NINETEEN
Tequila
Am I classified as a horrible individual? To having knowledge of his wrongdoings. No. Those men are the awful ones. Yet I cannot feign ignorance of what occurs.
Throttle's actions became clear, as Jasper had not been lurking around my place for a week. And the painted carpet with blood spots is a dead giveaway. Sadly, it will go unnoticed.
I didn't bother asking him, since he wouldn't tell me, anyway. It was an unspoken rule. Club business. Although, this involved me, not the Chains. They trained me to look the other way and not ask questions.
I’m glad he’s gone. He won’t be around to harass me anymore. I regret not going to Throttle initially, but this will have to do. Being the reason for someone else’s death should disgust me, yet this doesn’t, and I am selfish because of it.
“Damn. How did you shoot me so fast?”
“If you can’t keep up, you shouldn’t be playing with us big boys.” I snicker, keeping my finger near the trigger button. As a kid, I played enough video games with my brother. You never get lazy with fire.
I look at Throttle, who is sitting beside me with our backs facing the bed. With every key he presses, his muscles twitch and the veins subtly pulse. I want to express gratitude to his dirt bike for giving such remarkable arms. When did forearm veins become so alluring? Watching them on Throttle, handling his PlayStation controller, has me imagining my tongue licking across.
I guess we reached a truce after the apartment drama. It was based on his compromise. Though, being watched and protected like royalty was far from.
Our constant cycle of loving and hating each other was becoming the new normal. I was noticing the sexual tension. The way his eyes burn with lust, I’m no idiot.
“Ha! Payback’s a bitch,” he yells, jolting me back to real time. He only beat me because I was gawking at him.
“Whatever. Lucky shot.” I drop my controller, stretching back with a yawn.
I love nights like these when hours become irrelevant. Temporarily forgetting reality.
I catch him looking at my chest, and the skin under my top ignites to fire inches away from him. I shut my sweater when he clenches his jaw. Not because I want him to stop, but we didn’t need added fuel to the flames.
Sometimes he gazes at me with a longing that consumes me, but other times I’m just a girl to fill the gaps between his other affairs. Though he hasn’t been with another woman since I saw him in his room with one.
Once he gets the message, he turns away, popping a starburst in his mouth. I watch as he glides his tongue across his lip. I make myself turn my gaze elsewhere in search of a distraction.
As I toy with the hem on my sweater, I'm tempted to inquire of his past. His family. Despite our long-standing closeness, I've been clever enough to steer clear of that subject. It’s one matter Throttle loathes discussing.
“Hey. Um... So… I guess I’ve never pushed the topic before because, well, who loves talking about their skeletons in the closet? I know I don’t—”
“Tequila. Your rambling is adorable, but get to the point, babe.”
Babe. Okay, breathe.
“Right. Sorry.” I take a deep breath before articulating my sentence coherently. "What I'm trying to ask is..." Without intending to, my finger glides over his tattoo and up to the chain around his neck. I can't decide if it's a positive or negative reaction, but he hisses. He glances at my hand, and I hastily withdraw it.
“Can you tell me what your parents were like? Do you have those because of them?” I suppose we carry keepsakes of who we once were. Whether they are objects or permanent markings. And he wears his personal reminders like a heart on his sleeve.
“You do not want to hear about my past. Trust me.”
“But I do. Tell me everything. I'm curious to find out who my best friend was during his childhood. The incredible man who sits beside me.”
“You already know me better than anyone.”
“Yes, but—”
“Drop it, Tequila. Okay?”
Our gazes lock, and the sadness in his eyes fills me with regret for ever inquiring.
He lets out a sigh. “Look. While I understand there are kids who had a tougher upbringing, my childhood was anything but normal. Wasn’t like yours.” He clears his throat. “My parents pushed me to become a person I didn't aspire to be. Someone I could never be.” He clasps his cross in his hand. “I wear this, not because I’m a religious man. That part is obvious. It’s a constant reminder of who I don’t want to be. Didn't want anyone dictating my life choices.”
The idea of managing control is unimaginable to me.
“I’m sorry.”
“My father was a person of God. It's not bad, but he resented my dreams and desires. He believed it was unacceptable that I refused to be part of the church.” He runs a nervous finger through his hair and looks away. “The only thing I had that was worth a damn was my dirt bike and when he sold it, I was done. I wanted out of there. Needed to get out. I could taste it.”
Who’s blaming him? It wasn’t fair to have your future predetermined for you.
“I love who you are and am glad you stay true to yourself without letting others influence you. I regret your parents couldn't be what you needed, but I don't regret the person you've become. You are an incredible man and they’ll be sorry one day that they missed out on watching you develop into him.”
The way he gazes back at me makes me mushy.
“Throttle? You, okay?”
“I want to kiss you, Tequila. So fucking bad it physically pains me.”
My heart comes to a halt. Words I have longed to hear. He said he wanted me the night I saw him with the hang-around, but this is different. He’s sober and coherent. Apprehension swirls in my mind. Was this a dream? Because there’s no way Throttle, my best friend who throws more mixed signals than a stoplight, would be asking to kiss me right now.
“What?” I whisper, needing him to say it again. Caleb asked the same thing, but the comparison was unmatched. The heart pounding response wasn’t there before. Not like this.
“Can I kiss you?”
I'm drawn to his touch as his firm hand caresses my cheek. Okay, I’m not dreaming. The flutters happening in my lower belly can’t deny this a reality. Although in his room, we are surrounded by his club on the other side of the door, I’ve wanted nothing more.
“Yes.” My voice sounding a million miles away, while my heart strums in my ears. Those sometimes dark, yet gentle eyes of his will be the death of me.
Our foreheads touch, sending our bodies uniting.
“I’m going to hurt you, Tequila. I’m going to hurt you because this cannot be anything. I can’t give you more. But I’m a selfish bastard and it’s impossible to not fantasize about the way you would taste. It won’t leave my fucking mind, and it’s driving me mad.” Still holding my cheek, he slides his other hand down my arm, creating goosebumps.
Will this break me? Allow him to shatter me into a million pieces. Absolutely because I always do.
“If this is my only chance to have you, I surrender. You can’t hurt me if I’m agreeing.” I bite the inside of my cheek, suppressing the lie deeper within myself. “I wanted you to kiss me when I saw you with that woman. I wanted to be her.”
There’s anguish in his eyes. Regret on what happened. But despite it, I’m giving him the permission he seeks.
“I was an ass and acted like a fucking idiot for—”
I press a finger to his soft lips, then drag it to his full bottom one. He halts for an instant, softly nipping at my finger, and then he leans in, his mouth almost brushing against mine. His warm, minty and strawberry breath surrounds my cheeks. The moment he kisses me—it’s explosive. At first, his touch is delicate, as if he’s cherishing the feeling. Desiring to savor every single aspect of it.
He moves his tongue with mine, alternating between playful and intense. And the softness disappears. It’s a desperate need for us both.
As he squeezes my waist, an overwhelming desire to let myself be consumed by him awakens. Climbing onto his lap, I fist his hair while we share breaths.
“Jesus Christ, I knew it. So sweet. Just like candy.” He kisses me everywhere. From my neck, collarbone, to my breasts. “I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on this. On you.”
If only it were more.
“Shut up and keep doing what you are doing. Don’t you dare stop.” Never stop.
“Not a chance.” With a firm grip on the back of my head, he pulls me toward him, and our lips meet again. It’s rough and desiring. A need being fulfilled.
I move my hips against him. My shorts riding up with each dance, leaving my butt cheeks exposed.
Throttle clenches my skin, forcing me to sink further into his firmness.
He’s a stone and… Oh! He’s not wearing any boxers.
While attempting to sneak my hand into the front of his enticing grey sweatpants, he catches me, ending our kiss. He pauses, giving me a steady look, then allows me to proceed. I gasp when he rubs circles on my clit with his thumb, sending my body spiraling.
We’re both breathless and it’s incredible.
When he slips two fingers inside my wet folds, my eyes roll back and I ride his hand, still stroking his length. “You feel fucking amazing, my girl. And this, right here, your touch, Christ, it's the best thing ever.”
I moan in pleasurable agony as he goes in and out of my slick wetness. I keep pleasuring him, unable to disregard his thickness. He attracts women like moths to a flame.
He’s perfection.
My strokes become faster and more intense as he speeds up his finger thrusts. I cry out at the same time he lets out a deep, low moan, but I continue stroking every inch of him. He pulls out, leaving me soaked and begging for more. I crave so much more. But then he stops me.
“Was it not good?” I question, hoping that’s not the case.
“Not Good?” He raises a brow and licks the evidence of me off his fingers. “Oh, no, my Tequila Rose. It was more than good, but when I come, I want to be inside you.” He lifts me effortlessly up off the floor, and I wrap my legs around his waist. Holy crap, that has to take some strength.
“You’re so goddamn beautiful, it feels sinful.” He smirks, and my heart dances in my throat.
Gently, he throws me onto the familiar bed where I've slept countless times. I observe him standing tall over me, kneeling on either side of my body. Tearing off my sweater, he moves on to my shirt, taking it off and exposing my breasts, embraced by a lace bra. I tremble with pleasure as his fingers caress my skin.
“Are you cold?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m just. I…” Scared. Terrified. The result will break me. I close off the consequences and return to the present.
“I know, me too.” His breath lines my cheek, causing a moan from my lips.
My longing for him is so strong, only a natural disaster could end us.
His gaze roams over my exposed figure, and although I’m vulnerable, I refuse to retreat. He tosses his worn band shirt, and it falls onto the floor beside his bed. I need a minute to drool over his body. He’s beautiful. The ink on his chest, arms, and abs stresses his athletic prowess. Whether four, six, or maybe even eight, he defines each groove of his core. I lose any self-control and pet him like a famished creature. I take my time, savoring every touch, memorizing every detail so I can dream of this in the future. He throws his sweatpants, bringing them back together with his shirt, and my wet pussy is pulsating.
"You're so large," I say to him, and he smirks, aware that I've just fueled his already substantial ego. “It's understandable why women want to be with you.” I accidentally said that out loud.
The existing regret softens his eyes. “Maybe we should stop.”
Perhaps we should, but my heart is telling me to be silent and let this man consume me in every conceivable manner.
Ignoring his hesitation, I pull him toward me by gripping his hair. “Shut up and fuck me.” I should have walked away, and I’m certain that this will shatter me.
“You’re so eager, my rose.”
Damn right I am.
Fireworks explode as his lips collide with mine. My spine arches as he moves, placing kisses on my neck, chest, and the space between my breasts. He advances until he slips his rough, calloused hand into the front of my underwear. Waves of pleasure course through my body, shocking me like a storm. I roll my eyes back and clutch the headboard for stability.
His breath against my ear gives me another shiver as he leans down. “I’ve waited so long to touch you. To experience every part of you.” He has? “I want your screams to be from me. His fingers enter my wetness once more, sending me in a shout of explosion. He slides in and out, stimulating my clit.
“Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” I clasp the silk sheets underneath me, bracing for it.
He lightly pinches the tops of my breasts, teasing and admiring me, before sucking on my nipples. With every lick and flick, I lose it. “You're completely drenched. Jesus, my rose.”
I reach my breaking point and release with an unparalleled experience. No man has ever pleased me like this.
After my high wears off, I give him a deep and fast kiss. Ask for it. I’m desperate for him. All of him. “Please, fuck me, Throttle. I need you.”
Without averting his gaze, he retrieves a condom from his nightstand, tearing it open with his teeth, and I'm mesmerized as he rolls it onto his impressive thickness.
I want to feel him, not the condom.
“I’m on the pill. We don’t have to use that.” I’ve never been so happy to swallow that stupid little thing on the daily.
He hesitates. “I’ve been with a lot of women, Tequila. And I’m not saying this to hurt you, but I need you to know I’ve always worn a condom,” he reassures me what I figure to be true.
I despise every woman who got to have him.
“I trust you.”
“There’s no going back from this. If we do this. Everything will change.” It will change everything. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been so sure about anything.”
He tosses away the condom with a flicker of guilt, yet I push it aside as he penetrates me. Pain following pleasure. Then an eruption of pure bliss.
Holy hell.
In and out. With slow, steady thrusts. Our movement coordinates as our bodies hum in harmony. Each touch is as if it's our last moment. Our first yet final. I suppress the tightness in my chest and concentrate on savoring every bit of him.
“Fuckin’ Christ. You are flawless.” Throttle nuzzles my neck, inhaling me into him.
I can sense another orgasm reaching its climax with every movement and fulfilled desire. “Yes. Yes!” I scratch his solid, hard back and I’ll be sure to apologize for that later.
We release simultaneously, teetering on the edge. We're both naked and sweaty as he engulfs me with his whole body, while propping himself up on his hands.
I love him and am a total idiot because I would do it again. My soul was already craving more of him.
When he doesn’t move, I whisper. “Throttle?”
With heavy breathing, he breaks our intense gazes by lowering his head. He resurfaces, only to kiss my forehead and head to the bathroom.
My eyes burn with unleashed tears when he cleans me so tenderly. It would be easier if he was a jerk.
I tingle as he kisses my inner thighs. His warm lips leading upward and my breath catches. But he hesitates, stopping and the warmth—safety of his body is gone.
I gaze up at him while he towers over me. He appears torn, bewildered, and beaten. We hold each other’s stares.
“I’ll be right back.” Sorrow engulfs him.
When he returns, he enfolds me in his powerful embrace—the embrace I adore being held in—and draws me close. My back presses against his stone chest.
There's something different about how he's holding me. He holds on, fearful of letting go.
“You’re a dream, Tequila. One no man ever wants to wake up from.” His lips press to the nape of my neck. Just as I move, he plants a sincere kiss on my head. “You’ll always be my girl.”
I close my eyes, soaking in his arms around me, and fight the sleep that threatens to slay me. I despise the upcoming morning, knowing this will become a memory.