Throttle's Seduction: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 7) (32 page)

The distaste in their mouths and cores had been washed away by the Skull Crushers’ blood.

They would be no more.

Mission accomplished.

O
n day three
of not hearing from Throttle, Kimber decided that instead of overanalyzing, she’d simply ask one of the prospects who were stationed outside her house. She hadn’t been able to focus, which wasn’t good for the customers or her studies, and as much as she attempted to stay positive, worst-case scenarios kept flitting through her mind.

She stepped out on her porch and recognized Puck as the one on duty. “Hi,” she said casually.

He stretched his neck toward her and grunted. She wondered if grunting was one of the requirements of becoming a full-patched member. She made a mental note to ask Throttle about it after she wrung his neck for worrying her; that was if he were okay.
He
has
to be okay.

She held out a can of Coors to Puck. “Do you want one? It’s so damn hot out here.”

He shook his head, his eyes darting back to the cluster of trees across the street from her. “Why don’t you come inside? I know Throttle would be cool with that. I mean, you’re here to make sure no one breaks in, so being in or out really makes no difference. Right?”

He didn’t answer, just kept staring.
Guess the answer’s no.
“Do you know when Throttle is supposed to get back?”

He shook his head, and she resisted the temptation to clobber him with her potted plants. “He’s okay, isn’t he? I mean, I haven’t heard from him in three days. I’m worried. Can’t you give me
something
to ease my mind?”

“Don’t know anything.”

So he
can
talk. Good to know.
“Is there any way you can find out?”

He shook his head, jaw jutted out, then turned his chair so his back faced her. Taking that as her cue that the “conversation” was over, she walked back inside the house and put the beer in the refrigerator. Then she sat down on the couch, wishing Throttle would call or text her. An empty feeling in the pit of her stomach frayed all her nerves. She couldn’t just sit around, glancing at her phone, wondering if he was going to contact her.

She leapt up, grabbed her keys, and jumped on her Harley. Swinging a right at the stop sign, she headed to the Insurgents’ clubhouse to find someone who could answer her questions.

When she pulled up to the electrified gate, Blade was the member on duty. She threw him a smile. “Can you open the gate, please?”

He stared stone-faced and picked up a receiver. Her eyes widened. “Are you serious? You have to call to see if
I
can come in?”

“You have ties with the Demon Riders. Gotta check.”

She couldn’t believe her connection to Chewy a few years back put her on the “Do Not Enter” list with the club. Why she didn’t just live a normal life in the citizen’s world escaped her; it’d be a lot simpler. But she knew the danger and edge the outlaw world had were what attracted her. Besides, she was hopelessly in love with Throttle.

“Okay. Got it.” Blade set the receiver back in its cradle and opened the gate, stepping aside to make room for her bike.

“Thanks.” She drove through, not expecting him to answer. She pulled into a spot near the front entrance. Brushing back her hair, she walked inside. Each time she had come to the club, the great room was dimly lit, so she was surprised when she entered a brightly lit room. The usual black curtains were open, letting the natural light through all the windows.

Johnnie was at the bar, and it seemed like he was taking inventory of the bottles; he had a notebook and pen and was jotting something in it when she approached. He didn’t look up. Exasperation at all outlaw bikers fell over her. She was not in the mood for this crap.

“Where’s Banger’s office?”

“He expecting you?”

“You didn’t answer my question. Where is it?”

“He expecting you?” The repeated question grated on her nerves.

“Look, you can tell me, or I can walk down the hallway and open every door until I find it.”

“I’m thinking he’s not expecting you. Wait.” He slipped away from the hall and swaggered down the hall.

Kimber counted the liquor bottles while she waited for him to come back. When she left her house, she’d made the decision that she wasn’t going to leave the clubhouse until she found out if Throttle was all right. She may end up bruised and bloody, but she was going to find out the answers to her questions one way or the other.

“Down the hall, last door on the left,” he said as Johnnie went behind the bar once more, picked up his notebook, and turned his back to her.

She walked away, her stomach clenching. When she was at Banger’s door, she knocked and entered when he yelled out. She saw an attractive older man with a beard and piercing blue eyes. Her insides quivered, but she willed her frazzled nerves to calm down as she stood in front of his desk.

“Sit down.” He held her gaze as she settled into the chair. “What can I do for you?”

He acted like he’d never seen her before, and she wondered if he’d forgotten her even though they spent time together as a group at the expo a couple weeks before. She swallowed, then caught his gaze. “I don’t know if you remember me but—”

“I know who you are. What do you want?” His voice was gruff and mixed with impatience.

“I haven’t heard from Throttle in three days, and I’m worried sick. I can’t concentrate, and I’m doing a shitty job at work. I don’t need to know where he is, but I need to know if he’s safe. That’s all.” She broke eye contact and wrung her hands in her lap.

Banger’s eyes narrowed. “He’s on club business.”

“I know that,” she snapped. “I just want to know how he is.”

“Fine.” He bent his head down and reviewed a document in front of him.

That’s it? Fine?
She sat there, the silence squeezing against her.

With his head still bent, he said, “You still here?”

“I was hoping you could add something more to ‘fine’.” Her heartbeat thumped against her rib cage.

He looked up, his gaze penetrating. “I gotta admit you got guts coming in here. But you better never fuckin’ come in here again when Throttle’s out on club business. We’re done here.” He lowered his head again in a dismissive way.

She stood from the chair and padded to the door. Kimber looked over her shoulder at the president. “Thank you for seeing me and easing my mind. I’m sorry I disturbed you.”

He grunted and she left the office, heading straight for her motorcycle. When she put the key in the ignition, her phone pinged. Her stomach leapt as she opened the text.

Throttle:
Headed back. Should be there around 9.

Kimber:
Is everything okay?

She waited for a while, but there was no response. She knew he’d have to come back to the clubhouse to brief Banger on what went on during their “club business.” Smiling, she rushed home and packed an overnight bag. She’d surprise him when he came back.

“Throttle’s on his way home, so I’m going to meet him at the clubhouse in a couple hours. You don’t need to stay,” she told Puck.

“I stay until one of the brothers tells me not to.”

She shrugged and went inside to take a long bath; after worrying for three days, it’d feel good to relax. She slathered on her rose-patchouli cream to make her skin extra soft for her man. Humming, she lit a couple of sandalwood incense sticks before she slipped into the tub, the warm water and bubbles splashing around her.

After one of the best baths she’d had in a long time, she gathered all her belongings and checked herself out in the mirror one last time. Her yellow crochet crop top complemented the tattoos on her arms and shoulder. Straightening her short jean skirt, she fluffed her damp hair with her fingers and then set the alarm.

“I’m off, Puck. Call Banger or someone so you can leave.” She waved and placed her bag in the saddlebags. She knew he wouldn’t call anyone. Prospects weren’t allowed to do any of that; he’d stay on the porch until he was told to leave. She made a mental note to tell one of the brothers that Puck didn’t have to finish out the night at her house.

When she walked into the clubhouse, the sun was just setting, and more brothers and women were around than when she’d been there earlier. The men glanced in her direction, but the minute they recognized her, they turned around. Relief spread over her—being Throttle’s woman had its advantages. She ordered a whiskey sour and sipped it as she waited for Throttle to walk through the door.

An hour later, a low rumble—anyone not familiar with Harleys would have mistaken it for thunder—thrummed in her ears. A jolt of adrenaline surged through her as she stared at the door, a wide grin on her face. When the roar became deafening, she knew Throttle was minutes from coming in. She rose from the barstool and planted herself near the front door.

It swung open and Jerry, Hawk, Axe, and Jax came in first, their faces and arms banged up in varying degrees of hideousness. Then Bear, Bones, Tigger, and Throttle came in and she flew to him, wrapping her arms around him, kissing his battered face. From the way he stepped back, she figured he hadn’t expected her to be there. Recovering, he picked her up and swung her around. She looped her legs around his trim waist and buried her head in his neck, inhaling the scent of him mixed with the wind and the night.

He carried her up to his room and placed her on the bed, kissing her deeply like he was a starved man and she was his only sustenance. “I missed you so fuckin’ much,” he whispered against her lips.

“Me too. I thought I’d die when I didn’t hear from you.”

“I couldn’t call. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to.”

“It doesn’t matter now. You’re home. I’m so happy.” She ran her fingers through his windblown hair, tugging them through the tangles.

“I’ll be back, babe. We got church, but it shouldn’t be too long.”

“You better go. I’m already on Banger’s shit list.”

“How come?” He kissed her shoulders.

“I came here to ask if you were okay. He didn’t take too kindly to that.”

He burst out laughing. “You fuckin’ did that? That’s gutsy and downright insane. I know Banger’s gonna give me shit for
that
one.”

“Sorry. I was just so worried, I didn’t think.”

“No worries, babe. It’s too fuckin’ funny.” He hovered over her, and that’s when she saw how badly bruised and swollen his face was.

“Damn! What the hell happened to you?” She reached out and gently caressed him. “Are you all right?”

“It looks worse than it is. I’m good. Nothing broken or requiring stitches.” He kissed her hard on the lips. “I gotta go. When I get back, we’ll have some fun.” He hoisted himself off the bed and walked out of the room.

Kimber was shocked when she saw the condition of his face. She wondered what the other guy looked like. Knowing Throttle, he gave better than he got. She decided to bring in her overnight bag and change into something sexy before he came back to the room. For the past few days, she’d ached something terrible for Throttle; her body was already tingling in anticipation of what was to come. She hoped church would be short, because she had a hunger that nothing but Throttle could satisfy.

When the doorknob turned a half hour later, Kimber was ready to tackle him and take him on the floor. Her whole body hummed with desire, and the throbbing between her legs had started when she pictured him touching her in her mind. She saw the haze of lust in his dark eyes the minute they roamed over her body, encased in a black stretch fishnet and lace-trim halter teddy with bows. The teddy had front and side ribbon ties, and the back exposed her ass with a ribbon acting as a thong.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath. He rushed to her, crushing her to him, grabbing her ass cheeks. “Damn. You’re so soft and you smell amazing.”

They kissed deeply, their hands touching, scratching, and groping each other as though they hadn’t been together in years. She unzipped his jeans and shoved them past his narrow hips, and he kicked off his boots and stepped out of his pants and boxers. He yanked his shirt over his head and stood before her naked, his pulsing cock begging for attention.

She dropped to her knees and, catching his eyes, she ran the tip of her tongue over his smooth, warm head, loving the brine of his pre-come. He groaned and dug his fingers into her hair as she licked him up and down, wanting all of him in her mouth. She never broke her sultry eye contact with him.

When he was close to coming, he pulled out and looped his hands under her arms, lifting her up. “I want to taste your sweet pussy,” he rasped against her ear, his lips tickling her. “And I wanna fuckin’ untie all those bows.” He nudged her down on the bed and devoured her lips.

She arched her back, her pert tits straining against the fishnet material, a pink, hardened nipple peeking out from one of the eyelets. He ran his thumb over it and electrified pleasure zapped her like thousands of live wires. She dug her nails in his taut skin, wanting to melt into him, to become as one.

“I want to unwrap you,” he said huskily as his mouth trailed down past her collarbone. When he arrived at the tie that kept her breasts covered, he tugged on it with his teeth and it came undone, revealing her small, high tits. He lowered his head and captured her aching nipples in his mouth, sucking deeply, biting them just enough to cause a bit of pain to mix with the pleasure surging through her.

“That feels so good, Throttle. You can bite them harder.”

“You like the pain, babe?”

“Uh-huh. So good.”

He leaned over, took out a plastic bag, then came back to her, feathering kisses all over her neck and shoulders. “You ever tried nipple clamps?”

She paused. She’d heard about them and had always been intrigued since her nipples were one of her most erogenous zones on her body, but she’d never used them. “No,” she breathed, her stomach doing small flips.

“You wanna do it? I won’t put them on too tight. You can tell me how much pressure you want. They’ll make you feel fuckin’ awesome.” He kissed her, slipping his tongue through her parted lips, his hands playing with her tits.