Throttle's Seduction(Insurgents MC Romance Book 7)(8)

Without hesitation, he strode over to her long dresser and opened the  top drawer. In his experience, women usually kept their lingerie in the  first drawer of their dressers. And Leah did not disappoint him-various  colors and shapes of panties and bras dazzled him. Picking them up, he  caressed his cheek with their silkiness, marveling at how soft they felt  against his skin. As he lost himself in the world of undergarments, his  phone rang, startling him out of his euphoria. Looking up, he caught a  glimpse of himself in the dresser mirror: bikini panties in his hands,  lust glazing his eyes, stiffness punching against his jeans. Then  disgust washed away the excitement, and self-loathing set in as he  dropped the panties on the dresser. Tears poured down his tanned cheeks  and he sat on the edge of her bed, his head in his hands, sobbing.

After a long time, he pulled himself together, picking out the gold  panty he'd seen Leah wearing the previous night, and a periwinkle blue  one. Shoving them in his pockets, he closed the dresser drawer-making  sure not to look in the mirror-then slipped downstairs and out the  sliding door.

By the time he returned home, he was horny as hell, and he bolted all  the locks on his doors and sat on the couch in his darkened family room.  He slowly took the panties out of his pocket, unzipped his jeans, and  firmly grabbed his hardness. Placing the gold prize over his dick, he  began rubbing it up and down. Leaning his head against the wall, he  closed his eyes and let the image of Leah undressing in her room play  out in his mind.

* * *

Kimber sat cross-legged on her kitchen chair, munching on a piece of  buttered toast with blueberry jam, reading the Pinewood Springs Tribune.  Even though everyone she knew received their news via the Internet, she  still liked browsing through the newspaper, loving the smell and feel  of the ink under her fingertips.

As she scanned the local news section, a small article caught her eye:  "Lingerie Bandit Strikes Again." Intrigued by the heading, she read the  most bizarre story in the paper that day. Amazed at how weird people  were, she wondered what compelled the perpetrator to risk breaking into a  woman's house to steal a couple pairs of panties. Shaking her head, she  pushed the paper away and poured herself another glass of orange juice.

She stared out the large window above her sink. The main reason she'd  decided on renting this house was because of the windows; there were  many and they let in a lot of light. Running a hand through her hair,  she was happy that she didn't have to be to work until noon. Kimber  wondered if he'd be in the shop when she arrived. Why did she even care?  It wasn't anything to her, but she found herself secretly hoping she'd  bump into him. Not that she wanted anything with him, but he was good  eye candy, and she enjoyed teasing him because it pissed him off so  much. When she recalled how he'd checked her out the previous day, her  stomach did that weird flip-flop thing and it made her mad. She couldn't  let herself be involved with another biker. And even if she wanted to,  it was obvious the guy hated her for daring to throw a wrench in his  chauvinistic idea of what jobs women should have. For a man to have that  attitude in the twenty-first century was unbelievable.                       
       
           



       

She wasn't shocked at his reaction to her being a mechanic. She'd hung  with bikers for most of her life, and more than the majority of them  felt that a woman shouldn't mess around in a man's world. Even though  the guys she knew weren't in one-percenter clubs, they were still just  as bad. A friend of hers became the old lady of an outlaw biker, and she  couldn't even speak her mind lest his club brothers think he didn't  have a respectful wife. For Kimber, that was bullshit and a very small  step away from damn slavery. No way would she ever sign up for that  crap.

Since she'd run away from her ex, she'd thrown herself into her work,  and now school. She attended Pinewood Springs Community College  part-time and her area of study was business. Ever since she could  remember, she'd dreamed of owning her own motorcycle repair shop, and  taking business classes was the first step in fulfilling her  aspirations.

All work and no play wasn't the best way to meet people. Her only real  friend was Sarah, who she met at a bike rally soon after she came to  Pinewood Springs. She didn't know her very well, but so far they seemed  to have some things in common. Sarah loved bikes and bikers, but she  also loved cowboys. She was always game to go out on the weekends, and  they usually had a good time. Sometimes she was too much when it came to  men, though, and Kimber thought she threw caution to the wind when  she'd leave with men she'd just met at the bars.

Maybe Riley, the cowboy man, would turn out to be someone Kimber would  actually like to date. She hadn't dated very much in Silver Ridge, and  since she'd come to Pinewood Springs, she'd only had a few dates,  nothing serious. She couldn't remember the last time she'd screwed  anyone worthwhile. Hell, she couldn't remember the last time she'd been  with a man. She was so overdue. Maybe that's why I keep thinking about  that jerk friend of Hawk's. Damn, the way he looked at me with his deep  black eyes made me want to melt at his feet. Fuck, Kimber, if Riley is  halfway decent, you gotta get laid tonight.

She couldn't risk even fantasizing about Throttle's mouth on hers-it was  too dangerous. What was it with her and bikers? Shaking her head, she  decided to go to work early-she could use the hours. As she pulled her  sleek mane up in a high bun, a small shiver of excitement ran through  her in anticipation of seeing Throttle. If he were at the shop, she'd  make a real effort to be civil to him, maybe even a bit flirty, but if  he said anything stupid-and the chance of that was extremely high-she'd  cut him down to size. Biker or not, gorgeous or not, there was no way  she was ever going to let a man get the best of her. Been there, done  that.

Walking out into the heat of the day, she pushed up the kickstand and  swung her leg over her bike. After she'd sold her dad's shop, her first  purchase was a Harley Street Glide Special. She'd popped for the custom  metallic pink body and loved the way it shimmered, its brightness  bouncing off all the chrome. Her bike was her baby and her best purchase  ever. Grasping the handlebars, she revved the engine and pulled away  from the curb.





Chapter Six





"You wanna grab a beer?" Rags asked as he loaded one of the lawnmowers in the back of the truck.

"Love to, but I got a date in a few so I gotta get back and clean up," Throttle replied.

"A date? Who's the victim?"

Throttle chuckled as he pulled the chain through the wheels of the lawn equipment. "The new waitress at Ruthie's."

"The blonde with the big tits?"

"Yep, and I got all kinds of shit planned for those big tits." He pulled  out a bottled water from the cooler and guzzled it. "She's been  eye-fucking me for a while." He threw a water to Rags.

Catching it, he unscrewed the top. "What took you so long to hook up with her?"

"Wanted her to appreciate me more when I banged her."

Downing his cold water in one long gulp, Rags crushed the plastic bottle  and threw it in the bed of the truck. "You lucky bastard. I've had my  eye on her for a while, but she wouldn't give me the time of day.  What're your plans?"

"Have some chow at Ruthie's-Big Tits loves to wait on me-then take her to Arrow Lake and fuck her like she's never been fucked."

"Aren't you worried ‘bout her wanting more than tonight, or have you decided on taking seconds?"

"Hell no. With the citizen chicks, I'm always upfront with ‘em. I tell  them how it is with me. If they don't like it, they don't have to hook  up with me. If I do seconds with the citizens, they always read way more  into it. Not up for that shit. From the start, I tell the women it's a  one-night stand only. I was honest with Big Tits."                       
       
           



       

"Sounds good, but it doesn't always work. Remember Tina? Fuck, how many times did she call and text you a day?"

Throttle pulled out another bottle of water. "Tina was a fuckin' psycho.  She practically had us married. She'd call me all the time and text me  nonstop, but I never responded. Not once. After a couple weeks, she  caught on." He laughed and took his truck keys out of his pocket. "I  sometimes bump into her at the liquor store and she always gives me the  death stare. Fuck, you'd think she would've moved on by now."

"You better hope this one tonight is okay with your ‘fuck ‘em and forget ‘em' rule."