by Chiah Wilder
“Kiss me,” she rasped as she gripped his hair and pulled hard.
He slid up her body, forging a wet trail along the way until he covered her mouth. His lips were glistening as he kissed her hard. “Do you like the way you taste?” he said against her mouth before plunging his tongue inside. She writhed beneath him, pulling even harder on his free-flowing hair while her tongue twirled around his in a sensuous dance.
Grabbing his cock, he pushed into her while his mouth still covered hers. He pushed in deeper, harder, and whimpers rose from her throat. He pulled away, pinched her nipples hard, and then thrust into her again and again. Her ass smacked against the table as he kept pumping into her, and he felt her ready to come—all tight and swollen. He wanted her pussy squeezing his cock as he exploded in her. Faster. Harder. She cried out and her warm walls gripped and tightened around his dick, driving him to climax. Then he shot into her, his seed filling her up.
“Fuck, Kimber.”
Her gaze was glassy and unfocused, a slow smile spreading across her face as she pulled him close to her. Their rapid heartbeats pounded against each other’s chests, and they stayed fused together for a few minutes before Throttle pulled out of her. Grabbing a napkin, he wiped his dick and then shoved it into his jeans. Dipping his head down, he kissed her passionately.
“Great way to start the day,” he muttered on her lips.
Laughing, she took his hands and he helped her sit up. “If Hawk gets on my ass about being late, you’re going down for it.” She squeezed his butt and kissed him quickly. “It was awesome.”
He watched as her hips swayed while she walked to the bedroom, her robe and panties in her hand. Fuck, she’s beautiful. He never got tired of seeing her naked. She stirred deep emotions and desire in him, and they grew stronger each day.
“What’re you going to do today?” she asked when she came back, fully clothed with her jacket and hat on.
“I’m gonna check on how the crew did shoveling the contracts we have, and then I got some errands to run.” Throttle’s landscape business in the winter consisted mostly of snow removal. Sometimes he’d help out and drive the snow plow, but mostly his partner, Rags, liked doing it, leaving Throttle to handle quality control on the numerous contracts their business had.
She gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “I’ve got to go. How’s chili sound for dinner?”
“Good as long as you make some cornbread to go along with it.”
“Yes, sir.” She saluted him.
“Smartass.” He smacked her butt. She giggled, blew him a kiss, and went into the garage.
Throttle put the coffee cups in the dishwasher, then took out his phone and called Rags.
“Yo. How’d the crew do with the snow removal early this morning? I got a complaint from one of our contracts. She said the guys didn’t do a good job.”
“Was it from Mrs. Christiansen?”
“Yeah, that’s the name. Do you already know about it?”
“I went to check it out and it looked good to me. She insisted that she wanted you to come by and discuss it with her,” Rags said.
“What the fuck’s up with that? Did you tell her you’re one of the owners?”
“Yep. She didn’t give a damn.”
Throttle scrubbed his face. “I don’t have time for this shit. I’ll give her a call. We got a lot more important contracts we have to take care of. If she drops us, it won’t make a difference to the business income since I think we’re gonna get Allard Food Mart.”
“That’d rock. When are they gonna let you know?”
“Tomorrow, but I’m pretty sure we’ve got it.”
“Fuckin’ sweet. You wanna join me and Wheelie for some chow at Ruthie’s?”
“What time?”
“We’re gonna head over there now.”
“I’m on my way.”
Throttle slipped the phone into his pocket, threw on his leather jacket, and picked up the keys to his Harley. He’d missed being on it. For the past couple of weeks, the snow had been too heavy to ride safely on his bike. When he was younger, he didn’t give a shit about what condition the roads were in; he just cared about the ride. But now that he was thirty-seven and had Kimber in his life, he wasn’t into taking stupid chances. He backed out of the garage and headed toward town, the rush of cold air dancing around him and whipping against his cheeks.
When he walked into the diner, a blast of heat enveloped him as he scanned the packed room for Rags and Wheelie. Sparkling silver and gold miniature trees lined the shelves behind the lunch counter, and multicolored strands of lights framed the windows, cash register, and pass-through counter. The clatter of dishes, the waitstaff calling out their orders, and the lively beats of “Jingle Bell Rock” cooing from the speakers filled the place.
“Hiya, handsome,” Ruthie said as she placed a slice of pie in front of an older gentleman sitting at the counter.
Throttle lifted his chin to her as he took off his leather gloves.
“Your two friends are at the last booth next to the window. Coffee as usual?”
“Yeah. Thanks,” he said as he made his way to the table.
He slid in next to Rags and picked up the menu. “Did you two order already?”
“We waited for you,” Rags said as he waved the waitress over.
Stella had been working at Ruthie’s for the past twelve years and was one of the Insurgents’ favorite waitresses. She placed a glass of water and a steaming cup of coffee in front of Throttle.
“Thanks, Stella. How’s life been treating you?” he asked as he stirred sugar into his coffee.
“This week? Shitty as all hell. Last week? Not bad.”
The guys laughed and placed their orders of chicken fried steak, eggs, and cottage fried potatoes.
“Damn, it’s cold outside,” Wheelie said as he picked up a glass of orange juice.
“I thought my balls were gonna freeze off when I rode over here, but I was going fuckin’ crazy without riding.” Throttle wrapped his hands around the warm cup.
“I know what you mean. It’s been so damn snowy and icy the last couple of weeks. I’m getting restless too. How were the roads?”
“Icy as hell, but it felt good being on my bike.” Throttle took a sip of coffee.
“I’m leaving the icy rides to guys like Jerry, Axe, Chas, and the other younger members. Remember how we used to go on the back roads and do wheelies in the snow?” Rags asked.
Wheelie laughed. He was known for taking crazy chances with his Harley, and his freestyle and complex wheelies earned him his road name. “Hell, I still go out and do that shit.”
Stella placed three piping-hot plates in front of them and a basket of warm biscuits in the center of the table. “Except for refills, is there anything else you need?”
“That should do it, darlin’,” Rags said as he reached over and took a biscuit.
“I heard Mrs. Christiansen is being a pain in your ass,” Wheelie said before he shoved a big bite into his mouth.
Throttle nodded as he chewed.
“I told the bitch she could tell me what the problem was, but she just told me the shoveling wasn’t to her liking and she needed to speak to you and you only,” Rags said.
“She’s a horny one. I guess her old man isn’t giving her want she needs,” Wheelie said.
“Whaddaya mean?” Throttle asked.
“She’s always hitting on guys who work for her. A buddy of mine cleans carpets, and he told me that when he was doing a job over at her place, she kept staring at him the whole time. And when he was getting ready to leave, she patted his ass and gave him her cell number.” Wheelie shook his head, laughing.
“Did he fuck her?” Throttle asked.
“Yeah. He got a lot of referrals from her.”
“Is he still fucking her?” Rags buttered a biscuit.
“Nah, it was only for a month or so, but he got a lot of lasting business from it, so he’s happy.”
“I bet he is,” Th
“I should be insulted the bitch didn’t want me,” Rags said.
“I told you you’re too damn skinny.” Throttle chuckled.
“I heard she’s a real looker too.” Wheelie pushed his empty plate away.
“I know her name. Did we do her yard this past summer?” Throttle asked Rags.
Rags slowly shook his head. “No, she’s a new contract, but she called because she said Lara Mayfield recommended us. More specifically, she recommended you.”
“That’s right. Damn, Lara was a pain in the ass. If her old man didn’t have all those rental properties, I would’ve dropped her account,” Throttle said as he leaned back against the booth.
“She wanted your cock so bad.” Rags laughed.
“Figures they’re friends. Damn. We need to tell these women’s husbands how to perform before we take the contracts,” Throttle joked, and the other men laughed.
“You guys want any more coffee?” Stella asked as she cleared off the table.
“I could go for a cinnamon bear claw and a bit more coffee,” Rags said while the other two shook their heads.
“Be right back.” Stella walked away.
“Where the hell do you put it?” Throttle asked Rags, who shrugged.
A loud rumble outside had the three men looking out the window. Tigger, Bones, and Cruiser killed the engines on their Harleys and walked toward the front glass doors.
“I thought they were on a poker run,” Rags said.
“They leave on Friday,” Wheelie replied.
“Hey, brothers. How’s it goin’?” Bones asked as the three men approached the table.
“Not too bad,” Throttle said as he scooted over. Tigger slid in beside him, and Bones and Cruiser slipped in next to Wheelie. “The chicken fried steak and eggs rocks.”
“I’ll have to try it. Did you see Brenda?” Tigger asked as his eyes darted around the room.
“Brenda?” Throttle asked.
“The hot waitress with big-as-hell tits and hair down to her sweet ass.” Tigger continued to look around while Bones and Cruiser sniggered.
“I’d love to sink my cock into her,” Cruiser said.
While Rags chuckled and Throttle laughed, he noticed Wheelie staring at Tigger with cold eyes. He’s got it bad for Sofia. Fuck. He cleared his throat and looked at Rags. “You about done here?”
With a puzzled look on his face, Rags wiped his mouth. “Yeah. You in a hurry?”
“Yeah. I gotta get something.”
“I’ve got to get going too,” Wheelie said as Bones and Cruiser got up to let him out. He pulled out some money and picked up the bill.
“I’m going with you guys.” Rags slipped out of the booth, and after he and Throttle said goodbye to their brothers, they joined Wheelie at the cash register and threw in their share of the bill.
Outside, the icy wind lashed around them as they walked bent over against the cold to the parking lot. Clumps of wet flakes drifted down, the pavement mushy beneath their black boots.
“Are you headed to Christiansen’s house?” Rags asked, his breath forming pale clouds.
“No. I’ll call her tonight. I’m headed to Trinity Jewelers.” Throttle pulled his gloves on.
“Whatcha got going at the jewelers?” Wheelie cupped his hands together and blew into them.
“I’m getting something for Kimber. You guys wanna come along? I could use some help in deciding.”
“I got nothing to do,” Wheelie said.
“Count me in. Do you wanna put your bike on the bed and ride back with us? Looks like it’s gonna snow for a while.” Rags opened the door to his pickup.
“That’ll work,” he said as he rolled his bike over to the truck. He glanced inside the diner and saw Tigger and Cruiser shaking their heads and laughing while they watched Rags cover his Harley with a tarp. If he were their age, he wouldn’t be caught dead doing what he was doing, but age brought wisdom and love toned down the urge to be stupidly macho. He lifted himself up and slid into the passenger seat of the truck.
Rags found parking right in front of the store, and when they went inside, a well-groomed man with graying hair at his temples came up to them, his shoulders drawn up tight around him. Several of the patrons took a few steps backward as if to distance themselves from the three men clad in leather and denim, chains dangling down their pant legs, and earrings catching the overhead lights.
“Is there something I can do for you?” the man asked as he gripped the corner of one of the cases.
Throttle chuckled. “I’m looking to buy a ring.”
“What kind of ring? Engagement, wedding, or any occasion?” The man tugged at his ear.
“We’re not planning on robbing you,” Wheelie said. “If we were, we would’ve already been done with it and gone. So you can all fuckin’ relax.”
Gasps from behind him as well as the salesman’s skin turning ashen made Throttle laugh and clap Wheelie on the back. “You crack me up, dude.” Rags joined in. The more people cringed away from them, the harder they laughed until the salesman cracked a smile and chuckled.
Throttle cleared his throat. “I’m looking for an engagement ring.”
“What the fuck?” Rags said as he followed Throttle to one of the cases lining the back wall.
Rings of all shapes and sizes sparkled under the soft lights, and the man took out a key and unlocked one of the cases. He pulled out a large solitaire on a white gold band.
“This is one of our most popular engagement rings,” he said as he set the ring on a very small black velvet pillow.
“Dude, is this for real?” Rags leaned over and looked at the ring.
“Yeah. I’m gonna ask her if she wants to get hitched. I don’t want you guys saying shit to anyone until I do. If you blow this, I’ll beat your asses.”
“Why do you wanna get married? She’s already your old lady,” Wheelie said.
Throttle picked up the ring and held it up, turning it from side to side. “I don’t know. I just do. Whaddaya think of this one?”
Rags and Wheelie looked at the ring in Throttle’s hand. “It looks like a ring with a diamond. It’s okay, I guess,” Rags said.
“Exactly. It’s too ordinary.”
After the salesman showed him dozens of rings, an incredulous look spread across his face when Throttle pointed to a ring and said, “Fuck. That’s it.” At that point, Wheelie and Rags were both sitting on chairs the salesman had brought out for them, fiddling with their phones.
“This one?” he asked as he took out a ring with a black diamond solitaire.
“Yeah. It’s totally Kimber. All pink and beautiful with a wicked dark side to her. This totally rocks.”
“The princess-cut stone is three carats, and the surrounding pink sapphires are a total weight of another carat. The rest of the wide band is black diamonds, set in fourteen-karat white gold. You have good taste. It’s pretty expensive.” The man looked fixedly at him.
“How much?”
“Thirty-nine-hundred dollars. I can give you fifteen percent off since we’re having a Christmas special.” The man put the ring back in the case and locked it. The small smile he offered Throttle said that he’d just wasted a couple of hours on a guy in leather who could never begin to afford the ring.
“I’ll take it,” Throttle said.
“What? Are you sure you have the mon—I mean, we’ll have to run the amount on your card to make sure it goes through.”
He sneered. Looking behind him, he said, “Get your asses over here. I want you to see the ring I picked out.”
“’Bout fuckin’ time,” Rags grumbled as he and Wheelie shuffled over.
“It’s kickass, yeah?”
“It’s great. Are we ready to go?” Rags said.
“Kimber’s gonna love it. It’s not the usual clear diamond ring. And I’m with Rags… are we ready to blow this joint? I can’t believe how damn long it took you to pick out a ring.”
“Quit bitchin’ and tell me how much money you got on you. This ring costs four grand. I only have three on me. You got a thousand between the two of you? I’ll pay you back when we get to my place.”
They nodded and handed over the money, the salesclerk watching with bulging eyes as Throttle laid the bills down on the counter.
A half hour later, they were downing beers in front of a crackling fire, their feet up on the coffee table. Outside, the snow fell like confetti from the grayish-white sky, blanketing everything in shimmering white.
As Throttle brought the beer bottle to his lips, he glanced over at Wheelie. “What’s up with you and Tigger?”
Wheelie’s eyes narrowed and he stiffened. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit,” said Rags.
Throttle reached over and put his beer on the side table. “Now don’t go taking a swing at me like you did at the club last week, but you gotta leave this shit alone, dude. Sofia’s with Tigger. She wants to be with him.”
“You’re not telling me something I don’t know. Fuckin’ leave it alone.” Wheelie grabbed his bottle and guzzled it down.
“Throttle’s just bringing it up because Jax said you told him you’d keep an eye on Sofia while Tigger’s on the poker run.”
“So? Tigger asked me to.”
“Yeah, but he asked Bear, Chas, and Jax too.”
“They have families. I don’t. Fuckin’ leave it alone. This is the last time I’ll warn you.”
Throttle pressed his lips together and a strained silence fell over the room.
Wheelie pushed up from the chair. “I gotta get going.”
“Dude, I’m just telling you to be smart here. Tigger’s a damn jerk, but he’s a brother and Sofia’s his old lady. You gotta respect that,” Throttle said.
“Tell her to file a complaint with Banger. You know you can’t mess around with a brother’s woman.” Rags stood up.
Throttle saw the vein in Wheelie’s temple pulsing, his jaw rigid, and decided to change the subject. “You wanna come over Thursday night for poker? I’m hosting it this month. Kimber makes kickass guacamole and the best kickass burritos in town.”
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