Page 44 of Throttle

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?”

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