Lucky Page 4

  It was nothing I hadn’t heard before. I earned ridiculous money kicking a ball around a field, but I was no Teddy Sherringham. My left knee was already falling apart, and besides, my enthusiasm for the game was at an all-time low.

  That didn’t mean I was about to put my name to some shite shampoo endorsement, though. Isha was right about the need to plan ahead, but what he didn’t know was that I’d saved more than half of every pay cheque for the last decade. I’d bought my London flat, and a few houses up north that I rented out, but aside from that, my only purchase beyond regular necessities had been the wank-mobile I’d gladly sell once I was away from an environment that demanded excess to fit in.

  I slid the endorsement contract across the table. “I’m not doing this. Find me something that matters and we’ll talk again.”

  An hour later, I left Isha in Greenwich and drove the eight miles north to Shoreditch. I abandoned my car in a secure underground car park a street away from the hotel, and made the rest of the journey on foot, head down, shoulders hunched, my faithful cap pulled low over my face, as my heart pounded and blood roared in my ears.

  I half-expected Lucky to be waiting outside, and pictured him lounging against the shiny wall, engrossed in his phone, a cigarette dangling from his perfect mouth, but he wasn’t, obviously. I was an hour early so I could scope the place for paps and be sure my fake name and ghost credit card had given me the veil of privacy I needed to make this work.

  And there was no guarantee Lucky would even show up. I’d paid him two-hundred quid last time, but with a face like his, I couldn’t imagine he was hard up for paid hook ups.

  My stomach gave an uncomfortable flip as I slipped into the room I’d checked into under an assumed name. Lucky wasn’t the first bloke I’d paid to meet me, but I’d never thought about any of the others beyond what they could do with my dick, so why was I so fixated on Lucky? On what—or who—he’d done before me? On what he’d do after? What was it about this kid that had me pacing a Shoreditch hotel room like a caged lion?

  Fucked if I knew.

  I just knew I had to touch him again.

  Five

  Lucky

  The last time I’d been in a hotel was when my dad had taken us to an away match in Northampton. We’d stayed in a Travelodge. My brother had scored the winning goal and I’d slipped over in the mud and banged my head on the goalpost.

  My father hadn’t spoken to twelve-year-old me the whole way home and the bewildered disappointment in his weather-hardened face, like he couldn’t understand how his genes had produced such a disaster, played on my mind as I wandered the hotel corridors. After my spectacular failure to become a carbon copy of my brother, he’d predicted my life would be lost to a future of poofy endeavours. If he could only see me now, roaming a Premier Inn, searching out room 239 so I could suck the dick of a gorgeous man with a full wallet. He’d be so fucking proud.

  Imagining his reaction distracted me from the nerves that were somehow worse than last time, and carried me to the second floor. I found the right room and knocked, and the door opened a millisecond later, like Dom had been stalking the peephole.

  He stood back, half-hidden by the door, and waved me in.

  I crossed the threshold and the door slammed, the loud click echoing in the otherwise silent room as I turned to face Dom.

  He was blocking my exit, his arms folded across his strong chest. “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself.” I dropped my bag on the floor, resisting the urge to mirror his pose. “How are you?”

  “I’m good. How much cash do you want? Same as last time?”

  “Depends what you want.” Already, arousal was licking at me. “It’s still seventy-five for a blowjob, but if you want to pay my bus fare, I won’t complain.”

  Dom rolled his eyes like we were old friends, and I kinda liked it until he reached into his back pocket. The bundle of notes was technically why I was here, but somehow, watching him count off the fifties seemed all wrong. Was it too much to expect a conversation?

  He didn’t ask you here to talk.

  The devil on my shoulder was bang on, but I didn’t feel like conceding just yet. I took the money from Dom and crouched to tuck it safely into my bag. “Is this how it’s always gonna go down? I name a price and you round it up? ’Cause if it is, we need to start hooking up on the regular.”

  Dom stared at me, his eyes liquid suspicion beneath the bill of his cap. “You think I’m an easy mark?”

  “That’s not what I meant.” I stood and took a cautious step forward. Dom didn’t seem the type to go psycho on me, but what the fuck did I know? “I was kinda trying to say thanks without sounding like a desperate loser.”

  “What are you desperate for? Money?”

  I shrugged, denial caught in a net on the tip of my tongue, but what was the point? Besides, despite needing the fucking money, I couldn’t deny the thrill that had run through me the moment my fingers had closed around the cash. The exchange meant we were one step closer to the other reason I’d hyperventilated all the way here…the one that had kept me awake all week long, wasting the nights I’d been lucky enough to score a bed: I wanted him.

  Dom accepted my non-answer with a shrug of his own and folded his arms again, watching me, the steel in his dark gaze giving way a little to the agitation I’d seen in him last time. The restlessness that had clued me in to the possibility it had been a good while since he’d last slid his thick cock into a man’s mouth. Since then, I’d bounced back and forth between picturing him as a master player and some kind of closeted virgin, but right now?

  Yeah. I was leaning more towards the second.

  I took another step forward. Dom leaned back, subconsciously, maybe, I couldn’t tell, but it didn’t matter, because I was on him a second later, up in his personal space before he had a chance to protest.

  Biting my lip, I unfolded his arms, and tentatively pushed his cap off his head. It had been dark and dingy in Simone’s flat, full of shadows we couldn’t avoid, but the hotel room was bright and airy, and I realised his hair was longer than I’d thought—long enough to weave my fingers into and hold on tight.

  Dom didn’t protest to me exposing his face, but he avoided my eyes, his gaze fixed on something behind me.

  I didn’t mind—much…at least, I tried not to. “So…you want me to suck you off, yeah?”

  “No—um, I mean. I do, but now you’re here, I, uh—” Dom rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t stop thinking about sucking you.”

  A jolt ran through me. His mouth around my cock had turned me inside out last time. I swear it had taken hours before my legs had stopped shaking. The idea of a rerun had played on my mind more than I cared to admit, but I hadn’t truly considered it likely, especially at the expense of blowing Dom.

  I sucked in a breath. A yearning deep inside me cried out for me to drop to my knees and taste him again, but the prospect of coming like a motherfucking train down his throat won out. “You can suck me if you like—I’m not going to complain about your sweet mouth. Where do you want me?”

  Dom swallowed harshly. “On the bed, but take your clothes off first…I’ll pay you extra.”

  “You don’t think you’ve paid me enough?”

  “That’s up to you.”

  It shouldn’t have been—it was his money burning a hole in my grubby messenger bag—but I appreciated the sentiment, even if it prompted me to drop my guard far lower than it should’ve been on our second hook up. “I don’t need extra money to take my clothes off. Just mind your manners, yeah? I’m a fucking gentleman.”

  A ghost of a smirk flickered across Dom’s chiselled face. “Me too.”

  “Sound.” I shrugged out of my coat, dumped it on the floor, and I kicked off my boots. “But if I’m going nekkid, I’m kinda counting on seeing some of your skin too. That’s fair, right?”

  Dom made a sound low in his throat, but I couldn’t tell if he was giving me permission or not.

  Either w
ay, I didn’t stop to look as I stripped my way to the bed, leaving my clothes trailing behind me until only my jeans and underwear remained.

  At the bed, I spun around and faced Dom. While my back had been turned, he’d shed his bomber jacket and hoodie, leaving him in a fitted T-shirt and dark jeans, his belt buckle undone.

  “Getting there,” I said. “Want me to help?”

  “I’m supposed to be getting your dick out.”

  “We can do both.”

  “Both?”

  “Yeah.” I unbuttoned my own jeans and beckoned him closer. “I wanna see you so bad.”

  The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. Heat flashed up the back of my neck, and I dropped my gaze to Dom’s crotch to avoid his reaction. Perhaps he’d think I was pretending, or playing him, but it was so fucking true.

  He closed the distance between us. His hands hovered over my hips, but he didn’t touch me. “I want to see you too, Lucky.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  In answer, I loosened his jeans enough to shove them down a little. Then I grasped the hem of his T-shirt and lifted it up, revealing inch after inch of the most gorgeous body I’d ever seen. The strip of flesh I’d seen last time hadn’t done Dom’s abs justice. Ripped and oh-so-lightly furred, his treasure trail was fucking delicious, even if I was tracking it in the wrong direction.

  His chest was glorious too. Not too big, but cut. Once I’d ditched his T-shirt, I couldn’t resist running my hands over him, absorbing his shiver. “You’re so fit. Why are you here with me when you could have anyone?”

  “Maybe I don’t want anyone.”

  Valid, but I doubted it. The more I touched Dom, the more obvious it became that he liked it—needed it—even if it wasn’t unique to my hands gliding over his warm skin. “Try again,” I whispered.

  “Okay. Maybe I’m an arsehole.”

  That, I could halfway believe, because even if it wasn’t entirely true, I was willing to bet he had a decent facade. His glare was killer.

  “What about you?”

  The question startled me enough to still my hands on his chest. “What about me?”

  “Why are you here?”

  “Because you asked me to be.”

  “Cute, but that wasn’t the real question.”

  “I know.”

  Dom let it go, perhaps realising the answer was obvious—I needed the money, and the fact that I’d managed to score a hook up as fine as him was pure fluke.

  The notion that I could’ve easily been here with someone I really didn’t want to touch me was almost enough to wilt the boner I’d been sporting since I’d walked into the room, but then Dom’s hands finally closed around my hips and desire surged through me.

  He slid his palms over my skin, gliding beneath my jeans and into my underwear. My pelvis jutted forward, and he squeezed my backside just enough to draw a gasp from me.

  I wanted him to squeeze me harder; to stake a claim over my body, and the craving caught me off guard. I’d been fucked by men who’d mistakenly thought they really had owned me, and that their possessive dominance in the heat of the moment actually meant something, but this wasn’t like that. I wanted Dom to take what he wanted from me because the sense that he needed to was making me dizzy, and I couldn’t work out why it mattered so much.

  Couldn’t work out why he mattered so much.

  Or why I was angsting over it when now, after I’d coaxed him into getting started, all he clearly wanted to do was get on with it.

  Dom shoved my jeans down, sending my underwear with them until they were halfway down my thighs. My dick sprang free, and Dom gripped it before I registered the fresh air. He pumped slowly—torturously—and swiped his thumb over the tip. I gazed down as a bead of sticky moisture seeped out, there for barely a second before Dom gathered it with his thumb and brought it to my lips.

  I stuck my tongue out and licked him clean, and then I sucked his thumb into my mouth and worked it like it was his thick cock.

  Dom groaned. “Christ, you’re fucking magic.”

  I hummed in response, but was cut off by Dom’s other hand finding my dick again. He jacked me until my legs trembled, and then he pushed me down on the bed, ripping his thumb from my mouth, and yanked my jeans and boxers down my legs and over my feet.

  Naked, I scooted back on the bed and splayed myself for him, my legs wide, my chest heaving, staring at him over my throbbing dick. He’d said he wanted to suck me off, but the gleam in his eye said he wanted far more than that. Dom wanted to fuck me, and every fibre of my being screamed at me to let him. “You’re not naked.”

  In answer, Dom crawled onto the bed and positioned himself between my splayed legs. “Not yet.”

  His mouth on my cock cut off any retort I may have made.

  “Fuck!” I threw my head back, arching from the bed, my hands scrabbling for purchase on the pristine white sheets. “Jesus, Dom.”

  He ignored me, and sucked harder, opening wider than he had last time, like he’d spent the last week thinking about it and building up the confidence to let me slide down his throat while I moaned and writhed beneath him.

  I can’t take this. Over and over, his head bobbed up and down, his tongue riding my shaft as I chased the sensation, the friction, the white-hot pleasure of oblivion, even though the thought of blowing my load so fast was fucking sickening. My hands found their way to his hair, and I tangled my fingers in his dark, silky locks, my whole torso rearing up from the bed as I bent my legs and dug my heels into the mattress. “Fuck, Dom. Don’t let me come yet.”

  His gaze snapped up to me. We locked eyes and orgasm rushed me, but a split second before release, he heard my plea, and eased off.

  The blood in my ears faded to a dull roar. Panting, I fell slack and sagged on the bed. “Shit, I should be paying you.”

  Dom said nothing, and it took me a moment to notice he’d stood and was shedding the rest of his clothes.

  Jesus Christ. His lower body was as breathtaking as the rest of him. I already knew his dick was perfection, but his thighs called to me. I wanted to dig my fingers into them while I rimmed him, working him up into the kind of frenzy that was only attractive in a man who held themselves like he did in every other moment.

  I took myself in hand, like jacking my dick could fucking ground me; ’cause that’s the kind of idiot Dom was apparently turning me into. “What now?”

  He shrugged. “You choose.”

  I patted the bed next to me. “Come here so I can touch you while I decide.”

  He hesitated, as though lying on a bed with me was a hard limit.

  I sat up and grabbed his hand. “Please?”

  “This isn’t how I expected it to be.”

  “Me either.” I gently tugged him down so he was forced to use his other arm to brace himself on the bed. “But roll with it, yeah? What’s the worst that can happen?”

  Dark eyes flashed at me. “You have no idea.”

  “So? Either enlighten me, or lie down. I’m cool with both.”

  Sweating, my heart pounding, I was anything but cool, but Dom didn’t seem to notice as he gave in and stretched out beside me like the mattress was made of nails. I wondered if he’d ever been to bed with someone before—like really been to bed, instead of making each other come, and then going their separate ways. If he’d ever felt the closeness of someone spooning against his strong back, whispering in his ear, and nuzzling his neck as he fell asleep.

  I rolled onto my side and faced him, throwing a leg over him before he could get too far away. His dick was a fucking steel rod. Hard. Thick. Distracting. The emo in me scattered, blown apart by the sight of him so turned on, so ready for something he couldn’t seem to articulate. “Do I get to blow you now?”

  “If you want.”

  I reached out and grazed a finger down Dom’s chest. “I do want. I’ve been thinking about sucking your cock all week.”

  Dom gave another delicious shiver. �
�Why?”

  “Why do you think?”

  “I don’t think anything.”

  “Are you trying to decide if I’ve been thinking about you all week because I like your cock or because I want your money?”

  “Maybe.”

  A humourless chuckle bubbled out of me. I didn’t have an exact answer to my question either, and I wasn’t entirely sure which one he’d prefer. Which one would keep him on the bed, his expression halfway to something that might’ve been open, instead of the closed-off look he seemed so determined to hold on to. “Does it matter?”

  Dom caught my wrist and pushed my arm lower. “Not right now.”

  I gladly took the hint and closed my hand around his dick. It pulsed against my palm, hot and heavy, and I pictured myself bending over for him, pushing back on him as he screwed me from behind—no, from the front—I wanted to see his face.

  Just like now. My mouth watered for the taste of him, but I couldn’t bring myself to look away just yet.

  I jacked him with one hand while the other played with his taut nipples. He squirmed as I pinched it a little too hard. “Fuck.”

  “You like that.”

  It wasn’t a question, but he let his eyes fall closed and nodded anyway. “Do it again.”

  “Say please.”

  “Please.”

  His voice was low and gravelly, but the desperation lacing the single syllable went straight to my dick. I twisted his nipple again, gasping as he jerked and moaned, and my hips drove forward of their own volition, digging my cock into his ripped abdomen.

  I humped his stomach while I worked him with my hand. I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t fucking stop. And he didn’t seem to even notice, which relieved and irritated me in equal measure.

  But I didn’t think on it too long. Couldn’t, because his ragged groans sucked me into a vortex I didn’t want to escape. I’d had hot encounters before, with men and women, but something—everything—about this was different. The sounds he made, the wet puffs of air he breathed against my cheek. Even the way his toes flexed set me on fire.