Page 11 of Throttle

Now, my eyes strain to focus as sunlight blends into the cream-colored walls, the warm rays shining on my face. My tired bones pop when I stretch my arms over my head. Sitting up, I seek out the origin of the sweet, nutty aroma that fills my nose. When I glance toward the desk, I see a miniature coffee pot resting in the center beside a mug and a note. I slowly roll to my feet so I can retrieve it.

Went to find you a change of clothes. Ibuprofen is in the small desk drawer under the coffee maker in case you need it.

- T

Guilt washes over me as I think about the man I wanted to strangle last night doing something as thoughtful as this. I may have judged him too quickly and harshly, considering this kind act. It’s also possible that I’ve watched too much TV and didn’t give him a fair chance. I’ll think about that later though. Right now, I need coffee.

I pour myself a cup and take my first sip, letting the warm liquid soothe me from the inside out. My stiff muscles relax, and I stand here, holding the mug while I roll my head and neck to relieve the ache. After a few more sips, my stomach begins to rumble, telling me it’s time to find some breakfast.

I search Throttle’s dresser, looking for bottoms to wear with the shirt I borrowed last night. The only thing that has a drawstring is a pair of baggy gym shorts, but they’ll have to do. I cinch them up, hoping they stay on my hips, then leave the room. As I navigate the hall, I try to remember where Throttle said the kitchen was. He gave me such a terrible tour I’m concerned I won’t find my way back.

After wandering around for what feels like an eternity, I end up in the common area of the clubhouse. There are men and women huddled together, laughing and talking. Once I enter the room, however, the laughter ceases and everyone stares at me with curious expressions on their faces.

Every muscle in my body is telling me to run—I don’t like their collective eyes on me—but I hold my ground instead. My gaze peruses the group dressed in jeans and black leather vests with large lettering on the back. I don’t know what time it is, but I’m guessing it’s still morning. So I’m baffled that they appear wide awake and are currently drinking alcohol.

Not your concern, Sienna. They can do what they want.

Just as I pivot to leave, one of the men speaks up. “Are you lost, little girl? Why don’t you come sit on Daddy’s lap then?”

I roll my eyes and turn to face the asshole. “How does sitting on your lap help me if I’m lost?”

“It doesn’t. I just want to know how your body feels resting against mine.” His smile grows wide while the men around him laugh, the women joining in too.

“Keep dreaming because that’s never gonna happen.” I flip him off, earning myself a new bout of laughter from his friends. But instead of getting mad or throwing a man-sized tantrum for embarrassing him, the guy’s smile broadens. “Just tell me where the kitchen is and I’ll be on my way.” My head shakes in disbelief. I’m not even sure why I bother asking this group.

“You hungry, baby? I’ll give you something to eat,” a red-haired biker calls out, gripping his dick through his jeans and giving it a shake.

It’s too early for this crap.

I stare pointedly at him. “I’m looking for something that would satisfy me. When I’m in the mood for a cocktail weenie…” I glance down at his dick, then back to his face. “…I’ll let you know.”

There’re oohs and ahs coming from the group now, followed by some commentary and more laughter.

“Where’d she come from?”

“Who’s bitch is this?”

“She’s hilarious, brother. Let’s keep her.”

“Damn, girl, you got a mouth on you.”

I maintain a stoic expression as they try to settle down. I’ve never been one to take shit from anyone and I won’t be starting today, especially with a rowdy bunch of lewd bikers.

One of the women in the group points to her left. “It’s through there, honey,” she announces, and I give her a grateful smile before heading in that direction.

I walk through the threshold of the kitchen, amazed at how big it is. The wonderment only lasts for a second though as I shuffle toward the fridge. I open the door, and my mouth waters at the sight of the freshly washed grapes sitting on the shelf. I don’t know who these belong to but I make a quiet apology under my breath. Popping one grape at a time into my mouth, I find eggs, bacon, English muffins, and jam. I start heating up a frying pan, slapping bacon down and making the whole room smell like Sunday morning.

A short while later, Throttle walks in holding a large paper grocery bag. He places it on the counter and moves toward me.

“What’s up? Jerk said I could find the princess with the smart mouth in here.” He throws a thumb over his shoulder and gestures to the other room.

“Jerk?” I raise a brow.

“Yeah, the redhead. He goes by Jerk.”

Well, the name definitely suits him.

“He and some of the other guys decided to show me just how classy and welcoming they could be, so I might’ve put them in their places.” I shrug, turning off the eye on the stove before arranging food on a plate and passing it to Throttle. “Here.” He stares questioningly at it and I want to roll my eyes. “Don’t worry, I didn’t poison it.”