Page 14 of Outlaw Xmas
“Kiss me,” she rasped as she gripped his hair and pulled hard.
He slid up her body, forging a wet trail along the way until he covered her mouth. His lips were glistening as he kissed her hard. “Do you like the way you taste?” he said against her mouth before plunging his tongue inside. She writhed beneath him, pulling even harder on his free-flowing hair while her tongue twirled around his in a sensuous dance.
Grabbing his cock, he pushed into her while his mouth still covered hers. He pushed in deeper, harder, and whimpers rose from her throat. He pulled away, pinched her nipples hard, and then thrust into her again and again. Her ass smacked against the table as he kept pumping into her, and he felt her ready to come—all tight and swollen. He wanted her pussy squeezing his cock as he exploded in her. Faster. Harder. She cried out and her warm walls gripped and tightened around his dick, driving him to climax. Then he shot into her, his seed filling her up.
“Fuck, Kimber.”
Her gaze was glassy and unfocused, a slow smile spreading across her face as she pulled him close to her. Their rapid heartbeats pounded against each other’s chests, and they stayed fused together for a few minutes before Throttle pulled out of her. Grabbing a napkin, he wiped his dick and then shoved it into his jeans. Dipping his head down, he kissed her passionately.
“Great way to start the day,” he muttered on her lips.
Laughing, she took his hands and he helped her sit up. “If Hawk gets on my ass about being late, you’re going down for it.” She squeezed his butt and kissed him quickly. “It was awesome.”
He watched as her hips swayed while she walked to the bedroom, her robe and panties in her hand.Fuck, she’s beautiful.He never got tired of seeing her naked. She stirred deep emotions and desire in him, and they grew stronger each day.
“What’re you going to do today?” she asked when she came back, fully clothed with her jacket and hat on.
“I’m gonna check on how the crew did shoveling the contracts we have, and then I got some errands to run.” Throttle’s landscape business in the winter consisted mostly of snow removal. Sometimes he’d help out and drive the snow plow, but mostly his partner, Rags, liked doing it, leaving Throttle to handle quality control on the numerous contracts their business had.
She gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “I’ve got to go. How’s chili sound for dinner?”
“Good as long as you make some cornbread to go along with it.”
“Yes, sir.” She saluted him.
“Smartass.” He smacked her butt. She giggled, blew him a kiss, and went into the garage.
Throttle put the coffee cups in the dishwasher, then took out his phone and called Rags.
“Yo. How’d the crew do with the snow removal early this morning? I got a complaint from one of our contracts. She said the guys didn’t do a good job.”
“Was it from Mrs. Christiansen?”
“Yeah, that’s the name. Do you already know about it?”
“I went to check it out and it looked good to me. She insisted that she wanted you to come by and discuss it with her,” Rags said.
“What the fuck’s up with that? Did you tell her you’re one of the owners?”
“Yep. She didn’t give a damn.”
Throttle scrubbed his face. “I don’t have time for this shit. I’ll give her a call. We got a lot more important contracts we have to take care of. If she drops us, it won’t make a difference to the business income since I think we’re gonna get Allard Food Mart.”
“That’d rock. When are they gonna let you know?”
“Tomorrow, but I’m pretty sure we’ve got it.”
“Fuckin’ sweet. You wanna join me and Wheelie for some chow at Ruthie’s?”
“What time?”
“We’re gonna head over there now.”
“I’m on my way.”
Throttle slipped the phone into his pocket, threw on his leather jacket, and picked up the keys to his Harley. He’d missed being on it. For the past couple of weeks, the snow had been too heavy to ride safely on his bike. When he was younger, he didn’t give a shit about what condition the roads were in; he just cared about the ride. But now that he was thirty-seven and had Kimber in his life, he wasn’t into taking stupid chances. He backed out of the garage and headed toward town, the rush of cold air dancing around him and whipping against his cheeks.
When he walked into the diner, a blast of heat enveloped him as he scanned the packed room for Rags and Wheelie. Sparkling silver and gold miniature trees lined the shelves behind the lunch counter, and multicolored strands of lights framed the windows, cash register, and pass-through counter. The clatter of dishes, the waitstaff calling out their orders, and the lively beats of “Jingle Bell Rock” cooing from the speakers filled the place.
