Page 12 of Throttle

“Um, I’ll think about it. School has been overwhelming me this year.”

“Well, we’d love to see you.” Glasses shatter in the distance. “Dammit, I gotta go. That’s what happens when your father washes the dishes. Love you, honey.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

She ends the call and I'm left with emptiness in my heart.

I moved to Columbus so I could attend school there. Since that didn't work, I searched for the most affordable place to live, and that led me here.

While I was bartending at a rundown local bar, Maggie asked me to join her and her ol’ man. They forgot to mention that it was a biker club. Had they… I would have said no. But I was uneducated then.

Opening my laptop, I go straight to my school e-books. I try to skim the chapter my online instructor just covered, but I'm too unfocused.

I steal a glance at my phone, curious about Throttle. Then I realize he’s likely banging it out with the girl he was flirting with, and I get queasy.

I agree with Angel. I need to move on from him.

FOUR

Throttle

I flip Wendy. Janet. Missy… shit. Whatever her name is, over, jamming my cock inside from behind. With her screaming in pleasure, I tug her hair toward me, knowing she loves it. When she tries to turn around, I hold her firm.

I had a rule of not making eye contact while giving them the time of their lives. The gesture is unnecessary because they carry no significance for me. It was personal. Too intimate. And that's not the purpose of this.

“Throttle. Yes!”

She flinches when my palm meets her ass cheek. “You like that? Good girl. Beg for it. Scream for it.”

“Yes… harder. Faster.” The sound of her breathless shouts begs for more.

Wish fulfilled.

I slam into her like a sledgehammer, causing her breasts to jiggle and her screams to increase. I don’t give a fuck if the complete club hears. They have grown accustomed to it.

As we both release, she clasps the sheets next to me and falls onto my bed while I toss the condom into the trash.

“Throttle… you really know how to fuck a woman. Jesus.”

Remaining silent, I walk to the bathroom, grab a towel for her, and then take out a cigarette. Nowadays, I only smoke after sex. It might be because I want to keep my high going or just a stupid ritual.

She draws back the sheet and gestures to the space beside her. “Come and lie down.”

I hold back a groan of annoyance. “What are you doing?”

Disappointment washes over her face. “Just this once. Let me spend the night.” She places a hand on my forearm, but her touch is cold and dead to me.

“You know how this works.” I'm a friendly, playful guy, but they leave me no choice when they behave like this. Clingy. Needy. Convinced this will lead to more.

For a few moments, she gazes at me with a puzzled expression.

All right, guess I'll play the role of a douchebag.

“I said. Out. Grab your shit and get the fuck out.” Part of me feels guilty, but she knows better. They know better.

“Fine, whatever.” She snatches her things, dresses, and then hauls ass out of my room, whipping the door shut behind her.

Before extinguishing my cigarette in the ashtray, I take one final drag and recline on my pillow. I call the only woman who I give a damn to talk with.

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