Sheer Luck (5 page)

She lived in an older part of the city in a
complex dating back to the turn of the century. Once inside, I
casually glanced around. Her carpet was threadbare, but unstained.
She had a few chairs, no couch, and a thirty-inch flat screen. And
books. Tons of books. Wall to wall bookshelves encased the living
room. Plants and glass bottles decorated the small space between
the ceiling and the top shelves. The place was cozy, inviting.

“Like to read, do you?” My grin slowly fell
when my gaze landed on her.

She bit her lip as if...nervous. “I want to
answer you, but I feel you’ll look differently at me. You’ll think
I’m boring.”

I was pretty sure she could tell me anything
and boring would never enter into my thoughts. “Try me.”

She crossed her arms and looked at her feet.
“I’m a...librarian. That’s what I do for a living.” Her face
twisted into a please-don’t-laugh-at-me expression as she peered up
at me through thick lashes.

I stilled, every inch of me except my cock,
which twitched to life behind my fly. My brows lifted so high I was
sure they were near my hairline. “Two words, Lily. Librarian.
Fantasy.”

A laugh breathed out of her bow-shaped lips.
“Oh, come on.”

“Completely serious.” My gaze took her in,
as if looking at her for the first time. This explained how she
knew the Yeats poem so well, and her eclectic taste in reading
material. How oddly ironic we both made a living by words. “I’m a
columnist for the St. Louis Post.”

She blinked. “Really?”

“Really. Do you have a pair of reading
glasses?”

“Uh...” Confusion marred her brow.
“Yes.”

I groaned. “Bring them along when you pack
your bag.”

She stalled for a beat, shook her head as if
amused, and disappeared into a bedroom down the hall. Twenty
minutes later, she reappeared, having changed into black leggings
and a blue sweater under a leather jacket, and mentioned something
about it being a nice day for a drive.

I shrugged. Late spring was hitting St.
Louis, and though the temperatures fluctuated, today was nearly
sixty and sunny. Buds were blooming on the trees and the grass was
recovering from winter, almost an emerald green.

We made our way outside and she set her bag
in my trunk. Then, she took my hand and led me to an underground
parking structure, tearing the tarp off a...Harley.

My heart did some kind of twisty pounding
thing inside my chest. I stared at the bike, not ashamed to admit I
was turned on to the point of pain. “Yours?” Just when I thought I
had a handle on her, she turned the page. A librarian who owned a
motorcycle and fucked like a wet dream. Screwed didn’t begin to
cover the magnitude of what I was to become.

“Yes.” She grinned, sending my heart into
cardiac arrest. “Want to go for a ride?”

“Fuck, yes.” As she pulled out two helmets,
I stared at her. “I haven’t been on one of these since college.” A
buddy of mine had owned one. I’d never had any inclination to buy a
bike, though.

She handed me a helmet and put hers on.
“Hold onto me and lean into turns. I got the rest.” Straddling the
bike, she turned the key and glanced over her shoulder at me. The
roar of the engine bounced off the concrete structure.

Kicked into gear, I donned my helmet and
climbed on behind her, cradling my inner thighs along the outside
of hers, bringing my erection snug against her ass. Christ, did we
fit. The vibration from her revving the engine only made me
harder.

Without a word, she heeled the kickstand and
tore out of the structure. She played it safe as she wound through
the city and then really let go as we neared the state park. Wind
whipped around us, her hair flying wild. I kept my hands on her
hips the whole ride, wanting to explore her body as she drove but
not wanting to distract her. After a couple of complicated turns
through a thickly wooded area, she parked on what resembled a
private trail and cut the engine.

I removed her helmet and mine, setting them
to dangle on the handlebars, and breathed in pine. Birds called
overhead and the scurry of squirrels crunched in the distance. I
wrapped my arms around her from behind. She turned her head to meet
my kiss. Effortless, as if knowing what I wanted without direction.
Everything with her had been easy so far.

“Nice spot,” I said casually, noting the
seclusion. “Any reason in particular we’re here?”

With her face so close to mine, it was
simple to take in her reservation, but I gave her time. She wanted
to learn to take initiative, and I was a patient guy. Dark navy
flecks infused the cerulean in her irises as her long lashes
blinked slowly.

After a few beats, she turned to face me,
straddling me as I straddled the Harley, and brought the heat
between her legs in direct contact with my straining cock. “I’ve
always wanted to have sex on a motorcycle. I bought the bike a few
months ago.”

Another check on her things-she-wanted-to-do
list. Again, I wondered what sparked the change. I pushed her dark
hair away from her face and grinned. “I’m all yours.”

She nudged my jacket off my shoulders and
tossed it to the ground. Following her lead, I did the same with
hers and groaned when she reached for the snap on my jeans. The
teeth of the zipper sounded and I sprang free. Her warm, soft hands
wrapped around me and I bucked into them. She used the perfect
amount of pressure as she stroked me. When her thumb caressed my
slit, I put my hand on her chest and eased her down to recline
against the handlebars.

“I’m obviously ready for you,
a mo
rún.
Are you ready for me?”

My gaze never leaving hers, I inched her
leggings down her thighs, taking her panties along. Instead of
stripping them off her, I left them around her ankles, lifted her
legs, and brought them to either side of me, so she caged me in.
Her ankles crossed low on my back.

Removing a condom from my wallet, I ripped
it open with my teeth and rolled it down my length, all without
taking my gaze from hers. Ensnared by her, my chest ached as I
placed my palms on her belly under her sweater and splayed my
fingers. Her breath caught in her throat, her eyelids lowering in
lust.

Wanting to see her, I dropped my gaze to the
small triangle of dark hair on her mound. I ran my hands up her
thighs, parting her folds, and groaned louder than the rev of her
Harley when she’d let it rip on the open road. Beautiful just
didn’t cover it. I hadn’t had a chance to really look at her the
night before. Her pink flesh was saturated for me, her clit
swollen. I pressed my thumb to her hot little button and she arched
her back, her breathing ragged. I wanted to taste her so bad, but
I’d do that later. Tonight.

“You’re more than ready for me. Look at
you.”

Seeing her spread out on her motorcycle,
core inches from my shaft and teeth working her lower lip, had the
blood in my veins streaming like lava. I wanted to stay in this
moment an eternity, hovering in that fragile space between heaven
and torment, anticipation tightening my balls.

She grabbed my thighs. “Take me.
Please.”

I sank a finger into her heat. “Take you
where? Here?”

A mewl and she nudged my lower back with her
feet. “
Oui
.”

Done.

Fisting the base of my shaft in one hand, I
slid the other under her ass to raise her pelvis to me. I filled
her slowly, my gaze darting between where she stretched around me
and her lust-lost eyes. When I was as deep as I could go given our
position, I stilled. Hell, she felt so goddamn good it took too
much restraint to keep it together. “How do you want to be fucked,
a mo rún?
”

A cry whimpered in her throat. “Hard.
Fast.”

Done and done.

Hands on her hips, I dragged her off my cock
until only the tip of me remained inside, and then pulled her back
onto my shaft fast, hard. At her more intense cry, I put two of my
fingers in her mouth to give her something to latch onto. We were
alone, but there was no sense in drawing attention to what we were
doing if anyone was close by. Her sound would carry. She sucked my
fingers, swirling her tongue around the knuckles, and I pulsed
inside her.

Rolling my hips, I retreated from her hot,
tight sheath and pounded back inside. She bit my fingers as another
holy-fuck sound moaned around my digits. Leaning slightly forward
so I could hit her clit when I thrust, I repeated the motion, again
and again, picking up speed and urgency. I grabbed the handlebars
above her head with one hand for balance and momentum, sinking
deeper. Her ragged breaths escaped between my fingers, her teeth
clenching so hard I was sure she left permanent marks. My thrusts
more animalistic than human, I drove inside her, sweat beading down
my temple.

My balls grew taut, my spine stiff. Fuck. I
kept my pace, but whispered a coarse order near ear. “Come,
a mo
rún
. I’m so fucking close. You feel too fucking good.
Come...hard...for...me...Lily.” I punctuated each word with a fast
thrust, dizzy with need.

“Declan...”

Hell. I loved the way she said my name.

Her back arched off the bike and she
screamed. I had just enough wherewithal to clamp my hand over her
mouth as she clenched around my shaft, jerking me to an explosion.
Light danced behind my lids. Air trapped in my lungs. I buried my
face in her soft sweater to contain my grunt as I finished.
Shuddering, I cupped the back of her head and attempted to keep my
weight off her while I regained a semblance of normal
breathing.

Her fingers wove tenderly through my hair. I
shuddered again at how thoroughly even the simple caress rocked me.
From the inside out.

Lifting my head, I kissed my way up her jaw.
“I will admit sex on a motorcycle is on my list of top choices
now.”

Her throaty laugh shook us both.

We cleaned up and redressed, then brought
her bike back to her apartment and headed to my place. The rest of
the day, I coaxed more fantasy ideas from her, adding in my own
twist and promising her we’d get to them all.

After the supper rush, we headed to my
favorite Italian restaurant for dinner. I preferred less crowds and
she didn’t seem to mind. After we ordered, we picked at our salads,
the conversation never going stale as the scent of garlic and
merlot swirled around us. The lighting was low and our table small,
intimate. We discussed everything from politics to religion to
sports, and though we didn’t agree on a lot of the topics, there
was respect in the light debate.

Wiping her mouth on a napkin, she leaned
forward. “Okay, so I have a question. Not that it’s any of my
business, but why don’t you date? To be honest, you’re pretty good
at it. Do you have a crazy ex-wife who milked you for every penny?
Long lost love you’re pining for?”

I smiled because it was rather difficult not
to around her, even though my answer was sure to send her running.
If I answered honestly, that is. Outside of the family, no one
knew. Choosing my words carefully, I pushed my salad plate away.
“I’m afraid it’s a little stranger than that. I need to tell you a
story.”

Sipping her wine, she eyed me over the rim.
“I like stories.”

I laughed and wiped a hand down my face.
“One hundred years ago, back in Ireland, my great-grandfather fell
in love with a girl from a neighboring farm. She was promised to
another, so they kept their love secret. For luck, she gave him a
four leaf clover and told him to come to her the night before her
wedding, and they’d run off together.”

Her eyes narrowed. “This doesn’t end well,
does it?”

I sighed. “No. My great-grandfather got cold
feet, ran late with his chores, and lost the clover. Ashamed, he
didn’t do as she asked, and she was forced to marry the guy she
didn’t want. On her wedding night, she snuck out to see my
great-grandfather one last time, and told him since he threw her
luck and love away, he and his ancestors were destined to never
have either for as long as they lived. The only way to break the
omen was to redeem themselves one day.”

Her head tilted, lips twisting in thought.
“Interesting. What does that have to do with you?”

The waitress arrived with our meals, chicken
alfredo for Lily and lasagna for me. After the waitress left us
alone, I lifted my gaze to Lily, wondering if she would think I was
a whack if I finished the story. To anyone outside our family, it
would seem crazy wrapped in more crazy. It also happened to be
true. To my knowledge, not one O’Leary had ever told another soul
about the curse.

I took a few bites of my meal, waiting for
her to do the same, before I continued. “So, for the past hundred
years, the men in my family have been cursed. We can’t fall in love
or something bad happens.”

She appeared skeptical. “Like what?”

Hell, I was all in now. Why not? “Ever since
the curse began, not one generation has had a female born. To add
to that, every male who has fallen in love has lost them to
divorce, illness, or death. Even as recent as my brother, Aiden.
His wife died delivering Liam.”

A tiny wrinkle formed between her brows. She
opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

I swallowed my bite of lasagna. “You don’t
believe me.”

She pushed her food around her plate,
appearing to choose her words. “I believe you believe it. Many
cultures hold merit to curses, rituals, and spells. I just think
your family is putting so much credence into this one incident that
you’re making the curse true, or at least twisting it to
believability.”

See, this was one of many reasons why she
was so damn fascinating. Instead of outright thinking I’d gone over
the cuckoo’s nest, she took into account my heritage and the facts
presented. “Part of me always felt that way, too. But it’s hard to
argue with history.”