by Chiah Wilder
He shrugged. Just great. He’s really pissed at me. Men are such babies. “Have another one. I don’t want to drink alone.” She stood up and went behind him, wrapped her arms around him, and kissed the top of his head. “Don’t be mad at me, okay?”
He stared straight ahead. If anyone should be mad, it was her. He hadn’t even asked if she wanted to go to the Denver Motorcycle Expo—he’d just told her. The fact that she was over the moon to go wasn’t the point; he should have asked her. The expo attracted over two hundred thousand people to its annual event, and since its inception thirty years before, it had grown substantially into a necessary event for bikers. For several years, she’d wanted to go, but she was either too busy or too broke to make the trip. Many members of the Demon Riders went every year and hung out with their Denver chapter. For a brief second, she wondered if Chewy would be at the event; she shuddered at the thought.
“You don’t want to talk to me?” she whispered near his ear, licking his earlobe. He shifted a tiny bit in his seat. “I can’t wait to spend the whole weekend with you. I can think of a lot of things we can do, you know?” Still no response, but his breathing had deepened. Slipping her hand under his muscle shirt, she scratched her way down over his hard pecs, his abs, his flat stomach, until the waistband of his jeans blocked her. Her kisses on his jawline and throat were hard and then soft, and when a low moan vibrated in his throat, her skin tingled and a jab of desire hit between her legs. Her hand rested on his jeans.
“Don’t stop yet,” he said huskily.
She chuckled, then undid the button and unzipped his pants, his hard dick throbbing under her touch. “Let’s go inside. My mouth needs to take care of that,” she breathed in his ear. He jumped up, crushed her against him, and hurried them into the house. Kicking the door closed behind her, she led him to her bedroom.
* * *
The ride to Denver was different, as Kimber had to stay behind all the brothers since she was a female rider. She didn’t make a stink about it because she didn’t want to start out with any animosity, and she was riding with the Insurgents so their rules applied. Throttle rode at the end, one bike ahead of hers, and each time he’d glance backward at her, her heart turned over. He was turning out to be a real sweetie. Some of the other brothers weren’t keen at all on a female riding with them, but they were outvoted so there she was, eating the exhaust of twenty-plus bikes and loving every minute of the ride.
They checked into a two-story motel near the coliseum that held the expo. The yellow neon sign read “Rodeo Motel,” and a large cowboy boot with spurs intermittently flashed in blue neon. The motel was a U layout, with all the rooms facing the parking lot, just how the bikers wanted it so they could check on their Harleys to make sure no one messed with them. Of course, the prospects would take turns babysitting the iron and chrome babies, but each biker still wanted to be able to see his machine. Kimber was no exception, and she glanced out the white curtains frequently even though Throttle teased her about it. She caught him checking out his Harley when he thought she wasn’t looking. When she called him on it, he began tickling her until tears rolled down her cheeks. Being with him felt so normal and relaxed; it was like they’d known each other for a long time and not for only two short months.
The motel didn’t have a restaurant on the premises, but a diner a couple blocks away beckoned the group; they filled the eatery, ordering chicken fried steaks, meatloaf, pork chops, and burgers. Kimber and Throttle sat at a table with Hawk and Cara, Jerry and Kylie, Chas and Addie, Axe and Baylee, and Jax. Kimber had met the old ladies at Steelers Bar and Grill the previous week, and she liked all of them. Since she worked for Hawk, she knew Cara the best, but the others were very friendly and welcomed her into their group right away.
“I have to admit I’m a little nervous about going to the expo tomorrow,” Addie said as she cut her chicken fried steak.
“Why, precious?” Chas put his arm around her.
“There’re going to be so many different clubs there and all that testosterone going around. I hope nothing happens.”
“It’s been over fifteen years since shit hit the fan. No reason to be worried about it.” Throttle took a gulp of his root beer. The diner didn’t have a liquor license so the only beer served was homemade root beer, much to the chagrin of the Insurgents and some of their women.
“I know, but I heard that some rival clubs attend the event. I know you guys are having a booth, and I’m sure others are too.” Addie’s forehead crinkled.
“It’s going to be okay, isn’t it, Axe?” Baylee’s voice held a note of concern. Of the group, she and Axe were not staying at the motel; rather, they were staying in her high-rise condo downtown. When she’d fallen in love with Axe, she’d transferred to the architecture firm’s Pinewood Springs office, but she’d held on to her condo for weekend trips or if she had to come to the city for business.
“It’s gonna be more than fine.” Axe kissed her on the cheek. “Addie, eat your damn food and quit worrying about shit that isn’t gonna happen.”
Addie opened her mouth to reply, but Kimber said, “She has a point. I know the Demon Riders go to the expo. They have a booth every year.”
“If they don’t start shit, we won’t, but if they do, Insurgents won’t fuckin’ back down.” Throttle leaned back in his chair, a scowl on his face.
“I know that. I’m just saying that Addie’s right. Whenever you get a bunch of bikers together and a few of the clubs are outlaws, the potential for a problem is real.”
“Can we please change the subject?” Baylee said.
Silence fell over the group, and then Cara cleared her throat. “They don’t have any leads yet on the deputy who was raped and killed a couple weeks ago.”
“Oh, Cara…,” Baylee groaned. “I don’t want to talk about that either. It’s too gruesome and scary. Some fucking pervert is loose in Pinewood Springs, and the cops can’t do a damn thing about it. It freaks me out.”
“I’m sure they’re working hard on it. I knew the victim—Sharon. I saw her a lot in court, and we became work friends. She was very nice. I’m sick about it.” Cara’s voice hitched and Hawk put his arm around her, tugging her to him and kissing her. He whispered something in her ear, but Kimber couldn’t hear it. While Cara spoke about the murdered woman, shivers skated along her nerves as she thought of the man caught watching her on two separate occasions. She was so damn glad Throttle insisted she put in the alarm system.
“Change the subject again.” Baylee turned to Jax. “I’m starting to think Cherri had the right idea about staying home.”
The group laughed, and Jax said, “Paisley was sick, so she couldn’t stay with Chas’s mom and dad. She insisted I come, but all this talk about the fuckin’ pervert makes me want to haul ass back to Pinewood.” He pulled out his phone and began typing.
“That didn’t go so well,” Addie said softly. “What subject can we talk about that won’t bring on any negativity?”
All the guys and Kimber said, “Harleys.” And so, for the rest of dinner and during the walk back to the motel, motorcycles were the topic of discussion.
After watching a movie on TV, Throttle turned it off with the remote and pressed Kimber closer to him. She rolled away, smiling when she heard him growl. “I want to check on my bike.”
He laughed. “You just checked it an hour ago, babe. Puck’s down there making sure your pink baby is doing okay.”
“Even so, I want to make sure.” She looked through the curtain and saw her Harley, the parking lot light bouncing off the chrome. Puck sat on a chair with his arms crossed, playing sentinel to the powerful machines. She looked up, expecting to see the black sky littered with sparkling stars, but the city’s artificial illumination masked the blackness and hid the twinkling lights in the sky. She closed the curtain and crawled into bed.
“All good?”
She nodded and snuggled under the crook of his arm. He reached over and turned off the lamp, then put his
thumb under her chin and tilted her head back. Parting her lips, she raised herself to meet his, and she quivered at the sweet tenderness of his kiss. Exhausted from the long ride to the city, they held each other tight as they fell asleep.
* * *
Kimber had never seen as many motorcycles in one place as she did at the expo. Her dream had always been to go to Sturgis, and if things continued to go well with Throttle, she’d be joining him that year at one of the largest bike rallies in the country. Of course, if she went, she’d want to ride to South Dakota on her own bike. A knot formed in her stomach just imagining the argument they’d have about that one.
“There’s the Insurgents’ booth,” Throttle said as he guided her through the maze of people and kiosks. Puck and Blade stood guard—one on each side—while Bear, Bruiser, Rock, and Jax spoke with people, handed out literature about the Insurgents MC, and gave away stickers, buttons, and black T-shirts that read “If Riding were a Crime, I’d be on Death Row” and “Respect is Earned, a Beating is Free.” A group of women congregated around the booth, flirting and handing out their phone numbers to the members behind and around the kiosk.
“Where’s Rags?” Throttle asked as he held up one of the T-shirts.
“He’s with Wheelie checking out the wet T-shirt contest,” Bear said.
Throttle laughed. “Why aren’t you with them?”
Bear lifted his shoulders. “Don’t think my ol’ lady would like that.” He grinned and handed out a few pamphlets to a couple of young guys who wore Harley-Davidson T-shirts.
“Do you want to watch the contest?” Kimber asked Throttle.
He ran his eyes over her body, then tugged her to him. “I wanna see you wiggling your ass in a wet T-shirt,” he whispered in her ear, his hot breath singeing her skin.
“You’re so damn horny all the time.” She smiled as she stroked his cheek.
“You made me that way. I can’t get enough of you, babe. The way you smell, the way you sass, and the way you shake your sexy ass is nothing short of a fucking hot wet dream.” He kissed the side of her neck, and his fingers skimmed down her arm. Static tingles sizzled under his touch, and a small yelp burst from her throat as she pressed closer to him. Whenever she was near him, it was like she’d stepped on a high tension wire, making their connection magnetized. She looked at him and his gaze shone. “Yeah, baby. I feel it too.”
In a place where there were thousands of people and loud noise, no one existed for her but him. It was like a movie where the background receded and the main characters were highlighted. She hooked her arms around his neck, bringing his face to hers, and then she gave him a passionate, loving kiss. At that moment, she cared for him more than she ever had for any other man, and it scared and exhilarated her at the same time.
“Go back to the fuckin’ motel,” Hoss grumbled as he came up to the booth.
“Don’t take it out on me just ‘cause no one wants your dried-up dick.” Throttle laughed, his arms still around Kimber’s waist.
“Fuck you. I could bang more bitches in an hour than you could all night.” Hoss cuffed Bruiser on the shoulder; the member nodded, sliding out of the booth and heading toward the wet T-shirt contest.
“Wouldn’t want to see you act like a pussy when you lose that bet.” Throttle leaned down and kissed Kimber. “You’ve got me so fuckin’ worked up,” he said in a low, thick voice.
“Do I?” She squeezed his waist.
“You fuckin’ know it. I can’t get enough of you.”
“You gonna stand there practically fucking your woman or you gonna help? Bear’s been manning the booth for the last three hours,” Hoss said.
A warm glow spread through her when she heard Hoss refer to her as Throttle’s woman. Throttle didn’t protest or recoil from her when he heard it, and that made her feel even better. But was she truly his woman? They’d never talked about it and he never claimed her while fucking, as was the outlaw’s way, but he said stuff to her that made her think she was special and not just some woman he banged for fun. She wasn’t sure. She knew he loved the ladies, and she’d gathered from what the other brothers said to him that he loved them back in the way that was only reserved for fucking.
She didn’t even know if she was the only one he was screwing. They’d never talked about exclusivity, but she knew if she went out and screwed another man that Throttle would go ballistic, so that was something, wasn’t it? Then again, bikers could be very territorial with women, even if the woman wasn’t their old lady. The Demon Riders never let their club whores service anyone else but the brothers, and she gathered the Insurgents were the same with their club women.
No, she really didn’t know where she stood in Throttle’s life.
“Come help me behind the booth. Bear said they’ve given away a shitload of T-shirts and buttons. The young guys like to put them on their jean vests. I used to do that when I was in high school. I was totally into collecting buttons from my favorite metal bands.”
She smiled. “I didn’t know that. Do you still have them?”
“Yep. My sister has all my old shit in a big box in her basement. I want you to meet Dawn and Olivia.”
“Olivia’s your niece, right?”
“Yeah. She’s so fucking cute. She cracks me up.” A warm smile whispered across his lips.
So the badass biker has a weakness. I love it! “Sure, I’d like to meet them.”
“I’m taking them out to dinner next week. I want you to come.”
She nodded. So he wants me to meet his family. That definitely means something. And sharing a glimpse of his past with me—totally huge. Maybe this is more than an affair. “I’d love to go. Thanks.”
“No need to thank me. Fuck, we’re beyond that, babe.”
“Are we?”
“You know we are.” They locked gazes, and the air around them crackled with sexual electricity. A jolt of desire coursed through her like a lightning rod in a savage storm. His dark eyes were molten, making the need between her legs ache more. She bit her inner cheek when she saw the large bulge in his jeans, loving that he wanted her as much as she did him. She licked her lips and began to walk to him when a teenager with long, straggly hair cut in front of her and went up to the booth’s table.
“What is the Insurgents MC all about?” he asked Throttle.
With regret etched on his face, he turned to the teen and handed him a leaflet. “The Insurgents MC is a club of brotherhood, the most important aspects being respect and loyalty….”
Kimber turned away, breathing deeply to dispel the desire that was still pulsing through her. Addie and Baylee came up to her. “Hawk told us to come find you. He said there’s a killer bike show with over a hundred vintage and high-custom bikes. He said you’d be psyched about it.” Addie pointed to the left. “It’s over there. Do you see the large neon sign?”
Kimber craned her neck. “Yeah. Hawk’s right, I’m totally down for it. You guys going?” They nodded. “Okay, let me tell Throttle where I’ll be.” She slipped behind the kiosk and told him her plans.
Worry crossed his face. “I don’t like you being somewhere I can’t see you, especially with so many other bikers around. Why don’t you wait and I’ll go over with you? I should be able to get a brother to spot me in a couple hours.”
“I’ll be fine. I know you want to see the bikes too, so I’ll go back with you. I’m going over with Addie and Baylee, and Hawk’s there. Chill, okay?”
Dipping his head slightly, he said, “All right, but text me when you connect with Hawk, okay?”
“Yes, Dad,” she joked, laughing louder when he frowned.
As they walked away, Throttle called out, “Addie, Baylee—you take care of her.”
“We will,” Baylee replied, the three of them laughing as Throttle frowned.
When Kimber went into the bike show, she couldn’t believe how many kickass motorcycles there were. As she was checking out the bikes, someone bumped into her from behind and she felt a pinch on
her butt. Enraged, she whirled around, her face blanching as her gaze fell on Chewy. Images of his fist smashing into her face and his boot cracking her ribs flashed through her mind. Without saying a word, she turned away, searching for Hawk.
“Aren’t you gonna say hi?” he asked.
She swung her head sideways. “Hi.” She walked away, but his hand on her wrist stopped her in her tracks. “Don’t touch me.”
Chewy let go of her. “You look good, Kimber. It’s been a long time. How’ve you been?”
Every nerve in her body was on edge; she knew his smooth voice and calm demeanor could turn deadly in a heartbeat. “I’ve been good.” Get away from me, you fucking slime ball. I have nothing to say to you. She noticed that he’d aged since she last saw him, and his hairline had recessed quite a bit. That brought her an enormous amount of satisfaction; Chewy had always been so obsessed with losing his hair. Karma’s a bitch, asshole.
“You live in Denver now?”
She shook her head. “I have to go.”
“Why? You got an old man?”
“Bye.” She spotted Hawk and caught his eye, then waved him over. He was there in a few seconds, and she finally relaxed.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“I just wanted to show you this 1932 Harley. Bruno, the guy who brought his German vintage in last week, wants me to custom it along these lines.” She felt Chewy’s glare burning through her.
“Fuck, it looks awesome. Cara and I were admiring this baby earlier. You and I have the same taste when it comes to bikes.”
“As the saying goes, ‘Great minds think alike.’ I so love this motorcycle. If I had the money, I’d collect these vintage babies.”
“Is he your old man?” Chewy’s voice, laced with irritation, came from behind her.
Why the fuck is he still here?
