Throttle's Seduction: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 7) Read Online Free PDF

pussy-whipped.” Throttle pushed back roughly in his chair.
    Hawk’s jaw clenched. “Cara’s got nothing to do with this. I run the fuckin’ shop and decide who I’m gonna hire. Why the fuck do you care, anyway? She’s not working on your bike.”
    “And she better never get near it. If I bring my bike here, I don’t want a goddamned woman fucking with it.” He scowled, the heat rising to his temples.
    “Noted. How’s the planning going for Sturgis?”
    “It’s going,” he mumbled. Being the Road Captain, Throttle was in charge of planning all the road trips and rallies. He’d recently taken over the position from Bruiser, who was much older than him and had to slow down according to his doctor’s orders. Throttle loved the extra perk of having the patch “Road Captain” on his leather jacket. It made getting prime pussy even easier.
    “You wanna inventory some items that came in? I could use the help.”
    Throttle nodded slowly. “I can do that.” He stretched out his legs. “Is that chick around?”
    “Kimber? She’ll be in at one. She takes some business classes at the community college. That’s the reason she moved here from Silver Ridge. She told me she wants to open her own shop someday.”
    Throttle snorted. “Who the fuck would go to a bike repair shop owned by a chick?”
    “You never know.” Hawk pointed to a stack of boxes piled against the wall. “You wanna get started? I’m so fuckin’ busy right now.”
    “And she’s got a real mouth on her. If she didn’t work for you, I would’ve put her in her place yesterday. Doesn’t she know who the Insurgents are?”
    Hawk stared at him. “Has she tweaked your dick?”
    Throttle leapt up, his eyes flashing. “Fuck no!”
    Throwing his hands up, Hawk smirked. “Damn, you’re overreacting, dude. You’ve been talking about Kimber since you came into my office.”
    “Bullshit. I’m not interested in a chick who wants to be like a fuckin’ man. You’ve insulted me. You know my type—big tits, fleshy ass, and total air brain. This”—he waved his hand in the air—“whatever her name is, hardly has any tits. And her hair is pink and black like some fucked-up zebra. There’s no way she’s done anything to my cock except make it shrivel. She’s so not my type.” He crossed his arms, his chest heaving.
    “You finished? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you worked up over any woman like this before,” Hawk teased.
    “I don’t like chicks who don’t know their place. And you can act all high and mighty, but I know that before Cara grabbed your dick, you’d never consider hiring a fuckin’ female mechanic.”
    Hawk stood up. “You’re probably right on that. I guess since I’ve been with Cara, I’ve realized that it doesn’t matter if a man or a woman does the job as long as it’s done well. We hang out with her friends who are doctors, lawyers, and accountants. She has a good friend who’s a welder. That shit doesn’t bother me anymore.”
    “Like I said, pussy-whipped,” he muttered under his breath.
    “You wanna get started on the boxes or do you wanna keep ranting about my employee?”
    “Give me a fuckin’ box,” he growled.
    After two hours of unwrapping and categorizing motorcycle accessories, Throttle stretched his arms high above his head. “You wanna grab some lunch?” he asked Hawk.
    “Patrick can get us some sandwiches. Let’s put this inventory on the shelves.”
    The two of them each carried a few boxes into the shop and began placing the items on the stainless steel shelves. Hawk gave Patrick money to run over to Fleischmann’s Deli to pick up a couple pastrami sandwiches.
    “The hood ornaments Jerry makes are wicked. They just fly outta the shop.”
    Throttle grabbed a grinning skull with iridescent eyes and stuffed it in his pocket. “I’ve been trying to get one of these since I first saw them in Jerry’s online store, but they’re always sold out. I’ll pay you when we’re done