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

by Daniela Jackson

  “You. Are. My. Wife.”

  Fuck. Every word is like a thick icicle that pierces my heart.

  I fling myself to the side, but he captures me into his embrace, immobilising me.

  “Let’s talk, Michelle. I’ll eat your food and we’ll talk, okay?”

  “No, it’s not okay.” I squirm in his embrace, but it’s futile. I’m in a trap. “Let go of me.”

  “If I let go of you, you’ll vanish.” He plants a kiss on my forehead. “And I’ve tried so hard. So hard, Michelle. Can’t you see?” He grips the back of my head and tips my face up to his. I yelp as his lips crush mine. “We’ll eat and fuck and tomorrow everything’s gonna be fine.”

  “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “You’re perfect. My every dream. Perfect.”

  He is my every dream too, but that’s so unhealthy. That thing between us is not normal. Not possible.

  “You have a wife, Asher.”

  “Yes, you’re my wife.” He flashes me a beguiling smile. “Fuck Sabrina. I never loved her, but I do love you.”

  He shouldn’t have said that. My body softens and I plaster myself to him.

  “Sabrina wants you to sign the divorce papers,” I say as my eyes meet his.

  He exhales as relief paints his face. “You see I’m lucky.”

  “Yeah, you’re very lucky, it’s me. I’m as fucked up as you are.”

  “We’re perfect for each other.”

  “Yeah, just look at this mess.”

  Asher

  She stops fighting at last. I sit her in the chair and take the food from the oven. I pile two plates with it and sit down beside her. My heart pounds in my chest as I watch her every movement.

  “My mother was an alcoholic,” she says.

  “I figured it out.”

  “There was only me and her and that cell she called our home. It had never been my home.” Her eyes wander off. There’s crispy silence until her sharp breath breaks it. “We were poor. Our flat reeked of urine and vomit. I was hungry. I tried to clean, to get rid of the alcohol, but… She was so nasty to me. So dependent on me at the same time.” She puts her hands on the table as her fingers roll into fists. “Her men…”

  An urge to murder seizes my mind. “Just tell me the names.”

  “Oh, stop it, Asher. It wasn’t that bad. I’d seen her with them four times, that’s all. It’s just that I was her kid and I shouldn’t have watched her like that. Anyway, I went to the shop one day. I was hungry. So hungry, but you know what? I bought a lottery ticket instead of bread.” Her face turns to mine. Tears flow down from her eyes. “She was so happy with the prize, you know, so happy she had a heart attack that night.” Her eyes narrow as her lips curl into a smile. “Now your story. I want to know everything. Everything, Asher. No lies.”

  She sounds serious. She expects me to reassure her. To tell her the truth. I don’t want to bathe in the truth, but I love her more. She deserves to know the true me.

  “I don’t know my biological parents,” I start. “A couple of lawyers adopted me when I was a baby, but they were caricatures of parents. I was always alone. Always lonely. My adoptive father murdered my adoptive mother, you know, and then he killed himself.”

  A startled sigh leaves her mouth as her hand reaches down for mine. Our fingers lace together.

  “I’m so sorry,” she says.

  “Blaze found me before one scumbag had the chance to rape me.”

  Michelle raises to her feet as her arms encircle my neck. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Blaze is my dad, the best I could wish for.”

  “He’s nice. Good.”

  Our eyes meet and I see the ocean of compassion in hers. “I never told that to Sabrina.”

  “She wasn’t ready to hear that, I guess.”

  “I know I can tell you everything.”

  “Alright. Tell me about that bouncer’s job that left you beaten.”

  “That was the payment for your fake documents. For our life together. I fought in the cage.”

  She shudders. “Are you going to do this more often?”

  “No. I don’t have to do such things anymore.”

  She pulls away from me. “I need to go back to Normandy.”

  “Please, don’t go. I’ll do anything, Michelle. Anything. I’ll change, go to therapy. Anything.”

  Her hands rise as though she wants to lift the sky. “You lied to me. You made decisions for me without my knowledge. I need time away from you.”

  She moves towards the door. Escapes from me.

  I stride over to her and grip her wrist. “Please.”

  “I need to go back to Normandy.”

  “Don’t leave me. I love you, you hear me?”

  “I need to buy your car.”

  “What?”

  Michelle

  There’s a sports car in the garage. I want to sit in the driver’s seat, turn on the radio and drive.

  “I want to buy you car,” I repeat.

  “It’s yours. For free. You’re my wife.” There’s a high-pitched crack in his voice. “Everything is yours.”

  “Good,” I say, giving him a nod. I already threw my bag into the boot and the car keys and a credit card are in my pocket. “I want you to let me go.”

  “No.”

  “I’m not your prisoner.”

  “Why did we even have that fucking conversation, Michelle? You’re leaving regardless.”

  I need to go.

  I ball up my fists and move back. Asher’s hands jerk up, but he doesn’t stop me this time. His face doesn’t betray any emotions, but his eyes? They’re like an inferno of pain and rage.

  I turn around and almost run out of the house. I don’t look back.

  I get in the car, start the engine and drive out of the garage.

  Then I just drive.

  The motorway is deserted as the sun appears on the horizon, giving the world a glittery appearance. It’s quiet in a unique, eternal way.

  Six hours later, I stop in a parking lot in front of a motel. I check in, have breakfast, and lie down on a double bed. Every muscle in my body aches. My chest feels like a cage. I can’t breathe.

  That’s what a normal girl would do, right? We need to be separated from each other. We need time and space.

  Why do I feel like a coward then?

  We need to decide whether we want to continue our marriage or not.

  Right, there’s no marriage. There’s a bag of lies instead. My husband is very resourceful.

  Stop it. He’s not your husband.

  He is.

  Damn. He’s a very good husband.

  He lies better than the devil himself.

  He’ll cheat on me and I’ll never know.

  I’ll go to Normandy, return to my routine, and then I’ll see.

  He put in a lot of effort in order to protect me. But that’s unhealthy and crazy.

  Obsessive.

  I want to be a wife. I want to be his wife.

  God, it hurts so much.

  Tears leak from my eyes.

  Then I fall into numbness. My chest is as hollow as a void of loss.

  Chapter 14

  Asher

  I sit down on the floor with a bottle of vodka in my hand. I’m gonna get drunk. Then I’m gonna get drunk even more. What’s the point in talking, sorting out the shit between us while she’s gone anyway. Talking is bullshit. Talking means nothing.

  I sip vodka straight from the bottle. I feel like I’m frozen, empty.

  After Sabrina had left me, I felt furious.

  Kind of relieved.

  Michelle? Now, it fucking hurts. Knocks the air out of my lungs.

  I had to let go of her. I know nothing about loving a woman, but I know Michelle must be free now. It’s like a white blast of realisation. I can’t crush her in my possessive hand. She needs to make decisions for herself.

  I wince at the taste of vodka, but pour it into my throat regardless. The world becomes hot and
wavy around me. I’m even in a good mood.

  I lie down on my side and fall asleep on the floor.

  I wake up five hours later. My hangover makes a furious animal out of me.

  I’ll never fucking let go of her. She’s my wife. She should be warming my bed now, naked and wet for me.

  I shower, put fresh clothes on and walk over to the front door of the house like some fucking higher force is yanking me. I open it, step forward and bounce off a short figure.

  My glance meets Michelle’s glassy, red eyes.

  “I was going to catch you, tie you up and force you to be my wife,” I say as my knees bend and I jerk my hand to clutch the railing for support.

  Her eyes widen. “I knew it. You’re a caveman.”

  “What can I say?”

  “I’m going to Normandy.”

  I can’t fucking grasp what is going on. “No, you’re not going anywhere. You’re staying here and working with me to save our marriage.”

  She smirks at me. “And you’re going with me. I want to sell my cottage and invest some money in The Grim Traveller. Then I want to open my own bookshop near our house.”

  “You said our house, baby?”

  “Something wrong with your ears?”

  Michelle

  The smell of seaweed fills my nostrils as we watch the sunrise. It’s chilly. A delicate mist layers the ground, slithering down the cliff to merge with the sea. Magical quietness rules over the world.

  Asher throws his arm around my back. “Are you going to spread your legs for me or not?”

  “I need more time.”

  We’ve driven for six hours. I can smell my own sweat. No fucking way am I going to have sex with him. In the back seat of the car? Forget it, Asher.

  Not to mention that it’s awkward between us.

  We set off one day and a half ago. At first, there was a crispy cold silence between us. Asher wanted to talk, but I didn’t. I was numb, buried in my mind, and tormented by my memories.

  Now, I feel better.

  I’m in a dysfunctional relationship. Whoo-hoo. Me?

  When my mother died, I promised to myself that I’d never fall in love with a bad boy. I did.

  My mother fell in love with a cheater. He was an alcoholic and a gambler. She fought for his love until he died. That was when I was eight.

  My mother started drinking and I tried to save her. I couldn’t.

  Asher’s lips touch mine, hot and salty.

  “I reek, Asher.”

  “So do I.”

  “You have no restraints.”

  “No, I don’t.” He slides his hand under my hoody and squeezes my breast. “Are we good, Michelle?”

  “You tell me.”

  “Everything is sorted.”

  “Oh really?” Guilt pricks my chest. I’m too harsh on him.

  Asher

  I’m trying really hard, but my head is emptier and emptier with each hour that passes.

  “You don’t even know who I am,” she says.

  “You’re a nice girl with a nice pussy and nice tits.”

  “I almost killed myself because of your protection.”

  An unpleasant flutter goes through my chest. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  “I know, but your love borders on obsession, you know. It’s not healthy.”

  “Who cares?” I pull her into my arms. “I love you how I can. I have the right to love how I can.”

  Why do we need to talk about it over and over again? I’m not very talkative. Blaze is not talkative. That’s no crime.

  She takes a deep breath. “I want us to talk in life.”

  Fucking hell. I feel like a criminal who’s facing the prospect of a capital punishment.

  I clear my throat. “About?”

  “About us, our problems, everything.”

  “It’s easier to just fuck, Michelle.”

  She chuckles. “You’re adorable.” Her arms wrap around my chest. “Let’s find a nice hotel. I’m paying this time.”

  “Alright, but I’ll pay for our food.”

  “Sure, no problem.” She takes a few shaky breaths as she wrinkles her forehead. “I want to give money to a charity every year.”

  “It’s your money. Your choice.”

  “We’re together so it’s our money. Our choice.”

  Warmth washes over my heart. “Okay. Every year, we’re gonna choose the charity together. I want to support kids in need and cancer research.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I wanted to do. There’s one more thing. I… We don’t have to live like spoiled brats.”

  “Do I live like a spoiled brat? I have money, Michelle. I could live like a prince. I just don’t need this.”

  She nods. “Okay. Sorted then. Let’s find a nice hotel now.”

  I tickle her chest. “I want a king-sized bedroom in a five star hotel.”

  We’re going to make changes, right? I’m going to learn to give her more freedom in making decisions about our life, and she’s going to learn how to buy expensive things.

  She stiffens in my arms. “Alright.”

  Michelle

  So much money. We could have four decent hotel rooms for that price. Or six. We don’t need marbles or colourful drinks or all that shit.

  We need four walls and a roof.

  Am I greedy? Obsessive in my need to save money?

  I take the cash out of my wallet and pay, closing my eyes for a split second. Done. And I’m still alive.

  As my eyes shift to Asher’s, I can see a wide grin cross his face. He pats my shoulder like I’m a soldier and he’s my general.

  We go to our room. As I enter it, the sight of the interior almost knocks me off my feet. It’s beautiful. The white, red, and grey colours of the walls and curtains complement modern furniture.

  “I’ve never been in such a beautiful room,” I say.

  “Neither have I.” Asher kisses me on the top of my head. “Let’s shower.”

  “Go first. I’ll go after you.”

  Asher

  I grit my teeth. “Alright.”

  I guess I shouldn’t push her. It seems like she needs more time.

  I shower and stretch my body out on the king-sized bed with a white canopy. Michelle goes to the bathroom and I hear the murmur of water. My eyes grow heavy. I drop off to sleep.

  A tiny hand strokes my cheek.

  “Hey.” Her seductive, raspy voice fills my ear. “Wake up. I’m hungry.”

  I roll over on my side and see her standing by the bed. She’s dressed.

  “What time is it?” I ask.

  “Six in the evening.”

  “You should have woken me up.”

  “Why would I do that? You needed a good rest, Asher.”

  I crawl out of the bed as my hard dick demands that I shove him inside my wife, but she turns around and exits the room. Fucking hell. I hate that fucking chasm between us.

  I go to the bathroom and then put clothes on. As I make my way down the granite stairwell that leads to the hotel restaurant, I see a shop with jewellery. I pop in and torture a young shop assistant until she sells me what I truly want to buy.

  Michelle

  We eat in silence. My eyes roam over the hotel guests having their meal at the tables around us. I see three women’s hungry glances travel to Asher. Yes, this is one of the unwanted benefits of having a handsome partner.

  I feel my throat tighten.

  Sabrina couldn’t keep him by her side. She seemed like she had gotten him over with, but I think that’s not true.

  We finish our meal, check out, and Asher throws the divorce papers into a letterbox. He’s acting like he doesn’t care.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  His beguiling smile answers me.

  “You’re not okay, huh?” I say.

  “I’m fine.” There’s a pinch of anger in his voice.

  “Divorce is one the most stressful situations that you can experience in life.”

  “Do I l
ook like I’m stressed, Michelle?”

  “Actually, you do.”

  “Like hell.”

  This is getting interesting.

  We’re walking towards our car as I hold his hand in mine. “I’ve failed a lot of things in life, Asher.”

  “I never fail anything. I’m a lucky bastard.”

  “I mean—“

  “Get in the car.”

  So much for the communication in our relationship.

  We drive until I see my cottage profile behind a medieval graveyard.

  “Really?” Asher asks as he shakes his head.

  “The price was really low, you know.”

  “No offence, but I wouldn’t take it even for free.”

  Heat rushes up my chest.

  Asher parks the car along the pavement and we get off. We walk through the metal gate and I open the back door. The smell of dust brushes against my nostrils. The cottage needs cleaning and airing.

  I enter the kitchen and pick up four letters from the beige tiled floor.

  “The view from the kitchen window knocks you off your feet,” Asher says with a pinch of sarcasm.

  “Your clubhouse is creepier.”

  “Really?”

  I remove my shoes and put them neatly next to the doormat. As I shake off my jacket, Asher puts our bags by one of the cupboards and strides over to me. I shudder as his arms wrap around me from behind.

  “Hey,” he says. “We’ve reached our destination, so it’s time to chill out.”

  “We need grocery shopping.”

  “Yeah, I know. Give me ten minutes.”

  He tightens his embrace around me, moving me towards the kitchen table. I sigh as he bends me over and his frame pins me down to the top. He rubs his massive erection up my ass, pulling my jeans and panties down in one rough movement.

  “We need to…” I shriek, but my traitorous pussy pulses with need.

  “We need to fuck.” There’s possessive roughness in his voice.

  He shoves his hand between my thighs and runs a finger along my wet slit. The head of his cock throbs at my entrance. I swallow thickly as he shoves his hardness into my pussy, filling me in one thrust.

  “Better, isn’t it, Michelle?”

  “Better.”

  My breath halts and I feel my pussy spasm around his cock. Pleasure ripples through me as violent as a desert storm.

  I’m still trembling in the aftermath of my orgasm as Asher pumps in and out and moans his pleasure.