Wild: Tiger's Blood MC (37 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Mickey

I handed Ella a half-shell helmet and helped her climb on the back of my bike. When she wrapped her arms around me, I caught a whiff of her strawberry scent. My cock stiffened between my legs and I sighed as Ella wrapped her thin arms around my muscular torso. She was only wearing a t-shirt and jeans, but she looked just as spectacular as she had when I’d first met her. Even better, maybe. I could feel the curve and swell of her soft breasts pressing against my back and I prayed silently that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

We drove on. I decided to take her up the coastal highway, outside of Dos Palmos, to a restaurant on the beach. It wasn’t fancy, but it was comfortable and the food was good. I had a feeling she’d appreciate it. It was one of my favorite places to go and sit by myself, and I wondered if I’d regret sharing it with someone I’d just met. After all, I’d never even taken the guys there. But I somehow had a feeling that Ella would love it just as much as me. Besides, she didn’t seem like the type of girl who bought into wanting fancy shit all the time. She was perfectly happy being casual. If I had any say in the matter, that made me pretty happy. I didn’t want a girl who needed to be wined and dined all the time. Not that I’d have minded, after all, I had plenty of money. I had over a thousand in cash on my person at almost any given moment. But Ella didn’t have to know that, and I had the feeling that even if she did take it into consideration, she wouldn’t abuse it. She wasn’t that kind of girl. She was too innocent. I couldn’t see her asking a guy for anything material.

The sun was shining brightly and the breeze in my face felt glorious. Even though I’d been on the coast in Ireland, it hadn’t felt like California. Nothing felt like Dos Palmos after a long time away. Even though I couldn’t see Ella’s face, I had a feeling she’d agree. She’d just come home from her own long journey, and knowing that we’d spent our whole lives in the same town, I had a feeling she loved it as much as I did.

Dusk was falling as I pulled into the parking lot of The Pink Shell. It was a weather-beaten old building, but the inside was nice. It reminded me of the kinds of restaurants that my dad used to take my mom to for their anniversary: nice food, lots of brass and old wood, but the unmistakable, slightly fishy smell of an old place near the beach. It was as familiar as driving into the city limits of Dos Palmos, and I closed my eyes and took a deep breath once we were inside.

A blonde hostess showed Ella and me to a table in the back. She grinned at me, flashing a mouthful of adolescent, white teeth. I looked away. She didn’t even look old enough to vote, much less ride my cock. When I was with Ella, it was hard to even
look
at other chicks. Ella was like the sun, consuming all of my attention, making me revolve around her.

She blushed after the hostess walked away. “Women like you,” Ella commented. I knew that she meant it to be casual, but her tone was anything but. “I mean, I get why, but it’s a bit much.” She looked away and I knew she was feeling jealous again. It was wrong to admit, but her jealousy actually made me feel kind of good. I had no intention of fucking with another woman when Ella was around, but I liked knowing that she was attracted to me.

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” I said with a cocky grin. Ella rolled her eyes and looked away in irritation. “Do you like this place? I used to come here with my parents.”

She turned to me with her mouth hanging open. “Really?” She giggled. “It’s kind of funny to think about you as a little boy. I bet you were cute.”

I chuckled. “I was a little hellion,” I told her. “But everything is good here. I’d be on my best behavior because I looked forward to this place so much. It was my mom’s favorite restaurant.”

Ella nodded. “Where are your parents now?” she asked in a delicate voice before taking a sip of water. “Do they still live in Dos Palmos?” She had an odd, faraway look in her eyes and I remembered what she’d told me about mostly being an orphan. Aside from the family friend, I knew she didn’t have anyone else.

“My dad passed, a long time ago,” I said thoughtfully. “I was still a little kid. I don’t remember as much as I should about him.” Admitting that made me sad. “But I remember a lot,” I added. “It’s hard to forget your dad.”

Ella bit her lower lip, somehow managing to make me horny and sad at the same time. She opened her pink mouth to speak, but the waitress came over with her pad and pen ready.

“Did y’all have a chance to look at the menu?” She beamed at me and Ella. “We have some great specials today, including mussels with linguine and a nice balsamic glaze. We also have a dish of roast chicken that includes a side of shrimp scampi. And,” she added, taking a long look at my muscular arms, “if you’re a vegetarian, we have some really excellent avocado tacos.”

“We’re not vegetarians,” I said, trying to sound polite, but it must have come out flirtatiously. The waitress’ eyes practically bulged out of her head and I saw Ella snort out of the corner of my eye. “Thank you, though. Just give us a minute or two.”

When she’d walked away, I turned my focus back to Ella. “Anything sound good?” I grinned at her. “I can vouch for everything. The food here is excellent.”

“I could eat anything, honestly,” Ella said. “The only thing I’ve had since I got back was a breakfast platter and I’m starving.” She grinned at me and I grinned back. Her smile was infectious, and I loved being around a girl who didn’t hide her appetite.

“The seafood is out of this world, but everything’s great,” I told her. She nodded.

“I trust you,” she said. “Just pick something nice for me.” She gave me this sexy little grin and I felt my cock nudge in my jeans.

The waitress came back. “We’d both like the mussels,” I told her with a grin. “Extra linguine, extra lemon on both plates. And a side of mashed potatoes, with a cup of sour cream. And a bottle of the house white.”

Ella stared at me when the waitress was gone. “That sounds so good,” she said in a breathy voice. “I can’t wait to actually eat something good.” She looked at me and I saw a blush darken her cheeks. It was so adorable that every time she made some kind of confession, she turned shy again.
 

“I want to talk to you about some stuff,” I told Ella in a conspiratorial tone. She leaned across the table, looking intrigued.

“Like how you showed up in the back of my rig in a box?” Ella’s tone was joking but I could tell she was really dying to know. Her lips parted and I could see the bottom lip glistening with saliva. I longed to pull her across the table into a deep kiss, but I wanted to finish talking first.

“Exactly,” I said. Folding my hands across the table, I leaned back. “My dad was in The Irish, he was the original president of the charter. I inherited the club from him.”

“You really
are
a mobster,” she said idly, picking at her fingernails. Her expression was Sphinx-like, and I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Probably about how she was unlucky enough to get involved with someone like me.

“I’m not,” I said. “I promise. Cross my heart.”

Ella rolled her eyes. “We’ll see,” she said. “I don’t know you well enough to judge right now.”

“Exactly,” I said. Continuing on, I told her, “My old man died in a crash. I don’t know exactly how it happened, but I always suspected foul play. It happened when I was a little kid, and a lot of the guys he used to kick it with are gone now. Most of the original club members are dead. One of my guys, Cain, was working with the Dos Palmos cops behind my back. He wanted me out, so he tried to kill me. He blew up an auto shop where I used to get my bike tuned up. He died in the explosion, but I escaped and went to Ireland for a while. I had to lay low if the cops wanted me dead—I needed time to think about what was really happening.”

Ella’s eyes bugged out of her head. She looked like a cartoon character who had just been given some surprising news. “That’s insane,” she said softly. “I can’t believe that, Mickey. That’s like a show or something. It’s not real life.”

I shook my head. “Believe it, honey. My life is all about those kinds of tumbles. Better get used to it if you wanna stick around.”

“I said nothing of the kind.” She flicked her eyes over my body and they lingered for just a second too long on my sculpted torso. “But what else?”

“My mom’s dying,” I said softly. “She has cancer. I wanted to come back and spend some time with her before she goes. I couldn’t stay in hiding anymore. And I was so fuckin’ homesick for California. There’s nothing else like it on earth.”

“I do always miss Dos Palmos when I’m gone,” Ella said. She had that wistful look in her eyes. “How did you find out about your mom? Didn’t everyone think you were dead?”

I shook my head quickly. “Not so. Jimmy and Mason knew I was alive, and they would send intel occasionally. They had the idea to smuggle me back in a box. They were supposed to pick me up from your rig, but Jimmy’s old lady went into labor and he couldn’t get away from the hospital. No one else knew, and Mason couldn’t come up with a lie that would trump being at Jimmy’s kid’s birth.”

She nodded. “That’s a good excuse, at least,” she said airily. I got the impression she didn’t think much of my lifestyle, but at least she didn’t say anything else.

“And everything’s changed since I got back,” I told her. “When I was gone, the club cozied up to the cops, and now we’re into drugs and running guns. There’s a lot more money, but I don’t want my club involved in that dirty shit.”

Ella’s eyes widened even more. “Drugs?” she asked with a gasp. “Guns? Mickey, that’s sordid!”

I rolled my eyes. “It ain’t that bad, it’s just dirty,” I told her. “And I don’t want my brothers involved.”

“So what were you doing before? It must have been bad, too.”

I shook my head. “Not at all. We mostly worked bodyguard jobs and security. It wasn’t a ton of money, but it was something. We were all pretty happy for a while. But some of the guys in the club got hungry for more cash, and I’m guessing whoever held out for legit cash was overrode as soon as I disappeared. The guys all want me to take the gavel again, but I don’t know that I can. It’s corrupt right now. I want to fix things before I sit at the head of the table.”

Ella screwed her eyes closed and I hoped she wasn’t about to cry. As I reached over the table to comfort her, she opened her eyes and shot me a look.

“Mickey, that doesn’t make sense,” she said softly. “Why not take over now and then lead the guys away from trouble? If you’re not in power, they won’t listen to you anyway.”

I frowned. She had a point, and I knew that Mason and Jimmy felt similarly. But it was like nothing mattered to me, not the way that it had used to. All I could think about was Ella. Her soft curves, her even softer skin, her scent of strawberries and vanilla. I wanted her right then and there, but she looked like she was deep in thought. Our food came and Ella dug in, but she didn’t eat with relish. When I looked at her again, she was glancing out the window.

I felt torn. I loved my club. They were my brothers, my family. But here was this woman right in front of me and I felt like I could barely even reach out to her. I liked Ella—way, way more than I should. She was dangerous, probably even more dangerous than I was to her. I’d never fallen in love, and I didn’t intend to start now. But I did want another sweet taste of her pussy, as soon as I could possibly get it.

Chapter Fifteen

Ella

It was a struggle to keep my mouth closed as Mickey talked. I couldn’t believe what he was saying—it was like sitting with a bored film producer and listening to them rattle off ideas for new movies. He was so dangerous! Guns! Drugs! I couldn’t wrap my head around that. I knew that obviously the illegal dealing must have brought in a lot more money for the club, but Mickey had bragged about having a disposable income. Did that mean he was actually able to make a living in security? And being a bodyguard? That was tough to believe. Maybe I was being cynical, but I didn’t understand how someone could give up illegal activity that was bringing them so much money. Well, I understood it personally, but I didn’t think The Irish would take Mickey’s suggestion well.

I shuddered, remembering how tough Mason and Jimmy had been. Mickey was scarier, but if he was outnumbered, what would happen then? What would he do? Would they kill him? I frowned. I didn’t want that to happen.
Stop, Ella. You don’t even know what you want to happen. Your brain is too clouded with lust and desire to really think straight.

It was like something out of a movie. We were at this cute, quaint, picture-perfect restaurant on the beach. No one else was in the dining room, just Mickey and me. The waitress completely vanished after bringing our food and wine and Mickey kept my glass filled whenever I took a sip. The sun was setting and the water looked black with white crests on each wave. When I closed my eyes, I could smell the sea and fish and the fresh Dos Palmos air. It was like a little slice of heaven. And here I was—meek, boring, plain Ella—dining with someone who looked like a Greek god. Admittedly, a god with tattoos and scars, but a god all the same. I loved the way his muscles moved under his thin shirt whenever he’d pass me the salt or the butter, and when he laughed I saw the cords in his giant neck bulge. Just being around him was enough to turn me on, and between the wine, the slippery food, and Mickey’s way of gesturing with veiny hands I was more than a little wet.

We finished the first bottle of wine and Mickey snapped his fingers for another. Normally, I would have found that behavior extremely rude coming from a date, but with Mickey, I didn’t so much mind. Neither did the waitress; when she trotted over with a chilled bottle, she had a silly smile plastered on her face. I knew she was thinking what I’d been thinking all along: what is that little brown mouse doing with someone like
him
?

When Mickey finished talking, he turned to me. “So, Ella,” he said in a low, amusing drawl. “You never really told me about why you want to go to medical school.”

“Yes, I did,” I said pointedly. “I told you it was because I wanted to help people.”

Mickey shook his head. “That ain’t all of it,” he said with a grin as he topped our wine glasses off. I was starting to feel more than a little drunk, and just as woozy.

I colored deeply. He was right, but I couldn’t imagine telling him about it. After all, I’d never spilled to anyone why I really wanted to go to med school. Not even Paul, and he had basically been my generous benefactor the whole time I’d known him.

“It’s complicated,” I said, looking down and toying with my napkin. I’d curled the fabric into a swirl on my lap, and now I concentrated on picking a loose thread around the hem.

“I can handle complex,” Mickey said. He flexed his arm. “I’m tough, remember?”

My flush deepened. I remembered, alright—I remembered all too well. The delicious, delightful way Mickey had taken me, made me his, made me completely his. I shuddered as I remembered the orgasm that had torn through me at the feel of his cock and his tongue. I wanted Mickey again, and the lust in my belly was only growing with every passing second. He was so gorgeous. His dark blue eyes flickered in the candlelight and his blond hair looked like it had been bronzed. I wanted to reach over and touch him—he was so unbelievably perfect. But thinking about touching him made my stomach start to feel jittery and jumpy again. It was like I was in constant flux when Mickey was around. He knew how to get on my nerves like no one else did, but no one else I’d ever been around could turn me on as much, either. It was like the worst of both worlds, but I couldn’t make myself stay away. He was like my secret addiction.

I couldn’t even believe that we’d known each other less than seventy-two hours and here we were. I had a big class starting in a few days and yet I’d blown off studying to go hang out with some hunk I barely knew. It was the most un-Ella-like thing that I’d done in years. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d let myself have any fun. It sure as hell hadn’t been recently.

“So? Penny for your thoughts?” Mickey reached across the table and chucked me under the chin. I blushed madly but finally forced myself to meet the navy dark of his eyes.

“Fine,” I said with a huff. “I’ll try to make it short for you.”

Mickey shook his head. “Don’t. I don’t have anywhere to be. Do you?”

“I have a class that I should be studying for,” I pointed out. Mickey pursed his lips.

“You’re smart,” he said. “You’ll figure it out. What’s the class?”

“Advanced anatomy,” I told him.

Mickey’s smile grew into a broad grin. “I can help you with that,” he said, raising his eyebrows. Instantly, the image of me dressed as a schoolgirl and Mickey as a professor popped into my head. I blushed madly when I thought about him pulling me over my lap and spanking my bare ass with his hand, then slipping his fingers between my legs and rubbing my clit.

“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.”