Throttle

by Sassie Lewis

  Pulling up outside Mama’s, I was no closer to figuring out what the hell was wrong with me. If it was any other day, any other occasion, I would’ve skipped out. Locking my helmet in my saddlebag, I walked into the restaurant, spotting Tyson first. Both being over six feet, neither of us was easy to miss. Sitting to his right was Mom and next to her was Dad. On his left was Georgia. Fuck! The only available seat placed me right beside her. Maybe I should head to the bathroom first and pull one off; that way, I might be able to sit beside her and not have my cock distracting me.

  My balls felt suffocated by my leather pants. Sitting down, I put my hand between my legs and adjusted them as best I could. “You guys got here quick.” I was talking to my dad but couldn’t stop looking at Georgia from the corner of my eye.

  “Oh, we didn’t drive past your shop. There wasn’t a point in doing that, so we came straight here.” I had to bite my tongue from moaning at the sound of her voice.

  “Why’s that?” What the friggin’ hell is wrong with me. My voice was coarse, palms sweating, twitching to touch her. Never before had some woman affected me like that! I got a hard-on, made my move, we fucked then I went home. What was it about the little mouse sitting beside me which had every nerve in my body lighting up like a fucking supernova?

  “Well, my car won’t even start…. so…umm I wouldn’t be able to drive it there.”

  “Dad, I told Georgia you’d go over to her place to have a look at it.”

  “Yeah, sure no problem.” More like big fucking problem. Being around her without Ty to remind me she was in that no-go zone was not a wise decision.

  “You free tomorrow, Ty? I got time then. If not, I’m not free for a week or two.” It wasn’t exactly a lie but at least that way I had time to get my shit together.

  “Nah, I’m going away with the boys for the weekend. But why the hell would you want my help? I know nothing about cars.”

  “Just thought you’d want to hang with Georgia.”

  The rest of the conversation was interrupted by a skinny kid with greasy hair and pimples coming to the table, wanting to take our orders. I watched as Georgia chewed at her lip and looked over the menu. She’d only ordered a water to drink and she seemed to be taking forever at picking something to eat. The selection wasn’t huge: you had pasta, fish or meat. What was so hard about that? The kid looked at her waiting for her order. When his beady little eyes honed in on her tits, I almost sent my fist flying at his face. The light-blue shirt she was wearing wasn’t intentionally tight; it looked baggy around her middle but strained over her large tits. Yeah, I was noticing shit like that, but it didn’t mean the kid was allowed to start starin’.

  “We’ll have two steaks, one rare the other medium-well, both with baked potatoes. All the fixings and a garden salad.” I snatched the menu from her hand, shoving them at the kid with just enough force to have him staggering.

  “Would you like any starters, sir?”

  “No.” I think it might’ve been the show of teeth which got the little punk moving away from the table.

  The pinch to my arm drew my attention back from hunting the little shit with my eyes. Big mistake, I should have kept hunting, because I was fucking drowning in pools of honey. I could see her lips moving, but what the hell was she saying?

  “Huh?”

  “I said I can’t afford that.” Her teeth were clenched and fire lit her eyes.

  “So?”

  “How the hel…heck am I meant to pay for it?”

  “You’re not.” Our heads moved closer as we spoke, my nose brushing the end of hers. The scent of apples filled my senses, and I wanted to sink my teeth into her and see if she tasted as good as she smelled.

  “I’m not what?”

  “Paying.” Forcing myself back, I looked across the table and started talking shit to my dad, anything to stop me from leaning closer to Georgia.

  I zoned in and out of the conversations during dinner. I was hyper-aware of her every move; every time she moved, my body seemed to follow. From listening to her answer every one of my mother’s questions, I knew more about her than any other woman I wasn’t related to.

  “What did you study at college, sweetie?”

  “Business, ma’am.”

  “Call me, Gayle, dear; ma’am makes me sound like an angry school teacher. So you’ve known Tyson for some time?”

  “No, umm, Gayle. We only met this semester. We’ve been in a few lectures together before that, but it wasn’t until this semester that we started getting to know each other. We met –”

  “We met in one of the new study groups I joined this semester.”

  “That’s lovely, Tyson, but don’t interrupt, dear; it’s rude,” scolded Mom.

  “Sorry,” Tyson apologized softly and sank back into his chair.

  “May I ask, not that I’m unhappy you’ve joined us, But why are you not spending this special day with your family?” my mom continued to pry.

  “I don’t have any, ma…Gayle. I do have an elderly foster mom, but she’s in aged care now.”

  “That’s not good to hear. Are you close?”

  “Yes, she’s a great person, but she has dementia and I wasn’t able to look after her and pay the bills. Her insurance covered aged care but not home nursing, so it was the best option for her. The staff there are lovely and I see her every Sunday.” There was a catch in her voice when she spoke about her foster mom. Without thinking, I put my hand on her knee, giving it a small squeeze. She jumped at the contact, but didn’t push it away, and slowly her hand covered mine. She turned her head and mouthed Thank you. Pulling my hand away was a battle; my cock was throbbing, telling my hand to slip further up her leg, and my head was telling me to get my paws off her.

  “Do you know what you’re going to do now you’ve graduated?” Mom resumed her line of questioning, no one noticing the fact I was horny as all get-up.

  “Yeah…umm…I build things. And one day, I’d like to open my own shop. I just need to save up for it. I knew it was going to be expensive. I just never… Yeah, I never realized how much these things cost to set up.”

  “What kind of things do you build?” Her head swung back to me, and it took me a second to realize I’d asked the question.

  She was biting her damn lip again. I was digging my nails into my own palm to stop from leaning forward and soothing the marks on her pump lips with my tongue.

  “Oh… I’m an artist.”

  “What kind of art?” Not that I knew shit about art, but she was pretty and probably liked making pretty things. I should have waited for her answer before taking a sip of my drink, because the look my dad gave me through the rain of beer which followed was the WTF kind of look. Yeah, what the fuck—she worked with metal. Building bikes and cars meant I spent a lot of time working with all different types of metal, and it was friggin’ hard work. Bending, shaping, and knowing what temperatures to heat it to. And how quick it needed to cool.

  I felt like a kid who’d just found the map to some hidden treasure, and that treasure was every motorbike I’d ever wanted. I asked her question after question about the types of metal she worked with. She loved working with hard steel but found it difficult because of the weight and heating point, so aluminum was what she used the most. She’d worked a little with titanium but due to its expense, didn’t play with it unless someone had ordered it specifically and paid her in advance for a piece.

  The passion in her eyes as she talked had me almost coming in my pants. I had never seen a woman get so excited about metal. For me, it was a love-hate relationship. I would pick up a sheet of alloy and it would tell me how to shape it, but that shape was always in the form of a bike. Sometimes it would go as planned, but then there were other times when that sheet of alloy ended up in the scrap pile because it’d pissed me off and not done what it was meant to.

  I had forgotten about the rest of my family sitting at the table, lost to her sweet voice and honey eyes. Someone was about to get my fist i
f they kept making that stupid noise, sounding like they had a muffler shoved down their throat.

  “Sir? Excuse me, sir?”

  “What.” It was the same pimply-faced kid from before.

  “I was asking if you’d like dessert?”

  “Yeah, two apple pies with whipped cream.” I ordered for Georgia again, but this time, she just smiled at me. Personally, I didn’t like apple pie, but that slice was the best thing I’d eaten all day. The warm pieces of apple sliding down my throat had me thinking of putting my tongue on other things which would be warm and juicy and finding out exactly how she tasted.

  Tyson’s voice slammed into my head like a bucket of iced water. It reminded me Georgia was in that no-go zone and I needed to get my head out of my pants. Pushing the remainder of my pie away, I waved for the pimply kid to bring the check. I need to get out of here. Need to feel the wind in my face. Maybe I’d pop into one of the local bars and find a different blonde for the night.

  My plan turned to shit when Tyson suggested I drive Georgia home. “Dad, why don’t you give Georgia a ride home? That way, you’ll know where she lives.”

  Then my father killed the excuse of not having a spare helmet. “There’s one in the back of the truck.”

  Well, fuck! It looked like I was going have to continue suffering a stiff cock, because that shit wasn’t going to go down while she was pressed against me.

  Pulling my jacket from the saddlebag, I handed it to Georgia. The cool breeze wouldn’t bother me, but she’d freeze her ass off on the ride back to her place.

  Her small arms only just fit around my middle as her ample breasts pressed against my back. If she moved her hands an inch lower, she’d feel my dick straining against the leather of my pants. As I twisted the throttle and let my hand off the brake, her arms tightened around me, her thighs cradling me with a strength I wasn’t expecting. I’d been riding a motorcycle since before I was legally allowed to drive and had never come off, but right then, I was scared of dropping Candy on her side. Steadying her, I headed in the direction of Georgia’s place. Talking while riding wasn’t really an option, unless you had helmets with a built-in mic, and since I normally rode solo, I’d never had a need for them, but I fuckin' wanted one right then. I knew I should stop talking to her, ignore her, but I wanted to hear her voice.

  When I got to the intersection of the older estate where she lived, I stopped and pointed to the right. Lifting her left hand from around my waist, she pointed in the opposite direction. She did it a few more times, directing me to where she lived, and each time one of her little hands let go of me, I got an odd feeling of loss.

  I pulled up outside a small house in need of a good sanding and paint job. I should just sit on my bike and wait for her to walk in the door. My brain was saying one thing, but my body was doing the complete opposite as my fingers flicked the key, the rumble of the Harley’s engine stopped and silence filled the air. Unlocking her hand from around my waist, I lifted her from the bike. The little squeak she made from the movement was cute.

  My hands molded to her waist as I steadied her. I should really let her go but Hell if I can make my hands move. Reaching up, I released the chinstrap of the helmet and took it off, my fingers brushing against her soft, thick hair. Catching a strand, I wrapped it around my finger, wanting to use it like a leash and pull her closer to me.

  “Go inside, Georgia.” My voice was rough, not from anger but from pure lust. I wanted her, and the flush of her face was telling me she knew it.

  “Thank you for the lift…. umm, what time will you come by tomorrow?”

  I should tell her to find someone else, but at that moment, all the blood had left my brain and taken up residency in my pants. “Seven.”

  Starting Candy, I looked at Georgia one more time. She hadn’t moved; she just stood there blinking at me. Twisting the throttle, I sped down the street, a long ride of a different kind in need. I’d stop at Cheater’s and pick up one of the bar whores.

  Chapter 3

  I never went into Cheater’s that night. Pulling up out front and killing the engine, I sat astride Candy but didn’t move. Something was holding me back, stopping me from going in.

  I watched a couple going at it against the side of the building. They hadn’t been trying to hide their activities, so I’d felt no shame in watching them—not that I would have felt shame even if they’d been trying to hide. If you wanted privacy, you did that shit behind closed doors with the curtains drawn.

  My cock had pulsed in time with every thrust the man made. The chick was a brunette, but I was seeing a plump blonde with my dick ramming into her.

  “You want to join them?” The husky voice beside my ear had me swinging in its direction.

  A girl in her mid-twenties, wearing too much makeup, and hairspray, by the smell of it, was standing right beside me.

  “No.” Her fake tits—and yeah, there was no denying those puppies were fake—were falling out of her top. She was so skinny I could count every one of her ribs.

  “Come on, sugar. It’ll be fun.”

  “Go and fucking eat something.”

  I’d turned over the engine and left the anorexic bitch in my dust. Fuck if I knew what was wrong with me; I would have been all over her if she’d made the same offer the day before.

  I’d tossed and turned all night; jacking off hadn’t helped. By three am, I’d been tempted to get out of bed and grab an ice pack from the freezer, thinking maybe that would’ve stopped the aching in my dick. At five, I’d given up on sleep entirely and jumped into the shower. Lathering my body in soap, I closed my eyes and let my hands run over the throbbing shaft of my cock. Five tugs later, my jizz was painting the shower wall. I hadn’t come that quick since I was fifteen and learned about pace and stamina. Amazing what an older woman can teach you.

  Walking into the kitchen had my dick standing straight back up. The bowl of apples sitting in the early morning sun was the cause; their fragrance permeated the air and visions of Georgia filled my head.

  Ty and Ben were sitting at the breakfast bar stuffing their faces with that shitty chocolate cereal I couldn’t stand, their heads bent close together. Ty looked to be worried about something, and I didn’t know Ben that well, but his face held the look of someone who was pissed.

  “What time you guys heading out?” Tyson jumped at the sound of my voice. I noticed him acting a little strange lately. However, when I’d asked him about it, not wanting to be one of those dads, I’d tried to act all casual at the time. He’d said it was just the pressure of finals.

  “The guys will be here shortly. Then we’re heading out to the lake. You gonna fix Georgia’s car today?”

  “Yep, she’s a sweet girl.”

  “Yeah, she is. Tell her I’ll see her next weekend. I’m gonna grab a shower.”

  Ben followed him down the hall, only to turn around. “Mind if I use your shower, Mr. F?”

  I hated being called by my last name, Fonzi; it was a little cliché when you worked with bikers. I’d heard all the jokes over the years, and I seriously hated that show. I would’ve punched half the jokesters out if most of them weren’t as big as or bigger than me.

  “Go for your life. And Ben, start fucking calling me Sin.”

  Pouring a coffee, I grabbed one of the apples and took a bite. If I wasn’t allowed to take one out of Georgia, at least I could torment myself a little more with pretending I was.

  Even at six am, Throttle was a bustle of activity. I normally took the weekend off, unless we had an order due out or someone was on holiday, so I got a few odd looks from the boys when I walked through the large bay doors. Max, my foreman, lifted his head from welding and waved me over.

  “What you doing here, boss?”

  “Just grabbing some tools.”

  “You need a hand loading anything?”

  “Nah, I don’t know what’s wrong with the car yet. It’s a favor for Ty’s new girl, so I’ll just take a few things to cover the basics. If
I need to order anything I’ll come back later. Anything happen yesterday I need to know about?”

  “Nope, all went smooth as always. That delivery chick dropped in looking for ya.”

  “We didn’t have anything coming in yesterday.”

  “I didn’t say she delivered anything. Just that she dropped by asking for ya.”

  Having a feeling it might have something to do with Tuesday’s tryst outside the shop, I said nothing. Really, it had been a fun fifteen minutes, but I hadn’t said a word about wanting to see her again.

  “I’m out. Going to take the company truck; Ty’s got mine for the weekend.”

  “Keys are in your office.”

  Bumping my fist against Max’s, I spun around and headed to my office, mentally preparing myself for a morning in the company of the delectable Georgia. Stopping by the reception desk, I waited for Millie to get off the phone.

  “What can I do to help you, Cynfor?”

  Didn’t matter how many times I’d told her to call me Sin, the retched woman just friggin’ wouldn’t. I’d fire her ass if she weren’t excellent at her job and my mother’s best friend.

  “You got any of those Tums you’re always chewing?”

  “Sure, sugar. Did you eat something that’s not agreeing with you?”

  “Something like that.” Shoving three in my mouth, I mumbled a thank you while opening the door to my office. Yeah, I’d eaten something: four friggin’ apples. I don’t even like apples, but I’d stood in the kitchen and eaten four of the stupid green things because my brain had taken an imaginary walk into Georgia land.

  As I bit into each one, I’d imagined I was biting into the cheeks of her rounded ass before working my way up her back. I’d flipped her over and went to town on those tits, as they’d overflowed from my hands. I never knew my imagination was that fucking good! I’d been standing in my kitchen, cock weeping with enough pre-cum I’d had to change outta my jeans before leaving the house. I’d probably still be standing there if it hadn’t been for Ty snapping me out of it with his yelled bye as he slammed the front door.