Good Luck Charm: A Single Mother Romance

by Weston Parker

  “You’re so sexy,” he breathed.

  “Shut up,” I said, wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling him down on top of me for more kisses.

  He still had his jeans on, but I could feel his thick cock right between my legs. The button ran along the inside of my thigh as he rocked his hips, and all I wanted was for him to take the damn things off.

  I needed him inside me. Now.

  I fumbled with his jeans and pushed them down around his thighs. He chuckled, and I ignored him as I began working his boxers down. They were skin tight and dark in color. In the dim lighting of my room, I couldn’t tell if they were gray, navy, or black. It didn’t matter. They were confining his cock, and I wanted to know what I was getting myself into with him.

  A lot.

  It became very clear as soon as I worked his boxers down that I was in over my head. I stared down at his thick length resting over my panties and swallowed.

  Zach cupped my cheek. “I won’t hurt you, Senna.”

  For some reason, I believed him.

  I licked my lips. “Do you have a condom?”

  He frowned. “No.”

  I felt my cheeks start to burn. I had a stash in my nightstand that had been sitting untouched for ages. It would be easy to grab one. I just wished I didn’t have to because I didn’t want him to think I was the sort of girl who did this often. Because I didn’t.

  Not ever.

  I still couldn’t wrap my head around why I was making an exception for him.

  Zach bowed his head. “Please tell me you do. If you don’t, I’m going to have the worst case of blue balls I’ve ever—”

  “I have one,” I said.

  He lifted his head. “You do?”

  I nodded and shimmied out from beneath him. He slid off the edge of the bed as I rolled onto my stomach and reached for the nightstand drawer. With a sharp tug, I pulled it open and rummaged around, unable to see the contents, searching for a foil wrapper near the back of the drawer. I found one, rolled back over, and froze.

  Zach stood at the end of the bed and had taken off his shirt. He draped it over one arm to fold it in half and then folded it over once more before placing it on the chair near the foot of my bed.

  I’d expected the rippling torso of muscles. The thick, broad shoulders and toned forearms. The biceps, triceps, traps, and pectoral muscles.

  I had not expected the swirling black ink of tattoos that wrapped around his right arm from wrist to shoulder and then crept across his chest and down his ribs.

  “Damn,” I breathed.

  Zach grinned and grabbed me by the ankles. He pulled me roughly to the edge of the bed and then plucked the condom from my fingertips. I watched, confused as he set the condom on my navel, pressed my legs apart, and dropped to his knees at the end of the bed.

  My eyes widened. “Wait.”

  He looked up at me, brow creasing with concern. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I just—I’m not ready for, you know, that.”

  Zach nodded graciously and stood up. “I understand.”

  Oral sex was way too intimate—especially after having been out of the game for so long and hooking up with someone I didn’t really know, and who I was pretty sure I’d regret fucking when I woke up in the morning. But that was my future self. My present self really needed this. Badly.

  I didn’t need oral or foreplay or any of that nonsense. I just needed him to fuck me, and then we could both move on. At least, that was what I told myself.

  Zach seemed to understand what I wanted because he picked the condom up, tore it open, and rolled it on. Then he stepped in close, pushed my panties to the side, and pressed the tip of his cock against my opening.

  I flinched.

  “Relax,” he said, running both hands down my thighs to hold my hips. “I won’t hurt you. We’ll take this slow. Until you’re ready.”

  I nodded.

  He entered me gently, like I was made of delicate glass that would break apart if he was too rough with me. I was wet enough that there was no pain and no resistance. My body drew him in until the last couple of inches, and then there was pressure, and I gasped and gripped his forearms.

  Zach stopped. “Take a breath, baby girl. Nice and slow.”

  I did as he said. Warmth spread through me, starting at my core and ending at my fingertips. I inhaled again, slow and steady, and when I breathed out, he gave me more of him, and this time, I took him all and held him inside me until it felt like we were two pieces of a whole.

  Then the real pleasure started.

  Zach rolled his hips, and I moaned as the untouched places inside me sighed with delirious ecstasy. Then he pulled out, only to plunge back in, filling me up with every hard, deep thrust. I tightened my grip on his forearms. He leaned over me and rained kisses along my neck and jaw.

  My breathing quickened. So did his.

  “You’re so fucking wet,” he said hoarsely.

  I whimpered.

  He sealed his mouth over mine, and we shared breaths until it all became too much, and I gave in to the building pressure. It exploded, and I suddenly burst apart. I screamed when I came.

  Zach dropped his head and trembled above me as his thrusts grew more desperate. His shoulders rolled, and I clung to him, holding on for dear life when he came, too.

  Then we broke apart, and I felt empty and hollow and unlike myself. He stood and raked his fingers through his hair as I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling and trying to catch my breath. He patted my hip somewhat affectionately before turning and making his way to my bathroom.

  “Zach?”

  He paused in the doorframe. “Yes?”

  “You can’t stay.”

  He nodded. “I know.”

  Chapter 21

  Zach

  The line at the restaurant Jonah had dragged me to was almost out the door when we arrived. I tried to talk him out of staying, but he dug in his heels like a stubborn teenage girl and insisted we stick around.

  “This place has the best fried chicken in the whole country, Zach. The whole country. Are you seriously going to let an opportunity like that pass you by because you’re unwilling to wait an extra thirty minutes to get it?”

  I took my glasses off and pinched the bridge of my nose, massaging the place where the glasses sat. “I’m willing to wait. This had better be as good as you’re making it sound. It’s not every day I break my eating standards.”

  “Unless you’re with Senna.”

  “What?”

  “What?” Jonah asked innocently, blinking at me.

  A couple left the bench in the waiting area, and Jonah made a dive for it. We took up the seat side by side and watched as more people filed into the restaurant and added their names to the waiting list.

  “So how did you hear about this place?” I asked.

  “A girl at the pool told me about it yesterday.”

  “Of course.”

  “She said to order a platter of chicken to share and a plate of buffalo chicken nachos. Apparently, those are the two best things on the menu and totally underrated.”

  “Nachos and fried chicken? My stomach is going to love me tonight.”

  “You’ll be fine. One little indulgence every now and then never hurt anybody, right?”

  I didn’t answer him. We were suddenly bombarded by the hostess, who called Jonah’s name and waved for us to follow her after she collected two menus from beneath the hostess podium. We followed her into the restaurant, which was a massive place that smelled like fries, grease, cheese, and chicken.

  My asshole was already bracing for the storm that was headed my way in the next six hours.

  Our table was in the worst location in the whole joint—right smack in the middle of the floor and flanked by families who were elbow deep in their baskets of chicken and ribs.

  Jonah and I sat down across from each other. The hostess told us our waitress would be right with us, which was accurate, because in less than a minut
e, a peppy teenager popped up at our table to take our order for drinks.

  Jonah ordered a soda after scolding me for ordering water. Apparently, fried chicken required a carbonated and sugar-filled pairing.

  I stuck with my water.

  The menu was a red and white laminated sheet a foot and a half long. It featured dozens of pictures of different chicken baskets, and at the bottom was an image of the notorious buffalo chicken nachos, which Jonah jabbed a finger at and declared, “Hell yes! This shit was made for me.”

  When our waitress returned with our drinks, we put in the order recommended by the girl Jonah had spoken to at the pool, and then I leaned back to sip my water while Jonah looked around the restaurant with childlike wonder. “This place is great, huh? So many families. And couples. What a hidden gem.”

  “It’s busy. That’s for sure.”

  “Come on, man. Even you, the cynic, can admit this place is pretty great. Everyone’s happy and smiling.”

  I looked around. He wasn’t wrong.

  Families were laughing and talking, and couples were falling in love over red and white checker lined baskets of deep fried goodness. “I suppose there is some truth in the idea that food brings people together.”

  “Some truth?” Jonah scoffed. “Bro, food brings everyone together. That’s a fact. Not a theory.”

  I shrugged.

  “What’s got you in such a mood?” he asked.

  “I’m not in a mood,” I said defensively.

  “Well, for starters, yes you are. You’re almost always in a mood. I think it’s because your suits are too tight and you don’t have the freedom of movement, but that’s just me. It might also be due to the crippling weight of your career on your shoulders. Or your uncomfortable shoes. Or—”

  “Get to the point, Jonah.”

  He leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table. “You’re in more of a mood than usual. That’s all. Did things not go well with Senna last night? You were out late.”

  I ran a thumb along my jaw. “They did go well. Better than expected, actually.”

  “Which means?”

  “Which means nothing.”

  Jonah grinned. “You boned, didn’t you?”

  “Boned?” I asked. “Who the fuck says ‘boned’?”

  “I do.”

  “Jesus.”

  Jonah leaned in even closer, dropping his voice so the families inhaling their food all around us couldn’t hear our conversation. He waggled his eyebrows. “How was it?”

  I was about to tell him it was none of his business, but then I realized he was right. I was being a bit of a moody asshole, which wasn’t his fault. So I reeled in my initial response to tell him to get bent and said, “It was exceptional.”

  Jonah slapped the table with enthusiasm. “Fuck yeah, it was, man!”

  The mother at the table beside us shot us a glare. I held up my hands. “Sorry.” She returned to her meal.

  Jonah dropped his voice to a decibel above a whisper. “I’m shocked she’d sleep with your ass with everything going on and you—you know—working for the other guys. How did it happen?”

  “I showed up at her store after hours with Thai food and wine.”

  Jonah nodded appreciatively. “Damn. That’s a slick move. I don’t know a single woman who would say no to that.”

  “We ate dinner, and then I helped her with her inventory count.”

  “You what?”

  “I helped with her inventory count,” I repeated.

  Jonah narrowed his eyes.

  I paused. “What?”

  He drummed his fingers on the table. “That is… very unlike you.”

  “How so?”

  Jonah shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “You know? Inserting yourself into a situation where you’ll have to do work that isn’t your own. I mean, if it was all just to get laid, I guess I understand. But something tells me that isn’t what you were after.”

  “It wasn’t.”

  He grinned. “Something also tells me last night had nothing to do with business.”

  “Sure, it did.”

  He shook his head and in an almost singsong voice said, “I don’t think so.”

  Our waitress arrived with our platters of food and set everything down between us. Jonah pored over the baskets of steaming chicken and the plate of nachos and licked his lips like a cartoon character.

  “Can I get anything else for you gentlemen?” our waitress asked.

  Jonah shook his head. “We’re good. Thank you.”

  She bustled off to help another table, and we started in on the food. Neither of us talked for the first ten minutes. The food was too good. Way too good.

  I had to take a breather at the halfway point. Jonah’s words were still tumbling around in my head. “Hey, what did you mean before? When you said last night didn’t have anything to do with business for me?”

  Jonah dabbed his mouth with a paper napkin. “You like her.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “No, man. You really like her. And I don’t think you see her as just a part of your business deal anymore.”

  I hated that he was right, but he was.

  After Senna told me I had to leave last night, it became crystal clear that I was into her. I’d been genuinely disappointed. And almost surprised, which was a first for me.

  For some reason, I’d assumed she’d be okay with me staying the night. Or at least staying a little longer.

  For Bob’s sake, who I’d completely forgotten was still sitting out in the SUV outside her house, it was a good thing she’d told me to leave. I would have left his ass out there all night. She was the sort of woman who sucked you in and made it impossible for you to focus on anything besides her.

  I still couldn’t believe last night had happened. I was one lucky fucking bastard.

  Jonah sipped his soda. “Am I right, or am I right?”

  “You’re right,” I grumbled.

  Jonah snorted. “Thought so. It’s not so bad, man. Nothing wrong with being into a girl. Like really into her. It’s been a long time since someone penetrated that barrier of yours.”

  “I don’t have a barrier.”

  He stared at me blankly. “Yeah, okay, and I’m vegan.”

  I scowled.

  Jonah chuckled and shook his head at me. “Live a little, dude. You need to chill out. Try new things. Let life take the lead for a little bit, rather than trying to control every possible outcome of every possible situation.”

  “I don’t think I know how to do that.”

  “Then let others show you. Like me. Or like Senna.”

  “She’s not going to want to spend her time teaching an old dog new tricks.”

  Jonah smiled. “It’s a two-way street, Zach. You can show her things too. You have a lot to offer. You’re not just this corporate guy. You’re a good friend. You’re ambitious, curious, and determined. You’re both living in your own fish bowls. Maybe it’s time to expand your horizons.”

  I leaned back and crossed one leg over the other. “You know, Jonah, for once, your hippie bullshit doesn’t sound so lame.”

  He grinned sheepishly. “I knew you’d come around one day.”

  Chapter 22

  Senna

  I hoisted Lily up onto one of the barstools at the kitchen counter. She sat on her knees, and I pulled the salad bowl closer to the edge of the counter for her.

  “Okay, bunny. Here’s the dressing. Now put on a reasonable amount.”

  Lily took the bottle of balsamic dressing from me and looked from it to me. “Reasonable amount?”

  “It means not too much. Just enough. Otherwise, the lettuce and spinach will get all soggy.”

  “Ew.”

  “Ew is right.”

  Lily popped the cap of the dressing, turned the bottle upside down over the mixture of greens, veggies, goat cheese, cranberries, and crushed candied pecans, and squeezed. The dressing came out in a long stream, and she stopped after a couple sec
onds. “More?”

  I nodded. “A bit.”

  She continued until I told her it was just right. Then she flipped the cap closed, set the dressing aside, and picked up the salad tongs beside the massive glass bowl. She tossed the salad slowly, sending spinach and lettuce leaves all over the counter. When she was done, we collected the strays and put them back in the bowl.

  I ran a rag over the counter as the timer went off on the oven. Lily slid off her stool and grabbed the oven mitts hanging beside the oven. She passed them to me, and I slid them on to open the oven and pull out the lasagna that was bubbling inside. The top layer of cheese was perfectly browned.

  Lily watched me set it down with wide eyes. “It looks so yummy, Momma.”

  “Thanks, bunny. It does look pretty tasty. I bet Auntie Edi will be here any minute. Can you put the salad on the table?”

  Lily carried the massive bowl of salad to the table. She set it down on the edge and then pushed it inward before turning back toward me with a confident smile. “What else can I do?”

  I pursed my lips and looked around. “You could help me unload the dishwasher real quick so that we can put all the dirty dinner dishes straight in when we’re done.”

  There was a knock on the front door while we unloaded the dishwasher. Lily called for Edith to come in. We heard the door close behind her, and Edith called a cheery hello down the hall.

  “We’re in the kitchen!” I said.

  Edith joined us just as I put the last set of cups up in one of the high cupboards.

  “Hey,” she said, lifting up a baking tray covered in tinfoil. “I brought treats.”

  “Treats!” Lily exclaimed, racing over to Edith, who bent down and peeled a corner of foil back to reveal a layer of chocolate brownies underneath. Lily licked her lips. “Brownies.”

  Edith laughed and patted Lily’s head as she moved around her to set the brownies down on the counter. “I hope they turned out. I’m not much of a baker, but I had some time after work today and thought I’d try my hand at a new recipe.”