THIRTEEN
Throttle
I’m damn close to following her, grabbing her, and demanding she tell me why the fuck she has fresh bruises on her arm.
Who dared to touch my girl?
Though she's not my ol’ lady, I'd be willing to kill for her.
I return up front and the hang-around I was groping earlier caresses my chest. No matter how hard I try, I can't recall her name. Yet, I require a fix. I need someone and she’s that woman.
“Let’s go.” Locking eyes with Tequila, I swiftly guide little miss Goldie locks to one of the back rooms. The hurt on Tequila’s face before leaving rips into me like a jigsaw.
I take a seat, undo my jeans, and my pulsating penis emerges. “On your knees.”
The chick with no name runs her tongue across her lips and smirks. “My pleasure, handsome.” She licks the tip and twirls her tongue around my dick.
While pulling her hair, I unintentionally rip out a few of her fake extensions, and as she sucks me off, thoughts of Tequila cross my mind. Her long, dark hair cascading down her shoulders, tempting me to run my fingers through it and tilt her head back, revealing her graceful neck.
I move in sync while Goldie thrusts in and out with her mouth. However, it's not hers, it's Tequila's lips that shape my throbbing cock.
Yes, baby. More, take it deeper. Faster.
I want to watch as my cum drips from her rosy lips.
That’s it. Keep going.
Fuck.
With one more swift motion, I let loose and fill the hang-around’s trap with my fluid.
After wiping her mouth's corners, she stands. “I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did, sexy.”
The sole reason I did was because I imagined Tequila, not you. That's what I wanted to say to her. But I’m not that big of an asshole. Or am I?
I just had a vivid fantasy of my dear friend giving me an amazing imaginary blowjob.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
I send her away with disgust. With me, not her. Now, when I look at Tequila, I’ll remember being a pervert.
Lately, I haven’t had any desire to be with a woman. Adding to the mix was this Caleb guy and the rage of seeing Tequila’s bruises.
Charger casually drinks a beer while playing pool and chatting with Bullet. “Yo, brother. That was a fine piece of ass.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be home with a pregnant wife, dipshit?”
“Damn. Jules and Chloe are spending the weekend at her mom's. Reviewing wedding stuff.”
“More like trying to see how much money she can spend.” Bullet laughs and chugs the rest of his drink.
“It’s her dream wedding. She can spend as much as she wants. But fuck, man, my girls got more cash flowing in than I do. And the Fallen Star just keeps getting busier and busier. Speaking of which...” Charger finishes his beer in one chug. “I need to ensure Lucy gets out of there safely.”
“I assumed we had a prospect on her when she closes the bar by herself,” I say. Jules insisted Lucy was to never be alone. Without hesitation, we made sure she was never by herself at night. We protect her as if she were family. She’s Jules’s number one bartender at The Fallen Star and a good friend.
“Prospect, no. Tank, yes. Judging from the way he looks, I'd say he's passed out.” Charger nods over to our giant brother, who’s face down on the table, beer still in hand. Something happened between him and her, but none of them has ever said what. They suddenly hated the sight of each other.
“Lucy will rip him a new asshole later. Girl is feisty.” Bullet laughs and he’s not wrong. She is a pistol.
Charger departs while Bullet acknowledges me with a nod, adjusting his glasses.
“When you gonna get contacts, Vice?” I tease.
“Fuck off. I’m not a fan of the idea of something going in my eyes.”
I laugh. “Fair enough.”
“How are you recovering from the warehouse incident?”
“Almost healed.” Kind of. “There needs to be a lot more to take me down.”
“I trust that, man.”
I clap Bullet on his shoulder. “I need a favor, brother.”
He leans in, resting his elbows on the table. “What’s up?”
“I need you to find an address for me. Tequila’s.”
I am betraying her by doing this without her consent, but I’ve reached my limit. There’s a reason she hasn’t told me where she lives, and the fucking bruises have something to do with it.
Bullet whistles. “Your girl in trouble?”
“She’s not my girl and I’m not sure yet. But can you get it?”
He looks over at the bar, watching Tequila dunk glasses in and out of the soapy water. She's leaning forward, revealing cleavage, and there’s rage. Red intense fury inside me.
“Eyes over here, brother.”
Bullet grins. “Uh, huh. Not your girl. Anyway, if it’s an address you want. It’s an address I’ll get. Make sure you don't mention my name when she cuts your dick off.”
She might do just that.
“Thanks. Appreciate it.”
“Not a problem. This old man is going to fucking bed. Later.”
I'm worn out, but I stay put while Tequila finishes her closing shift responsibilities. I'm consistently her escort after dark, or someone from the club will fill in if I can't. Many of our enemies lurk in the darkness, preying on women who are alone at night.
She should use her intelligence and leave, finding a safer work environment until she completes her degree, with no intention of returning. Distance herself from the Steel Valley Chains and from me.
Her hair cascades behind her shoulder seductively as she moves her hips toward me.
It's just the two of us now. Everyone else is either gone or unconscious somewhere.
As she gets nearer, the air becomes more suffocating. I'm not sure what's happening to me, but resisting my best friend is becoming more difficult. Keeping my hands off her is a daily challenge I’m left to face, and it’s not something I’m used to.
“You don’t have to wait for me every time.”
She’s fucking with me, right? Since the day she started working here, I've sat and waited for her to finish her shifts.
I position myself in front of her and fold my arms across my chest. “Not gonna happen, babe. I haven’t missed a night of walking you to your car and I ain’t stopping now.”
She huffs out a breath, following a grunt. It’s cute. “Fine, but I’m still mad at you. Let’s go.”
With a grin, I refrain from questioning the marks on her arm, knowing that I will find out soon. Bullet is going to come through and then me and my Tequila Rose will have a friendly chat.
As we make our way to her car, she hugs her torso tightly, shivering.
“You know it’s like forty degrees out. Maybe next time you should bring a damn coat.”
“Yeah, guess that would have been a good idea.”
I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her close to me.
Our connection used to be effortless. No petty meltdowns. No jealous fits. But lately… I can’t seem to control myself when she’s near. What the fuck does this mean? Will having my best friend close bring us chaos?
She fusses with her purse, attempting to locate her keys.
“Tequila. Babe. Don't forget, if I'm not around, be prepared to use your keys as a weapon.”
She looks like she's about to cry, and it catches me off guard. When I hook both protective arms surrounding her, I tighten my grip. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick. Remember, I'm head over heels for the sweet woman at the bar, and the idea of anything happening to you drives me crazy.”
“Throttle, I don't understand why you constantly think something bad will happen to me. I’m a big girl who can take care of myself.”
“I know. It’s just… the shit that happens around here. With our club. And—”
“This was my choice to work here. To be a part of the club life. I decided by myself and found one of the best friends ever. I don’t regret it.” She attempts to pull away, but I refuse to let her go. “Throttle.”
I enjoy having her close to me, with her lips appearing soft. It eats at me, what they would be like on mine. Should I kiss her?
No, you fucking idiot.
With a drop of my arms, I retreat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I'm left with an unfamiliar emotion in my chest as she drives off. An aching, a longing, and dammit, I need it as much as the air I breathe.
Leave, dude. Never go there. I walk away as usual.