Page 38 of Throttle

Almost… got it.

Just as my fingers touch the bottle, a surge of warmth envelops my back, and a tall figure effortlessly takes hold of the liquor I've been struggling to reach.

Throttle.

I’m able to point him out blindfolded.

My V-neck shirt rides up, including the right sleeve. It's the same outfit I had on for my date with Caleb earlier. The one meant to cover up my dark bruises.

Unaware of Throttle's proximity, I yank it down and whirl around. The room is suffocating as I gaze into eyes that have turned from gentle brown to black and murderous.

He places the alcohol aside and grips my arm, not enough to hurt me, and examines the bruise, colored purple and black. “What the fuck is this?”

Well, it’s obvious. There's no doubt they’re finger marks. It's likely I can come up with a quick excuse. If I’m honest and tell him it was Jasper, I'd have to reveal who he is and disclose my address. Let's be honest, Throttle won't ever forget about this.

“Tequila. Answer me.” He takes another step closer, which I didn’t think was possible considering we were already inches from touching.

God, he smells good.

“You know how clumsy I am. I may have had a run-in with a door or something. I don’t remember.” I awkwardly laugh, trying to brush past him, but he mimics my movement and plasters my body to the shelving with his.

“Don’t fuck with me, my rose. A door doesn’t have fucking fingers. Was this that Caleb guy? Because I swear to Christ if it was, I’ll—”

“No! He didn’t touch me. It’s nothing. Excuse me, I need to return to my bar, and you should go back to your girlfriend. I’m sure her boobs are missing you.” That wasn’t supposed to sound jealous and bitter.

“I don’t give a fuck about her. I care about you. Are you planning on telling me why you have bruises on your arm? Or am I just going to find out myself?”

Good luck.

“Like I said, it’s nothing.”

Tension engulfs his body, his eyes resembling black holes, and his jaw twitching. But he steps back, letting me slip past him.

I quickly grab the bottle I came for and rush to the front, feeling a trickle of sweat down my spine.

He can’t find out.

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.

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