FIFTEEN
Throttle
“Fuck!” The drywall caves, creating a decent size hole from my fist.
What was going on with me? I crossed a line. In addition, I humiliated her, and her reaction was one of pure horror. Hurt.
Was my dick more significant than our years of friendship?
Fucking idiot.
The pain in my knuckles has finally reached my brain. The punishment I earned.
I take a cigarette from my end table, lighting it and feeling instantly at ease, as if it were medicinal.
For her, sex is my remedy. Imagining it’s Tequila is the only way I can get it up recently.
She’s going to detest me. After tonight, she might despise me because I've ruined everything. The friendship I value the most is now broken because I only thought about sinking my cock inside her.
I was mistaken to believe it couldn’t hold any significance. Another reason to vow to never touch her.
I bang randoms from the club and have zero relationships. Tonight, I crossed a line that I rarely cross. Damn, but the way she looked at me… I was seconds from pounding my chest with insane might.
She elevated me to a high pedestal, allowing my body to surge with intensity.
My Tequila.
I need air or my Harley. Fuck, I just want to get away from here.
I dispose of my cigarette in the ashtray, grab my T-shirt, and head downstairs, passing Tank on the way. “Tank, brother, can I borrow your ride?”
He pulls his keys out of his pocket and hurls them in my direction. “Be kind to her. And don’t keep her out all night, ya hear?” He winks, taking his shot at the pool ball.
I mumble “fucker” under my breath, jokingly. He and I are there for each other.
Yeah, I’ve been drinking. But instant sobriety hit as soon as Tequila left.
I mount his girl, start her up, and leave. Where? I didn’t have a clue. This is exactly what I needed, though. Riding is therapy and no one gets it unless you’ve experienced it for yourself. The vibration, the sound, the wind hitting your face.
After ten minutes, I have a precise understanding of where I wanted my destination to be. I pull down a road and park.
This hill has been my regular spot for years. It has a tranquil beauty. Peace. I've often dreamt of making it mine and Tequila’s special place. But it would be too intimate. And I was worried about leading her on. Then tonight happened.
I grip the chain Tequila held between her delicate fingers. It's been ages since my last conversation with my parents. The day I expressed my desire to leave is still vivid in my memory. They kicked me out. Disowned me. But it was okay. I was eighteen and didn't depend on them. I managed on my own, needing no one's help. But then I found the club. The best thing that ever happened to me before meeting Tequila. The Steel Valley Chains is all the family I need. There is nothing more for me. I'll stay committed to them for life, without a girlfriend, wife, or kids. I will be alone, and that's fine—it's all I deserve.
Bullet’s calling me.
“Yeah?”
“Hey, got that address you wanted.”
One positive thing came out of tonight.
“Perfect. Thanks. Just text it.”
“Uh, hang on. Are you sure you want this information? There’s no going back.”
My stomach sinks. “Yeah, why? What the fuck does that mean?”
“I’m the last person who should give out advice about women.” I have a hunch that won’t stop him. “But think how she’ll react when she finds out and she obviously will when you go swinging to the rescue like goddamn Tarzan.”
A week ago, I may have waited. Pondered the idea. But it didn't matter to me anymore. If she had any inclination to hate me, at least she’d be out of whatever potential danger she was in.
“Just send it.”
“Ah, one more thing.”
“Fucking Christ, Bullet. What?”
“I miss the old you. The easy-going jackoff.” Yeah, me too. “All right. I’m hanging up but be sitting for this.”
Another vibration, and the text materializes, requiring me to read it twice. I clench my jaw, and my hands shake with fury. There are two things that evoke powerful emotions in me: the disgust and hatred toward pedophiles and traffickers and protecting Tequila. The thought of her being hurt—getting hurt—makes me rabid.
This explains why she has been keeping her home life a secret. Her neighborhood is trash. Drug dealers, shootings, robberies. The last one gets my blood boiling…
Rape.
I'm familiar with that area. It’s the pits. I regret not pushing harder. Demanding answers.
She lives in the goddamn slums.
You know what my little rose? I’ll be taking you home to my garden.
Tequila
I was relieved to find the hallway unoccupied. Specifically, Jasper. Since the incident occurred, I have had zero contact with him, and I hope it stays that way. One could be so lucky.
“My girl,” Frank slurs, which then echoes off the walls as I walk past him. “Got any cash to spare, aye?”
“Sorry, Frank, not tonight.” Feeling guilty, I close my door and lock it. Being out there longer than I had to made me sweat.
I collapse onto my bed and begin sobbing. Despite worse things happening in the world, I cry. My gripes weren’t a big deal comparatively. Once I graduate, secure a teaching position, and improve my financial situation, I can move to a nicer place. Perhaps even consider keeping the bartending job for extra income on weekends.
I try to erase the memory of the woman leaving Throttle's room and our last conversation. But I fail. My thoughts fill with flashing images and his words in an endless loop.
He's only a man, but I sound so pathetic . Ugh. Stop acting like a high schooler in love.
I straighten up, dab away my tears, and pull out my phone. As I come across Caleb's name in my texts, I pause and hover my fingers over the keyboard. Just because I don't have feelings for him now, doesn't mean they can't develop, right? These matters need patience. They're not immediate. Although, I’d be lying if I said electrical currents didn’t zap me the first day Throttle came and sat down at the bar.
I'll put on my big girl panties and message Caleb. I double-make sure my words don’t appear desperate before I send it.
Me: I would love to hang out again.
Caleb: You just made my day, beautiful.
Instead of healing my fresh wounds, his fast response deepened them.
While making plans for our future date, I snuggle up in my sheets and close my eyes. Regardless of the knots in my stomach, I lay there, hoping for dreamless slumber, avoiding thoughts of the man who has my heart. It was enough to make everything fall apart in a mere of hours. It wasn’t fair. Despite life's unfairness, I had to move on from being in love.
When I can't sleep, I decide a hot bath and wine might cure my insomnia. I start the water, pour a glass of delicious fruity sangria and strip out of my clothes, putting on my silk robe that came to my knees.
While sipping my drink, I twirl my finger in the heated water, almost dropping my glass when I experience a strong feeling of déjà vu from a loud bang at the door.
Please don’t be Jasper.
I stay motionless, anticipating the departure of whoever is on the other end, but the knock, more like a heavy pounding, reverberates once more.
After leaving the bathroom, I hold my breath while I check the peephole.
It’s not Jasper but the other man who devours my core. The person in my life who has the power to cripple me with a single look and touch.
Once the relief fades away, I'm confronted with reality.
He knows.
I want to deflate with the blood rushing to my toes. My vision grows blurry, and the spinning intensifies. My secret is out and Throttle, of all people, found out.
How did he find out? That question was obviously stupid. The Chains can solve anything, and I was na?ve thinking, Throttle would pretend to ignore this forever.
Standing on the other side, he gives a sexy smolder, but his eyes hold darkness. “Open the damn door, Tequila.”
Since he asked so nicely.
No point in delaying the inevitable. As I obey, Throttle's sight travels from my bare legs to my breasts, which are only partially concealed. I know this robe hides nothing. Heat rises on my cheeks as I try pulling it together.
“I’m not sure why you’re here, but I would like to ask you to respect my boundaries. Turn around and go home.” I shoo him, but he only quirks an eyebrow and his chest moves up and down like a wild animal about to let loose.
Once he rips his eyes away from my body, he growls. “Fuck that.” He shoves past, brushing his firm chest against my arm, and I shiver.
His mountainous shoulders tighten as he looks around, perhaps in judgement.
His gaze fixates on the cracked and moldy corner of my ceiling. Yeah, I've been meaning to have that checked out, but my non-existent landlord always rips me off.
Throttle turns back to me, his ears emitting invisible smoke. With a heathen step forward, I take one away, thinking he’s coming for me, but he stomps right past and into my bedroom.
“Um, excuse me.” I chase after him. “Get out of my room, please.”
I don't want him in my private space. Any potential embarrassing items haven’t been removed.
It's driving me crazy that he has said nothing, either.
He hurls open the closet doors, the shutters clinging together, and starts searching for something. When he can't find it, he circles and crouches next to the mattress. I furrow my brows, and the tension in my face strengthens.
What is he looking for?
He lowers his head and extends his arm beneath my bed. My bedroom has never had a man in it before, and his presence makes the four walls grow smaller.
He drags out my floral luggage.
“What are you doing with my stuff?”
It's surprising that dust doesn't fly off from my nonexistent travels.
He is choosing to ignore me again. His neck and jaw muscles tense, and the vein on his temple pulsates.
He tosses my bag onto the bed and marches to my dresser, forcefully yanking open the top drawer, nearly breaking it.
Oh God!
Mortification presents itself when he rummages through my bras and panties.
My face flushes with heat as I lunge for him. “That’s my fucking lingerie, buddy.” I grab the black lace intertwined in his fingers and toss the pair back into my drawer, slamming it closed. He swallows with a twitch of an eye.
Now I'm furious.
I position myself between the dresser and Throttle's tree height, wedging myself close by accident.
“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, babe.” His voice drips with venom and the possessiveness is melting me to liquid. “Move.”
“I’m not moving, and I insist you leave.” Swallowing, I continue. “I do not know where my best friend is, but he’s not this. You’re acting insane right now.” This new Throttle is despicable.
In an instant, the darkness fades from his brown eyes, and kindness reemerges. As he looks down, lust takes over, and I understand why when the heavy air brushes against my stomach, creeping up to my exposed chest.
Apparently, somewhere in between me cursing at him and saving my panties from his hulk's grip, my robe came undone.
Shit.
Tying it back with trembling fingers, I become uncontrollably damp between my thighs. Give this another ten minutes and a flood will occur.
He confines me, with both hands on the dresser, his heavy breathing never wavering. I glance downward at the extra-large, hard bulge in the front of his pants. He looks good too in his jeans and T-shirt, which conforms to the right places. But the weaponry is mind-blowing.
I lick my lips, and he responds with a menacing growl. The way his voice caresses me in my lady parts is antagonizing.
He scans my body again, ticks his jaw, before pushing off my dresser and running his fingers through his tousled hair.
The good news is I can breathe, but the bad is that I yearn for his closeness.
“You’re not staying here. You got ten minutes to pack your shit and then I’m taking you back to the club.”
He what now?
“You are not taking me anywhere. This is my home. Where I live.”
“Not anymore, it’s not. And I’m no fool, Tequila. This was never your home.”
I eventually free my feet from the floor and dab his stone chest. “You don’t get to choose my living arrangements, Throttle. Why I never told you. I knew you’d switch into a madman.”
“I let you keep your little secret and not overstep, but it’s finished. The only way I’m walking out of here is if you’re with me.”
“Why are you being like this?” I ask, defeat lacing my voice.
“You thought I’d turn my head at the bruises on my girl’s arm? Don’t confuse me as a fool. You will not be living here anymore. I don’t care if I have to drag you out kicking and screaming, slapping that fine ass the whole way.”
Ignore the dirty, sexy things he just said to you, Tequila.
“First off, I’m not your girl. Second…” I throw my hands on my hips, which was a mistake because my robe parts open again. Ugh, this fucking thing. “I told you I am not going anywhere.”
“Then it looks like we’re in for a long night.” He grinds his molars, stepping toward me. “And go put on some fucking clothes . ” His voice is silk. Smooth yet deep.
“Fine. But only because you asked.” I spin and stalk out of the room, but I decide to make him suffer.
Fuck it.
In a bold move, I strip off my robe and throw it to the floor, exposing my naked backside. Then I slam the door closed.
That was satisfying. Besides, he saw my boobs more than once. But now I’m stuck without clothes.
Great.