Page 47 of Throttle

He confines me, with both hands on the dresser, his heavy breathing never wavering. I glance downward at the extra-large, hard bulge in the front of his pants. He looks good too in his jeans and T-shirt, which conforms to the right places. But the weaponry is mind-blowing.

I lick my lips, and he responds with a menacing growl. The way his voice caresses me in my lady parts is antagonizing.

He scans my body again, ticks his jaw, before pushing off my dresser and running his fingers through his tousled hair.

The good news is I can breathe, but the bad is that I yearn for his closeness.

“You’re not staying here. You got ten minutes to pack your shit and then I’m taking you back to the club.”

He what now?

“You are not taking me anywhere. This is my home. Where I live.”

“Not anymore, it’s not. And I’m no fool, Tequila. This was never your home.”

I eventually free my feet from the floor and dab his stone chest. “You don’t get to choose my living arrangements, Throttle. Why I never told you. I knew you’d switch into a madman.”

“I let you keep your little secret and not overstep, but it’s finished. The only way I’m walking out of here is if you’re with me.”

“Why are you being like this?” I ask, defeat lacing my voice.

“You thought I’d turn my head at the bruises on my girl’s arm? Don’t confuse me as a fool. You will not be living here anymore. I don’t care if I have to drag you out kicking and screaming, slapping that fine ass the whole way.”

Ignore the dirty, sexy things he just said to you, Tequila.

“First off, I’m not your girl. Second…” I throw my hands on my hips, which was a mistake because my robe parts open again. Ugh, this fucking thing. “I told you I am not going anywhere.”

“Then it looks like we’re in for a long night.” He grinds his molars, stepping toward me. “And go put on some fucking clothes.” His voice is silk. Smooth yet deep.

“Fine. But only because you asked.” I spin and stalk out of the room, but I decide to make him suffer.

Fuck it.

In a bold move, I strip off my robe and throw it to the floor, exposing my naked backside. Then I slam the door closed.

That was satisfying. Besides, he saw my boobs more than once. But now I’m stuck without clothes.

Great.

SIXTEEN

Tequila

My stomach rumbles. I've barricaded myself in my room for hours, hoping that Throttle would leave. I expected him to give up, but he's still here, and I need food ASAP.

Once I got rid of the robe, I switched to my night tank and shorts. With setting aside my ego, I make my way to the living area, where I find him casually spread out on my couch. With his legs out and ankles crossed, they sit on my beat-up coffee table. He showcases his bicep muscles by resting his interlocked fingers behind his head. And he’s watching my tv. The audacity.

“Have you finally come to your senses?” he asks, but pays no attention to my existence, not even bothering to glance in my direction. But sensed I was there. I want to slap that smug voice directly out of him, yet I’d like to have him thrust his very large penis inside me.

I will never hate him. Which added to the frustration.

I open the refrigerator and head straight for the remaining pizza I saved from the earlier evening. My stomach continues to growl and curses me for starving it. “I would offer you some, but I'm hoping to make you leave by depriving you of food.”

Rising to his feet, he removes his leather cut and carefully places it on the couch. “I helped myself to your fridge an hour ago. Pizza was good but should have asked for extra cheese.”

I suddenly become aware that the only two slices I had are missing. “Ugh! I hate you right now,” I mumble, both knowing that’s not true.

I give up and shut the fridge and remember I need to feed Nemo. At least one of us gets to eat. “Sorry buddy, it’s late.”

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