“I think you like that idea,” Mickey said.
“I don’t,” I lied. “But medical school, you want to hear about that, right?” Mickey nodded. “I didn’t always want to go to med school. I wanted to be an artist for a long time.”
Mickey snorted. “An artist? Really?”
I frowned. “Don’t laugh,” I told him sternly. “Probably better than an astronaut, or whatever the fuck you wanted to be.”
Mickey shook his head. He held his hands out in front of him and mimed revving an engine. “Nah,” he said, chuckling. “I knew what I was gonna be. What my old man was, and like my son will be someday.”
“You have a son?”
“With the right dame I will,” Mickey said. He winked at me and I felt my blush returning. “But come on, Ella. Medical school.”
“Okay, so I wanted to be an artist.” I spread my hands out on the table and took a long drink of white wine. The alcohol was warming my brain and my throat and it felt good to be getting tipsy. I hadn’t drank more than a cocktail or two in a long time and it felt amazing. “I drew, I painted, I carried pens around with me. When I didn’t have paper, I’d draw on my hands and my arms. My parents told me they thought it was tacky and they made me clean up, but I kept doing it anyway. I was obsessed with art. Every time I had a birthday, I wanted to go to the art museum and then the art supply store. I probably cleaned out both parents’ bank accounts buying markers and crayons.”
Mickey chuckled. I knew he was picturing what I remembered: a skinny little pale girl with masses of brown hair, painting and drawing and covered in charcoal smudges.
“I was actually decent, too,” I told him. “Or at least decent enough for a little kid. My parents didn’t like that, though. They wanted me to do something worthwhile with my life. But I was insistent that I’d only be happy as an artist.”
“You were stubborn,” Mickey said.
“I was,” I admitted. “And this phase lasted until, oh, I don’t know, third or fourth grade. I was still obsessed with art, but the summer that year was glorious. I was outside all the time, drawing trees and creatures and making up stories. My parents had given me a slate chalkboard that I loved. I was pretty obsessed with it. I took it everywhere, and it was great for drawing landscapes. But one day, my mom’s friend, Linda, was visiting with her two kids. Since I was an only child, I hadn’t been around kids since school let out for the year. I couldn’t wait to run around and play outside and get muddy and messy.”
Mickey laughed. “I love the idea of you muddy and messy,” he said with a grin. “And no clothes, either.”
I blushed. I knew that he was just trying to get in my pants, but he was an amazingly good listener. I hadn’t expected that—I’d imagined our conversations would be mostly one-sided. It was refreshing. I wasn’t used to talking to people. I barely talked to Paul now. He was so old that he had no idea what was going on. It made me sad, since he’d been so sharp. But Mickey was a different story altogether.
“I bet,” I said drily. “Anyway, I was running around in the back yard with Linda’s kids, barefoot. It was a warm day and I remember my mom and Linda were having drinks and smoking and gossiping and not really paying attention to any of us. Suddenly, I stepped on something really hard and sharp. It broke under my foot and the next thing I knew, I was trailing blood everywhere. One of Linda’s kids was really sensitive and she totally freaked out when she saw how gory I looked.”
Mickey leaned across the table and looked at me with concern. It was touching. The story was so old, I couldn’t feel the pain in my foot anymore. But it was sweet that he cared.
“Mom and Linda freaked out, and I saw that I’d stepped on the slate board and broken it. A piece of it lodged in my heel and I had to go to the hospital for stitches. It was terrifying and there was blood everywhere. I was screaming my head off; the only way Mom could get me to shut up was when she promised that she would make pancakes for dinner. We were so poor that we ate pancakes all the time, but they still seemed like a treat to me.”
Mickey whistled. “Wow, ouch. You must have been really scared.”
I nodded, taking a sip of my wine. I could feel a warm blush on my cheeks, but for once it was from alcohol and not embarrassment. “Yeah, it was bad,” I agreed. “But the doctor who took care of me was so nice! And so clean. He was like the most gentle, sweet man I’d ever seen. He held my hand as the nurse cleaned my foot off, and then when he did the stitches, he talked to me the whole time. When he found out that I loved art, he told me he had a daughter in art school.”
“But by the time you left the hospital, I’m guessing you didn’t wanna be an artist anymore,” Mickey said. He grinned at me and I felt a real blush rise up my neck.
“You’re totally right,” I told him. “I wanted to be a doctor.”
Mickey raised his eyebrows. “Were your folks pleased?”
“Yeah,” I said. Draining the last of my wine, I looked at Mickey. His cheeks were a little rosy, too, and his hair was tousled. He smelled like cologne and cigarettes and suddenly, I wanted him again more than ever. The desire and lust rose in my body like a tsunami and I closed my eyes and shuddered as I imagined him plunging inside of me, impaling me deliciously, over and over again.
Mickey raised his eyebrows at me. “What are you thinking about? You look so coy all of a sudden.”
Without even thinking about what I was doing, I leaned across the table and pressed my lips against his. Sparks flew between our bodies as the kiss deepened and I slipped my tongue into Mickey’s mouth. He tasted delicious and I moaned softly as I felt his teeth nip at my lower lip. Mickey tangled his hands in my hair and yanked gently. It felt amazing and I felt a kick of arousal in my crotch. My clit was throbbing and I wanted his fingers on me now.
Breaking the kiss, Mickey pulled away. “Wanna go home?” he asked with a grin.
“Just take me,” I begged softly. “Take me and fuck me. Take me and make me yours.”
Mickey’s eyes glowed with lust. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, slapping a few fifty dollar bills on the table. “Your wish is my command.”
Chapter Sixteen
Mickey
Ella practically leapt up from the table as soon as I put the money down. She walked out of the restaurant ahead of me, and I could see that she was wiggling her delicious little ass and shaking her hips. The little bitch was practically in heat, and I was going to take her and make her mine. The first time we’d fucked, it hadn’t been nearly long enough for my tastes. I hadn’t done coke in years but somehow I wanted some, just so I could go all night with Ella. I wanted to make sure that she couldn’t walk for a week. As we walked out to my bike in silence, I thought about what would happen if I yanked her jeans down and took her right there in the parking lot. Whenever I stepped close to Ella, I could smell her delicious arousal soaking through her jeans. I wanted to bury my face in her panties and lick her clit until she was screaming for more. I wanted to do every dirty thing I’d ever thought of to Ella—lick her delicate asshole, take her up the ass, make her call me Daddy. I’d never been that dominant in bed before. But Ella was different, she was so innocent, so perfect. I wanted to take that innocence and shatter it.
“Bend over,” I told her in a quiet voice. Ella turned around to face me. Her gorgeous little face wore an expression of shock, and when she didn’t do what I asked, I raised my hand and slapped her on the ass. “What did I say?” I growled. “I’m your master. Listen to me.”
Ella shivered and finally, she leaned over my bike.
“Spread your legs,” I ordered. Ella shifted her weight and spread her legs. Now she was leaning over with her back arched and her pert little ass sticking straight up in the air. I slid my fingers into the waistband of her loose jeans and tugged. Ella squirmed but she didn’t resist as I slipped my fingers inside of her panties and stroked the cheeks of her ass. Her skin was so smooth, so warm, and I loved the way she wriggled under my touch. As I stuck a fingertip in the opening
of her pussy, I felt my legs weaken. She was so hot, so wet, so tight! My cock hardened and chafed against my jeans; I couldn’t wait to bury it inside of Ella’s pink velvet heaven.
Ella let out a deep, shaky breath as I slipped my other hand under her shirt and reached out to tweak her nipples. She was braless, and the weight of her little breasts in my hand made me even hotter. I could feel her heart pounding in her chest and I knew that she was both terrified and aroused. Groping her like this in public felt so dirty that I knew it had to be making her hot—it was making me so hard that my cock hurt. Finally, I let Ella go. She was shaking and quivering and as she put the helmet I offered on her head, I noticed that her little hands were shaking. I grinned at her and leaned in for a quick kiss. She tasted like strawberries and wine, and all of a sudden, all I wanted to do was eat berries off of her naked body. I could practically smell the sweet fragrance of her pussy as she grinned up at me with a naughty expression on her little face.
When we climbed on my bike, Ella pressed her little body against mine. I could feel her hard nipples poking me in the back and I wanted to turn around and shove my fingers into her pussy and lick the taste off my hand. She was so incredible, so sexy, so unaware of her own power.
As I drove through the winding hills, I grabbed one of Ella’s soft, pale hands. She was gripping me for dear life and I had to work to move her arm, but I moved her hand down to my crotch and rubbed it over the giant bulge in my pants. I felt Ella’s body soften against my back and I shuddered as her little fingers rubbed my cock. God, I want her right now, right fuckin now, I thought. Right on the side of the road, right here, where everyone can watch us if they want to. I knew exactly how I’d do it: I’d force Ella over the bike and yank her jeans down, eat her pussy from behind and then ram my cock in when she was least expecting it. I knew she’d be wet and waiting and I could practically feel the soaked skin of her pussy enveloping my cock. She was so tight, she fit me like a glove. When I was in, I’d dig my fingers into her hair and yank, forcing her to arch her back and grind on my cock. I knew it would be just as good for her—my hand wound be wrapped around her body, mercilessly rubbing her clit until she exploded. When I pulled out after coming, I knew she’d lick me clean of my cum and her juices. Then, we’d kiss and I’d lick the taste out of her mouth. I had a feeling that, together, we tasted absolutely delicious.
Ella moaned and pressed her face into the back of my neck and rubbed her lips on the delicate skin. The sensation was both maddening and arousing and a sharp dart of lust went through my body when I imagined sweet Ella’s lips working their way down my bare chest. I imagined she’d take my cock in her mouth and suck just the first couple of inches—taking all of me would hurt her jaw. She’d have to ease into it. She’d have to wrap her hand around the base of my cock and stroke its girth while easing more inches into her wet, waiting mouth. I could practically feel Ella’s tongue rubbing the sensitive spot on the underside of the head and I groaned out loud. I needed her. I needed her more than any other woman I’d fucked. I’d already forgotten every single one of my past conquests because of Ella. She had a powerful hold on me, and it frightened me, but I wanted to ride it out. See where it took me. See if she was really as dangerous as she seemed.
I knew I couldn’t make it back to Dos Palmos. If Ella wanted me to go all the way back to her apartment, I’d have to take her on the side of the road and fuck her once just to satisfy her temporarily. And as appealing as that idea was, I’d just gotten back from exile. I didn’t exactly love the idea of going to prison. Especially because there would be no Ella there. But there was a motel somewhere along the highway, if I could only find it! It was cheap and anonymous, the kind of place I’d taken thousands of girls. Ella was different, but the motel would do. I just hoped we were close. The longer I drove, the harder I felt. Ella kept her body pressed firmly against mine and occasionally, she’d stroke her fingers over my cock. It was madness, it was torture, and it was killing me.
Finally, I saw the lights of the motel in the distance. I revved the bike into a higher gear and sped up. The wind was whipping at us but I pressed on, a man on a mission, desperate for pussy. Well, not just pussy. Ella’s pussy. The sweetest, juiciest, tightest pussy that I’d ever fucked. I realized that since I’d have her for the whole night, I could fuck her as much as I wanted to. It would be a night for the record books, I decided, and I needed to go as long as I could until she was begging me to stop.
“Where are we?” Ella’s soft voice tickled my ear and a spike of desire grabbed my crotch. “This isn’t home.” She sounded both amused and aroused, and I couldn’t wait to drag her inside. I didn’t even think I’d be able to wait until we were both naked; I just had to get my pants down and then I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop.
“We’re at a motel,” I said in the same sly voice, turning around to face her. “Do you know what people like us do in motels?”
Ella raised her eyebrows. She lifted the helmet off of her head and handed it to me. When our fingers touched, sparks jumped between us. “People sleep in motels,” she said softly. “Sometimes they eat breakfast there, too.”
“We ain’t gonna be eating food,” I said with a nasty grin on my face. Ella colored to the roots of her head and I found myself staring at her chest. The little buds of her nipples were rock hard and pressing against the thin material of her shirt. When our eyes were locked, I reached up and twisted one of her nipples as I leaned down to give her a brief kiss. But Ella slipped her tongue in my mouth and glued her body to mine. By the time we pulled apart from each other, I was pulsing with more lust than ever.
“Wait here,” I said, holding a finger up. “That’s an order.”
Ella nodded. She looked at me with her lips slightly parted and her big brown eyes shining warmly. I knew she was looking forward to our sex in the motel room just as much as I was, and she was practically drooling when she looked at me. As I walked away, I felt her eyes on my back, checking me out. I grinned. I knew that I had a great ass, but having Ella think so too was pretty goddamn nice.
The pimply kid behind the counter wore a lopsided plastic tag that said Manager. I snorted.
“I need a room,” I said, dropping some cash on the counter. “Give me a key.”
“Will you be needing luggage services today, sir?” the kid asked in a squeaky voice. I turned around and looked at Ella through the window. She was walking around my bike and staring at me. My cock throbbed with the urge to fuck her. I couldn’t wait anymore.
“No,” I snapped. “Do you need ID?”
The kid shook his head. As he thumbed through the cash I’d handed over, his eyes widened. He handed me a key and I practically bolted out of the office and grabbed Ella’s skinny arm. Dragging her upstairs, I fumbled with the key in the lock until the door pushed open. Ella looked up at me with wide, scared, eyes. I could smell the desire coming off of her in waves. It was like the headiest perfume that I’d ever caught wind of, and I wanted to smell it forever.
Gently, I shoved her inside and followed, locking the door behind us. This was going to be one hell of a wild night. And I couldn’t wait.
Chapter Seventeen
Ella
When he’d closed the door behind us and locked the deadbolt, Mickey turned to me with palpable hunger in his eyes.
“Do you have something you want to ask me?” Mickey growled, almost inaudibly.
“Please,” I begged. “Please take me. Please make me yours.” As I spoke, I felt the tingling in my crotch get even more powerful and a warm flush came over my whole body. I suddenly felt too ungainly for my clothes, for my skin, for the room. It was like my soul and my heart were battling inside of my body and distending my shape and my perception of the room itself.
Mickey closed the gap between our bodies. He scooped me up in his powerful, muscular arms and carried me over to the bed, dropping me down softly. He crawled on top of me and covered my mouth with his, sucking out my breath and shoving his tongue
between my lips. He tasted like wine and tobacco and musk, and I felt a powerful wave of desire radiate through my limbs.
“Mickey,” I moaned softly. “Please, Mickey. Please take me.”
Mickey growled. He grabbed both of my wrists with one of his hands and shoved them above my head. I wriggled in a weak attempt to free myself but it was no use; Mickey was stronger than I’d ever be. I moaned softly as he trailed his free hand down my chest and ripped my shirt right down the middle. The fabric slid off my breasts and pooled on the bed. Mickey dipped his head to my nipples and began to bite and suck at them. I felt darts of pleasure explode in my breasts and my crotch. The warm, wet feeling of his mouth compared with the bristly stubble of his blond beard stimulated my sensitive skin and I was feeling cramps of pleasure when he took his head away. It occurred to me that if he did that for long enough, I could probably come over and over again. Mickey slid his hand into my jeans and rubbed at my clit through the crotch of my panties. The sensation of amazing pleasure was immediate. I bucked and gasped as Mickey thumbed the swollen nub of flesh. Just as I felt myself about to explode, he pulled away and gazed at me. I lay on the bed, wriggling and moaning, desperate for more of his touch, more of him. All of him.
Lucky: The Irish MC Page 12
