Lucky: Furious Skulls MC (A Bad Boy MC Biker Romance) Read online

  She stares at me as though I have offended her, which wasn’t my intention at all, so I grip her arms, turn her round and smack her ass with my hand.

  Michelle

  He just smacked my ass. It wasn’t painful. Playful, I guess. But… I don’t know. A man shouldn’t smack your ass. I freeze as he leaves the room. Then I pull forward and enter the bathroom.

  I must stink like an animal. That’s why he suggested that I showered. What a humiliation. It burns more than his crude behaviour.

  The bathroom has a Victorian décor—black tiling on the walls and floor, a few copper pipes, an arched sash window. The shower cabin is modern though. I inspect the grey cabinet he mentioned and pick up a blue towel. I put it on the radiator and turn on the hot water.

  A thought hits me hard. I have no fresh underwear, no fresh clothes, and no toothbrush. All my belongings are in the bag Asher is going to bring from my car.

  My eyes sweep over three ornate hooks that protrude from the wall. A bathrobe hangs on one of them. A man’s bathrobe. His bathrobe.

  I step into the shower cabin and grab a bottle of shower gel, lathering myself up including my hair. I rinse the foam off and grab the towel, turning off the water.

  I pat myself dry and reach out for the bathrobe. Yes, his bathrobe like I’m his lover. I can’t recognise myself. I have an annoying habit of doing stupid things, but tonight it’s my best performance of stupidity ever.

  A light knocking on the door causes my heart to jump up to my throat.

  “Michelle?” Asher says from outside of the bathroom. “The spare toothbrush is under the washbasin. Help yourself.”

  Sure. Why not? I have already borrowed his bathrobe.

  I’m certain I’m not the first woman in this bathroom, and not the last one borrowing his bathrobe and toothbrush.

  I open the white cabinet under the washbasin and find a toothbrush. Brushing my teeth, I attempt to detangle my hair with two fingers of my other hand.

  When I’m finished, I pick up my dirty clothes, underwear, and step out of the bathroom.

  Asher is standing in the middle of the room, his hands clenched on the back of his neck, his chest bare.

  Of course, it’s bare.

  Of course, it’s muscular and adorned with tattoos. A thick silver chain encircles his neck.

  Of course, he’s a beautiful man.

  One corner of his kissable lips quirks up. “Hungry?” He points his finger to the small round table that stands by the wall.

  My eyes flick over a plate stuffed with sandwiches and four cans of beer.

  “Is beer okay?” he asks.

  I don’t drink alcohol, but I guess I’m going to give myself dispensation for tonight. “Yes.”

  He nods, stares at me for a moment, and then moves towards the table and grabs the food and beer, carrying all the stuff towards the mattress. I watch him perch on it and tilt his head to me.

  “Let’s eat then,” he says.

  Let’s eat then. Why not?

  I roll up my dirty clothes and put them on the floor, next to the bathroom door. Then I sit down on the mattress beside him and grab a sandwich as he opens two cans of beer for us.

  “Your bag is in the corner below the window,” he says.

  “Thanks.”

  “I can wash your clothes.”

  “No thanks. Just give me a plastic bag or something.”

  Asher

  I can wash those fucking clothes. It’s no big deal. I washed and cleaned and ironed for Sabrina, my ex-wife.

  I watch Michelle’s profile as she bites into the sandwich. Dirty thoughts enter my mind. Is she naked under my bathrobe? Is she wet between her thighs? Is she wet for me?

  She swallows and sips beer, wincing.

  “You’re not a fan of beer?” I ask.

  “Well—“

  “I have a bottle of cherry liquor. Wait a second.” I scramble to my feet and open the wardrobe, taking the bottle from its bottom. “It’s really sweet. Really good for girls.” I open the bottle with a click and return to Michelle, passing it to her. “I’m gonna have a quick shower, okay?”

  She nods her head at me, her eyes wide. “It’s your room. You can do whatever you want to.”

  “It’s ours from now on.” I wink at her, causing seductive redness to paint her cheeks, and then I go to the bathroom, picking up her clothes.

  I haven’t chatted with a blushing girl for ages. Blushing is cool. I just forgot about it.

  I put her clothes into the laundry basket and strip before stepping into the shower cabin. I’m brief. A cute chick is waiting for me, after all. I wrap my wounded hand in a piece of clean bandage and add two pieces of white sticky tape on top to secure it.

  As I join Michelle, wearing only my pyjama pants, I can see she managed to empty one-fourth of the cherry liquor.

  “Good, isn’t it?” I say, sitting down beside her. I thread my fingers through my damp hair. “More sandwiches?”

  She hands me the plate with one sandwich left. “No, thanks. I’m full.”

  I grab the sandwich and wolf it down. I rise to my feet, put the plate on the table and sit back beside her. “So, what’s your story, sweetheart?”

  “It’s kind of complicated.” She flashes me a smile and tips the bottle up to her lips.

  Fucking hell. I’m not able to drink more than a few sips of that liquor. It’s too sweet and simply nauseating after just a few sips.

  “Tell me,” I say.

  “I can’t tell you,” she giggles and slams the bottle on the floor.

  I catch it before it falls over and spills the liquor.

  Michelle smiles at me like I’m a one million prize in some fucking lottery. I like it. I like how the evening is progressing. She’s happy, and I’m happy.

  “Do you bring all your women to this room?” she asks with a delicate crack in her voice.

  “No. I was married until a week ago, you know. Faithful to a really selfish bitch. Married for three exhausting years.” It just pours out of me.

  I don’t know what has come over me. She’s a stranger but I’m honest with her. Intriguing.

  Her jaw drops open. Her lips form an ‘o’. I kill off my urge to touch her face. No, I kill off my urge to drive my dick into her mouth.

  “Tell me, Michelle, what a kid like you is doing here?”

  She sighs as her hands rise and she jerks her body up. I grip her arm and pull her down.

  “Sit down,” I growl.

  I don’t fucking bite. We can have a nice chat, sitting beside each other, right?

  Michelle stiffens beside me, her confused eyes meeting mine.

  I don’t know what has come over me, but I sink my fingers into her damp hair and slam my lips on hers. My tongue thrusts in and I taste her mouth—her heat, her sweetness, the intensity of cherry liquor.

  She pulls away. “I’m drunk.”

  “I know. I will be a gentleman, I promise.”

  I hold her hand and bring it up to my lips, kissing her knuckles. She giggles as our fingers lace together. I realise I fucking like her. I like her more than I should. A flutter goes through my chest and I feel like an arrow of translucent whiteness has coursed through my head.

  “I don’t know what this is about you, Michelle…”

  “Are you flirting with me?”

  “Kind of.”

  “I can’t flirt.”

  “That’s not a problem.” I lean towards her and brush her lips with mine. “Let’s go to bed.”

  “What?”

  “No fucking, I promise.”

  “I need—“

  “Wait a second.”

  She needs one of my t-shirts and a pair of shorts. I jump to my feet, cross the room, and plunge my hand into the wardrobe, picking up the garments for her and throwing them at her.

  She groans as the t-shirt lands on her head.

  “Put them on,” I say.

  “Okay.” She scrambles to her feet and walks over to the bathroom, d
isappearing into it.

  As she walks out a few minutes later, I stretch my body out on the bed and wave my hand to her. She corrects the t-shirt and lies down beside me. I breathe her in as we lie on our sides, facing each other.

  My eyes travel to her nipples visible through the grey fabric of her t-shirt. Then our glances meet, and I burst into laughter.

  “What?” she asks.

  I pull the comforter up to cover us. “Nothing.”

  She looks like a scared rabbit and that’s funny.

  She raises her hand, and I rest my palm against hers. Our fingers lace together. I haven’t done that for ages. It’s like a first date. Like a first crush on a girl.

  This is fucking strange, but I feel like everything is as it should be—me, her, our hands tangled together.

  I hold my weight up on my elbow and bend my neck to plant a soft kiss on her lips.

  “Just kissing?” she asks.

  “Just kissing.”

  I want more, but she’s drunk.

  She yawns and hides her face in her hands. “Sorry.”

  I throw my arm over her chest and pull her to me. “Sleep.”

  “You want me to sleep?”

  “Yes, that’s what I want you to do.”

  She rolls over on her other side so her back rests against my chest. Her body moulds to mine perfectly. I slide my arm under her neck so her head rests on my shoulder.

  “Thanks,” she mumbles and then I hear her breathing deepen.

  She must be exhausted.

  I nuzzle my nose against her head, inhaling her tantalising musk.

  Everything feels so right with her like we’ve been happily married for a long time. And so fresh at the same time. So new.

  I listen to her steady breathing for a while and then I drop off into oblivion.

  Chapter 3

  Asher

  I wake up as the day is about to dawn. A bird twitters outside the window and silent greyness seeps into the room. Coldness brushes against my face. Michelle mumbles something in her dream as I get up quietly so as not to wake her.

  I slip into my jeans, put my hoody and my cut on and go downstairs to find a portable LED lamp. Everyone is still asleep. Silence layers the bar as crisp as snow.

  I enter the kitchen and open the storage room. My eyes slide over four buckets, four broomsticks, two vacuum cleaners and a row of kitchen and bathroom cleaners. Six LED lamps stand on the floor in the corner. I bend forward and pick up one of them.

  I walk out of the clubhouse and move towards Michelle’s car. It takes me fifteen minutes to find out what’s wrong with the engine. I will just need to pop into a shop and buy some parts. Easy job.

  I like repairing cars and bikes even though it’s Hale’s job. He’s our mechanic, but I help him as often as I can.

  I check the tyres in Michelle’s car, and it looks like the back one needs to be replaced because of the nail stuck in it. I open the boot to get the spare wheel. I dig my hands into the boot and pull the corner of the grey lining up, folding it.

  I freeze with my eyes fixed on at least fifteen rolls of money stuffed in the space where the spare wheel should be. I’d say it’s at least two, three hundred thousand.

  Fuck.

  She’s only nineteen and has a lot of money. Dirty money I assume.

  Not that it scares me or something. Blaze launders a bit of cash for the local mafia every month so they leave us in peace on their turf. No big deal. Only small sums to stay off the radar of the police. We make more money every month running the bar.

  The clubhouse is always full even though it’s perched on a small hill in the middle of nowhere. It pulls the clients craving to experience a biker lifestyle and they advertise our services by word of mouth.

  Tasha has been with us since she turned eighteen and that was ten years ago. Celine, our forty-five-year-old cook—the same as our bartender—ten years of employment. Becca and Hailey are our waitresses and they’re living in the clubhouse. Rylan offers her mouth on a regular basis. Nina and Evie have been coming and going for about three years. They’re Brass’ or Python’s lays alternately. Sabrina, my ex, is Evie’s cousin. She came to the bar one chilly evening and we started fucking. It was fun in the beginning. I thought we’d have a funny life together. Not to mention that it’s not a bad thing to have a warm, soft body in your bed every night.

  My eyes flick over Michelle’s money.

  The thought that she may be in danger pisses me off. We’re going to have a serious chat together, no doubt.

  I slam the boot shut and go to my bedroom. As I walk in, my eyes meet hers.

  She’s sitting on the bed and rubbing her eyes.

  “Morning,” I say.

  “Morning.”

  “Hungry?”

  “Listen—“

  “I’m gonna take you out for breakfast, okay?”

  “I—“

  “Then I’ll take you to a nice place. Have you ever ridden on a bike?”

  She shakes her head. Her hand rises and she smoothes it over her messy hair, the gesture so erotic my dick grows hard.

  I shake off my cut and fold it as I put it on the backrest of a chair. Then I pull the hoody over my head and toss it across the floor, flinging myself onto the mattress.

  “The engine needs repairing, but it’s nothing serious,” I say, holding my weight up on my elbow as my fingers pinch a wisp of her hair. “I just need to buy a few things in town.”

  She nods. “Okay.”

  “You’re not busy, are you?”

  “No.”

  I grip her arm and pull her to me. Our lips meet. There’s something magical about kissing her while she’s still teetering between sleep and awareness. The first sun’s rays filter into the room and birds start chatting outside the window.

  I don’t know yet how I will sort out the dirty money situation, but I will, for sure.

  She’s a nice girl. Too nice to drown in such shit. She’s too young.

  She chuckles into my mouth. “You’re so so…”

  “Handsome? Hot? Gorgeous?”

  “So easy to be with. Like we’ve known each other for ages.”

  She shouldn’t have said that.

  Something dark and unstoppable wakes inside me.

  She shouldn’t have said that because now, I’m mad about her. Absolutely mad.

  I tumble her over on her back and crawl on top of her, burying my face in her hair. “Let’s spend the whole day together.”

  “Like a date or something?”

  “Kind of.”

  She chuckles. “Kind of?”

  “We’ll eat and talk and ride on my bike.” I kiss her neck and nibble on her earlobe.

  She pushes at my shoulders. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

  Michelle

  He crawls off me and I get up. I walk towards the bathroom, grabbing my bag on my way. My heart thunders like it’s mad. He’s nice. No, he’s so easy to fall in love with.

  I look over my shoulder. Asher is half-lying on the bed and a streak of light is sliding down his chest.

  No—

  He’s a tough biker and I have to leave this place as soon as he fixes my car. People have something called a self-preservation instinct. Mine seems to have switched off. A. Biker. And I slept in his bed after I’d gotten drunk with him.

  But it was so nice with him. I don’t know. Like our souls can recognize each other. Like our souls crave to be close.

  A biker. They’re dangerous people.

  I step into the bathroom. I brush my teeth, use the toilet and put fresh clothes on. They comprise a grey t-shirt, a printed hoody and a pair of jeans. As I walk out of the bathroom, Asher passes me and walks in, slamming the door shut.

  This is crazy like we’re living together.

  I’ve never lived with a man. It’s always been only me and her.

  I wait for Asher, clenching my hands in front of my stomach. He walks out and puts his cut on, and then grabs my hand. His lips brush
against mine as a delicate scent of mint settles in my nostrils.

  “Ready?” he asks.

  “I think so.”

  “You think so?” He leans over me, sweeping a wisp of hair away from my face, and his mouth touches my head.

  I laugh as he pulls me behind him and we go down the stairs, across the bar and then outside the building.

  We move towards one of the bikes and my legs wobble. I’ve never sat on a bike. I’ve never even wanted to do such crazy things in life.

  My eyes roam over the body of that powerful vehicle and I notice the words ‘Harley-Davidson’. Yeah, a very expensive motorcycle.

  “It’s big,” I say.

  “It’s perfect to take such a cute little thing as you for a ride.”

  My cheeks heat up. He thinks I’m cute, not stupid.

  I feel his hand hook the back of my neck as he shoves me towards the bike and I press my hands against the black leather seat.

  “It’s perfect for other things too,” he says into my ear.

  His chest rests against my back as his hand massages my tummy. I feel his hot lips touch the side of my neck, and his hips rub against my ass. I feel his hard-on rub up my ass. His hand cups my pussy through the fabric of my jeans.

  And then it happens. My stomach growls furiously.

  “Wow,” Asher says. “You must be really hungry.”

  I want to die of embarrassment. No, I want to crumble into pieces and vanish. The ability to rewrite time would be useful as well.

  Asher jumps onto his bike and holds a hand out for me. I lift my foot and put it on the peg and then swing my other leg over the seat and settle myself behind him.

  Asher starts the engine and I feel deaf, scared to death, but at the same time excited.

  Every atom of my body stirs and resonates with the roar of the engine. My hands claw at Asher’s chest and I hear him laugh through the layer of noise. The bike shoots forward and I start mumbling ‘Our Father’.

  Asher

  I ride at low speed so that she won’t get scared or something. She clings to me like her life depends on it. A damn very good feeling.

  Sabrina loved my bike and loved speed.

  Sabrina loved everything to be fast.

  She didn’t love me. We had great sex, but there was no connection between us. No deep understanding two married people should have. We were in love for a moment, that’s all.