Throttle's Seduction(Insurgents MC Romance Book 7)(7)By: Chiah Wilder
By the time Throttle arrived back at the clubhouse, he was fuming. Who the fuck did the little bitch think she was? He ought to teach her a lesson about disrespecting an Insurgent. And what the hell was Hawk smoking? Hiring a chick mechanic. Cara had definitely brainwashed him, and he was thinking with his cock instead of his brain. Fuck it! He slammed the club door behind him and went to Banger’s office.
“When’s my bike gonna be ready?” Banger asked as Throttle slumped into the chair in front of his desk.
“Tomorrow at closing. Did you know a bitch is working on your Harley? Can you fuckin’ imagine that? What the hell was Hawk thinking?”
“You mean Kimber? She does damn good work. Bruce over in Silver Ridge recommended her. Seems she was workin’ there for a couple years.”
“You’re cool with this?”
“Yeah. I don’t give a shit if it’s a baboon fixin’ my bike, as long as it’s done right.”
They’ve all become fuckin’ pussies now that they got old ladies. One more reason not to have an anchor around my cock.
“Does it bother you?” Banger asked, an amused smile playing on his lips.
“Yeah, it sure as shit does. You can let her get her nail-polished fingers all over your bike, but she’s not ever gonna touch mine. I’m gonna make sure Hawk is clear ‘bout that.”
Banger shrugged. “Rock was lookin’ for you a few minutes ago.”
“Thanks.” He pushed himself out of the chair and sauntered out. He was still pissed as hell when he bumped into Rock coming down the stairs.
“Good, you’re back. Fuck, why didn’t you tell me how hot those two bitches are? We’ve been having a good time, but the redhead is anxious to have your cock up her ass.” He chuckled. “And it’s a very sweet one.”
“I don’t know. I’m not really into it right now.”
Rock stared at Throttle. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m just pissed as hell. Did you know Hawk hired a chick as a mechanic?”
He shook his head. “When did he do that?”
“Fuck if I know. And she’s got a real mouth on her.”
“Is she hot in her little greaser outfit?”
Throttle glared. “She’s a bitch. I mean, she looked okay, but she doesn’t have any tits, at least not the big ones I like. What the hell am I sayin’? Even if she had humungous tits, I’d never be interested. She’s a smartass, and she’s got pink shit in her hair. No way is she ever touching my bike.”
Rock laughed. “I gotta check out this chick who’s got you all riled up.”
Throttle crossed his arms across his muscular chest. “She hasn’t got me riled up. I don’t give a fuck.”
“Really? You coulda fooled me. Let’s go and have some fun with the horny bitches in my room.”
What the hell was wrong with him? When he left, he’d been anxious to get back to the two women’s pussies, but now he was too pissed to even get it up. It was all her fault. What was her name? Something like timber. Oh yeah. Kimber. Well, fuck her!
When he and Rock came up to the third floor, Throttle went to his room, shrugging off a surprised Rock. Since Throttle had been elected Road Captain for the club, he had been moved from his room in the basement to one of the officers’ rooms on the third floor. He liked being closer to the club whores who had rooms in the attic; it made it easier when he was horny as hell. Since he’d patched in with the Insurgents fifteen years ago, he’d always lived at the club. He never saw any reason for moving away and getting a place of his own.
He slammed his door and peeled off his T-shirt, anxious to take a cool shower to wash off the sweat of the day. After an hour, he sat naked on his bed, a glass of Jack Daniels in one hand and a joint in the other, staring at the TV screen, watching the images of the world’s disasters play out on the international news. The sound had been muted—he rarely listened to what the establishment said—and the image of Kimber leaning over the counter with her uniform tight across her ass floated front and center in his mind. Why the hell he was thinking of her pissed him off immensely. He’d have to put her in her place. Tomorrow, I’ll go to Hawk’s shop and set her straight. Show her not to mess with me. A faint tingle of anticipation pricked at him, but he crushed it with another large glass of whiskey. He didn’t have time for that. She wasn’t even his type. Hell, it looked like she had mosquito bites for tits. Besides, she was a chick who was a mechanic. In his world, that concept didn’t make any sense.