Riding Irish

by Angelica Siren

  Riding Irish

  By

  Angelica Siren

  © Angelica Siren 2014, all rights reserved.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Prologue

  The road was calling to him. Ronan laid bed as the sun broke across the horizon, casting golden rays through the tiny window. He hadn’t been able to sleep at all. Nothing was keeping him awake except for his growing desire to feel the bike beneath him once again. This wasn’t a new phenomenon. He looked at the sleeping woman beside him. It took entirely too long to remember her name. Natalie? Nadia? It was definitely something with an ‘N’. He’d met her in a pub the night before. Like so many before her, she’d been attracted to his rough appearance and to the aura of danger that seemed to follow him. That allure had served Ronan well for years, but it had all become a routine.

  Most nights were the same. When the day’s business was finished, Ronan would find himself at one of Dublin’s uncountable pubs and bars. Wherever he ended up, he knew things would be the same. Somewhere in the pub, an attractive woman would be staring at him. For Ronan, it wasn’t a matter of seeking these women out, but one of allowing himself to be found. Sometimes it was a young woman who wanted a fling that would demonstrate her wild side. Sometimes they were experienced and knew just what they were in for. Sometimes they were just confused. Ronan had his pick.

  Years of hard riding with the Druids Motorcycle Club had left Ronan with an impressive physique. It was sculpted by the constant tension of riding and by years of hard living in between rides. He may have been the leader of the organization, but he was still young – only 29 – and was never one to let someone else do the heavy lifting when he could do it himself. That was a lesson his father had taught him. Sid McAvoy had been a leader too. He had carved the Druids MC out from nothing. With a few friends at his side, he’d taken a bright idea for how to spend the weekend into a business and a life for dozens of Druids since. Rowan had grown up watching his father’s efforts with the Druids, and his father had groomed him for leadership since he was old enough to sit on the back of a bike without falling.

  Things had been different back then. With Sid at the helm, the Druids were a loose knit collection of hobbyists bound by a pledge to work for each other. The outlaw life of a biker was part of the club even then, but Sid tried to ensure that family always came before profit and that violence was a last resort. His son had a different way of doing things. Rowan saw that the world was changing and that asking for what you wanted was never as effective as simply taking it.

  Taking is what had led Ronan to this crumbling apartment in the center of Dublin. He’d had a rough night. One of his lieutenants had gotten into an argument with over a football match and the results had been a marked decrease in the Druid’s reputation at one of his favorite pubs. When the dust had cleared and the broken pool cues were being tossed in the bin, the results had been a broken jaw, a lot of hurt pride and a bar room full of locals that thought the Druids were less than ideal patrons. They’d ridden away together, trying to show that nothing could tear them apart, but Rowan was in a dark mood. The fight could have been avoided. Instead, his lieutenant had sought it out. He’d been looking for someone to fight all night and had finally found a target. The argument didn’t matter. It was just an excuse to get in a brawl.

  Rowan lit a cigarette and thought about the situation. That sort of thing never would have happened when his father was alive. The Druids had grown from a group of outsiders to a treasured heirloom in the eyes of the people of Dublin under Sid McAvoy’s tenure. Certainly there would always be some who looked down on them, but keeping the hearts and minds of the regular folks was important to him. He was fond of repeating the sentiment that “Home is second only to family – and that includes your city.” Since Rowan had taken the reins, the city had suffered at the hands of the Druids. He couldn’t deny it. They’d been responsible for violent attacks, drug smuggling, extortion and more. There was always a touch of that even when his father ran the show, but now it seemed to be the club’s bread and butter.

  He couldn’t help but feel that the culture of violence that had risen under his leadership was the direct cause of incidents like the previous night. Anger and bloodshed seemed to follow the club wherever they went now, and it could only be because that was what he’d created. In the six years since Sid had died, most of the older members of the gang had passed on or faded away. Were they just getting old like his father had, or was it a matter of disliking the direction the club was moving in? None of the old timers had ever expressed concerns about the level of violence, but then again, none of them had ever encouraged it either.

  Rowan stubbed his cigarette out on the top of a beer can. He knew this kind of thinking was getting him nowhere. He could blame himself forever, but that wouldn’t change the way things were. He stared at the naked, sleeping girl beside him. She was a beauty. She had long blonde hair that was spread out around her head like a halo. Her face still bore traces of last night’s makeup, but rather than looking disheveled, it simply looked faded. Her long legs were jutting out from under the blanket, looking golden in the early morning sunlight. Her skin was clear and perfect – a very different situation from Rowan’s own. His body was crossed with scars and decorated with tattoos. Whenever another woman saw him remove his shirt for the first time, he guessed at their reaction. Most were on top of him before the shirt hit the floor. Every once in a while though, the level of shock was enough to keep them catatonic for a few moments. Nadia or Natalie was one of the first kind. She’d known just who she was bringing home and wanted every piece of him that she could get her hands on.

  Rowan was torn between playing the part he’d cast himself in and trying to find a new way to live his life. He reasoned that there were better times to make decisions like that and that the beautiful woman beside him wasn’t going to convince him to abandon his life of debauchery anyway. He leaned over her sleeping form and ran a finger lightly along the curve of her body, from her shoulder to her hip. She stirred lightly in her sleep. He put his palm against her waist and felt the warm, steady movement of her breath. She woke up dreamily to the rough hand of the man she’d taken home from the pub the night before.

  “Mmmm,” she cooed softly, “good morning, lover.”

  Rowan didn’t say anything but slid his hand around her to her stomach. Her skin was soft and tight at the same time. He could feel himself getting hard beneath the thin sheet that was tangled between them. Rowan knew just what he needed to clear his head. His hand gradually made its way lower until he felt the rough texture of the tiny golden hairs between her legs on his fingertips. She instinctively slid her legs apart, still lying on her side, allowing him greater freedom to explore with his hand.

  He felt along her inner thigh, stroking her softly and kissed the back of her neck. “Mmmmm…” she responded once again. His hand moved between her thighs and his fingers caressed her there. He continued to nibble and kiss along her neck and shoulder, pushing her long blonde hair away with his free hand. He rolled himself slightly closer to her, pressing his now thick and hardened member warmly against the small of her back. There would be no mistaking just what he was after that morning.

  Her legs spread further apart and he softly cupped her womanhood in his hand, feeling the growing heat between her legs. Gently at first, he pressed his fingers against her labia, urging her heat forth. Then, with an increased pressure, he pushed a finger between her lips until he felt the wetness that lurked within her. He pressed his finger there for a moment and then raised it, sliding upwards to her clit. He rubbed her gently, lubricated so as to make her slippe
ry and sensitive. Ronan could feel the heat growing in her second by second. His hand pressed more tightly against her and his finger began to rub more deeply against her.

  She reached behind her back until her hand grasped around the shaft of his thickened member. Her fingers wrapped around him and she pulled gently, feeling the stone-like hardness of his cock. He was thick and powerful. She rubbed him softly and it felt like velvet draped over marble. They’d had sex twice before falling asleep the night before, but still she was mesmerized by the feeling of his cock in her hand. His hard body and tight muscles made his manhood seem even more impressive than it would otherwise have been. She pulled harder and faster at his cock, desperate to feel it inside of her one more time.

  Ronan pushed his fingers between her lips and felt the moisture within her. He rubbed her with all his fingers now, swiftly transforming her womanhood into a hot, slippery, center of all pleasure. He slowly slid his hand away from her, pleased with her reaction to his touch, and leaned up in the bed. He pulled the sheets away from them both, tossing them off the end of the bed. She turned her head over to look at him and smiled. His cool blue eyes were constantly sparkling in a way that made him seem mischievous but with an edge of danger. His short black hair stuck up at odd angles, a result of riding all day and sleeping oddly at night. Ronan slid his hands around her waist and moved himself to the bottom of the bed.

  She knew just what he wanted and was only too happy to oblige. She rolled over onto her stomach and then bent her knees, lifting her tight butt from the bed. She slid her arms underneath her pillow and braced herself on her elbows. Rowan grinned and gently caressed her ass with one hand. With his other, he took his thick shaft in hand and guided himself towards her wetness. With a slow push, he penetrated her, sinking his massive cock deep into her pussy. She let out a soft sigh of blissful pleasure as his hardened member worked its way inside of her with a series of short thrusts. Soon his cock was wet and slippery from head to base and he held firmly onto her hips as he began rocking himself back and forth, pushing deep inside of her.

  “I love your tight little pussy,” he said, as he increased his speed and his cock began gliding in and out of her. “You get so damned wet. Tell me you love my cock.”

  She turned her head against the pillow and gasped, “Oh god, I love your fucking cock. It’s so fucking huge! Mmmm fuck yeah.”

  He pushed into her again and again. She began pushing back against him, loving the feeling of his chiseled body impacting against hers. Her legs were spread wide and he worked himself like a piston behind her, rhythmically pounding against her and inside of her. The soft, wet slapping sound of their bodies coming together echoed through the small room.

  “Uh! Uh! Oh god, you’re fucking huge! Your cock is so fucking hard! Fuck me! Fuck me!” she demanded, over and over. Ronan responded to her every wish and his body began rocketing against hers with greater force than ever. He felt the slippery tightness of her around his cock and knew that he wouldn’t last long. He pushed forward with greater urgency, gripping tightly against her hips and pulling her back to meet him on every thrust with greater strength than any she could muster.

  She felt his urgency and slid one of her hands beneath her body. She began frantically rubbing against her clit, wanting the deep pounding of his member to continue indefinitely but knowing that it wouldn’t. His thickness inside of her had her on the edge already and after only seconds of pressing in circular motions against her clit, she felt a warm explosion course through her body.

  “Oh fuck! I’m coming! I’m coming!” she yelled and it pushed him over the edge as well. She felt his massive cock explode inside of her, shooting his hot cum in great jets into her. The warmth filled her immediately and mixed with her own feelings of heat, spurring her to even greater heights of ecstatic bliss. They slammed against one another harder and harder. All rhythm was lost and their bodies collided only with pure lust.

  When he felt himself spent, he pulled himself away, giving her a final soft caress on the ass as he did so. She relaxed and let herself go flat against the bed, feeling his cum already beginning to drip from her. He simply rolled over and grabbed another cigarette.

  Without a word between them, he smoked half of it before she said, “I thought we might get a bit of breakfast?”

  He closed his eyes for a moment, though she couldn’t see his face. “Sorry, love. I have business I need to be getting’ to.” He reached down to the floor and grabbed a bundle of clothes and began putting them on.

  “But…” she continued, “I thought we could spend the day together?”

  “Ye’re a sweet thing,” he said, “But I’ve got to get on the road.”

  Her mood changed from one of bliss to anger in a flash. “So,” she insisted, “You’re just going to leave, then?”

  “Aye.”

  She let out an angry sound and rolled over onto the bed in time to see him lacing up his boots. No matter what she said or did, he continued dressing. As he was putting on his toughened leather jacket, she screamed at him, “You’re never gonna have someone better than me, you know. You’re never gonna have the life I can give you.”

  Ronan glanced around the small apartment. Was this a life? He didn’t think so. Without another glance at Nadia or Natalie or whatever her name was, he grabbed his keys from his pocket and walked towards the door of the apartment. The large patch on the back of his jacket was the last thing she saw before he walked out of her life forever. “Fucking Druids,” she cursed at him as he closed the door behind him.

  Ronan mounted his bike and turned the key in the ignition, feeling the familiar and comfortable hum of the engine beneath him. As he pulled away from the apartment building, he couldn’t help but think that while it wasn’t here, perhaps there was another life for him out there somewhere. The struggle between his desire for freedom and his desire for stability would always be a part of him. If only he could find a way to bind the two together. If only he could find a woman who would help to show him the way.

  Chapter One

  I came to Ireland the way nobody wants to – to bury a loved one. My dear grandmother Brighid had lived her whole life on the outskirts of Dublin. Over more than ninety years, she’d seen everything in her life. I wish that I could say I loved her dearly, but the truth of the matter is that I never knew her. She and my father had become estranged before I was ever born. He’d never gone to visit and she had no desire to ever set foot in America. When the letter arrived telling me that she’d passed, I didn’t know quite what to do. My father had died years earlier and evidently I was her closest remaining relative. If I’d known, maybe I would have found a way to reconnect with her. As it was, I was too late.

  My sense of loss was tempered somewhat by the extended contents of the letter informing me of her death. As she’d outlived three children, her husband and all of her varied brothers and sisters, she had left behind a sizable estate. She wasn’t rich by any means, but the letter explained that in addition to her home, there was a sizable amount of property and money that I would inherit. However, I would have to make my way to Dublin to oversee matters.

  I drafted a letter to my boss explaining the situation. I told him that I would be out of the country for an unknown length of time. Truth be told, I needed a good long vacation, and it sounded like I would be fine financially without my paychecks. With dreams of inheritance swimming in my head, I booked a flight for Dublin and packed my bags.

  My flight to Dublin was uneventful. I managed to sleep for most of the eight hour trip. Groggy and bracing myself for serious jet lag, I stepped out of the airport and hailed a taxi. When my bags were loaded in the cab, I got inside and read the address off of a scrap of paper. I silently thanked my good fortune that my grandmother had been Irish and not from some country deep in Europe – at least they spoke English here. The cabby cocked an eyebrow when I told him where I was going. I didn’t know why, but half an hour later we pulled up in front of the h
ouse and I understood why.

  When I’d received the letter, I had dreams of fabulous wealth but in reality I knew it would be something far less. Estranged or not, my father would have mentioned if his mother had been wealthy. While the house I now stared at was hardly a mansion, it certainly put my tiny apartment back in Baltimore to shame. A long fieldstone wall extended around the house, covered with moss that made it look like a hedge. Through the iron gate at the front of the wall, I could see the house. It was everything I ever wanted to see in an Irish cottage. I had feared my grandmother might live in a worn down old shack or something, but this was a well-maintained and extensive home. From the white shutters to the deep brown shingles, everything about the place seemed warm and inviting.

  As the cabby helped me to unload my things from the car, a man in a charcoal gray suit walked down from the red painted door of the house. I knew this must be Mr. Carlisle, the man the bank had said would be meeting me at the house. I paid the cabby – giving him a generous tip because I was certainly put in a good mood by the sight of the house – and was greeted by Mr. Carlisle.

  “Catrina Flynn, I presume?”

  “Yes,” I told him, “and you must be Mr. Carlisle.”

  “Thank you for coming on such short notice, Miss Flynn. Especially with international concerns, these matters of estate can often lurch on for weeks and months while we try to get the heirs where we need them to be,” he said.

  “It’s no trouble. Thank you for meeting me here.”

  He produced a large ring of keys from his pocket and handed them to me. “There’s still a good deal of paperwork that needs to be done at my office,” he told me, “but I’d hate to force you to stay in a hotel with this lovely home of yours only a few signatures away. I’ll help you get your things inside and then we can sign a few forms. The rest can wait until later in the week, once the funeral has been taken care of.”