Throttle

By Sassie Lewis

No Surrender...

Sin is a man who lives by his own rules. Large and in charge, he takes what he wants and makes no apologies about it. Running his custom bike shop and raising his son are the only things he's ever cared about. That is, until a full-bodied goddess crosses his path.

No Regrets...

Georgia's the forbidden fruit custom built for temptation. He knew she was off limits, for more than one reason, but there's only so long he can fight his desires. When he ignores the rules and claims her, what price will he pay for that one taste of perfection?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sassie Publishing
• Release date: Sep 13, 2015
• ISBN: 9781516397150

Sassie Lewis

Sassie Lewis is a hybrid author who penned her first novel in 2014. She writes wickedly naughty romance full of hot alpha males she’d slap if she ever met, and sassy speak-their-mind women who she’d love to be friends with.   With a somewhat skewed and unique view of the world, she is the queen of the intensely personal overshare.  She hopes to drag you into the world she creates and leave you breathless and wanting. When Sassie really wants to get down and dirty, she writes erotica under the name Vixen.

Book preview

Chapter 1

I’d made a few mistakes in my life. Not going to school and running away from home. Being arrested for drug possession at fourteen, and screwing every girl who crossed my path. All things I regretted. I may have been only seventeen when he came into my life, but one thing I could never regret was having my son. I felt a pain move across my chest for the shit I’d put my parents through. Looking to my right, I watched my mother silently weep as Tyson walked across the stage. She may never have seen me graduate from school, but at least she got to see her grandson do it.

Proud didn’t describe what I was feeling. My boy had done something with his life. Poor kid has a reformed fuck-up as a father; Christ, I was still trying to get my shit together. But he’d done it, slugged away the hours and graduated from college. He might not be a doctor or anything fancy, but that shit didn’t matter. He’d wanted to go to college to get his business degree, and he had.

I’d been working my ass off to help pay his tuition. I might not have gotten a diploma, but I was good with my hands. I started working on bikes from the moment I’d gotten my first tricycle. By the time I was ten, I was helping one of our neighbors build an engine for a sweet Mustang he was doing up. But bikes are my passion.

With a little help from Mom and Dad, I’d opened my own bike shop. Why they’d never given up on me was a mystery. Mom had me later in life, but that was no excuse for the things I’d done or why they forgave me time and time again. Mom was just one of those people; she never cussed or got angry. There’s always light at the end of the tunnel, Cynfor. You just need to look past all the darkness. I’d heard that saying more times than I could count, often after one of my fuck-ups.

When I’d mentioned I wanted to open a shop, Dad came home the next day and handed me a large wad of money and the lease agreement to a vacant shop in town. See? Good people.

The first five years after opening Throttle had been a struggle; I’d almost thrown in the towel. Like all new business owners I’d made a few bad decisions, but hiring an ex-con wanted for drug trafficking was probably the biggest. The assholes at the Bureau closed me down for a month, while searching for God only knew what. I ran a clean shop, but trying to convince the public of that after having your shop closed by the Feds wasn’t as easy to overcome as you’d think. Believe it or not, it was the local biker gang which helped me out of that one, spreading the word about the wicked bikes I’d built for a few of them. After that rough period, I earned a reputation for my custom-built bikes, and even a few cars. The business was at a point where you had to wait at least a year to get one of my babies. But at that moment, none of that crap mattered.

As some guy in a prissy black gown and cap with a little gold thing hanging off it handed my boy his diploma, I couldn’t help myself. I put my fingers in my mouth and whistled. Yeah, we weren’t meant to clap until the end, but fuck’ em. As far as I was concerned, no one else mattered. My dad clapped me on the back in approval.

I knew they were both as proud as me. It had only been when Tyson was ten that we’d moved into our own place, and out of my mom and dad’s. Tyson’s mother had dumped him on my parents’ doorstep when he was only a week old. If I hadn’t recognized her as some chick I’d screwed earlier in the year, I would have put up a fight, but as Tyson grew older, there was no denying the boy was mine. It was his eyes. It was like I’d pulled mine out and shoved them in his head. That and our black hair color are the only similarities we shared.

Sitting back down, I zoned out as the rest of the graduates received their diplomas. I needed a smoke in the worst way. I’d been trying to quit for the past year, but shit, it was hard. I’d managed to cut down, but giving them up entirely just wasn’t working for me. I’d gone a whole two days without one, only to go into my office and find a fresh pack sitting on my desk. Underneath was a grease-covered note with one word written on it: Please. Guess the boys had enough of my temper.

Pulling a stick of gum from my vest pocket, I started to chew. Most of the other attendees were wearing suits and fancy dresses, but I didn’t do suits so I sat amongst the crowd of well-dressed parents and family in my leathers. Hey, I had polished my boots, so as far as I was concerned, I’d dressed up.

Closing my eyes, I let images of Tyson growing up fill my head. I would’ve liked to have given him a little brother or sister, but no one I’d met was ever good enough for my boy. Yeah, I didn’t really care about me—as long as I had a wet pussy, I was grand, but my boy… my boy deserved a mother who would treat him right, and none of the chicks I’d ever met were anything more than a good time.

I’d made sure to wrap it tight after Ty had been dropped off at our front door. Fuck if I could even remember his mother’s name; the stupid bitch didn’t even put her name on his birth certificate. Hadn’t that been a fucking mess. There’d been no records of his delivery at any of the local hospitals. My mom filled out a crap-load of paperwork for us to be able to keep him.

At seventeen, being a father was the last thing on my mind; at the time, I didn’t know if I wanted Child Services to take him away or not. Looking back now, he was the best thing to ever happen to me. My parents helped me out as much as they could, but they also made me do the hard yards myself. Within a month of him showing up, I’d changed; girls were few and far between. I knew how to change a shitty diaper and bathe someone apart from myself. I knew how it felt to race to the emergency room in the middle of the night ’cause your kid is running a fever of one-oh-two. Getting my high school diploma while bouncing around a colicky baby was something I had never envisioned doing, but I did.

For the next hour, I sat there remembering all the little things, like his first day at school. Me, a large man covered in tattoos, standing outside the school for the whole day. I had to explain to two coppers what I was doing there, but I didn’t want to leave him; he might’ve needed me to beat the shit out of some snot-nose who picked on him. The next day when I pulled up in front of the school, Ty’d gotten off the bike as quick as possible, handed me his helmet and told me I needed to go to work. If I stayed again, all his friends would start making fun of him.

Snorting at the memory, I looked around to see if anyone was paying any attention to me but for the most part, they all looked as bored as I was. Then one would sit forward and excitement would light their eyes as their child graduated.

I had to stop thinking of him that way. Ty wasn’t a kid anymore; he was a man. He’d be moving out of our home the next week. He hadn’t wanted to move out while going to college, said it was too much pressure having to pay rent. I‘d offered to pay, thinking he might want his own space, but he was happy to hang with me when he had free time, watching a game or just coming into work with me. He knew nothing about bikes or any type of mechanics, so instead of helping me with those, he’d work on the books.

When the Dean announced the year’s graduating class, every one of us eager parents stood and cheered. My whistles rang loudly through the auditorium.

Making my way outside, I lit a cigarette and waited for my boy to catch up with us.

I don’t think you’re allowed to smoke here, dear.

It’s all good, Mom.

Cynfor, will you ever change? Stop pushing those social boundaries the rest of us live by? Sometimes I wonder how you raised such a good boy.

She said it with kindness; she knew I’d do anything for my kid. I might’ve been a more respectable citizen these days, but I still lived by my own rules. I had no idea how my parents ended up with me. They were both good people and becoming a parent myself showed me how good I actually had it. I couldn’t explain why I am the way I am; shit just happens sometimes. I could blame the wrong crowd of people, but that wasn’t it. I was a leader, not a follower, so it was all on me. I could’ve changed. I just didn’t want to.

I could see Tyson making his way to us, alongside a pretty girl with her arm looped through his. They looked to be deep in conversation.

It wasn’t the first time I’d seen him with a woman—he was twenty-one, after all. I’d sat him down at thirteen and had the talk with him. I figured seeing as how I’d popped my cherry at that age, it was best to do it sooner rather than later. At the time, he’d made gagging noises at me, but I didn’t care. I handed him a box