by Chiah Wilder
Throttle’s Seduction
AN INSURGENTS MC ROMANCE
Chiah Wilder
Copyright © 2016 by Chiah Wilder
Kindle Edition
Editing by Hot Tree Editing
Cover design by Cheeky Covers
Proofreading by Darryl Banner
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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Description
Throttle, Road Captain of the Insurgents Motorcycle Club, likes his women willing, stacked, and no strings attached. His life and needs are simple: riding his Harley, bedding as many women as can fit in his bed, and scorching his throat with whiskey.
The tall, rugged outlaw is a magnet for women who love life on the wild and dangerous side. They know not to expect anything from the tattooed biker but sheer pleasure.
Life couldn’t be better.
Until he meets Kimber. The black-haired mechanic at Hawk’s bike shop. What the f@#k? In his world, the only thing a woman should do on a Harley is spread her pretty legs wide.
She is sassy-mouthed, aggravating, and not his type at all. And he doesn’t need any woman—let alone a chick in mechanic coveralls—messing with his head.
It’s a shame all he can think about is doing nasty things to her on his motorcycle.
Kimber Descourts has had to fight to be accepted in a man’s world and she is not a quitter. Always attracted to the bad boy biker, she has had her share of unfaithful, jerk boyfriends. Swearing off all bikers since her last boyfriend made her his punching bag, she’s content with working on Harleys, taking a few business classes, and being blissfully alone.
Then she meets Throttle.
He’s a cocky, chauvinistic bastard. Oh yeah… he’s also incredibly handsome, built, and sexy as all hell. He’s exactly her type. She should run far away from him, but her body wants him in the worst way.
They say opposites attract, but when a hardened biker and a tough free-spirit ignite, their world combusts. Will their differences bring them together or pull them apart?
In the midst of Throttle and Kimber’s tug of war, a Peeping Tom has been creeping around Pinewood Springs watching ladies behind the shadows of the night. He spots Kimber Descourts and is drawn to her. And he’s beginning to grow bored of just watching….
Can Kimber put her pride aside and ask for Throttle’s help? Is Throttle ready to let the feisty mechanic melt his icy heart?
The Insurgents MC series are standalone romance novels. This is Throttle and Kimber’s love story. This book contains violence, sexual assault (not graphic), strong language, and steamy/graphic sexual scenes. It describes the life and actions of an outlaw motorcycle club. If any of these issues offend you or are triggers, please do not read the book. HEA. No cliffhangers! The book is intended for readers over the age of 18.
Previous Titles in the Series:
Hawk’s Property: Insurgents Motorcycle Club Book 1
Jax’s Dilemma: Insurgents Motorcycle Club Book 2
Chas’s Fervor: Insurgents Motorcycle Club Book 3
Axe’s Fall: Insurgents Motorcycle Club Book 4
Banger’s Ride: Insurgents Motorcycle Club Book 5
Jerry’s Passion: Insurgents Motorcycle Club Book 6
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Description
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Acknowledgments
Author’s Note
About Rock’s Redemption
Chiah Wilder’s Other Books
Prologue
Annie Loftis and her parents arrived home from spending an evening in Clermont Park listening to the free concert and watching the sky light up from the fireworks display. It was a perfect summer night: clear sky with thousands of twinkling stars; a light, cool breeze carrying a subtle whiff of jasmine; and crickets chirping in the trees and shrubbery.
When they entered their home, eighteen-year-old Annie rushed to her room to check out her e-mails and chat with her friends on Facebook. She’d graduated from high school a month before, and she’d decided to work for a year before heading out to college. Happy that her two best friends decided the same thing, she looked forward to a year of hanging out, no studying, and earning more money than she had at her after-school jobs while she’d been in high school.
Her parents, Julia and Kurt, had long gone to bed by the time Annie turned off her computer. Slipping off her cotton top, she unfastened her bra. The man, hidden by the shadows and bushes, sucked his breath in sharply. Although her curtains were pulled, her silhouette danced about like a shadow puppet on a rice paper screen. Her young, pert breasts were outlined perfectly, and the man’s pants grew tighter as he watched her slip on her nightgown, then switch off the light.
He stood there for a long time, watching and waiting. Waiting until the cul-de-sac fell asleep, waiting for the pounding in his ears to stop, waiting for his chance to make his move. And when the moon lit a path to Annie’s opened window, he crept like a lion on the prowl, his sneakers silent on the lush grass. The gleam of the blade from his pocketknife flashed briefly before he cut the window screen.
He’d been watching her for over a week, getting to know the habits of the household. He’d even sneaked inside the home a few days before when the family had gone to a cousin’s house to celebrate a birthday. The man had wanted to familiarize himself with the layout of Annie’s room. On that night, he’d taken one of her pretty lacey bikini panties—the white ones with the baby pink bows all around. They were so sexy, he couldn’t help him
self.
The intruder knew Annie had a large hand-painted trunk to the left of the window, so he had to be careful to avoid it lest he wake her up. With the screen cut, he pushed himself up. He was an athletic fellow, worked out in the gym a lot and watched what he ate. In a couple of movements, he was standing in Annie’s room, hearing her soft breaths as she slept. He inched closer to her double bed, her coconut scent wafting up to his nostrils. A soft smile spread over his lips. Annie was so adorable and young; she had all the innocence and idealism of youth. He’d watch her come and go with her giggling girlfriends, and it almost made him wish he were eighteen again so he could date her.
She stirred in her sleep, a small whimper escaping through her slightly parted lips. He froze. He didn’t want her to wake up, not yet; he wasn’t ready for that. Like a statue he stood, not daring to move a muscle until the deep sounds of her breath assured him she was sleeping heavily. Then he moved next to her bed, looking down at her while he reached in the pocket of his hoodie and took out a roll of duct tape. The rip of the tape bounced off the walls in the quiet room, and Annie stirred again, that time her eyes fluttering open. Bleary sleepiness was soon replaced with bulging eyes fraught with terror, but before she could cry out, he’d secured the tape firmly across her mouth. She thrashed in her bed, her arms flailing, her legs kicking, but she was no match for him. In a matter of seconds, he’d subdued her, her hands taped together as well as her feet. Small whimpers attempted to break through, but the tape caught them and kept them on the surface of her lips. Wetness dampened her cheeks, and in a show of empathy, he brushed the tendrils of hair clinging to the side of her face and wiped away her tears.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered as his eyes slowly ran down the length of her, lingering at her rounded hips before coming back to her frightened brown eyes. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured.
Annie tried to scoot away from him when he caressed her body with his hand. It felt cool to the touch as he slid his fingers over her cotton nightgown, the one with little unicorns and half rainbows. When he touched her bare thigh, she whimpered again and shook her head furiously.
“Shh, little one. You don’t have to be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to see your panties.” He pushed up her nightgown and gasped loudly when his gaze fell on her white bikini undies with tiny purple polka dots. “How perfectly beautiful.” Without hesitation, he reached out and touched them, loving the way the fabric felt on his fingertips. Pushing her nightgown up higher, he stopped just under her breasts. “Do you have a matching bra?”
She nodded, her gaze wide. The intruder glanced at her closed door. The urge to see her in her bra and panties was too great. He took out his pocketknife and a sting of sadness pricked his skin when he saw the fear in her eyes. “Look, I’m not going to hurt you. I want you to put your bra on. I won’t touch you. I just want to see you. Okay?”
She nodded, a tear rolling down the side of her face toward her ear.
“If you try to scream or anything, I’ll hurt your parents. If you do as I say, you and your parents will be all right. Do you understand?”
Again she nodded. He slowly helped her sit up, then carried her over to her dresser. Cutting the tape from her hands, he watched as she rummaged through the first drawer. He spotted a yellow checked panty and grabbed it, stuffing it in the pocket of his hoodie. He’d use it when he returned to his place, when he remembered how pretty Annie was with her perky breasts, soft hips, and in her purple polka-dotted undies.
Annie pulled the matching bra out. He told her to put it on, and she turned her back to do so. The man escorted her back to the bed, secured her hands again, that time above her head, and posed her while he took pictures of her in her underwear. After snapping about sixty pictures in so many provocative poses, he stopped and leaned against the bed. The tightness in his pants was too much. He was harder than he’d been in a long time. Stepping up his voyeurisms and visits into pretty women’s homes when they were out had proven to be very effective.
Unzipping his pants he exposed himself to Annie, who promptly squeezed her eyes shut. The man didn’t care. He didn’t need an audience; he was perfectly content to make himself come into her yellow gingham panties. After several grunts, he spilled his sperm into her undies, making sure to keep it contained. With his head thrown back and eyes closed, his body slowly returned to normal. When he opened his brown eyes, his gaze fixed on hers. He smiled widely, then pushed his limp dick into his pants and zipped them up.
Taking out his pocketknife, he approached Annie, who tried to wiggle away from him. Leaning down, he kissed her gently on the forehead. “Thank you. I appreciate what you did for me tonight.” He cut off the tape from her hands. “Wait until I go. Then you can get up and do what you have to do.”
In two long strides, he was at the window, slipping out. By the time he reached his car around the corner of the cul-de-sac, he heard Annie screaming. He hummed under his breath, switched on the ignition, and disappeared into the darkness of the night.
Chapter One
The 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.”
