Honey (Full Throttle Series) Read online

  Table of Contents

  The First Book of my MC Biker Collection

  Keep in touch, stay luscious gorgeous!

  Gratitude right here my friend!!

  Honey

  Teaser of Her First, Her Boss

  Bonus Stuff!!!

  More Steamy Stuff Right Here

  Check out my other books!

  Spoil your Sweet Spot…

  [SBM1]

   Copyright 2018 by Hazel Parker - All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

  Honey

  Full Throttle Series

  By: Hazel Parker

  Tables of Contents

  Keep in touch, stay luscious gorgeous!

  Gratitude right here my friend!!

  Honey

  Teaser of Her First, Her Boss

  Bonus Stuff!!!

  The First Book of my MC Biker Collection

  More Steamy Stuff Right Here

  Check out my other books!

  Spoil your Sweet Spot…

  Keep in touch, stay luscious gorgeous!

  Do you love bad boys? Alphas? Billionaires? Bikers? Mountain Men? Older Men? Military? ‘Cause I got ‘em all baby (or they’re on their way)!!! Click here to join my newsletter and get an instant freebie delivered to your inbox. Then wait your gorgeous little self for the goodness to keep rolling in.

  P.S. I have included a teaser of my EXLUSIVE never been published before Her First, Her Boss in the table of contents. An alpha male billionaire virgin romance. Sign up for my newsletter and it’ll be delivered to your inbox.

  The price is right, trust me ;)

  You will ALSO find my MC Biker Romance book collection in the table of contents. The 1st book free just for you. Because I adore you!

  Gratitude right here my friend!!

  THANKS A MILLION!!!!

  Indie Authors fight their way to try to keep up with the big wigs! It’s a daily struggle and I could not do it with my amazing ARC team. Their expertise in the reading of hot smutty books industry should never be undervalued!! You guys are seriously the foundation for every single book. Couldn’t be done without you.

  To all my readers and newsletter followers. WOW. The gratitude is overwhelming somedays but know that every page you read is supporting me and my mission to bring the readers of the world excellent high quality sexy as hell reads. MUAH!

  Please don’t be shy. Feel free to email me with your feedback any time at [email protected] or visit me on Facebook.

  Enjoy the book,

  xx

  Hazel

  Honey

  CHAPTER ONE

  HONEY

  The car was accelerating.

  It was doing so steadily and so subtly that anyone who wasn’t watching carefully wouldn’t have noticed it. All they would have noticed was that I was gaining on the car in front of me, and in a few seconds, would be taking over its place completely.

  Focusing on not messing it up, letting my instincts and the flow of my speed guide me, I counted the seconds in my head and waited for the opportunity to accelerate some more. When it presented itself naturally, I shifted gears and stepped it up, my body flying along with my car as I took the lead and kept it, blocking every other sound and sight except for what was in front of me.

  I should have been used to the feeling of leading by now, but there was no preventing the fast beating of my heart, keeping me alive and alert until I sped passed the finish line and finished the race first. It thundered inside me and roared in my ears, and I savored the moment inside my car for the first few seconds before opening the door and slowly sliding out.

  When I took off my helmet, the roar of the crowd became almost deafening, as opposed to its muffled state earlier. I could hear the cheers as people shouted my name, the clapping and the chants as I focused on taking my gloves off. Above it all, I could hear the noise that I’d been trying to ignore since it started: the noise that was steadily getting louder until it almost drowned out everything else.

  Loud, wild boos.

  There were also chants and cheers for the second placer, aka the racer that I cut off earlier to gain first place. I looked at that person now and gave him a smile as soon as he approached me, taking his outstretched hand and shaking it. I even beamed, making sure it was bright and unbothered as I watched uncertainty cross his face when he heard the cheers.

  Viktor Igor was young, Russian and a heartthrob. The most important thing was, he was very good and very humble about it—two factors that would go a long way if he kept it up.

  Not wanting to make him feel bad, I decided to speak first.

  “You did great,” I said warmly, keeping the smile up. Let the crowd see it.

  “You did better,” he said, his tone just a tad bit shy. His Russian accent was pleasant to the ears, and so was the way his cheeks colored as some women from the stands called out a few choice lewd invitations. I’d had my fair share of those, and I had to stifle a chuckle so as not to make him uncomfortable.

  Then the women were drowned out by more boos, and they weren’t directed towards Viktor at all. While I still had it in me to act all pleasant, I broke the handshake and accepted the congratulations from the other race car drivers, congratulating them in return. Most of the faces were new, making me slightly sad that all the ones who helped me during my formative years were either already retired or taking a break this year. Still keeping up the pleasant act, I finally headed to the garage with my race car, where I was given reminders of a press conference later that I needed to attend. My crew looked genuinely happy with the win, but there was no denying their discomfort as the negative response from the bleachers continued.

  “Drinks and dinner later, okay? It will be my treat!” I called out to them, determined to keep their spirits up.

  It was only when I was safely in my locker room that every word thrown at me washed over me. My smile dimmed. I leaned against the closed door, taking a deep breath to calm myself down. Then I closed my eyes, trying to take hold of my victory and claim at least a little bit of happiness from it.

  The day wasn’t over yet, but I had a feeling it was just about to get worse.

  *****

  “Honey, how does it feel to win against some of the best men in the racing industry?”

  “Honey, what are your thoughts on the upcoming races? Are you confident in winning them?”

  “Honey, how has your leaked sex video affected your race and what do you plan on doing to get rid of the negative backlash?”

  “Honey, why did you change your career from a lingerie model to a race car driver? Have you ever considered going into the porn industry instead of the racing field?”

  “Honey, are there more sex videos that we have to watch out for?”

  As expected of the media, they didn’t hold back. It would have been fine if I was the only one being interviewed—but the other winners were seated beside me and clearly looked uncomfortable with all the bold, aggressive questions. I didn’t miss the smirks directed my way from the people in front with their recorders and their cameras, though there were other expressions in the mix: compassion, pity, and amusement, among others. My heart was pounding all over again, but I ruthlessly set it aside and tried to answer what I could—basically, the professional questions, ignoring the ones that were taunting me.

  Questions were also thrown to the second pla
cer and the third placer, this affable guy named Roger who was just looking for trophies in his last season. He wasn’t as charming as Viktor and had that doting young grandpa look pat down, and he had fewer media outlets paying attention to him.

  “Honey, is it true that you had sex with that photographer in the video to get yourself a spot in the modeling agency?”

  “That’s in no way related to racing, so I don’t know where that question came from,” Viktor responded before I could, and surprise flitted inside me. Viktor was usually quiet and careful during press conferences, so this was new. There was a hint of disapproval in his tone, even while he tried to keep smiling. “Don’t you have more relevant questions than that?”

  Because the media loved Viktor, they didn’t roast him for roasting them—something that I couldn’t have done with ease, not now. They would have shamed me to the ground. Thankfully they loved Viktor more and the attention shifted to him, and that was just fine by me. I remembered how just a few months ago, I had that status: being the media darling, the one they turned to for answers and even called their little angel and role model. I guess the leaked sex video and the discovery of my past didn’t sit well with them, considering how they were treating me now.

  Like I was some piece of trash, basically.

  I kept smiling, even while some sly reporters still tried to throw a few questions in. It made me remember the day when I discovered all about it—how I was just browsing the internet early in the morning, intending to maybe post a status on my official Twitter account to keep some fans updated. Then I saw the pictures of me in rather lewd poses, and whatever good mood I had at that moment dissipated completely, to be replaced by horror.

  Four years ago, when I was trying to scrape together money to come here to Florida and pursue my dream of car racing, I decided to get into modeling and see if I could earn big there. There had been this very handsome photographer who helped me set up some shots, and he must have felt my attraction towards him because he turned on the charm—and in doing so, he literally charmed my panties off.

  I had been young—young and curious, so to speak—which was why I’d given in so easily. I didn’t even know he had a video recorder until the end, and he did promise me he would delete it. Because it hadn’t popped up during my first years trying to make it in Florida, even when I was already successful, I thought he had been telling the truth.

  I guess he was just waiting for me to be at the peak before he dropped it.

  The bastard.

  I didn’t even have sex with him, and the video was mostly oral stuff, but that didn’t matter. To everyone who saw it, I was everything that the photographer was not: a slut, a whore, a useless piece of garbage who lost the right to be in the racing world. The next few months that followed were the media dogging my every move, men who respected me suddenly disappearing from sight, and too many comments from both men and women at every party or event I went to. All the hateful things I’d witnessed thrown at other fallen-from-grace public figures were suddenly thrown at me with no qualms.

  But this had to be one of the most embarrassing so far.

  One of the old race car drivers who also helped me during my start in Florida, Doug “Cooper” Oliver, had always been my unofficial defender when it came to awkward situations like these. But he was on a break this season to spend more time with his family in Texas. Because his wife was also my car sponsor and current manager, that meant I didn’t have two of my biggest support systems against the scandal, which was quite a blow. I was still trying to get used to it, and it wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be.

  I was alone.

  When the press conference was done, I pulled Viktor aside and thanked him for that quick dodge, to which he colored again. At first, I thought he was embarrassed—that was, until I began to notice that he kept glancing at something below my face.

  My cleavage.

  The disappointment was raw and deep—deeper than when the press threw their questions because I was sincerely touched by Viktor’s defending earlier. He didn’t notice that I noticed where his eyes were going, so I cut the conversation short and got out of there as fast as I could, intent on going home right away to drown the day out with a slice of cheesecake and maybe some vodka.

  But of course, even in the parking lot, the press just couldn’t leave it alone.

  Two stalked me by the time I almost reached my car, shoving their recorders near my face and asking me if I had had any communication with the guy in the sex video at all. I didn’t because he was scum and trying to bask in the limelight on the other side of the country—Manhattan, New York—where he kept claiming to the press that he was innocent while enjoying the hype. He kept protesting that the video had been stolen from him, but I knew him enough to know that was a complete lie. Desmond Louis had always been a liar, which I found out after our first photography session ended up with him scamming me.

  I bet he had plenty of photography gigs after the leak, considering his rise in status. Of course, I didn’t share any of these thoughts with the paparazzi dogging me, their eyes so eager and so malicious that all I wanted to do was to punch them.

  I got in the car and started the ignition. Then I stepped on the pedal, trying to fight the panic building in my stomach as yells came from outside and loud curses that I was rude and a tease. I tore out of there as fast as I could, practically flying through the streets and ignoring the loud honking of the cars I overtook as I raced out of there. Because of my haste, I almost hit a lamppost but managed to swivel to the side just in time. I gassed the pedal and kept tearing out of there, only stopping when I was a good few minutes away from the city and could abruptly stop the car beside an empty beach strip, where no media could take pictures of me.

  I leaned my head against the steering wheel, trying to catch my breath. The panic eventually subsided—but in its place came the humiliation of everything that happened today, slipping inside me and making my heart feel hollow.

  What was a race victory if you felt like this afterward?

  I needed to get away.

  And I needed to get away now.

  CHAPTER TWO

  GAVIN

  My friend’s beach house looked the same as before from the outside, with maybe a few renovations done—an added wing on the right, a repaint on the outer walls, and a new door. The rest were just as I remembered: a lovely little place for a vacation and a rest house all in one, with the most beautiful view there was.

  Unfortunately, this wasn’t a vacation, and I wasn’t here to rest.

  Sara Montgomery-Oliver had already given me her go-signal to stay here whenever I liked, and while I usually didn’t take advantage of her wealth and kindness, I took advantage of it now. Hell, I needed to get away from the city and the headache and stress it had given me so far. I needed to find time to just close my eyes from it all and recuperate, and this was the perfect place.

  I needed to get over my nasty divorce and hope for a better future.

  There are many things to do here, was my first thought as I looked around. I haven’t swam at the beach in a long time—hell, I hadn’t even swum in a swimming pool in forever, and I knew it was long due for me to get the muscles working other than jogging or hitting the gym.

  Everyone thought being a bodyguard meant doing the most physical activities there were, but that was a huge lie. I’d been guarding a rich man’s kid daughter for about three years before my personal life got in the way and had me quitting out of respect—and in those three years, nothing much happened to warrant my charge’s or my life in danger. It was almost a nanny job, and the bond I formed with the kid just made my resentment grow at where I was now.

  But resentment wasn’t going to get me anywhere.

  I tried to brush it off as I searched for the spare key and found it where Sara usually hid it—inside one of the decoy flower pots decorating her front door. I inserted it in the knob and slid in quietly, taking in the interior. Again, there were next to no
changes done aside from a repaint of the walls, which were now a pleasant light gray color that was almost white. She also put in a new couch, one that was bluish and reminded me of the houses in Santorini.

  This kind of familiarity in an otherwise unfamiliar place was definitely what I needed, and I began to feel my mood lift. I placed my bag on the kitchen island and walked over to the front of the living room, which was mostly glass walls opening up to a balcony that faced a long strip of beach. Because this was private property, there was not one person in the space in front of me, though there was a pier just nearby with boardwalks and food stands. I might check it out later if I was in the mood. Or I might just stay at home, crash into bed and sleep the day off.

  It didn’t matter. What mattered was that I could do whatever I wanted now.

  *****

  My ex-wife was a blonde beauty named Tanya Johnson, with the most voluptuous body in the world and a sultry smile that could make you forget everything. That was what she did to me—made me almost forget that I was guarding my charge when she strolled up to me and told me the most arousing pick-up line. I had just picked up the kid from school and was dropping the her off to an ice cream date with some other kids, and Tanya just happened to be there getting a cone.

  The way she licked her cone after her pick-up line guaranteed I wouldn’t be able to say no—and by the time I was out of there, I had the biggest and hardest hard-on and couldn’t wait for our date.

  Our first date ended up with us having the steamiest sex in the back of my truck, and it had been a series of sexcapades ever since. Tanya was a model who wanted to make it big, and her determination to succeed made me admire her and think she was the most passionate woman in the world. Three months into our relationship, I’d proposed to her and was so happy when she accepted, and we got married right away in a civil ceremony.