Lucky: The Irish MC

by West, Heather

  A lot, Ella. And you’re an idiot if you don’t realize that.

  Mickey snickered at something as I drove and I snuck a glance at him. We were passing a streetlight, and I was taken back by his strong masculine jaw, his silky blond hair. I shivered when I thought about how it would feel to have his giant hands on me again. Even though I’d felt nothing but sheer terror when he touched me before, part of it had been exciting. Okay, most of it had been exciting. But I knew I shouldn’t be dwelling on that now.

  I never did things like this. I never helped people. If I was being honest, it was because people never really asked me for help in the first place. But there was also something about Mickey that I didn’t see in others. Mickey was sexy, sure, but he also seemed to be very alone in the world. His friends had boxed him into a crate and left him for dead; I wondered what would have happened if I’d just unloaded the box myself and left him there. Would he have made noise? Would he have yelled for help? Would the old man at the gate have found his corpse the next morning, frozen to death? I shivered. Maybe he really was lucky that I’d come alone. Without me, he’d probably still be inside that crate. Mickey was strong, but I knew he wasn’t that strong. Even though he’d managed to stay with it after god knew how long he’d been locked up, I had a feeling his strength would have given up eventually. After all, I knew how strong that crate had been. There was no way he would have been able to break out all by himself.

  “Where are we going?” Mickey turned to me with a lazy grin. “You takin’ me to the cops, honey?”

  I didn’t answer. My lips were set in a thin line and I concentrated on the road. I was exhausted, but part of me felt wired. I also felt disgusting—I was more aware of having not showered in a few days than ever before. I wished that I’d taken the time to clean up before meeting Mickey. Yeah, I had no way of knowing what an absolute stud he’d be, but I should have made an effort to stay cleaner. I looked down at my ripped up old jeans with disgust. Starting now, I was going to make sure that I always looked presentable. Even on the road. Even at three in the morning. After all, you never knew who you were going to meet.

  Dos Palmos glittered behind me like a small snow globe on the horizon. I was driving us to a bar and truck stop about twenty miles out of town. I frequented it sometimes when I was headed home and knew there was no food in the fridge. It wasn’t fancy, it was actually pretty rough, but I knew for a fact that no cops hung out there, and we’d be safe. It would likely even be pretty quiet since it was almost midnight. Mickey sighed and rolled down the window on the passenger side door. He flicked his cigarette butt outside and I watched it bounce down on the highway in a shower of orange sparks.

  As we approached the truck stop, I saw that it was pretty empty. There were only a couple of other rigs, and a few cars scattered through the lot. Mickey turned to me and nodded.

  “Thanks,” he said in a gruff voice. “I’d give my left nut for a beer right now.”

  I rolled my eyes. Why did men always have to be so gross? “I could use a drink, too,” I told him. “But I wouldn’t be quite so desperate.”

  “Hey, you haven’t been locked in a box for hours,” Mickey said with a grin. He stretched and his knuckles dragged against the ceiling of the cab. I watched his muscles flex and then relax—his biceps were bigger than my head. I felt my mouth go dry as he caught me watching and flexed his arm. “I’m strong, honey,” Mickey said. “You wanna find out just how strong?”

  I sighed. “Come on, get out,” I said. “Just one drink and then I’m leaving. You’re on your own, kid.”

  Mickey tousled my brown hair. I felt a jolt of electricity at his touch, but I glared up at him anyway. “Oops, sorry,” he said, jerking his hand away and giving me a guilty, sexy smile. “Forgot about the whole no-touching thing.”

  We strode into the restaurant together. Instantly, everyone turned around and gazed at Mickey. The women let their gazes linger and I felt something unusual flitter through my body. I knew that I should be running scared, but I didn’t want to leave. When the women in the bar didn’t turn around, I felt a trace of something almost like possession. Glancing up at Mickey, I saw that he had his nose stuck in a menu. He was completely aware that every other female in the room was undressing him with her eyes. I drew myself up to my full height—still over a head shorter than Mickey—and strode with him over to the hostess stand.

  The hostess was blonde and perky, with big fake tits and a pink lipsticked smile. She was gorgeous, but she looked like she’d had a tough life. She wasted no time in running her eyes all up and down Mickey’s hard body and I wanted to slap the grin right off her face. When she noticed me, her face fell. That’s right, bitch, I thought triumphantly. He’s mine. I gloated for a second before the implication of my thoughts sank in. He’s not yours. And you don’t want him, nor should you. He’s more dangerous than a box of fireworks next to a barbecue.

  The blonde led us over to a table in the corner of the building. She was walking ahead of us and swaying her hips enticingly, but when I looked up at Mickey, I saw that his eyes were hungrily resting on me. The lighting in the truck stop wasn’t very kind, but it was enough to hide the dark circles under my eyes. I was grateful that at least I’d washed my face that morning, even though it had been hours. When we passed by tables full of truckers, they all nodded at Mickey and tipped the brims of their hats like they knew him. I frowned. He hadn’t even been here before! This was my truck stop! My frown deepened into a scowl as the blonde curtsied.

  “I’ll be right back, sugar,” she said to Mickey, biting her lower lip and fluttering her mascaraed eyelashes. “Don’t you go anywhere!”

  “Sure,” Mickey said. He wasn’t even looking at her and I felt another improbable surge of pride in my chest. “Thanks!”

  The waitress sauntered off, swaying her hips even more obviously than before. I rolled my eyes. “Women,” I mumbled under my breath. “Do they have to be so desperate?”

  Mickey laughed. He could barely fit on his side of the booth, and it looked almost comical. He wasn’t fat, but his body bulged out over the table and every time he shifted in the booth, I could feel the floor underneath of us vibrating.

  The waitress practically oozed back towards the table a moment later. She was carrying two big tulip glasses full of pink liquid, with tiny umbrellas on the top. When she sat them down on our table, she smiled at Mickey.

  “First round’s on the house, hon,” she said, smiling sweetly down at him. Mickey reached across the table and grabbed my hand in his. His paw was so large that my hand disappeared in his grip, and I felt an electric spark jump from his skin to mine. I blushed as I looked up at him.

  But Mickey wasn’t looking at me. He was grinning at the waitress, even as he squeezed my hand and shook it in the air. “I’ve just decided,” he said in a casual, lazy voice. “I’m settling down!” The last statement was spoken with an air of drama and Mickey laughed as he said it. The feel of his skin against mine was thrilling and dangerous, and I felt my lower belly thump with arousal.

  The waitress laughed and set down our menus. “I bet,” she said. “Our special today is chicken fried steak with a side of mashed potatoes and fried okra. Can I interest y’all in that?”

  Mickey waved my hand in the air. “What did I say?” he said with a lazy grin. “Didn’t I just tell you that I’d settled down?”

  Chapter Eight

  Mickey

  Ella’s hand was warm, soft, and firm in my own. I stared into her brown eyes. I wondered why she’d let me hold onto her for so long. I could practically smell her from across the table, and I was burning with lust. I knew that I had to fuck her. Tonight. As soon as possible. Right now.

  “I thought you didn’t want me to touch you?” I joked, raising my eyebrow. Ella gasped and jerked her hand away as though my touch had burned her. She flushed a delicious, soft pink and it covered her whole face. When I kept staring at her, she looked away and grabbed a menu. Flipping it open, she starte
d mouthing the names of the dishes aloud. It was adorable, and watching her lips move like that was hypnotic. I felt a stirring in my groin.

  “This place is pretty good,” she said, clearing her throat and staring at me. “I’ve had just about everything they serve, and I really like it all.”

  “I’ve been here too, sweetcheeks,” I told her. “Didn’t you see that warm welcome I got when we stepped in the door.”

  Some of the pink flush returned to Ella’s cheeks and I chuckled. She didn’t reply, and I picked up my menu and perused the offerings. The menus were coated in clear plastic and mine was unpleasantly sticky. The truck stop itself was pretty fuckin’ grimy, and I wondered why Ella had chosen here for us to have a drink. After all, she lived in Dos Palmos. I wondered why she hadn’t chosen somewhere closer to home.

  “What do you feel like eating?” Ella stretched in the booth, raising her arms high over her head. She was somewhat tan on the left side, and then I realized it must be from sticking her arm out the window when she was driving. I liked that, it made her seem even more real to me. I liked that she was obviously independent enough to drive a rig around—most women would be scared to death of that. But even though Ella was petite and obviously bright, she didn’t seem fazed.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Anything.” I stared at her and licked my lips. Ella blushed again and looked away. I could feel her body responding to me; it was like an electric signal that pulsed and flared in my brain—not to mention my cock.

  I looked around. There were at least ten women who I’d slept with already. Including the waitress, Elisabeth. She’d been a hot little number—I remembered that I’d had scratches on my back for weeks afterwards. But now she just seemed dull, unappetizing. The only thing I could think about was picking Ella up, throwing her over my shoulder, and carrying her out back for some hot, endless fucking. My cock barely even stirred when I looked at the other women. Plus, knowing that I’d had them before made it less sexy to think about. They’d all been good, in their own way, but fresh pussy had a lure like no other for red-blooded men, and I’m no exception to that rule.

  Ella was poring over the menu like it was a manual for life. Her eyes glazed over and I watched them skim down the page with relative interest. I had a feeling she was primarily acting like that for me. After all, she could barely stand to look me in the eye. I had a feeling that her mind was racing just as fast, if not faster, than mine was.

  “I’m thinking about a cheeseburger,” she said without looking up. “Or maybe a salad. I don’t know. I’m starving.”

  I licked my lips again when I thought about tiny little Ella ordering a cheeseburger. There was something sexy about it. “Don’t get a salad,” I said. “Trust me, honey. You don’t have to impress me.” Ella’s brown head snapped up and she stared at me.

  “I wouldn’t order food just to impress you,” she said hotly. “Don’t be ridiculous. You should think about a salad, you can barely fit in the booth!”

  “This ain’t fat, honey,” I said, rubbing a hand over my muscular belly. “Don’t tell me you think that even for a moment!”

  Ella blushed again. She looked away and I knew that she’d been joking with me. “So what’s really going on?” Ella asked in a soft voice. “Come on, you told me that you’d tell me everything once we were sitting down.”

  I blinked. I’d forgotten that stupid promise, and I didn’t want to honor it now. “Do you really wanna know? I have a feeling it may not make you like me very much.”

  Ella snorted. “Um, I already hate you,” she said, mocking my gruff voice. “Seriously, you showed up in the back of my rig, held me hostage for hours, and now you’re refusing to tell me what the deal is! I can’t believe you,” she said with a smirk. “You’re impossible.”

  There was something about the way her lips curled up that made me shudder with lust. Again, I was hit with the crystal-clear vision of her on her knees, sucking me off while she rubbed at her pussy.

  “Fine,” I said, partially to get my mind away from the steamy, X-rated fantasy of Ella. “I’m a member of The Irish,” I said, leaning across the table and folding my hands together. “You’ve been in Dos Palmos your whole life, you know what that is.”

  Ella nodded. She looked almost fearful. “I know,” she said softly. “You’re in a motorcycle gang.”

  I shook my head. “It’s not a gang, it’s a club,” I said. “Come on, Ella. You’re smarter than that.”

  “And your friends,” she said cautiously. “Are they also members of the club?” She put a little twist on the word ‘club’ and I saw the sides of her mouth turn down in a slight snarl.

  Anger flared through me. Who was this chick? She didn’t know me! How could she be so fuckin’ judgmental! “Yes,” I said sarcastically. “Mason and Jimmy are also patched members of The Irish. Anything else?”

  “Yeah. What the fuck were you doing in that box?”

  I laughed shortly. “Oh boy. Knew it was going to come to that. Yep. Well, I was coming home, Miss Ella. You understand that, right? That’s what you were doing this evening as well.”

  “In a box?” she asked, with a hint of derision. “I know airline food sucks, but come on.”

  I pulled a face at her. “Some people maybe didn’t want me to come back,” I said smoothly. Ella’s eyes widened but she didn’t say anything. “You ever been in a situation like that? Not likely, I’d bet.”

  Ella shrugged and looked away. The waitress was sauntering back towards us, pad and paper in hand.

  “Can I get y’all something to eat?” Elisabeth batted her eyelashes at me and I looked away.

  “Cheeseburgers, fries, side salads for both of us,” I said, snapping my menu shut and handing it over. “And more of these drink things, whatever they are.”

  “That’s a Sex on the Beach,” Elisabeth said. She winked at me and I turned away in disgust. Ella was rolling her eyes and I wanted to shove Elisabeth away from us as quickly as I could.

  “Thanks,” I said dismissively. “That’s all.”

  Elisabeth glared at me. This time, when she walked away, she kept her hips straight. I glanced back at Ella after a second.

  “What?” she asked, pursing her lips. “You read my mind about dinner, you want a reward for that?”

  I laughed shortly. “It’s called paying attention,” I said, tapping the side of my head. “I can do that sometimes.”

  “I can do that sometimes,” she said, mimicking my tone again. There was something about the way she flirted that was almost combative—I wanted to spank her.

  “You deserve a spanking,” I said. “You can’t even talk to me without taking some kind of flippant tone. What makes you think you’re so superior to me, huh?”

  Ella didn’t say anything. She flushed slightly and looked away. “I’m not used to talking to people,” she said after a moment. “And I don’t trust you! You showed up in the back of my rig in a box! And you tell me now that you’re in an club with people who completely forgot about you! What kind of friends would do that?”

  “They didn’t forget about me,” I hissed, leaning across the table. “Look, you don’t get it. The Irish is a brotherhood. Those men are like my family. Hell, they’re the only family I have!” Ella looked shocked but she didn’t argue. “Something must have happened,” I said slowly. “They wouldn’t have abandoned me like that. Those guys are my family,” I repeated.

  “So why don’t you care about looking for them?” Ella narrowed her eyes at me. I felt a hot rush of anger in my body.

  “Because I had more important things to do right now,” I said delicately. Like fuck your brains out, I wanted to say. But Ella only glared at me. She finally turned away and faced the window, staring outside. It was a dark night, and I could see the clouds whirling overhead, providing small glimpses of the bone-white moon.

  “Fine,” she said softly. “I’m leaving after this, though. That’s it. I’m not getting involved with anything dangerous. I told you,
I’m not a smuggler, and I don’t intend to act like one.”

  She leaned back against the wall of the booth and gave me the same delicious pout. I knew that she was exhausted, it showed plain as day on her face. But she also seemed weary, which I knew was something that couldn’t be cured by sleep. Weariness was something that got into your bones like a drug, and stayed there until you could finally push it out. Weariness was the thing that kept you from sleeping, even if you were exhausted, and made you rub your shoulders and the back of your neck until you could finally relax. Ella looked like she hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in years. I wanted to fuck that right out of her. I wanted to fuck her so hard that she could sleep for days and days. I wanted to give her the pounding of her life.

  She yawned and I caught a glimpse of her moist pink tongue, like a kitten’s. It stirred my cock and before I knew what I was doing, I leaned across the table and pressed my mouth against hers. She gasped but she didn’t pull away, and I slipped my tongue into her mouth and savagely caressed her tongue with mine. Ella wrapped her arms around the back of my neck and pulled me closer, softly sighing and moaning into my mouth. My cock stiffened to full hardness and I eagerly plunged my tongue inside of her mouth again and again, mimicking the action my cock would take inside of her pussy.