Page 10 of Kissin Irish by Morgan
Paisley spoke about Irish non-stop at times. So much that I knew what he looked like without having ever seen him. Of all the colors I no longer saw, I remembered what red looked like the most. Irish had ginger hair and a beard, that I’d felt tonight. They were trimmed short. I could recall the way red hair looked on the right man. Sexy as all get out. And Paisley swears Irish wears it well. That he’s hotter than a fire hydrant chasing a dog. He’s so gorgeous my brother complained of the crowd of women he’s bringing to Royal Road. Irish had become a bit famous recently, so when I thought he had designs on me, I admit, I was a bit starstruck as well.
Paisley also said his eyes were green like mine. I’d been around him enough to know he wasn’t too tall, maybe around six feet. And tonight, being in his arms, as he lifted me with his body pressed against me, I knew his muscular build all too well. And Paisley also said, he had plenty of tattoos, Celtic and Irish designs along with the big Royal Bastards patch on his back that most of the members get.
Tattoos used to be a plus when I could see them. As it was now, none of how he looked meant too much to me. Looks were just a fleeting memory. I’d already been attracted to Irish’s accent and his manly scent for ages, but in a casual way. The way he’d made me feel tonight was another story. The way he stood up to my brother made me melt into a puddle of goo on the floor.
Irish and Paisley were the same age. She went on about how he’d be perfect for her because she should stay away from older men. So, that made him only a couple years older than me, twenty-five.
I couldn’t think about all the flattering things Paisley said about him in bed. I’d be jealous, and I’d want to masturbate again. Instead, I thought of how much Villain humiliated me in front of Irish. Fuck Villain. Fuck the way he gets in my way while I’m minding my own business. He doesn’t think I notice the way he always gets me to bump into his junk. Or that he grazes my boobs every chance he gets. Obviously, the asshole wanted to fuck me. Jassica told me more than once he had his pervy eye on me. To be careful. Knowing he saw me naked tonight made my skin crawl.
I thought of all the trouble Villain caused tonight. Irish would have to fight my brother in a week. That wouldn’t end well. If Pagan beat him, Kingpin and most other members would lose money.
Irish winning would bring my brother down a peg or two. Which also meant there was no way in hell he’d let that happen. On the bright side, I would be training Irish tomorrow in the kitchen. Fantasizing about being in his presence again, I fell fast asleep.
Chapter 6
Irish
“Ibet Cece’s as tight as a nun’s knickers,” I said to Cousin as I waited for her at the bar. I stayed at his last night as I often did when I’d had too many to go home. Anyway, Kingpin parked me. I couldn’t leave Royal Road without him skinning me.
“Have you been drinking?” Cousin asked.
“Just a little.” It was eight a.m. I fought the urge to say wee. We Irish said wee before everything whether it was little or not. My brothers loved to make fun of that fact.
Sweet Tea served breakfast, buffet style at Royal Road at seven a.m. every morning, but I’d never been here this early to see it with my own eyes. One of the whores, she had a big bubble of an arse that you couldn’t ignore.
“Irish. I haven’t seen you in a coon’s age. You look put out. Hair of the dog? I put a little Irish whiskey in it for you, sugar,” she’d said as she served my tea, black as her skin and hair.
After Kingpin convicted me last night, of crimes I didn’t commit, we all got hammered on the rest of the beer they’d dyed green for St. Patrick’s Day. I’d puked green last night and probably would be shitting green for a week.
Aye, I always loved the holidays.
Cousin belched when he finished his enormous country breakfast. While I needed more whiskey, he preferred to feed his hangover. Food seemed to be his solution to everything. Brother wasn’t fat. A humongous man, our brothers joked his mama musta’ mated with a giant. Named Cousin because he was kin to just about everyone in these parts, his words, not mine, he treated everyone like family. That’s why I stayed with him at Royal Road. He’d been the first to offer me shelter when I needed it. I was always welcome at his. Besides, his roomie Payday had shacked up with a girl in the city.
Cousin warned me, “Don’t even go thinking of Cece like that. Sure, she’s hotter than a hot pocket nuked for six minutes, and who wouldn’t want to get their dick wet with a blind chick. Hell, top ten fantasy, if you ask me.”
I’d told him the whole story, so unlike my other brothers, Cousin knew I hadn’t had sex with Cece.
Truth was, ever since Cece said she fancied my kiss and let her brother and my brothers think I mounted her, I couldn’t get my mind off her sweet curves.
“Aye, I’d only gone muff diving and she was so wet I could’ve drowned,” I said to Cousin. I almost stuck my tongue in her gee. Before I came to the bar this morning, I’d snuck into the throne room and retrieved her panties. They were stuffed into my front pocket, now. A vision of her naked and wanting, leaning against the brick wall of the locker room etched my mind. Cece was a vision. Long blonde hair, but not from the bottle, hung down to the middle of her back. Her body bubbled over in all the right places. Forget legs. She had tits for a decade. She inspired this new saying. What if Charlotte hadn’t interrupted us?
“If I’m going to do the time, I might as well do the crime,” I added.
“Pagan will cut your balls clear off and feed them to you. Can’t blame ‘em, either. That there’s his sister. And she’s impaired. Poor thing.”
Riff sat down with us. “Poor thing? Have you heard Cece’s smart mouth? I’d like to shut her up sometimes if you know what I mean. Fill it full of cream. But she’s creepy, don’t you think?”
“How so?” I asked him. I hadn’t ever really thought of Cece at all before last night. Since she came here three years ago, we all knew she was strictly off limits. Sure, I’d seen her plenty behind the bar, pretty thing often with a drink in her hands. Sometimes, I saw her in the gym, running on the treadmill. My memories of her hit different now. I wanted to know the sweet girl. We’d talked multiple times, mainly me asking for a pint or a whore. Paisley talked about her sometimes, but I’d rarely listened.
“Her eyes are open, and she don’t look blind at all.” Riff shuttered. “Can you imagine being blind? You just wake up in the morning and nothing has changed. Freaky shit. But since you banged her, I guess you’re into that shit.”
“Better than the shit you’re into while you’re giving it to Kingpin up the arse,” I said. Riff was the biggest brown noser.
Sweet Tea spoke up, “I’ve always wanted a taste of some Irish. But if all you can get is a blind chic, I worry about what you’re packin’.”
“Lass, you don’t have to worry. I’m surprised you didn’t hear Cece cry out last night. Guess you couldn’t hear anything over the sound of Thorn breaking his dick off in Junebug.” Sweet Tea was in love with Thorn, but he preferred the white girls.
“Thorn likes his tea unsweetened.” That was as big as any insult in Tennessee. “It’s no skin off my teeth.”
