His Lucky Charm: An Irish Mountain Man

by Frankie Love

  “Are you planning on leaving without seeing one?” If that’s the case, I'll really feel like shit for having seen plenty today and just avoided pointing them out to her.

  “I don’t want to go yet. I mean, I want to see one... just... well, how do you manage seeing five places in one day? We only managed one, and could maybe squeeze in a second.”

  “Well,” I cough. “Uh, well, I stopped a lot more and explained the scenery to you. Also, I don’t take my tours on the hike. We could have just parked at the top of Ravens’ Rock.”

  “You mean to say we didn’t need to hike for three and a half miles?” She pushes her lips forward, annoyed. “Each way?”

  “Well, not exactly. But it was a lovely hike, wasn’t it?”

  “It was lovely, Conor, but you knew my goal. What I was trying to achieve. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “I thought we might see some on the walk up... look, lassie, we can go out again tomorrow. No rush.”

  “Don’t you have other tours?”

  “I can cancel them.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Saint Patrick’s Day is in a few days. I bet you’re booked solid. The only reason I got one was because your site said there was a last-minute cancellation.”

  “I don’t see why you want to argue,” I tell her. “It might be a hassle to cancel the bookings, but if it means more time with you, it would be worth it. I mean, besides, you haven’t got any other place to stay, so I suppose you can shack up with me.”

  The waitress brings us the stew and Clover picks up her fork, not looking at me, instead she frowns into her bowl.

  “What did I do wrong?” I ask, genuinely perplexed.

  “I don’t want to be an inconvenience, Conor,” she says. “I don’t want to be in the way.”

  “In the way of what?”

  “Of your fun with other tourists. I know this thing between us has a shelf life, and I don’t want to outstay my welcome.”

  “Goodness woman, are you trying to drive me mad?’

  She looks at me then, her eyes wide in disappointment.

  “Am I driving you crazy? Because my ex, Julian, always said that. That my emotions were too much for him.”

  “Fuck Julian. And fuck crazy. I’m not scared of a little crazy, and when I say you’re driving me mad, it’s not an insult. It’s a compliment. Don't ya realize, yet, that no woman has ever had that effect on me?”

  “I don’t know what women do to you, and I don’t think I want to know.” Clover shakes her head, and I see she’s upset.

  “Listen,” I tell her, reaching for her hand and lacing my fingers through hers. “There’s been a hell of a lot of other women, and its sounds like you’ve had a rough go with other men––but hear me out. You’re not other women. And I’m not other men. It’s just Conor and Clover here, nothing else, nothing more. Can’t we be enough for one another? For this night, at least?”

  She bites her bottom lip, tears brewing in her eyes.

  “Look, I didn’t mean to make you cry, lassie.”

  She blinks, wiping her eyes with her hand. “They’re not bad tears, Conor. You’re just so fucking honest; it kind of takes my breath away.”

  “You know what else might take your breath away?” I raise a brow at her, grinning now.

  “What’s that?”

  “The romp in the woods I was telling you about.”

  “And when will that happen, Conor?” she asks.

  “As soon as we finish this lamb stew, down these beers, and drive back to my barn. Then I’ll give you that tour I promised you last night.”

  “In that case,” Clover says and brings a forkful of stew to her mouth, “we ought to get eating.”

  10

  On the way back to Conor’s barn, I unzip my pants and pull them down to my knees. Then I press my fingers to my pussy.

  “Lassie, you’re gonna make me crash this truck,” he says, grabbing my thigh and squeezing it.

  I take his hand and press it between my legs. I’m wet and bothered and I need him to know how badly I want him.

  “I’m so wet. I don’t know what it is about you, Conor, but you make me hot in a way no one ever has before.”

  Conor pets me, when he touches me I feel safe and secure and wanted. I bite my lip, loving the way he growls as I press a finger inside myself.

  I don’t think there are any three better ways a man can make a woman feel.

  “Almost home,” he tells me. “Just telling you so you’re ready.”

  “Oh Conor, I’m already ready.” My fingers move quickly, pressed against my clit, and I watch Conor, whose hands are back on the steering wheel, trying so hard to focus and keep his eyes on the road.

  But he keeps glancing down at me, watching as my fingers move in fast circles. I bring my middle finger from my pussy and touch it to his lips. He sucks my juices, biting down on my finger as he sucks. I laugh, tugging my hand away.

  “You’re not supposed to hurt me.”

  “Oh, lassie, you know I’m not hurting you. I’m just playing with you.”

  “I think I’m the one playing with myself,” I tell him, and I recline the seat as back as far as it will go.

  Leaning back, I work myself over faster and faster until I’m close to an orgasm. I reach over and grab his cock through jeans as I come with a crash. My moans fill the cabin, and my thighs are spread apart, my cunt dripping wet and my eyes are only for him.

  “Good God, woman, I don’t think you have any idea what you’re doing to me.”

  I squeeze his cock through his jeans and laugh. “Oh, I think I know exactly what I’m doing to you.”

  It doesn’t take long for us to get out of the truck and into his house, but it’s freezing cold. I watch as he lights a fire striking a match against some kindling in the wood stove.

  “I thought we were going to romp in the woods? Did you change your mind?”

  “No, lassie, I’m taking you to the woods tonight. To a place, I know you’re going to love.”

  Not sure about what he means, I watch as he goes to the bedroom and brings back two bathrobes. He tells me to strip down and put the robe on.

  “I was picturing us running in fields of heather, not getting ready for a shower. Where are you taking me, exactly?”

  “It’s a surprise, lassie, haven’t you ever heard of those?”

  He rests his hand on my back and guides me out the back door. He grabs a flashlight on the way out and I tease him for it.

  “I thought you knew these mountains like the back of your hand?”

  “Aye, but I wouldn’t want you scared, Clover.”

  I shake my head and lean into him as he leads me down a path. The cold night air whips around us and a heavy mist is setting in from the shores in the distance.

  “It feels magical out here,” I whisper, scared to talk too loudly in a land so enchanting. He lifts the boughs of a tree and we pass an old stone wall, past something which was the crumbling foundation of a house.

  “Twas my great-grandparents’ homestead,” Conor tells me, flashing the light. “But where I’m taking you wasn’t here when they were alive.”

  Curiosity overtakes me, and when he pulls back a fence made from fallen limbs of trees, a breath escapes me.

  “Conor,” I say, hushed, “what is this place?”

  Stone steps lead to a spring of water in the ground. The heat from it floating in the air, creating a sensual ambiance of another world, another time.

  “It isn’t a hot spring if that’s what you’re wondering. I made it myself.”

  “You made this?” I ask, incredulous.

  “Can’t tell my brother, though, swear it?” He looks at me gravely, offering me his pinky. “He doesn't want me getting too comfortable since it's not my land—he lords it over me every chance he gets.”

  I latch my pinky to his and pull it to my lips. “I swear.”

  “I built this hot tub, mostly because I needed something to do out here at night when I’m al
l alone.”

  “From what your brother and Sean were saying it doesn’t sound like you’re alone too often.”

  Conor shrugs. “I’ve had my fun, sure, but I’d never take a girl I just met out here.”

  “You just met me, Conor.”

  He takes my hand and leads me down the steps, and then he stands before me, undoing the ties on the terrycloth robe. I take a sharp inhale of breath, everything about Conor catching me off guard.

  “I may have just met you, Clover, but it feels like I’ve known you forever.”

  I turn my head, hiding my face in my shoulder.

  “You must say that to all the girls.”

  “Stop,” he says, gently turning my head with his strong hand. “Stop with the self-deprecation, lassie. You are one of a kind. That’s why I brought you here. Now take off that robe and let me watch you get in that steaming tub of water.”

  I raise my eyes to the star-filled sky, wondering when I got so damn lucky.

  Seems like the moment I was at my lowest, Conor swept in and picked me up. Kept me from falling.

  I swallow, reach for the collar of the robe, and pull it off, letting it fall to the stone floor. Then I reach for the belt on Conor’s robe, push off his robe, and run my hand over his chiseled chest. It’s rock hard and begging to be touched.

  “You are insane, you know that? Right?” I ask, shaking my head at how well built Conor is. People say Scottish men are hot, but they have no idea what an Irishman can bring to the table. Everything. “I want to lick you. Like, every part of you. Does that sound strange?”

  “It doesn’t sound strange, because the truth is, lassie, I want to devour you.”

  Conor laces our fingers together; pulling me close, so close our skin collides and a thousand dots connect. My body was made for him. Never in my life have I fit anything or anyone so well.

  I blink back the emotions brimming to the surface.

  “What is it?” he asks, running a hand through my hair, planting kisses on my ear, my neck, and my cheekbones.

  “I’m just really happy,” I tell. “In a way I never have been before.”

  Conor takes hold of my face, holding it with both hands, and he kisses my forehead, my nose, my chin.

  “Clover, I know exactly what you’re talking about.”

  “It’s not just about the sex, is it?” I ask, admitting the one reservation I have about Conor. That this whole thing is a fairy tale that ends with a Princess running home without her glass slipper.

  “No, it’s not just about the sex.” Conor licks my lips, nose to nose. “But lassie, that certainly helps.”

  Then he kisses me, a kiss that literally sweeps me off my feet. Our mouths part, and his tongue brushes over mine, I sink into his kiss, into his arms, my fears washing away.

  Then he leads me to the tub he made with his own two hands, the water steaming, hot, and intoxicating. We sink into the water, our bodies finding one another’s instantly. It’s a hot tub built for two and made for us.

  He sits down on the bench, pulling me onto his lap, and I straddle him, my breasts bobbing in the water, his cock hard against my pussy.

  “Does it get any better than this?” I ask, whispering again, the night feels more magical than I’d ever had guessed.

  “It does lassie, it does.”

  Conor guides his cock inside of me, my pussy expanding to fit all of him. I bite my lip, my arms wrapping around his neck, my core on fire.

  “Conor,” I moan, instantly getting off on the way his massive cock fills me entirely. “You’re so... so... oh, Conor, we’re so...” I pant, my head falling back.

  “We’re so what?” he asks, thrusting his cock deep inside of me.

  I sigh, his cock filling me up, stealing my breath away. My eyelids flutter open, and I look deeply into his eyes. “We’re so damn lucky.”

  11

  The next morning Clover and I stop at Hildegard’s to grab some breakfast before we start our day of touring the mountainside.

  Hildegard isn’t going easy on me. She’s a terrible cook and is a little too crass for her own good. Her saving grace is that there’s nowhere else to stop for a bite.

  “Look at this spectacle.” Hildegard shakes her head, drying her hands on her apron front. “Conor bringing a lady with him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a sight. It’s always girls stopping here for something to eat after you’ve kicked them to the curb.”

  “Aye, that’s enough, Hilde. We’re just here for breakfast.”

  “I’m sure you’ve worked up an appetite.”

  Clover’s eyes raise, clearly embarrassed.

  “Maybe we ought to go,” I say.

  Clover shakes her head and leans in with a whisper. “No way, I’m starved. This woman doesn’t scare me.”

  I put my hand on the small of her back, and then face Hilde. “We’ll have traditional breakfasts, without any side of your sass.”

  She humphs at us but waves us toward a table. Before we sit, I hear her tell Clover that whenever she realizes I’m nothing but a bit of fun, and needs a ride from my place to Dublin, to give her a call.

  I try not to roll my eyes.

  We’re sitting down with our food when lo and behold Sean wanders in.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, immediately feeling protective of Clover.

  Of her learning anything before I’m ready to share.

  Last night surpassed my wildest dreams... Clover opened her body and her heart to me. And me to her.

  I woke this morning, watching her sleep; the rise and fall of her chest, imagining she and I using that piece of land from Patrick to build a home for a family. Our family.

  I don’t bloody know what’s happened to me in a few days’ time, except that I am falling for Clover in a way I never knew was possible.

  This is how my parents must have felt when they met, head over heels.

  And unless I have Patrick’s land there isn’t much I can offer her. A barn? My tourist business makes ends meet and then some, but it isn’t a massive company. I need more to offer her than what I currently have.

  “I was coming your way,” Sean tells me. “I wanted to check in on how you’re doing,” he says, raising an eyebrow at Clover. “And how are you doing as well, miss?”

  “I’m doing fine.” She smiles, biting her bottom lip. “Great, actually. Your old friend Conor has been treating me quite nicely.”

  “Really?” Sean frowns. Before he can say anymore, a waitress I’ve never seen before stops at our table. She’s about the same age as Clover, but an Irish girl with curly red hair. Sean asks her for a cup of tea and a plate of food. Not having much game, he asks her plainly, “Where are you from? I’ve never seen you about before.”

  She smiles widely at him and Clover raises an eye at me. “I’m from the North, here helping my great aunt out for a bit. Do you come by often?”

  Is this waitress flirting with Sean? Only a newcomer in town would do such a thing—everyone else knows his piss poor history with women.

  “Not, uh, often. But, uh, maybe I’ll be back.”

  The waitress leaves, her hips swinging, and Clover smiles at him. “You could have at least asked her name.”

  Sean hangs his head sheepishly and we only stop giving him a hard time because Hildegard’s bringing round our biscuits, eggs, and sausage. It’s all overcooked and burned to a crisp.

  In between bites, Sean raises a chin to Clover. “So, you’re telling me you haven’t thrown Conor in the bin yet?”

  Clover shakes her head, smirking. “Should I?”

  Sean shrugs. “Just surprising is all.”

  I kick Sean under the table. What the hell is he getting at, and why does he care?

  “Ow,” Clover yelps, grabbing her foot. “Why’d you do that?”

  “Sorry, lass. Didn’t mean to.”

  Sean laughs.

  I glower. “You and Patrick managed to get home alright, the other night?”

  “Barely.
After you two left, the pair of us were near ready to pass out. But I got him in a taxi. You haven’t spoken with him then?”

  I run my hand over my beard. “No, why?” Suddenly a sense of dread washes over me. What if neither of them remembers the bet? Why if Patrick denies it? “Neither of you were too drunk not to make it to home, then. So, I reckon you remember most of the evening?”

  Sean nods slowly. “He remembers. All of it, Conor. No need to worry. I saw him yesterday, was in the market getting lunch, and he was too.” The two of them both work in the financial district in Dublin, so it isn’t uncommon for them to run into one another. “We were laughing about the right good night we had––he says he hasn’t let loose like that in ages. It was right good of you to come down from your mountain to see him. I think he gets lonely, to be honest.”

  “You don’t see your brother often, then?” Clover asks.

  I shrug. “It isn’t personal, exactly. Just Patrick is a little uptight, never really lets his guard down. Kind of a drag, to be honest.”

  “It’s true,” Sean adds. “Though I think the tide is changing. He has his trip in a week or so, who knows, maybe he’ll never return.”

  “Where is he off to?” Clover asks.

  “Thailand, the first vacation he’s ever taken.”

  “Good for him.” Clover smiles. “Now, what exactly were you worried your brother forgot, Conor? Sounds ominous.”

  Sean raises a forkful of eggs to his mouth. “Just bullshit, ragging on Conor here for his past indiscretions.”

  “Let the past be buried, alright?” I warn Sean, who has a habit of pushing things a wee bit farther than he ought. Not that I should talk. I’m the one who made the stakes for the bet in the first place.

  “Well, we all have our past, don’t we?” Clover asks, resting her hand on my knee under the table.

  “Sean certainly does. Just ask his ex-wives.”

  “Wives?” Clover asks.

  “Past indiscretions.” Sean shrugs sheepishly. “I’ve played around as much as Conor, but I kept marrying the ladies.”

  “And Conor managed to avoid tying the knot?” Clover asks.