Throttle's Seduction: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 7) (33 page)

“Put them on,” she whispered against his mouth, her body at an insane level of passion mixed with apprehension.

He tore open the package with his teeth and a long chain with two clamps on either side fell out. When she saw the clamps, they reminded her of something medieval, and her mouth went dry.

“You okay?” he asked softly, kissing her jawline.

“It looks like it could hurt.”

“These have rubber tips so they’ll be fine. There will be some pain, but that’s the point. If you don’t like it, I’ll take them off. You tell me the pressure you want. You wanna try?”

She swallowed and nodded. He moved down and flicked his tongue over one of her nipples, his fingers playing with the other one until they were hard points. Then he opened the clamps and put them over her nipples. The tantalizing pinch made her gasp. “Too tight?” he asked.

“No. I want it tighter.”

He smiled. “You’re perfect for me, babe.” He tightened the tension screws until she told him it was enough. When he leaned back, his hungry eyes devoured her. Her nipples tingled with extreme pleasure and a nip of pain, but when he pulled on the chain, her ass jumped up from the mattress; the gratification was so intense. Each time she moved, the weighted chain would pull on her sensitive nipples, causing waves of rapture flooding through her. Never had she felt something so mind-blowing. The more she moaned, the faster he undid her ribbons until she was finally naked beneath him, thrashing under his expert touch.

As he licked her closer to climax, he tugged on her chain, driving her wild with pleasure. Just when she was ready to lose it, he pulled back. “I want you on your knees. I have another surprise for you that’ll give you a lot of pleasure.” He pulled her up by her chain, and the act of him leading her to her knees by using it turned her on to no end. She felt submissive to him, and she let him take control. Sometimes she liked it after having to defend herself for her choice of profession. And she worked in a male-dominated arena, so letting go was a real treat.

She knelt on the bed, her ass facing him as the dangling chain swung, pulling at her nipples. When he buried his fingers between her slick folds, she cried out and he gently yanked her chain and kissed her lower back.

“You must love the clamps because you’re sopping. Fuck, I love the way your juices feel against my fingers. I fuckin’ love your pussy.” His tongue dove into her heated slit while his fingers worked her clit, and she didn’t think she could hold on anymore. “Don’t come yet,” he ordered, then dipped his tongue inside her.

“I don’t think I can hold it any longer,” she panted.

“Don’t come.” He pulled away.

Her throbbing mound felt empty. She was mad with desire, and he kept teasing her. Did he want to drive her crazy? He sure was doing a good job of it. “I need to come and feel you inside me,” she whined.

He smacked her ass and she jumped, the sting making her hornier. Then his warm tongue licking her ass cheek soothed the sting, and her sex throbbed like mad. She heard rustling and turned to look over her shoulder. He had another plastic bag in his hands. “What’s that?” she asked.

He smiled devilishly and took out a bright pink object that she recognized immediately as a butt plug. Chewy had put one in her a few times, but he’d been so rough that she didn’t find the experience pleasant. “You ever try a butt plug?” He pulled out a tube of lube.

“Yeah. I hated it. Do you always keep sex toys in your drawers?”

He laughed. “I got this one for you. Notice the color? I bet the asshole who tried one on you didn’t know what the hell he was doing.”

“You’re right on that.”

“I know what to do. If it gets too painful, let me know. Remember, our word is ‘checkers.’ You say that and I stop, okay?”

He seemed fascinated with her ass, so she’d allow him this one time to prove it was worth her giving it to him. If she didn’t like it, she’d definitely let him know. “Okay, but be gentle.”

She watched him slather lube on the pink plug before he leaned over and kissed, bit, and licked her firm globes, kneading them with his hands.

“I love your ass, babe. I’m not gonna fuck it tonight, but I’m getting you ready for when I do. Your ass turns me way the hell on.” He slapped her cheeks a few more times, then pulled on her chain. She ground her butt against his rock-hard dick as she moaned and threw her head back. Tangling her hair around his hand, he jerked her head back and kissed her neck. “I love watching you squirm and wiggle from pleasure. You like the pain, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” He yanked hard on her chain and she cried out, the sweet agony hitting her drenched mound.

“Here we go, babe. Just relax and breathe. It’ll be good, I promise.” She felt him part her cheeks. When the slippery tip of the plug entered her puckered opening, it felt so good. “Your hole is so damn tight. Love that.” He pushed further until it was inside her ass. “How’s it feel?” he asked as he rubbed his hands over her rounded globes.

“It feels good but weird. Like I’m all full up.”

“Wait ‘til you come. You’re gonna love it.” He wiggled the base and her insides lit up like a blowtorch. Then he slipped his finger between her swollen lips and stroked her sweet spot as he pushed his cock through her slit.

“Oh fuck, that feels good,” she rasped, pushing her ass higher.

In and out he thrust while his finger stroked the side of her hardened nub. She slipped her hand under her and tugged the chain, her nipples bursting with sweet pain.

“You want it harder?” he growled.

“Yeah. Harder.”

He rode her rough and hard, and each time his balls slapped against her ass it felt amazing with the plug inside. The scent of their arousal surrounded them, and her moans and cries filled the room as they both neared their climax. Then her pussy and ass pulsed and her wet walls clung to his stiff dick as she burst in thousands of pieces, her muscles contracting, her nerves zapping crazily. As she rode her orgasmic rapture, she felt Throttle stiffen, then grunt deep and loud as his hot streams filled her up and her muscles tightened around him, milking every last drop. Not able to stop the quivering in her legs, she collapsed on the bed with Throttle covering her back as he came down from his own euphoria.

They panted in rhythm and soon their breathing returned to normal. She couldn’t believe how intense her orgasm was; she’d never experienced one of such magnitude before. He rolled to his side and moved her to her back. Smiling, he kissed her deeply. “How was it?” he asked as he nuzzled her neck.

“Fucking awesome. The butt plug rules.”

He laughed and mussed her hair. She reached to take off the clamps but he grabbed her hand. “You can’t just take them off because you’ll be in a lot of pain as the blood rushes back in. Let me do it. It’ll hurt for a second, but then it’ll be okay.” He gently took off the first clamp and a searing pain stabbed her nipple and she yelled out, but it went away as he sucked it in his mouth, licking it. He did the same with the second clamp. “Do you wanna take out the butt plug?”

“No. I’ll leave it in until tomorrow. I like the way it feels.”

He kissed her. “Good girl.”

She turned toward him, kissed his chin, and hooked her arm around his waist. That night was perfect; they’d been connected through passion, understanding, respect, and love… at least for her. Kimber still wasn’t sure if Throttle was in love with her, but the way they connected that night made her suspect he was. If only he’d tell her.

She leaned over and turned off the lamp, then snuggled back against him. The moonlight lit up his face. Even with the swelling, bruising, and cuts, he was still the most handsome man she’d ever met. She couldn’t lose him—she’d waited thirty years to have him in her life. He’d fallen asleep right away, and she’d presumed it was from the long trip and their intense lovemaking.

She closed her eyes, happy he was back and she was in his arms—exactly where she belonged.

D
etective McCue chewed
his gum as he looked at his board listing the similarities of the women who’d been killed. He was stumped; they all appeared to be random. The glaring inconsistency was that two of the women who’d been murdered had been out of the killer’s usual area. There had to be a clue in that.
It’s probably staring at me, ready to bite me in the ass. Damnit! I know there’s something here that links some of the victims.
He sat on his desk staring at the board, willing the murdered victims to tell him something.

The women who had been raped or sexually molested had not proved to be much help in aiding the artist in drawing a composite of the perpetrator. The attacks had been at night, usually moonless ones, and the women had been so terrified that all they could remember was that he was about five eleven and had a soothing voice. Not a whole lot to go on. He poured another cup of coffee and went over the facts of each case again.

The evidence they’d collected—a couple footprints and some semen—didn’t pan out either. The DNA results were plugged into CODIS—the National DNA Index System—but there wasn’t a hit, indicating the murderer wasn’t in the criminal justice system, which stumped him more. How could someone burst onto the crime scene with that level of depravity and never have come in contact with law enforcement?

McCue’s gaze stopped on Deputy Manzik. Every time he looked at her picture, his chest would grow tight. She didn’t deserve to die the way she did; none of the victims did.

“Find out anything?” a voice asked from behind him.

He craned his neck and his gaze fell on Sergeant Stichler—Sharon’s nemesis. A knot of muscles on the side of his jaw pulsed. “Nope.”

“The case stumping the big-city detective?” Stichler laughed, and McCue gripped the side of his desk to keep from punching him.

“You want something?”

“I had to talk to the chief about something. I knew being a police woman was going to get her in trouble.” He pointed to Deputy Manzik’s photo. “Men don’t like it when women take on their roles. It’s not natural, you know? Like that woman who works at Thunderbird Motorcycle Repair shop. She’s a mechanic. Now that’s just crazy.”

He wanted the ignorant sergeant to get the hell away from him. “What’s your point?”

“Men don’t like that shit. It makes them feel like less than a man. You know. I can’t think of the word I want to say.”

“Emasculated?”

The sergeant’s face lit up. “Yep, that’s the word. I think women should stick to what they know and let the men do the hard, tough jobs. Like how can this woman mechanic be better at fixing Harleys than a man? It’s all messed up. The place is owned by an Insurgent, so I’m surprised he’s allowing that. Probably doing a favor for a buddy’s daughter.”

“I don’t ride so I don’t know the shop, but are you saying Deputy Manzik didn’t do her job as well as the other deputies in the department?”

“I cut her a lot of slack because she was a woman. She was always leaning on the guys to do the tougher stuff. She didn’t belong here.” His eyes narrowed.

“That isn’t what I heard from her colleagues.”

“People feel funny talking shit about the dead.”

“And you obviously don’t.” They locked gazes, both of the hard and steely variety. “I’m busy.” McCue pushed away from the desk and went over to his filing cabinet to pull the robbery case he’d worked on the previous day.

“Okay. Just wondering what was new with the investigation.” The sergeant picked up a muffin from the tray the clerical staff had brought to the investigators, unwrapped it and took a large bite, then ambled out of the office.

Sparks burned through McCue as he watched the sexist man leave. It was people like Stichler who gave the department a bad name. He shook his head and opened the robbery file. After many phone calls, computer searches, and reviews of the file, the detective believed he had a couple suspects in the rash of robberies at several gas stations in and on the outskirts of town.

“How’re things going?” Carlos asked. Detective Ibuado and McCue worked well together, both of them bringing different perspectives to the cases that fell into their laps.

“Good on the gas stations robberies. I’m about to leave to interview one of the witnesses we spoke to the other day. Randy Hillman, remember him?”

“Oh, yeah. He was the one who was bending over backwards to be helpful. I never buy that shit.”

“Me neither.”

“Did you talk to Josh down in the evidence room?”

“Josh? No. Should I?”

“He’s got a theory about the murders. Something he spotted when he was cataloguing all the evidence.”

“Really? I could use all the help I can get. I know not all of these murders are random, especially the one outside his usual area. I’ve been obsessing so much about this case that I can’t figure anything out.”

“You need to take a break from it for one day. I can field anything that may come in. You’ll have a fresher look in a day.”

“Good advice. I’m going to visit Josh and then see what Randy has to say about the robberies. I think a day away from the Lingerie Bandit should give me a fresher perspective.” He picked up his notepad and grabbed a poppy seed muffin. “By the way, how well do you know Sergeant Stichler?”

Carlos shook his head. “Not very well. Why?”

“The guy’s a real asshole. How long has he worked for the department?

“Long time. Before I came, and I’ve been here for almost seventeen years. I think he came in when he was like eighteen or nineteen years old. What’s going on with him?”

“I’m not sure. The gals brought muffins. Help yourself. Later.”

McCue walked the four flights to the basement and flashed his identification to the clerk. “Josh Sender,” he said to the woman. She buzzed him in, and he made his way down the narrow hallway until he stopped in front of the evidence room. He turned the doorknob and went in.

The room smelled dank and musty, and the overhead fluorescent lights flicked and hummed. A man in his late twenties with a mop of dark hair came out. “May I help you?”

“I’m looking for Josh Sender.” McCue shoved a stick of gum in his mouth.

“I’m Josh.”