Lucky

by Garrett Leigh

  His kiss was almost enough to distract me from the stretching burn of him easing inside me. Almost, because when it came I wasn’t as ready for it as the fire inside me made out.

  “Fuck.” I dug my fingers into his shoulder and screwed my eyes shut. “Wow.”

  Dom kissed my cheek far more sweetly than our current position demanded. “Shh. It’s okay.”

  It was more than okay, but it still hurt like hell until my body adjusted to having his thick cock inside me.

  Dom pushed my hair out of my face and coaxed me into opening my eyes. His gaze was less intense than I expected, and he grounded me with a gentle smile. He thrust his hips in a tiny, rocking motion, and rubbed his thumb over my cheek.

  Pain gave way to pleasure. A shuddery groan escaped me and I bit down on my bottom lip. “Damn, that’s so good.”

  “It is.” Dom dropped his lips to my collarbone and sucked until it stung. Then he looked up at me again with a smirk. “Ready for more?”

  “Fuck, yeah.”

  Notch by notch, Dom amped up the heat and took me apart. I’d come into this weird relationship we’d built with the upper hand—sexually, at least—but as Dom screwed me with increasing fervour, any advantage I’d had ebbed away with each drive of his powerful hips.

  ’Cause he didn’t fuck me like I’d expected him to—tensely, and drawn back from the experience. Nah. He fucked me how I’d dreamed he would, hunched over me, my legs wrapped around him, as he thrust into me, our lips fused together.

  Entwined so entirely, we were a mass of sweaty limbs and undulating hips. My gasps merged with his gravelly moans until we reached fever pitch and the sounds tearing from me were something I couldn’t describe.

  I clung to his neck. “Yeah. That’s it. Right there.”

  Like he needed to be fucking told. Like he didn’t know exactly where to find the tiny knot of nerves that made my eyes tear with pleasure.

  I caught sight of us in the mirror above the desk—of Dom’s tanned, muscular body clenching and tightening as he screwed me. Of my wild eyes as I clutched any part of him I could reach. I’d always loved getting fucked, but I’d never had anyone own me like he was right now. “You’re gonna make me come.”

  Dom growled and fucked me harder, the jerk of his hips driving the bed against the wall in a thumping rhythm that upped the heat. He ravaged my mouth, his hand loosely at my throat, and then he sat up, unwrapped my legs from around him, and hooked them over his shoulders. The change in angle, combined with the pressure of his hard, unyielding abs rubbing my cock, tipped me over the edge.

  “Fuck, I’m coming.” Pleasure melted my synapses, sluicing through me as wet warmth spurted between us. It seemed to go on and on, and I shuddered with strangled gasps, my body locking down around Dom, taking him hostage in case he withdrew the source of the agonising ecstasy blowing me to bits.

  His entrancing poise began to shatter too. Filthy words fell from his mouth as he slammed into me, and through the white haze clouding my brain I knew the moment he lost control.

  His rhythm became erratic, his breath heavy in my ear. “Lucky.”

  “Yeah. Come, Dom. Fill me up.”

  His answering shout was deafening, his final thrust a brutal slam that drove another spurt of come from my dick, and then he slumped on top of me, his weight pinning me down, and his teeth digging into my neck.

  The circuit was complete, and I was a fucking mess. I trembled beneath him until he came back into himself and shifted off me. “You okay?”

  I nodded, then changed my mind and shook my head as the intentions I’d carried with me on the bus from Tottenham returned to the chaos he’d wreaked in my already convoluted mind. “God damn. You weren’t supposed to be so good at that.”

  Dom hummed, and for long moments, there was no sound but my stuttering heart, and the blood slowly simmering in my ears.

  Then he sat up and turned to me with a look that blew apart the resolution I’d fought so hard for. “Lucky?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I missed you.”

  Seventeen

  Lucky

  I woke up alone, naked, my hair still damp with sweat. Coming to in an unfamiliar place wasn’t a new experience, but the empty space next to me was fucking terrifying.

  Heart pounding, I sat up, but Dom appeared from the bathroom before the panic seizing my senses took over. “Fuck. I thought you’d left me.”

  The words tumbled out before I could stop them, laced with an embarrassing dose of neediness.

  Dom crossed the room in two strides and sat down beside me, pulling me close. “I’m still here.”

  For now. But I didn’t say it. What was the point? I’d come here with every intention of telling him I couldn’t see him anymore. Of kissing his cheek and leaving him to his own clusterfuck of a life. And yet somehow we’d ended up fucking, and now I was so far gone, so goddamn into him, he’d probably have to kick me out.

  How is this even my life?

  “I ran you a bath.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “A bath.” Dom chewed on his bottom lip. “I know you like them—that you don’t have one wherever you live—so…”

  I leaned into him, noting his shower-damp skin. “Thank you. Just don’t let me wallow too long. I can never seem to make myself get out before it gets cold, and that kind of defeats the object, you know?”

  “If you say so, mate. You could top it up, though. It ain’t like the hotel’s gonna run out of hot water.”

  “Maybe I’m an eco-warrior.” I tore myself away from his hypnotic touch and stood, wavering slightly until Dom caught me.

  “What’s up? Did I hurt you?”

  I waited for equilibrium to return to me before I shook my head. “Nah. Just hungry, I think. Lunch was ages ago.”

  Yesterday, in fact, but I wasn’t about to confess that my wages covered little more than my rent, Oyster card, phone top-ups, and a couple of boxes of Shreddies. Fuck that. Dom had his secrets, I had mine.

  I let him guide me to the bathroom, though. His arm around my waist was magic, and the deep steamy bath he’d run for me? Yeah. I was pretty much in heaven, even when it became obvious he wasn’t getting in the tub with me.

  “I’m gonna get some food,” he said. “Can’t have you passing out on me. What do you want? Chicken?”

  I sank into the hot water and shrugged. “There’s not much I won’t eat. Get whatever.”

  His chuckle sounded far away as I closed my eyes, but I didn’t hear him leave the room, and when I opened my eyes a little while later, he was sat on the closed toilet, engrossed in his phone.

  “You don’t have to babysit me.”

  “I’m not.” He spared me a fleeting glance. “I can go if you want some space, though?”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “What did you mean?”

  “I don’t actually know.” I reached for the shampoo and set about washing the sex sweat out of my hair, though I missed it already. “Maybe hunger really does make me crazy. What are we having for dinner?”

  Finally, a smile. Dom leaned forward and held up his phone. “Italian. Figured you could use some carbs.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to ask if professional athletes were allowed to eat such things, but I swallowed it down. The moment to reveal I knew who he was kept passing me by, and I couldn’t seem to make myself chase it down. Besides, with the amount of crap he’d already eaten at my hands, what harm could a bit of pasta do?

  The flimsy reasoning carried me through the rest of my bath, and back to bed when I’d banished my wet hair into a dude bun.

  Dom tucked a stray lock behind my ear. “I love your hair.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. When I was younger, I thought I had a thing for long hair because I was trying to feminise the blokes I fancied, like that would somehow make me straight enough to get by, but now I just fucking love it.”

  “You don’t still try to be straight?”
>
  “I don’t think so.” Dom withdrew his hand. “I told a lot of lies in the beginning…made up women and conquests, but I can’t be bothered now. I say nothing and let other people talk for me. Apparently that’s a thing now.”

  Bitterness laced his words, but with the image of him kissing that woman still fresh in my mind, I didn’t push it. Logic told me it had been a publicity stunt—and one I understood—but I didn’t want him to lie to me.

  I did want to know more about him, though. About the man who existed beyond the superstar football player he was to the rest of the world. “Wha—”

  A knock at the door made us both jump.

  Dom recovered first. “Dinner. Um, could you—?”

  “On it.” I pulled on my jeans and swiped his T-shirt from the floor. Despite being abandoned almost the moment he’d arrived, somehow, it still felt warm—still felt like him, smelled like him—

  “Lucky?”

  “What?”

  Dom pressed some cash into my hand. “The door.”

  Damn. I was so fucked.

  I padded to the door, took the paper bag of food, paid, and shut the door without waiting for change. Drawn back to bed like a magnet to steel, I handed Dom the food. “Hope I didn’t give them a massive tip by accident.”

  “Why? I’m sure they deserve it. It’s pissing down out there.”

  “Is it?” I flicked a glance to the window and saw that it was indeed wanking it down, which seemed symbolic of the world we were hiding away from.

  I got up and drew the curtains, adding an extra layer to our seclusion. Dom eyed me with obvious curiosity, but said nothing. Just handed me a container of broccoli-garlic pasta with a plastic fork sticking out of it. “This isn’t spag bol.” I sniffed it suspiciously.

  Dom chuckled. “Nah, but it’s got chicken in it somewhere, and lots of iron in the greens.”

  “What do I need iron for?”

  “To stop you falling over when you get out of bed.”

  I let him have that one when I saw he’d ordered garlic bread, lasagne, and carbonara too. “We’re never going to eat all this.”

  He shrugged. “So? Take it home, to work, whatever. I’m sure it won’t get wasted.”

  The idea of having a hot tub of pasta for the next three days was too good to call him out for mothering me. And, I sort of liked it, in the oddest way. Warmth pooled in my groin, and it was only a different hunger that kept me from jumping him.

  I ate myself into a carb coma, and swallowed every vegetable Dom put in front of me. When we were finally done, I flopped back, while he tidied away my care package and set it next to my bag.

  “So you don’t forget,” he said without looking at me.

  I threw a pillow at him.

  Laughing, he came back to bed and slid under the covers with me. I flicked the TV on, but neither of us glanced at it as we lay on our sides, facing each other.

  Dom returned to his apparent favourite hobby of tucking my hair behind my ears. When he’d run out of renegade locks, he absently stroked my face. His gentle touch was enough to send me back to sleep, but sensing our time together slipping away, I fought my heavy eyes. “How long have we got?”

  “A little while. I can’t stay over, but a late night won’t kill me.”

  I imagined what it would be like to sleep all night in this bed with him, to wake up with his strong arms around me. And when the image came to me, I knew for sure that there was no way I could ever stop seeing him, even if we stayed like this forever—hidden under a blanket of half-truths and aborted sentences.

  Dom cupped my cheek with his warm palm. “You seem miles away. You wanna sleep?”

  I shook my head. “Nah. I wanna talk.”

  “What about?”

  I hated the wariness that instantly marred his lovely face. “Nothing heavy. You choose.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah. Ask me something.”

  His hesitance made more sense to me than he’d ever know, but there was curiosity in his dark gaze too. Things he wanted to know about me. “Where are you from?”

  “Brighton,” I said. “You know that already.”

  “I asked you how you ended up in London and you told me to do one.” Dom smiled faintly. “I’d still like to hear your answer, though…if you’ve changed your mind about telling me?”

  “There’s not much to tell.” I scooted impossibly closer to him. “Me and Jamila grew up on the same street until she moved to Dalston. When I had some, uh, family issues, it made sense to follow her here ’cause I didn’t have anyone else.”

  “What kind of family issues?”

  “The stereotypical kind. My father is old school, you know? The kind of man who expects the women in his life to cook and clean, and the men to drink pints and play football.” It took everything I had not to search Dom for a reaction. “I wasn’t the son he wanted, and once I hit puberty, I lost interest in trying to be. One embarrassment too many and he kicked me out.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Old enough.”

  “What about your mum?”

  I sighed. “She tried to reason with him, but on the inside, I think she was relieved when I left. We don’t talk anymore.”

  Dom’s ever-wandering thumb passed over the scar splitting my left eyebrow. He didn’t ask, but I got the feeling he knew who’d put it there. “I don’t talk to my mum much either. I send her money, she takes it, and tells everyone in her village how rich I am. I’m okay with that if it keeps her off my back.”

  “Your dad?”

  “Dead.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. He was an arsehole too.”

  Dom

  We talked for hours—well, Lucky did. I listened, filled a few gaps, and lost myself entirely in the cocoon we’d constructed in our hotel bolthole. Bare skin and soft touches, gentle kisses and roaming hands—by the time I started to figure I’d have to leave soon, I knew there was no way I could.

  “Stay,” Lucky whispered.

  I answered by rolling on top of him and pinning him to the mattress.

  He let me overpower him, though I was, by now, under no illusion that he couldn’t fight back if he wanted to. I’d explored him enough to discover the lean, sinewy muscle coiling around his slender bones, the tight grip in his hands, and the Rottweiler lurking behind his mischievous blue eyes.

  For now, though, he was pliant beneath me, so I made the most of it. Of him. His skin was velvet to my lips and tongue. I sucked his nipples into my mouth, one by one, and revelled in his answering gasps. My body cried out to fuck him again, but I needed him to ask me, because despite sliding inside him only a few hours ago, it still felt too good to be true.

  Perhaps sensing the perennial war in my soul, Lucky squirmed, and turned the tables before I could blink. Suddenly I was on my back with him on top of me, straddling me, grinding down on me to let me know exactly what I was missing while we both still wore underwear.

  A damp spot was forming on his groin. Unable to resist, I pulled his briefs down and set his cock free. I gripped it tight and let him fuck my hand, imagining how it would feel if he was riding my dick too.

  I’d never fucked like that—with someone on top of me. Never trusted anyone enough. Or wanted to even try.

  I wanted Lucky to ride me.

  Pulling him over me so I could kiss him, I drew his underwear further down his thighs until he took the hint and elegantly wriggled out of them. He relieved me of mine too, and then it was his turn to make a mad, naked dash for a condom.

  Slicked up, he impaled himself on my sheathed cock so fucking slowly I wanted to scream, but the concentration on his face kept me quiet and still.

  “Wow.” He sat back on his heels and blew out a breath.

  “You said that last time—I’m hoping that’s a good thing.”

  Lucky let out a breathless chuckle. “It is. Consider me wowed.”

  I’d take that. Fucking Lucky had taken me by surprise
, and I still wasn’t all together sure how it had happened the first time around, but I couldn’t deny that it had blown my mind. Before him, fucking had been mechanical—a means to an end that terrified me. But there was nothing frightening about the tidal wave of pleasure consuming me as Lucky took me inside his body. It was magical, and I couldn’t fathom how I’d lived so long without it.

  He started to move, undulating his hips in sensuous circles. It was too much, and not enough, all rolled into one, and the sound that tore out of my chest was more whimper than moan.

  I slid my hands up his thighs and to his hips, gripping him hard. My fingers digging into him seemed to spur him on, and he fractionally upped his pace. “Damn, Lucky. You’re gonna kill me.”

  Lucky gasped and fell forward, his wild hair obscuring his face. “Kill you? Try riding cock without coming in ten seconds flat then talk to me about death.”

  I laughed, but he cut me off by clenching around me, and something flipped inside me—a switch that made my blood run hotter, my heart beat faster, and my dick pulse a warning that I couldn’t play Lucky’s game for long.

  My hips thrust up of their own volition, catching him off guard.

  “Jesus.” He arched his back, giving me a better angle to screw him from below. “Yeah. Like that, baby.”

  I couldn’t remember anyone ever calling me baby, but the endearment, dripping so dirtily from Lucky’s mouth, set me on fire. I tightened my grip on his hips and fucked him harder, losing myself to the criminal sensation of his wet heat, the smell of clean sweat, and the frantic noises he made as I slammed into him.

  Pleasure snowballed in my veins, picking up pace. I groaned and brought one hand to the back of Lucky’s head, weaving my fingers into his hair as I dragged him down. I found his lips in a frenzied kiss, and any control I’d ever possessed when it came to him was gone.

  Skin slapped skin, and needing him and wanting him became the same thing. I buried my face in his neck and came, white-hot sparks of release rocketing through me. “Fuck, Lucky.”

  “Dom.”

  The way he said my name—pleasure laced with the best kind of panic—tipped me over the edge. I thrust up one more time and spilled inside him, and then let him go so he could rear back and jack his cock.