t common.

“Did you ever fuck the big-titted waitress at Ruthie’s? Rags said you had a date with her a while back.”

“Nah. I was planning to, but something came up.”
Like Kimber.

“You gonna try again?”

He shrugged. “Not too sure. You want some of her? She’s hot for biker cock. I can give you her number.”

“Rags said he’d been sniffing around her for some time, but she didn’t pay any attention to him. I don’t like working for a woman. If she’s not easy, I move to the next.”

“I’m with you.”
Then why don’t I forget about Kimber and move on? She’s more than difficult.
“I don’t think you’ll have any problems with her. Rags is too skinny. She likes broad, muscular bikers. You’ll do fine.”

“Yeah?” Rock shoved a forkful of potato salad in his mouth as he and Throttle walked back to the bar. “Text me her number. I want some new pussy.”

Throttle chuckled and began shoveling in his food. For the next hour, members came up to him and Rock, joking and talking with them. Soon a pretty, stacked blonde approached Rock. She curled her fingers around his bulging bicep. “Wow, my two hands can barely wrap around your strong muscles,” she cooed.

Throttle smirked as he watched Rock’s eyes light up when he caught sight of her generous cleavage. Like him, Rock was a tit man—the bigger, the better—so it still surprised the hell out of him that he was crazy for Kimber. With her it was more than her tit size; it was the whole damn thing.

“My friend and I were talking about something real important,” Rock said, winking at Throttle.

The blonde turned and looked at Throttle for the first time, a smile spreading over her lips. “Wow, you’re good-looking. Maybe you want to have some fun with me too?” Her hopeful eyes fixed on his crotch.

“Sounds like fun, doesn’t it?” Rock said as he scooped the woman up and planted her on his lap.

“Could be, but I’m not feelin’ it. Sorry, sweetheart.” He swiveled around on his stool and scanned the crowd. There were a lot of hot-looking women, and he knew he could fuck any one of them. Somehow knowing that made it less appealing. He wanted a challenge, and Kimber was that and more. The only woman he wanted to be inside was the one who said no. How fucked up was that?

He wrapped his fingers around the amber beer bottle and took a drink. From the corner of the room, he sensed someone watching him. He glanced over and his eyes locked with a woman who had dark eyes and hair. For a split second, he thought it was Mariah, but she only looked like her when she’d been young. When she and Throttle had been together.

As he stared, the image of Mariah, her long, dark hair flowing around her, clouded his vision, and he was twenty-two again and in love with her. He’d met her at one of the parties the club had when he’d been prospecting, almost ready to be patched in. She had large hazel eyes, and a smattering of freckles on her nose. She’d hated her freckles but he’d loved them, kissing them whenever they’d been together.

From the moment they’d met, he’d let her into his heart. She’d seemed to have been what he was missing since his mom had died a few years earlier from a brain aneurysm. She’d just stopped talking, her face had contorted, and she’d dropped dead, right in front of him and his sister. It’d been the biggest shock he’d ever had, and he’d been lost. He and his mom had been real close; she’d always been there for him, so when she’d left him, his universe was off-kilter. It’d stayed that way until he’d met Mariah.

They’d fallen in love too fast and too completely, and a year later, he’d asked her to be his old lady. He’d received his full colors a few months before, so he’d been ready to make her his forever. It’d been a snowy day; they sat by the fire, kissing and touching each other until he thought he’d burst. Then he’d asked her, and she’d cried while nodding enthusiastically.

That had been a great time for Throttle, and six months later, he’d sneaked away early from the bike rally in Kansas to go home. He’d missed her too much, and wanted to surprise her. When he arrived at their house, he spotted Pony’s—another brother—motorcycle in the driveway. He rushed in to the sounds his old lady and a fellow brother made while they fucked, filling the small house. Throttle’s homecoming had morphed into a goddamned cliché. Seeing red, he’d charged into the room and saw the love of his life bent over, her ass in the air, taking Pony’s cock. He’d nearly killed Pony that night. Mariah, in a panic, had phoned the club. If Banger and Hawk hadn’t pulled him off, Throttle would’ve had his ass in prison for a long stint. After the brothers had taken Pony’s beaten body away, Throttle told Mariah he never wanted to see her again. A block of ice had encased his heart that night, and he walked away from her without even a backward look.

At church the next day, the consensus had been that Pony didn’t deserve to wear the Insurgents’ colors. Fucking someone’s old lady was grounds for banishment, and that had been what the club had done; they stripped Pony of his colors and threw his ass out. He’d walked out, his head held down in shame. He and Mariah had married and left Pinewood Springs since he was no longer safe.

Throttle had moved to the clubhouse, where he still lived. He’d sworn he’d
never
let another woman near his heart. He decided love was overrated, and he’d lost himself in easy pussy and a hedonistic lifestyle for years. And it suited him perfectly until
she
crashed into his life. It’d taken him by surprise because she was unlike any woman he’d ever dated, fucked, or known. How was it that Kimber was the only woman he could think of?

“I figured we should stop eye-fucking each other and just get to it.” The woman from across the room leaned in close, her breath hot against his neck.

“I didn’t mean to stare. You reminded me of someone from my past.” He turned away.

“A good memory?” She scratched the back of his neck.

He craned his neck and fixed a hard look on her. “No. Believe me, sweetheart, you don’t want to go there. Find yourself another brother.” He stared ahead, seeing her surprised look reflected in the mirror behind the bar. There must have been something in his gaze that told her not to fuck with him, because she moved away and got lost in the crowd.

He finished his beer, slapped Rock on the back, who had his tongue halfway down the blonde’s throat, and left the great room. Taking the stairs two at a time, he reached his room, shut the door on all the noise, pulled out a bottle of Jack from his dresser, and lit a joint. That night, he planned to chase away the past and the present with booze.