Page 3 of Throttle

I ponder my response. “It’s only weed.” I should have contemplated longer.

My father’s eyes slant, and his jaw ticks. “Go to your room. You’re grounded for another month. And you can forget about getting your dirt bike back. Consider it sold.”

Damn.

That one hurt more than I wanted.

The only thing I give a shit about is pussy and my bike. Well, just my dirt bike. Now that’s gone. I have nothing until I graduate.

After slamming my bedroom door closed, I turn on the anime I was watching from earlier. I take off my stuffy ass suit and throw my dress shirt on the floor.

My fresh tattoo itches like a bitch as I rub lotion on it. That’ll be number three. My chest and shoulders. That would set my parents over the edge if they saw.

I’m going to get out. One more year and I’ll be able to leave. Gabe’s cousin lives north of here. Said I could shack up with him until I got a steady job. And that’s what I plan to do.

I am going to be a leader in this world. I just won’t be doing it with Sunday sermons and stale bagels. This is my life and I’ll be the one to have a say in it.

Me.

ONE

Three years ago.

Throttle

“We got a new bartender coming in tonight, and I want you two to leave her alone. Don’t need her fleeing before she even starts. And I know you guys can’t keep it in your damn pants.” Our President points a meaty finger in our direction.

“Woah, us? Me? Come on Chain, I’m a gentleman.” Although, I’m the club flirt, and everyone knows it. Women flock to me like a moth to a flame.

Tank laughs. “Gentleman, my ass. You accumulate a heap of snatch panties beside your bed.

That is also true. I have an assortment. A variety. Pink, black, lace, G-string. What do they call those between a thong and a full panty? Oh. Cheeky.

Those are my favorite.

A little entertainment and souvenirs hurt no one.

“Jesus Christ, I don’t want to hear what you two and your dicks do in your free time. Be on your best behavior and don't make her uncomfortable, like she's about to be devoured.”

“I can arrange that if she wants.” I wiggle my brows, and Chain snorts, walking away. “What? I’m kidding, it’s a joke.”

“Brother, sometimes I worry about you.” Tank chugs the rest of his beer, rolling his eyes.

Tank’s my dude. But I take full advantage of being young, carefree, and able to fuck who I like and wherever I like.

“No one needs to be concerned. I've never been happier living my best damn life.”

“That may be true, but you should slow down before your dick falls off,” Tank jokes.

“Don’t worry about my pecker. Worry about yours and how neglected it is because, my man, your hand is not what it wants.”

“Fuck you.”

“No thanks, brother. I like pussy. It's fine swinging the other way, but it's not my strong suit. I’d waste my knowledge.”

“On that note, I’m gonna go get a workout in. Don’t forget about tonight.” Tank slides out from his stool, taking him and his gigantic frame outside.

How can I forget? My purpose in life is this. To remove the evil. Destroy the ones who deserve to be destroyed. Protect those who can’t protect themselves. And when it involves something fucked up, like hurting people weaker than you, well hell, it’s an addiction.