Throttle's Seduction: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 7) (2 page)

T
he stacked redhead
slipped her lips around Throttle’s stiff dick, and a jolt of pleasure zapped him. “Fuck,” he murmured as he buried his fingers in her thick curly hair.

“You like that, baby? Mmm… I love the way you taste.”

He chuckled and decided it was going to be a fun afternoon, what with this sexy redhead and her blonde girlfriend who was rubbing her big tits in his face, begging him to suck her hard nipples. Of course he’d have to oblige; after all, the two women had agreed to come to the clubhouse to have a bit of fun with him. He’d met them at the Rusty Nail, a biker bar where a good game of pool with a side of fucking was the norm. All the back rooms were taken, so he’d asked the two chicks to come to the club. They couldn’t drive fast enough. They were definitely biker groupies—women who loved biker cock and wanted a taste of the dark and dangerous life for a night or two.

Throttle was fine with that. New pussy was always fun, and if they proved to be as adventurous as he thought they would be, he may even let them spend the night with him. He normally didn’t do overnights, not even with the club whores or hoodrats, but sometimes he’d make an exception and let a woman or two share his bed.

Damn, the redhead gave good head. He placed his hands on each side of her face and thrust his hips forward, plunging harder and deeper into her throat while he sucked her friend’s pink nipples. The blondie’s rack was big and high, just like he loved it. She pulled away and gave him a deep kiss, her tongue plunging into his mouth, mimicking a dick in a pussy. He pushed her away. He didn’t go in for that kind of shit, didn’t like a woman who was too aggressive in taking control.

“What’s the matter, honey? I’m just showing you what I want your dick to do to my pussy.”

“I’ll get there. Right now, I’m enjoying the way your friend’s sucking my cock. Show me how you can eat her out, sweetheart. I’d fuckin’ love to see that.” Throttle pushed her away and she scooted down and went by the redhead, who parted her knees. The blonde slid between her friend’s knees, flat on her back, then spread the redhead’s wet lips apart and started lapping away. Seeing her pink tongue play with the redhead’s slick sex made him blow hard, his cum shooting down the woman’s throat. It was fucking awesome. He leaned back and watched the blonde play with her friend’s clit as the redhead licked off all the cum from his shaft. Life was just too good sometimes.

The women’s moans filled the room as they pleasured each other, and he grew hard again as he saw them sucking and finger-fucking each other. Throttle ripped open a condom package, slipped it over his throbbing dick, crawled over to the blonde and pulled her off her friend, pushing her on her back as she squealed in delight. Placing her ankles on his shoulders, he rammed his length into her wet slit and pumped it in and out while the redhead sucked on her friend’s hardened nipples. Throttle pushed his finger into the redhead’s pussy and finger-fucked her as he slammed in and out of her friend.

“That feels so good, Throttle,” the blonde moaned as he rode her rough.

He wished he could remember their names, but all he’d been really interested in was the blonde’s rack and the redhead’s ass when they had made conversation at Rusty’s. He’d known from the moment their eyes had landed on his that they’d wanted to fuck him, and he was more than willing to give the women a treat.

Women flocked to Throttle, and regardless that he was known as a cold-hearted bastard, they still wanted to spend time with him even if it was for only a quick screw. At six feet, with long dark brown hair, eyes as black as coal, a perpetual five o’clock shadow, and a sculpted physique, women usually drooled over him. The fact that he was a player and could be a cocky jerk didn’t deter them. With a defined jaw, straight nose, a lopsided grin that melted a woman’s panties, and colorful tats curling around ripped arms and shoulders, Throttle had no shortage of women. In all his thirty-five years, he’d never met a woman he couldn’t bed. And it suited him perfectly, because he wasn’t about to chase any chick. Hell,
they
chased
him
. If a woman started that princess bullshit, well, he was on to the next one without even a backward glance. That was the lifestyle he loved—easy pussy, and the more the merrier.

Just when he spread the redhead’s ass cheeks, positioning his hardness to enter her puckered hole, someone banged loudly on his door. He let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m busy here. Come back.” He pushed onward.

“Open up. Banger’s got something he needs you to do,” Rock’s baritone voice cut through the door.

“Can’t it wait for fifteen minutes or so? I got something I’m doing here.”

“Make him go away,” the blonde pouted as she kneeled behind him and played with his balls.

“I’m fuckin’ tryin’, sweetheart.”

“So, you want me to tell Banger to wait?”

That one question proved to be the perfect cock-blocker. “Shit.” He pushed back with his feet and stood, scooping up his jeans from the floor. “Sorry, ladies. My president is calling.”

The two women, flushed with arousal, looked confused. “You’re going?
Now
?” the redhead asked as she sat up and leaned against the headboard.

Sighing, a deep sense of regret coursing through him, he nodded. “Yep, and you both gotta get your asses outta here. Like now.”

“Don’t you want us to wait until you get back?” the blonde asked as she squeezed her tits.

He groaned. “I don’t know what I have to do. I don’t like people in my room when I’m not here.”

“We’re not just
any
people. Right? Can’t you bend your rules?”

“Baby, you two are some hot chicks, but there’s plenty of hot pussy around here. Now get going. Dress fast. I gotta go.”

The women cursed under their breaths but put on their clothes while throwing Throttle dirty looks. “You said we could party with the brothers tonight.”

“That’s the way it goes. Go back to Rusty’s. You won’t have any problems finding another biker who’s horny. Leave your numbers. I’ll call you when we have a big party. Sound good?” He walked over and squeezed the blonde’s tits and the redhead’s ass. The women laughed, then wrote out their numbers and walked out with him.

Rock smiled broadly at Throttle, his hungry gaze checking out the two women. “Sorry to have disturbed you, but you know how it is when the president wants something.”

“No worries. Hey, these two chicks still wanna party. You doing anything?”

Rock’s black eyes lit up as he shook his head. Throttle leaned in. “The redhead has lips for sucking and an ass made for fucking, and the blonde’s pussy is tight and her tits are damn big.” He winked.

“What’re you two guys whispering about?” the redhead asked, batting her eyelashes.

“My brother here, Rock, is the Sergeant-At-Arms of the club, and he was telling me how hot he thinks you two are.”

“Are you telling us the truth? You’re really the muscle of the club?”

“Yep.”

Throttle shook his head, marveling at the way the biker groupies acted like the officers of an outlaw MC were like gods or something. “He
loves
pleasing women. You think you can take care of my brother while I’m away? If you’re still here when I get back, we can have a foursome. Would you like that?”

The women’s eyes shined as Throttle stood before Banger’s door, ready to knock. Tucked snuggly under each of Rock’s arms, they waved to him, telling him to hurry back as they disappeared in the stairway. Laughing, he knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Banger’s voice boomed.

Throttle walked in and stood in front of his president, who was seated behind his desk. “Rock said you wanted to see me?”

“Yeah. I need you to go over to Hawk’s shop and see if he’s done with my Harley. He’s had the bike for over a week, and I’m getting fuckin’ antsy to ride it.”

Banger pulled me away from a luscious ass to check on his goddamned Harley? Is he fuckin’ serious?
“You can’t get a hold of Hawk?”

Banger narrowed his eyes. “If I could, I wouldn’t tell you to go over to his shop, would I? He’s not at the shop, and he’s not answering his phone. Probably in some damn country club tasting the food for his upcoming wedding. Fuck, he’s turning into a real pansy-ass.” Banger and Throttle chuckled. “Anyway, I want to go on the charity poker run next week, so I need my damn bike back. I’ve got a ton of shit to do here.” Banger waved his hands over the papers scattered on top of his desk.

“Sure, I’ll go. You want me to call when I’m there?”

“No. When you get back you can let me know what’s goin’ on with my Harley.”

“That it?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. Later.” Throttle ambled out of the office, stopping to have a quick beer before he jumped on his bike. Why he couldn’t finish fucking that sexy piece of ass
before
he went on this errand was beyond him. Remembering that the two women would still be at the clubhouse when he returned, he revved his engine and blasted out of the parking lot, eager to finish quickly so he could have some fun with Rock and the sexy girls.

W
hen Throttle entered
Hawk’s shop, a blast of cold air slapped him in the face and he sighed in relief. It was damn hot outside, and he looked forward to the cool nip in the air that autumn always brought to the high mountains.

A lanky teenager sat behind the cashier’s counter, his head bent down as his fingers flew over the keyboard on his phone. Throttle recognized him as Banger’s nephew; he’d seen the kid at a couple barbecues he’d gone to at Banger’s sister’s house.

“Hey, do you know anything about Banger’s Harley?” Throttle looked through the closed door’s glass window at the service garage.

The teenager raised his head and smiled. “Hey. Your name’s Throttle, right?”

He nodded and drummed his fingers on the counter. He wanted to finish fast so he could get back to the horny chicks he’d left at the clubhouse. “So, do you know what’s going on with your uncle’s bike?”

“Not really. Hawk just asked me to watch the place and check customers out while he was gone. He said he’d be back in a couple hours.”

“I got somewhere I need to be. I’ll ask one of the mechanics.”

“That’s a good idea.”

Throttle clenched his jaw in exasperation and headed to the bays. When he stepped into the repair area, oil and gas fumes curled around him. He loved the smell; it always made him think of the ride and the wind wrapping around him. Damn, being on his bike, going a hundred, was better than sex most of the time. It was total freedom, and when he was soaring, it was like an out-of-body experience. He’d never found anything in the world that compared to it.

“Hey, Throttle, what brings you here? You got problems with your 1250?” asked Dwayne. He was the manager of the shop, and he’d been working for Hawk for nearly ten years.

“Nah, my baby’s good. Banger sent me here to see if his bike’s almost ready. He’s going crazy without it. Besides, he’s got a poker run coming up soon.”

Dwayne wiped his brow with a dingy cloth and jerked his head to the right. “I think it’s almost done. Go ask the mechanic.”

Throttle walked over to the third stall and saw a short, slight mechanic bent over Banger’s Harley, turning a wrench. The mechanic’s back was to him, and Throttle noticed a full sleeve of tats and slightly rounded hips. Hard rock blasted from the radio on the shelf next to the stall. Surprised someone so slight could handle a powerful bike like Banger’s, he took a few steps forward and said in a loud voice, “You almost done with this bike?” as he turned the radio down.

The mechanic spun around, and Throttle’s eyes widened when he realized that the dude was a chick. “Uh… sorry, I thought you were the mechanic. Get the guy who’s fixing this bike to come here. I need to talk to him.”

She looked confused. “What? I’m fixin’ this bike. Is it yours?”

Fuck, I don’t have time for someone playin’ a joke on me. I bet Banger and Hawk are in on this.
“Look, darlin’, I got something I gotta do, so I don’t have time to play this out. Be a nice little girl and bring the tech. Now.”

Her blue eyes flashed and she placed her hands on her hips, her chin jutted out. “I’m the tech, so fuckin’ deal with it. And I’m not ‘darling’ or ‘little girl.’ I’m Ms. Descourt. The bike will be ready tomorrow by five o’clock. I’m replacing the alternator. It took a while to get the part in.” She smirked. “You can close your mouth now.”

“You’re the fuckin’ mechanic who’s been working on the president of the Insurgents MC’s bike? I don’t think so.”

She laughed dryly. “I don’t remember asking you what you thought. I’m busy, so move it outta here. Hawk will call Banger and let him know.” She turned around and cranked up the radio, the hard rock beats reverberating off the walls.

Throttle narrowed his eyes, anger crawling over his skin. The bitch had a mouth on her, and she was pretending to be a mechanic. There was no fuckin’ way Hawk hired a chick to do a man’s job. No way the VP would have a chick with a wrench near any Harley. Throttle stormed over to Dwayne and motioned him to follow him back into the shop.

When the heavy metal door closed, Throttle said, “Who the hell is fuckin’ around on Banger’s bike? Man, aren’t you watching what the shit’s going on in the bays?”

Dwayne scrubbed his face with his fist. “Whoa, there. What the hell are you talkin’ about? I have a damn good mechanic fixing his bike.”

“You have a bitch fixin’ his Harley. What the fuck?”

Dwayne burst out laughing. “Is that what this is all about? Kimber’s a damn good mechanic. You know how picky Hawk is. He wouldn’t have hired her if he didn’t think she’d do a good job.”

“Hawk hired her? There’s no way I want her near my bike if it ever needs fixin’. What the hell do chicks know about fixin’ bikes?”

“Kimber’s better than some of the younger guys we have for the summer.”

Before he could answer, the metal door banged open and Kimber walked in, throwing a smile at Dwayne and a grimace at Throttle. She slid between the two men and walked up to the counter. “You got some cold bottled water, Patrick?” She propped her elbows on the counter and rested her chin on her hand.