Hard Luck

by Liv Morris

  After a couple more pushes into her tight heat, I come undone. “Cali,” I yell as the force of my orgasm hits me. It’s a feeling that radiates through me, making Cali the center of my world. All my pleasure comes from being inside her.

  As we descend from our high, she goes limp in my arms. I rise off the bed with her still in my arms and carry her to the shower, her head resting on my shoulder, her breathing slow and deep. She’s completely blissed out and I smile knowing I fucked her into a sexual coma.

  I sit her on the built-in bench in my shower and she leans against the back wall, a smile on her face that makes her look like she’s stoned out of her mind.

  “I’m going to clean you up, baby.” I turn on a spray of warm water from the showerheads on the wall and overhead.

  I step out of the shower to dispose of the condom and return to find Cali standing under the overhead spout with her face tilted up. Leaning on the glass door, I watch the water curve over her body in streams. Graceful, sexy, and petite—her body calls to me and my dick is hard all over again.

  I climb back into the glass-enclosed shower and she glances at me, then down to my problem. “I can help you with that,” she says with a mischievous smile.

  “I sure as hell hope so since you’re the cause.” I take two steps toward her and she drops to her knees.

  She wraps her hand around my base, pumping with one hand while cupping my balls with the other. I gently run my fingers through her hair, but never take control. I’ll let her own me in every way.

  Given her job as a PA in men’s health, she knows her way around a man’s junk and it fucking shows. I close my eyes, thanking every deity known to human kind for her talents.

  I am a fucking large guy, so when her lips encase my length and pull me inside her hot mouth, it shocks me how deep she can take me. She hums around me, then sucks with all kinds of wicked pressure, slowly easing to the head. Over and over, she repeats this mind-blowing move. No one has done anything like this to me before.

  Pressure builds inside me and I tighten my grip on her hair in warning. “Coming,” I say through gritted teeth, holding back to give her time to unwrap her mouth from around me, but fuck, I hope she doesn’t.

  Her hand encircles me tighter while she sucks even harder. Unable to hold back any longer, I blow apart under her increased efforts. I have to lean both arms against the shower wall to stay standing as I release everything.

  “Fuck. That was amazing.” With weak knees, I collapse to the floor and fold her into my arms.

  After we shower, I dry her off, rub lotion from the stash I bought all over her body, and dress her in one of my baseball jerseys, leaving the buttons open to the waist. She doesn’t complain when I reach through the shirt to touch her boobs, but when she tries to put on underwear, I tell her no fucking way. The night’s not over yet.

  “I feel like I’ve already been fucked to within an inch of my life,” she laughs as I carry her piggyback style to the kitchen. For some reason, I don’t like her feet touching the floor when I’m around. It’s like I want to be her slave—and God knows my dick already is.

  I sit her down carefully on the edge of island. I need to feed her. “You need some food. Protein.” She starts to protest, but I press my finger against her lips. “It’s only one. The night’s still young.”

  “But I work tomorrow,” she says, sticking her full lip out in a sexy pout. I want to bite it.

  “I fly to Boston at seven.” Walking to the refrigerator, I pull out a couple Greek yogurts and give her a strawberry one to match her red lips. “I’m officially off suspension.”

  “I wish I could go with you, but I have to work. One of the doctors is still out on maternity leave. But you’ve got this Brady. Don’t worry.” She takes her first bite of yogurt and I watch her tongue lick a remnant from her lip, which makes my dick come to life again. He has no off button around her. I smile knowing this beautiful woman’s my cure.

  “You’re my lady luck,” I say, convinced it’s true.

  “Or the lady your cock likes to fuck?” she says with sass.

  I take the yogurt from her hands and toss it, along with the spoon, into the sink. “You have a spot on your lips,” I say while spreading her legs to move in closer.

  Cali wraps her legs around my hips, pushing me into her bare pussy, her heat encompassing me even through the layer of my sweat pants. I cover her lips with mine and pull my jersey from her, baring her completely to me.

  “What round is this?” she asks through my onslaught of kisses. I trace a line from her mouth to behind her ear.

  “It’s round never enough,” I whisper. And it’s true. She’s all I want or need.

  I push down my sweats, quickly glove myself, then thrust forward into her wetness. I need to show her my clean test results later, but for now, I’m covered.

  After we catch our breaths from hot counter sex, I have a surprise I want to share with her—one I’ve never shown another woman.

  “Come with me.” I take her hand and lead her through the penthouse. Grabbing a blanket from a closet, we make our way to a door that opens up to a hidden staircase.

  “What’s this?” she asks me. “I thought you were on the top floor.”

  “I am on the top floor, but this gives me direct access to the roof.” I open the door and motion for her to take the stairs first. She saunters up each step, her ass peeking at me from below. I follow her up with a smile on my face and a hard-on in my pants—nothing new there, though.

  “Open the door,” I say as she stands at the top step.

  “Holy shit,” she utters while walking out onto the roof.

  An almost full moon shines down on us, catching the glow of her skin. “Come over here.” I lead her to a decorative railing and look over the edge with her. We are above the street so high, the cars are hard to make out on the street.

  “It’s like we are flying above the city,” she says, leaning over the railing. I pull her back, uneasy with her position.

  “But we don’t have wings, wild one,” I laugh, holding her in my arms. She yawns and covers her mouth.

  “Sorry, you’ve worn me out.”

  “Let’s lie down.” I walk her over to the thick cushioned loungers I made for the space. One’s more like a queen size bed than a chaise.

  “I’d be out here all the time if I were you,” she says while lying down and securing a matching pillow under her head.

  “It’s a great place to come and think. You know, I’ve never brought another woman up here.” No one’s been that special to me, I want to say. No one except you.

  “Thanks, Brady,” she says through another yawn. I have fucked her senseless all right. “It’s magical up here.”

  I scoot to lie next to her on the lounger and she places her head on my chest. Tossing the blanket over us, I hold her as she falls asleep in my arms. It’s almost as good as fucking her—almost.

  I stare up at the stars wondering how my life has come to this moment and have one thought I can’t shake: I slept with the wrong woman and it led me to the right one.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Cali

  October…

  “I can’t believe my girl’s going to be on the Ella Winfray show today.” Taylor lounges on the chaise in my closet as I scurry around trying to get ready. “You sure have hit the big time.”

  “I thought you came over to help me,” I complain, throwing my hands up in the air while ankle deep in clothes. My closet floor is back to its old, familiar condition.

  “Wear the peasant dress with ruffles. The one that falls off the shoulders. It’s also Chicago blue,” she instructs, or more like bosses me, but doesn’t even glance up from her phone. I roll my eyes at her.

  “Look at me for a second,” I say, since I’m wearing the blue dress.

  “That was quick,” she quips, and I officially give up. “Did you see the latest article about you and Brady?”

  “Brady’s banned me from all news eve
r since the pictures of me all bloated were posted and they said I was pregnant. Can’t a girl have her period in peace?” My blood still boils when I think back to the caption of my pooching tummy.

  “Well, this one you need to see.” I promised Brady I would steer clear, but one little peek can’t hurt.

  “Hand it here,” I say, and Taylor passes her phone to me.

  “What the fuck?” I shout after reading the article. I look at up Taylor and toss back her phone. “Mitchell is claiming I cheated on him and hooked up with Brady—broke his heart. The fucker doesn’t have one to break.”

  “I can’t believe him. Then again…” she says, her voice fading away.

  “God, I want to call Brady, but then he’ll know I looked. Shit.” I pace the room looking for my blue heels that match my dress. Clothes start flying left and right until I locate them.

  “I see why you don’t share a closet with Brady, but you really should’ve had his housekeeper help you with this closet.”

  “Why?” I snap, frustrated. I need to be down in the lobby like five minutes ago. “It would only end up back like this.”

  “Listen, Mitchell is trying to get under Brady’s skin. He’s coming back to play in today’s game. His delicate turf toe is better,” Taylor says, disdain in her voice.

  “True. It’s also the game where Chicago could take it all.” Chicago leads the Series three to nothing. One more win, and they will take it all.

  My phone chimes from the other room. “Stuart’s downstairs.” I gather up a bag and throw in game clothes to change into. “Walk down with me?”

  “Sure.” Taylor finally gets her ass off my chaise. It’s her favorite place in Brady’s penthouse.

  Once in the lobby, we say our goodbyes. “You have the tickets to the box seats?” I ask.

  “Are you kidding?” she says, eyeing me like I’m crazy. “This ticket is a once in a lifetime for me. See you tonight, and break a leg at Ella’s.”

  I exit the building and scan the area for Stuart. I don’t recognize him at first because he’s standing next to a long stretch limo, not his usual black sedan.

  “Stuart?” I ask when I approach him. “Did Ella’s show make you drive this?”

  “No, Mr. Luck did,” he says with a sly smile. Something’s up, and Stuart is in on it. I eye him, speculative.

  “We’re heading straight to the studio, right?” Stuart opens the door for me.

  “Yes, ma’am.” I hate when he says that.

  “Please, even my mother hates to be called ma’am.” Stuart laughs it off. In some ways, he is very much like Brady, especially when it comes to never taking my rebukes seriously. The men around me can be so frustrating.

  I toss my bag onto the back floorboard and climb in after it. The second I’m in the car, an arm grabs me and pulls me to the backseat.

  “What the fuck?” I gasp, and look up to see Brady holding on to me.

  “Hey, baby,” he says, pulling me into his lap, which I end up straddling. And as usual, he’s as hard as a rock.

  “You planned this, didn’t you?” I kiss the smile off his face knowing this was his idea to get me alone before the game.

  “I wanted a quickie on the way to the studio. The limo is closed off and Stuart is none the wiser.”

  “Problem is, Stuart is too wise. He’ll know you’re fucking me.” I continue to kiss his jawline and begin to take off his belt buckle. “We better hurry.”

  “Fuck yeah,” he whistles as he pulls my dress down to reveal a shear lace strapless bra. He pulls my breasts out of each cup and sucks a nipple into his eager mouth.

  “Turn up the radio. You know how I love to scream.” I think Brady’s nine inches has flipped my nympho switch. I’ve never come on dick alone until him.

  I ease off Brady’s lap and take his cock into my mouth. We only have a few minutes before we arrive at the studio and I can’t disappoint my favorite appendage.

  ***

  Brady helps me straighten my clothes before we leave the sexed-up backseat. Good thing the show does my makeup and hair.

  A staffer with a clipboard waits for us as we exit the limo. “Mr. Luck, Ms. Jones, I’m Kathy Murray. I’ll be directing you today and basically act as your gopher. You need something, I’ll go for it,” Kathy laughs at her own joke.

  I immediately like her. She makes the butterflies settle in my stomach. They have been giving me havoc since I agreed to do this TV thing with Brady.

  We are ushered to the green room. I always thought the room was green, but it’s more like an open family room with a kitchen and standard continental type food on a counter. With the nerves taking over full force, I can’t imagine eating a thing. I could use a drink, though.

  “Did you bring a flask?” I whisper to Brady. He hushes me and chuckles. “Hey, I’m nervous. This is nothing for you. I’ve never been on TV before.”

  Brady removes his hand from the small of my back and encloses my hand in his. “Baby, it’s going to be fine. Ella is cool. I’ve been on her show before. Besides, everyone loves you.”

  “You mean everyone loves you,” I say, rolling my eyes.

  “Don’t think so, Ms. Lady Luck,” he teases, using the new nickname the city gave me.

  Brady and I go our separate ways for makeup and hair. I end up looking like a Real Housewife from Orange County with my hair in long curls and obnoxious eyelashes that might actually be butterfly wings, but the makeup artist assured me I need a dramatic look for the camera.

  Back in the green room, Brady has me sit on his lap. He says it’s to calm my nerves, but from the bulge in his pants, I have a feeling it’s more for his benefit. I wiggle around to drive him crazy.

  “You’re doing that on purpose,” he scolds, tapping my butt.

  “I have no clue what you’re talking about. I’m just nervous,” I say, batting my butterfly wings at him. I swear they make a small breeze.

  “Brady. Cali,” a voice calls out, and we turn to see Ella walking toward us. I want to jump off his lap, but his arms encircle me.

  “Look at you two lovebirds,” she laughs, holding out her hand to me.

  “I can’t believe I’m meeting you,” I say in a breathless rush. “I’m a big fan. I started watching you when I was in grade school. Every afternoon when I got home from school, my mother and I would get a snack and turn on your show. It was a daily ritual.” Oh crap, I sound like a pathetic fan girl. I can feel my face turning red.

  “Thanks.” She seems sincere and not offended by my obnoxious gushing over her. “I’m looking forward to having you on today.”

  “Brady, how did you get Jimmy to agree to this?” She smiles at my man.

  Well, he’s kind of mine. We have been inseparable for the last two months—and by that, I mean his dick has been inside me every chance it gets. He travels with the team and I have my job at the dick clinic, as he calls it, so sometimes it’s days before we can connect.

  But the engagement contract is one thing we haven’t really addressed. Are we going to break up after the Series? He’s declared love for my pussy, my mouth, ass, tongue, boobs, and my cooking, but me? He’s never actually confessed those three words to me.

  “Cali?” Brady calls to me as he runs his hands in front of my face. “Where’d you go?”

  “Sorry. Nerves,” I laugh in a high pitch.

  “No need to be nervous. I haven’t killed a guest yet.” Ella smiles and winks at Brady and me. “You two will come out last for about five minutes.” Ella glances at her watch. “I need to go prep. See you two soon, and stay out of the janitor’s closet.”

  Ella walks away and I try to suppress a laugh. “Was she referring to us fucking before the show?”

  “Probably. I wonder if she can read minds. I was just thinking about sneaking off.” I hit Brady’s chest, then give him a kiss on the cheek.

  “We’ve already had sex two times today,” I scold, but I feel my body heating up at the thought of him inside me again.

 
“We better quit talking like this,” He says, while pushing his pelvis up into my ass and his problem becomes evident.

  “Down, boy,” I command, as if anything I say will work. I know better. Once he’s hard like this around me, we have to fuck in some form or another.

  “I can’t go on the set like this. Ella said no janitor’s closet, but there’s a small bathroom down the hall.”

  “Blue balls on game day would be tragic,” I tease, kissing around his jaw and swiveling my hips on his likely aching cock.

  “Hold on,” he says before standing with me in his arms.

  Brady literally runs down a short hallway to a small single-type bathroom. Shutting the door with one foot, he places me on the sink counter, locks the door, and turns back to me.

  The darkness in his blue eyes as he stalks back to the counter says only one thing: pleasure to my pussy. Lucky me.

  “Wall sex?” I ask in a sweet voice, though I’d be willing to beg for it.

  “Yes,” he growls, lifting me from the counter.

  I wrap my legs around him and hit the wall. God, I love being pinned in place by him.

  “Never get enough. Never,” he mumbles into my neck while fumbling with his belt.

  The sound of his zipper going down echoes in the small space before he pulls my panties to the side and fingers me for a few seconds.

  “Already soaking wet,” he rasps. “Always.”

  Brady pushes into me and I cry out. The sweet sensation of being held up by him and taken at the same time is too much. Though we’ve been warned, I can no longer remain quiet.

  He covers my mouth with his to silence my moans. After a few minutes of his beautifully relentless thrusting, I fall over the edge, and Brady joins me seconds later.

  “Fuck, Cali,” he moans with two final pushes into me.

  Sitting me down on the counter, he helps me clean up. I spin around and look at my hair. Shit, it’s a fucking mess of wall head. Flattened out in the back and tangled. I stare at myself in disbelief.

  “Look at me,” I say in panic. “I can’t let the world see me like this.”

  “Freshly fucked is about your permanent state when we’re together.” Brady gives me that sexed-up smirk I love, but right now, I want to cry.