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“You’re late. Hurry up and get out here,” a female voice boomed from the room beyond. “And I want to see everything.” Brian froze. He suddenly felt a little vulnerable, like a starlet on a Hollywood casting couch. Yesterday at the bar, he’d spent his last five bucks drinking beer with his buddies and joking about what would happen if he got the job. His friends hassled him about getting hard while young women sketched his cock and had thrown out suggestions of what to think about if he started to get a woody. Root canals. A knee to the balls. Lorena Bobbitt. But the time for laughs was over. He had a dog to feed and a landlord ragging his ass, and chickening out simply wasn’t an option. He ran a hand over his goatee and peeked through a crack in the door. Not a good idea. The woman who just might be his future boss had long blonde hair, the silky kind you could lose your fingers in while tasting her nipples or sliding your cock into her pussy. Her legs were long, too, and tan. They seemed to go on forever, then disappeared into a short summer dress. A gold chain glinted on her ankle as she tapped her bare foot impatiently on the cement floor. The twitching in his cock told him it had been way too long since his last fuck. He wished she’d turn around so he could see her face. “I’m waiting!” He gulped. Why the hell had he gone and looked at her?
ALSO BY LAURA BACCHI Chella’s Quest Relic Of The Heart
LUCKY IN LUST BY LAURA BACCHI
AMBER QUILL PRESS, LLC http://www.amberquill.com
LUCKY IN LUST AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.amberquill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2005 by Laura Bacchi ISBN 1-59279-462-9 Cover Art © 2005 Trace Edward Zaber
Layout and Formatting provided by: ElementalAlchemy.com
PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
To Mom, who didn’t go ballistic when I decided to major in Art. And to Dad, who eventually got over going ballistic.
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Brian Luciano double-checked the time on the Melton University interview card. The unpronounceable name of an art professor filled the first line, followed by a scrawl that looked like Studio 3B. When he’d walked into the MU Human Resources office yesterday, he’d hoped for a job with the maintenance crew doing repairs or any kind of manual labor to help pay the bills, now that his boss had skipped town without a trace. But a handwritten note stating Male Model Needed for Nude Studies caught his eye. Getting paid thirty-five bucks an hour to get naked? Brian snatched the ad off the board and grabbed an application. The lady at the desk had phoned him this afternoon, and when he returned to pick up the appointment card, a dozen women greeted him at the door. The one who’d called devoured him with her eyes while the others giggled and whispered. “Too bad I’m not hiring,” she said. “I’d take you in a heartbeat. For private lessons.” 1
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He gave her a cocky grin and made a mental note to return for her number after the interview. Until then, he had a job to try for, and headed toward a cluster of outside studios on the edge of the campus. After ten minutes of searching for any sign of numbers or letters marking the studio doors, he quit looking and trudged to the first building on his right. The ancient door opened silently but slammed shut with a bang. “You’re late. Hurry up and get out here,” a female voice boomed from the room beyond. “And I want to see everything.” Brian froze. He suddenly felt a little vulnerable, like a starlet on a Hollywood casting couch. Yesterday at the bar, he’d spent his last five bucks drinking beer with his buddies and joking about what would happen if he got the job. His friends hassled him about getting hard while young women sketched his cock and had thrown out suggestions of what to think about if he started to get a woody. Root canals. A knee to the balls. Lorena Bobbitt. But the time for laughs was over. He had a dog to feed and a landlord ragging his ass, and chickening out simply wasn’t an option. He ran a hand over his goatee and peeked through a crack in the door. Not a good idea. The woman who just might be his future boss had long blonde hair, the silky kind you could lose your fingers in while tasting her nipples or sliding your cock into her pussy. Her legs were long, too, and tan. They seemed to go on forever, then disappeared into a short summer dress. A gold chain glinted on her ankle as she tapped her bare foot impatiently on the cement floor. The twitching in his cock told him it had been way too long since his last fuck. He wished she’d turn around so he could see her face. “I’m waiting!” He gulped. Why the hell had he gone and looked at her? His slick palms fumbled with his belt, and when he tugged his jeans to his ankles, he lost his balance and crashed into a shelf full of clay pots. 2
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They rattled around and shimmied, but thankfully nothing broke. You’ve never had a problem getting naked for a woman before. When all the clothes sat in a pile on the floor, he looked down and groaned. “Down, fella. This ain’t the time to be raring to go.” Nine inches of thick cock bobbed in reply. He shut his eyes and lifted his right foot…then stomped the toe on his left that he’d stubbed during last night’s binge. The pain took the focus off his dick and started an excruciatingly slow countdown. When his prick waned to a modest five inches, he entered the room. The blonde didn’t even turn to face him. All of the students waiting around the corner, however, did. Some young women laughed out loud. A few—including some guys—made catcalls. Lucky decided on the friendly approach. When he grinned like the bad boy he was and gave the class a wave, applause and whistles filled the room. “Late again, Stuart? You’re already failing—” The female teacher spun around. Her eyes shot straight to the important stuff, then traveled up slowly to see his face. He wasn’t sure what surprised her more, his cock or his features. She stood shell-shocked with the kind of expression people get when they’re trying to remember someone’s name. His heart pounded, and he prayed she hadn’t been one of his infamous one-night stands. Her lips curled upwards naughtily while a list of names ran through his head. Names of women. Names of bars. Names of hotels in the wrong parts of town. Still he came up empty-handed. If she’d been his for a night, surely he would have remembered. She turned back to her students. “Okay, guys. Why don’t we call it a day?” He waved again while his audience filed out of the room, clay and wire sculptures in hand. As the last students gathered their things, she finally addressed him. “I guess today is my lucky day.” His hand froze in mid-wave when he heard his nickname. “Do I 3
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know you from somewhere?” “Kind of,” she answered. “From a long, long time ago.” Once again, Lucky ran through the names of the blondes he could remember. No dice. Maybe she was a waitress. “Did you use to work at Sadie’s?” She took a step in his direction. “I’ve never heard of a place called Sadie’s.” He believed her. She looked too high class for that crowd. “I give up.” “I’ll tell you when I’m ready,” she said. He ran a hand through his hair now damp from nerves and the heat of the studio. “That bad, eh?” She didn’t answer and took another step closer. He made the mistake of inhaling her scent. She smelled like summer peaches and cream and woman all rolled into one. When his nostrils flared to take in more, his cock responded with a visible jerk. He shifted his stance on the cool gray floor and prayed for it to go away. Thinking about it only made it worse. It stretched and pulsed as his balls drew tight. She licked her full, pink lips. “You can’t pose nude with an erection, Lucky, no matter how impressive it is. Especially in Mr. Petrilutchsky’s class.” “So you’re not hiring?” “I didn’t say that. But I’m pretty sure you’re here for the ad he placed with HR.” He shook his head in frustration. “Wrong place. Right time. For a guy called Lucky, I’m not.” “Oh, I have a feeling you’ll be getting lucky before long,” she whispered, then walked toward a huge drafting table covered with piles of drawings. She shifted through each one with purpose, leaving him to figure out his next move. *
* 4
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Where are those sketches? Sonya tried to keep her cool, but her sweaty fingertips smeared more than a few charcoal studies while she dug around for the ones she wanted. She caught him moving toward the tiny storage room he’d come in from, probably to get his clothes. “Wait! Don’t move,” she yelled. He stood there in mid-step as if they’d been playing freeze tag. She laughed, and he jerked his head back to see what had set her off. His piercing blue eyes, the pair that had played a big part in her girlish fantasies throughout high school, sent a quiver down her backbone. “Are you able to hold that pose for, oh, two hours without moving?” “Are you able to pay me thirty-five bucks an hour?” “Yes.” She was ready to release him from his awkward position, but her overactive imagination begged her to wait. From an artistic standpoint, Lucky was the perfect male specimen. Sure, he had a couple of scars and a few tats, one of them crudely executed and unfinished. His tight ass, bronze like the rest of him, sat on top of a pair of well-defined thighs. Thick. Powerful. She wondered how they’d feel spreading her wide, delivering thrust after thrust of cock to her neglected pussy. That cock. Near the end of high school, his eyes took second place to that part of him as she daydreamed about sneaking him into her bedroom while her parents stayed late at the country club. She needed to see the front of him again. Rifling through the sketches one last time, she found what she wanted and set it on top. She walked up to him with more confidence than she expected to have. He couldn’t possibly know she was shy Sonya Walker from the other side of town, the girl who kept a book in hand but her gaze on him when he came to class tardy every morning. He’d slide into the desk in front of her, driving her insane with his smell—a hint of cigarettes and freshly washed boy-man. So close she could’ve twined her fingers in his thick, brown locks had she wanted to. Her sex 5
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clenched with the memory and caused her heart rate to rocket. She circled around to face him. His erection had faded, but she hid her disappointment. “I want to try something new.” He grinned. “I’m always up for an adventure.” Her gaze dropped to his prick, and she brushed his rock-hard abs with the back of her hand. “You’re not up anymore.” Lucky got out of position, put his hands on his hips, and stared down at his fading enthusiasm. Within three seconds, his magnificent cock jutted out and grazed her short summer dress. She couldn’t resist. Her fingers wrapped around his shaft and gave it a long pump. When the circle of her hand reached his crown, the head on his neck dropped back and his arms slipped from his hips. She released him. He jerked his head upright and locked eyes with hers. “For the record, are you paying me to pose…or to do something else? Not that I mind performing duties outside my job description. I just need to know.” “Fifty bucks an hour to pose. Anything else is a perk.” “I can live with that.” He reached for her waist and pulled her close, but her palms pushed against his slick chest. “Prick tease.” The words came out in a low drawl and melted every bone in her body. “Work first.” She grabbed his arm and with shaky legs led him to a blank wall on the other side of the studio. Turning him to face it, she positioned his hands on the wall then spread his legs. He laughed. “Am I being arrested?” She ran a finger down his spine and stopped above the cleft of his ass. “Nope.” He squirmed as she continued to inspect his form. Enjoying the power she held over him, she skimmed the flesh of his thighs and the muscles in his arms with her nails. “In three weeks, I have my annual exhibition, like all the other profs 6
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do. I hate doing it.” “Why?” “We bring our work to a small space downtown. Drink a little wine and pretend to admire each other’s work. My work—my safe, conservative work—is ready to exhibit, but I hate it, too.” “Then say fuck ’em and don’t do it.” “Wish I could,” she said. “But unfortunately I’m up for tenure.” “Ten what?” “Tenure,” she repeated. “When you get tenure at a university, you’re golden. Your respectability as a professor goes up, and it’s virtually impossible to be fired.” “Then put your little pots or whatever you do on display and get it over with. Do stuff that means something to you on your own time.” “I did that last year. And the year before that.” She sighed, her hands still touching him, feathering along his sides and shoulders. Chill bumps dotted the exquisite contours of his body even in the warmth of the studio. “I’ve been thinking about shaking things up a bit, especially since I got a sizable grant this past spring.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Save your money and do that next year, babe. After you’ve got your tenure.” She withdrew her hands and leaned in close as if telling him a secret. “The Brian Luciano I remember never played it safe. Why should I? I want them to accept me as I am. Respect me, even. Pottery chicks are never taken seriously. I want to show them I can make more than a pretty vase.” “And how does having me spread-eagle and hard as hell fit in to the equation?” “I want to show you some of my ideas.” She backtracked to her sketches and brought them to his side for inspection. “With only three weeks, I have to work fast.” A large sheet 7
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of nude male figures filled the white space. Some sat and some stood. But all of the bodies had an empty space where their hearts should be. “I’m going to make life-size figures in clay. No drying or firing needed. If I work like a dog for three weeks, I should be able to pull it off.” He pointed to the opening in a figure’s chest. “What is this?” “Here’s where it gets artsy-fartsy.” She cleared her throat, feeling silly. What if he thought it was stupid? Or too weird? Sure, this kind of thing was par for the course in New York or L.A. But at a private university in Virginia, work like this might flop with the public—and her peers. “A box goes there. Wood or steel, I’m not sure which yet.” She glanced over to see his response. “Then inside the box will be something the man keeps hidden. Dreams. Truths. Sins and secrets he wants to conceal.” “Sounds deep.” A short, low chuckle followed his reaction. She searched his face. “Are you making fun of me?” “Nope. Just being honest.” His feet shifted almost nervously on the floor. “When your main concern is where your next paycheck is coming from, it’s hard to get all philosophical.” When she didn’t respond, he changed the subject. “So you work with wood?” “That part I’ll need to get some help with. I can buy some readymade cubes, you know, like the trendy kind you see in stores for shelves or CDs.” “Or you can hire me to do that, too,” he offered. “I’m a carpenter by trade.” “I didn’t know that. Shouldn’t you be out working now? He gave her a sheepish grin. “Make that an unemployed carpenter.” “I’m sorry. What happened?” “Business isn’t exactly booming in this little college town. And the contractor I work for just went under and skipped town. With my last 8
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paycheck.” He shrugged. “So I could work for Melton or deliver pizzas.” “You chose well. Once you get in the MU temp pool, you have a better chance of getting a full-time job here. There’s a maintenance crew—” “It wasn’t really a choice. My truck needs some work, so delivering anything is out of the question right now. But I’m glad I’m here.” He tucked a stray lock that had escaped her ponytail behind an ear. “And I like your idea.” “I’m glad, too.” She pulled his head to hers and nibbled his full bottom lip, tasting his sweat and something uniquely Lucky. Spirals of heat uncoiled in her sex. She’d been so into her art this past year that dating rarely entered her mind. She tried to press him into a kiss, but he backed away with a playful gleam in his eyes. Sonya almost melted onto the concrete below. “I thought we were gonna work first and play later, boss lady.” “Okay, Lucky. Let’s see what your body is capable of.” That retort earned her a sexy-as-hell smile. A tingle swept through her sex; thankfully she’d shaved this morning. She imagined filling his callused palm with its softness and hoped he didn’t mind a hairless pussy. She backed him up against the wall facing her, testing a few simple poses while caressing his inner thigh muscles, ribs, and any other part of him she could rationalize touching. His cock pulsed in appreciation, and within minutes she had him on his knees. He bent forward and nipped the hem of her short dress. “Take it off.” It billowed to the floor in a colorful heap. “Panties, too.” When she did what he asked, his hands shot to her pale white mound, tracing light patterns on it with rough thumbs. She watched as he delivered a delicate nudge to her clit. Sensation reeled through her, and she took hold of his wavy locks to keep from falling 9
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“Back up to that table.” Thank God it was close by. If she didn’t come soon, her legs would give out and heart would break through her chest. Lucky leaned down to adjust the sturdy drafting table she’d almost trashed before classes started. Now she’d never get rid of it. He lifted her up and aimed for her pussy. Although her clit craved his attention, he went after the hole below, tongue darting in and out. Exploring her. Filling her. Then his fingers sought the sensitive ridge above and gave it a small tug. He pinched it carefully between the pads of his fingertips, rolling it with precision until her breathy moans bounced off the sweltering studio walls. His head came up at an angle to let his teeth take over and hold the plump clit as his fingers had. A hot tongue swept along the length of it again and again, searing her flesh with perfect pressure and exquisite timing. She wasn’t sure what all she screamed when the orgasm slammed through her. Echoes of his name, though, still bounced off the walls while a fresh jolt of bliss raged in her brain and body. His tongue kept wagging, pushing her to climax again. She opened herself up to the feeling and slipped forward to offer him more of her cunt. He took it all. His beard became a thousand pinpricks of pleasure at the mouth of her sex, and he lapped at her eagerly with the kind of gusto that told her he could do this for hours. A tingle in her clit grew and pulsed to meet his tongue. She held onto the table and let the second orgasm uncurl from some place deep inside. A sound roused her from the aftershocks coursing through her body. Footfalls? Her heart pounded as she turned to see if anyone was there. A shadow sprinted to the small entrance of the studio and collided with a shelf of earthenware. At least one vessel crashed to the floor, followed by the slam of her door. Lucky jerked to standing. “Want me to go see who it was?” She slid from the table and shook her head. He gently lowered her 10
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to the floor and must have sensed her anxiety. “Well, they’re gone. Nothing you can do about it now, hon.” Nothing but worry. Last semester’s sex scandal rocked the Art Department. Three profs were fired for screwing around with undergrads on MU property. Whoever had seen her could do a lot of damage—to her and the department. What a lousy way to end a wonderful afternoon. With an arm to prop him up, he cradled her jaw with his free hand. “You never did tell me your name.” She groaned, then laughed. “Time to give it up, I guess.” She debated telling him for a second longer then caved in. “I’m Sonya Walker.” “I just ate out prissy Miss Walker’s shaved pussy?” “You thought I was prissy?” “Yeah. You were always staring down your nose at me like I was beneath you.” Sonya pushed him to the cool cement below and took hold of his cock. “In reality, I was wishing you were beneath me. Filling me up with this.” She squeezed his shaft and watched him tense. “I lusted after your tight ass all through high school.” Her hand then cupped the ass in question. “Even after you dropped out.” “Well, I’m flattered. And I wish to hell I’d stayed in school.” “Hmm. Me too.” She sighed. “I was such a fool. Did you even once think of me?” “I wanted to fuck anything in a skirt. You always wore those plaid preppy outfits, like a Catholic schoolgirl’s uniform. Hell, yeah, I thought of you.” He got to his knees and grabbed her ankles. “I wanted to start here and work my way up. Just tease you a bit and hope you had on thigh-highs.” “I usually did.” She smiled when a growl rumbled deep in his throat. 11
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“Then I’d ease your panties down or pretend you didn’t have any on.” His strong hands teased an imaginary pair from her hips. Eyes wide in mock fear, she caught his arm to act the part of a timid schoolgirl. He twisted in her grip and captured her wrists. With both of them pinned above her head, he dipped the full length of a finger inside her slick cunt. “Whatcha gonna do now?” he asked, the heat building in his stare, his thrusts quickening. She whimpered in reply. “Ask for another.” He obliged her with a second finger, this one slightly thicker than the first. The two digits stretched her wide before coming back together to hunt for that one sweet spot that drove her wild. She tensed when he rubbed over it with a workingman’s fingertips, each stroke pressing harder than the last. He released her hands and crawled down the length of her, leaving a trail of nuclear kisses as he went. His tongue nursed her clit with the slightest touch while he rocked his fingers solidly against her g-spot. She exploded. Fierce waves of ecstasy ripped through her, the kind that left a desert in her mouth and water in place of bones. When her brain could function again, she worked her way down to his chest, lower and lower until the cock of her dreams came into view. Her fingers explored the velvety texture of him. All those art history courses filled with naked bodies and not a single erect penis. What a shame. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. The swollen tip of him bobbed as he laughed. “It’s been described many different ways, but never beautiful.” Sonya ran her nails over the meat of his thigh and stopped at his balls. “Every bit of you is beautiful. You’re a work of art.” She cradled his sac in her palm. “Not this part.” He pointed to the jailhouse tattoo of an unfinished heart. “Well…I think there’s a story behind it. It gives you character.” 12
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“I’m a character all right.” He chuckled. “Let’s just say I spent more time drinking and getting into fights than I should have. I was nineteen and had a few days to kill downtown in the county jail. Unfortunately the tattoo guy got transferred to the state pen before it was done.” “And whose name would you have put on it?” she asked. “Hell, I can’t even remember. I thought about getting it prettied up. Maybe put something corny like ‘True love never dies’ there.” “Why didn’t you?” “I left it there as a reminder of how foolish I’d been in my younger days.” “Ah.” She turned back to stroke his cock some more. “You could put something like ‘Lucky in Lust’ on there. You know, play up your nickname.” He started to reply, but her lips captured the tip of his cock and welcomed him into the warmth of her mouth. With a firm grip on the base of his shaft, she worked her hand and mouth in a rhythm no man in his right mind could deny. She watched him watching her, and within seconds, warm, sticky juice pulsed into her throat. He went limp against the hard floor. She let his softening erection go free, then patted him on the leg. “Get up. We’ve got a lot of work to do. Art to make, a new gallery space to find.” When he mumbled something about being worn out, she added, “You’re on the clock, remember?” Lucky laughed. “What have I gotten myself into?” He got to his feet and pulled her in for one more kiss. “And I thought you said you had a place to display your work.” “The same boring space we use every year. I want something different. My own space.” She couldn’t tell if he was groggy or thinking. Finally, he spoke. “When I went to get my paycheck down at the warehouse, I peeked in 13
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the windows looking for somebody to explain what the hell happened. The place was empty. What kind of space do you want?” A thrill shot through her. “Something big and airy. Not too clean. A warehouse would be perfect.” “Then get dressed, pottery chick. I think I’ve got just the place.” *
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“This used to be part of the old mill, before someone set it on fire.” The property manager unlocked the padlock on the side door and added, “Your boss—or ex-boss—paid in advance. You can use it through the end of July, if you can leave me a deposit for any damages.” Sonya’s heart soared when they entered the brick building. Worn pine planks made up the floor beneath them, and brickwork patterns covered the walls. It even had a loft. She pictured her life-sized figures spread throughout the space during the day when the high windows let in plenty of natural light. “Perfect. How much?” Lucky scoped out the place while she stroked a check. After the property manager left, she raised the heavy key in her hand and danced around the huge room. “I can’t believe it!” She threw her arms around Lucky. “After we clean—” “I’ll take care of that. There’s some mops and stuff in the back closet. You go do what you gotta do to make some art.” She didn’t want to leave, but with grades to turn in and clay to order, she knew she’d better leave this task to him. He kissed her on the forehead and spun her towards the door. She looked back over her shoulder. “I’ll be back with pizza and to lock up.” “Pepperoni?” “Anything you want, Lucky,” she answered. “How ’bout some condoms?” 14
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She looked back at him and winked. “They’re already on the list.” When she came back three hours later, she hardly recognized the place. The floors shone and smelled of lemony oil soap. Cobwebs had been dusted and the lower windows cleaned. With the sun now below the horizon, she could assess the lighting. Shirtless and sweaty, Brian came to her side and followed her gaze. “The lights suck. I forgot about that.” “It’ll be okay. I can borrow some freestanding floods and spots.” She couldn’t resist touching him and set the pizza and beer on the floor. Her fingers traced the landscape of his back, then kneaded the muscles around his shoulder blades. “Hungry?” “Yeah.” He turned to face her and crushed her in a deep kiss. “Horny, too.” He bent down to pick up the bag holding the six-pack. A three-pack encased in foil stared back up at them. He fished the condoms out and tore one off. “My earlier performance wasn’t too impressive.” “Oh, I was impressed.” With foil between his teeth, he lifted her dress and eased her panties down. His jeans came next. She gathered her dress into her neckline so she could touch him when they fucked. “Over here.” He guided her to a wooden table by the entrance, lifted her onto it, and dropped the condom down beside her. Then he raised her legs for a full view of her pussy. “You didn’t wash up afterwards.” “Sorry. I got busy ordering clay and changing the address on the reception invites. I should have—” “You’re still soaking wet.” He spread her knees further apart and went low for a full lick. “And delicious.” She grinned at the scruffy goatee now glistening with her dampness. “And I think you like that.” He grinned back, a devilish look dancing in his eyes. She squirmed. He tightened his grip. “But our pizza will get cold.” 15
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“I’d rather have hot pussy than hot pizza any day.” His mouth latched onto her and all thoughts of food left her mind. The only thing that existed was his tongue on her, slipping against the ridge of her clit slow and languid as if he had all night. The orgasm uncoiled from her womb, and when the first quiver came, he knew and began sucking her without mercy. The strength of her pleasure forced a moan from her chest. It echoed through the warehouse until she pushed him away. “Too much. Too intense.” He didn’t say a word while he rolled the condom over his prick. It pressed into her wetness, stretching her, tormenting her until she rocked forward to speed his entrance. “Damn, you’re tight.” He sank the full length of himself into her, then pulled her legs back into position so he could watch. The idea of him staring straight at something so primal, so intimate, sent a shiver through her torso. He rotated his hips and leaned back to see their joining from all different angles until he hit the sensitive spot that made her slip into oblivion. Nothing else mattered—no tenure, no work. He lifted her legs back, and she thought he’d split her in two. But the feeling deep in her sex grew until she grabbed the table edges for dear life, gasping for air and hoping he’d never stop. When she opened her eyes, he was smiling down at her. He rocked her slower now, and then lost himself in her. She could see it in his face while he buried his thickness up to his balls and retreated. The final stroke came, each spasm strong and sure inside her cunt as he filled the room with the sounds of his release. Her back ached. Her pussy throbbed. But when he carried her over to the pizza and pulled her into his lap, she let him feed her. Cold pizza never tasted so good. *
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After the clay arrived, the real work began. Sonya’s grant allowed 16
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her to pay him by the day. By Friday, though his muscles screamed every time a new shipment of clay appeared at the warehouse loading dock, he had enough to fix his truck and pay the rent he owed. Things were definitely looking up. He looked away from the wood in his hands to thank her. “This is the coolest job I’ve ever had.” “Because of all the sex?” she asked. “Even without the sex.” He scrutinized the handiwork of his first wooden cube. All dovetail joints were perfectly flush. Every surface sanded smooth as silk. She came up behind him. “Wow, Lucky. You don’t see this level of craftsmanship much anymore.” “Heck, I’m just a carpenter. An unemployed one, at that.” She took the box from him and approached a kneeling figure in clay. Lucky’s thighs tensed at the sight of it, reminding him of what a bitch that position had been while Sonya worked her magic. She placed what he’d made on the flat area above the figure’s stomach, between the wire framework they’d made together to support the weight of the clay. Then she added more and more clay until the box was secure and the torso complete. The woman worked fast. Within the first week, she’d labored night and day to fill the space with clay bodies, each of them replicas of him. He remembered her posing his bare body and felt his cock twitch. She must have heard his boots coming off or his belt thud on the floor. “I wasn’t ready to start another—” “I thought you might be ready for something else.” She looked over her shoulder and raised her hands. “Let me wash up first.” He never gave her the chance. Hoisting her on one shoulder, he ran a hand up her shorts. She squealed with delight and mixed the clay on her palms with the sweat of his back. Then she reached lower and 17
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palmed his ass cheeks. “I’ve marked you, Brian Luciano. My handprints are all over your body, and I dare another woman to lay her hands on you.” She laughed and he joined in. “Honey, you tire me out too much to think about any other women.” “Good.” His heart felt funny. He held her there, butt facing the ceiling and long blonde hair tickling his legs as he searched the room for their favorite table. Maybe lifting her had messed with his blood pressure. With a family history of heart trouble, that should have scared him. It didn’t. The thought that he might be falling for her did. He’d never lost his heart to anyone. Ever. And he certainly wouldn’t make a fool of himself with her. She was going places, and when her show ended, she sure as hell wouldn’t be hanging around with an out-of-work carpenter who lived in a dump on the wrong side of town. The table stood by a sculpture. Lucky brought her down from his shoulder and stopped her when she tried to clear the tabletop. He pinned her where she stood, his cock grinding into her pert ass while his hands yanked up her T-shirt. Her tits filled his hands. Her nipples tightened, burning into his rough palms and tempting him to turn her to face him so he could suck and nibble and lick. He resisted and undid her shorts instead, sending coins and mints rolling across the floor. He placed her hands on the edge of the table. After rustling in a drawer for a rubber, he kneeled and ate her out from behind. She wriggled when his tongue probed her slick hole. Then he stopped. She banged her fist on the table. “Don’t you dare stop! I’m so close.” He popped one of the mints into his mouth and swirled his tongue along its peppermint heat. “Relax, babe. I’m not done.” 18
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With the mint balanced on the tip of his tongue, he went straight for her clit. He teased her until her legs gave out, alternating mint and tongue while she knocked everything off the tabletop. Whimpering, panting, she dropped her weight on the table and when the mint was no more, he thrust his tingling tongue back into her cunt. His fingers sought her neglected clit and pinched it lightly. She flailed against him, beating the poor table until her screams ended and her body relaxed. His patient cock disappeared into a condom, and then into her. He tilted her hips up for a tighter fit. She came to life beneath him, matching him stroke for stroke, clenching her pussy muscles to choke the juice out of him. A ripple shot through his balls, and he roared as the spasms came—as he came—until his brain shut down and his body could move no more. He rested his head on her back. “Shower?” She chuckled. “I’m afraid to walk.” He helped her up and led her to the back office. They discovered the tiny stall on their first day while exploring. After bringing some towels, the two had used the shower for cooling off or cleaning up…or for another place to screw. He washed her down with a fistful of bubbles. “Wouldn’t it be cool to live somewhere like this?” she asked. “Lots of space and a cozy room in the back for sleeping.” “And rats in the winter. Plus no heat. Yeah, Miss Country Club. I’d give you one week tops before you run back to your condo in town.” She laughed. “You’d be okay, though. You being the rugged type and all.” He didn’t know how to respond. She probably thought with his stint in jail that he didn’t crave the finer things in life. “Just because I’m a little rough around the edges doesn’t mean I want to live in a dump for the rest of my life.” He finished rinsing himself, grabbed a towel, and left the stall. The water dwindled to a drip. “Hey. Come back. I didn’t mean it 19
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like that.” “I know,” he hollered back. “But when you’ve lived in the places I’ve lived in, you always dream about something nicer. Somewhere clean and safe.” She stepped out wrapped in a towel. “Sorry. I guess I take a lot for granted. Being from a wealthy family and all.” The concern in her eyes made him feel guilty, and he changed the subject. “Are you close to your folks?” “Well, close as I can be. They have a very full social calendar, and I tend to live in my own world. My older sister always embraced high society. Took the pressure off me so I could follow my bliss.” “So you went to art school.” “Yep.” She rolled her eyes. “And did what my professors asked. And decided to teach at a school that prizes conformity above all else.” A sad and thoughtful look crept into her features. “That’s why this show means so much to me.” “Then it means a lot to me, too. Now get back to work.” He gave her bottom a playful pat, and they scurried laughing, wet, and naked from the room. *
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Lucky hugged her while she fidgeted. “Don’t worry, hon. Everything is perfect.” She gnawed a fingernail until her teeth grazed the quick. “Then why am I so damn nervous?” His workman hands framed her face and brought her close for a kiss. “It’s a big deal, that’s why. Just try to enjoy yourself.” He grinned. “Drink plenty of wine.” Sonya took a final look around. Carafes dotted the tables lining the back wall. Empty platters waited for cheese and crackers and fruit. “Okay. I’m going to wait for the food to get here. You go on and get ready.” 20
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She didn’t really want him to leave. He’d been at her side through the whole process. Hell, if it weren’t for him, none of this would be happening. After he left, she fumbled in a box for the labels to each piece and hoped he’d be surprised when he saw them. Flight of Hypocrisy, by Brian Luciano and Sonya Walker. He’d helped make the armatures, he’d asked questions and pushed her to better illustrate the concepts embodied in her work. And he’d done all the woodworking, even the elegant dove carved for Flight. She didn’t know what the department chair would say, but this was a two-person show. If she lost a shot at tenure because of it, so be it. And no matter how tonight turned out for her, Lucky’s future looked bright. She’d put him in touch with a firm specializing in highquality woodworking. Armed with digital images from their work together and other jobs he’d done around town, they took a day off and ventured into Washington D.C. The company owner hired Lucky on the spot for a restoration project in the heart of the city. Her fingertips grazed the lips of a Lucky clone in clay. “I’ll miss you.” Would he still want to see her when he moved away? Driving to DC only took a few hours. Then again, Lucky wasn’t the kind of man who stayed with one person. The city offered hordes of women and plenty of bars. He’d be back to his old ways within a week. Sonya attached the last label to the wall and admired the work they had done together. Even if she never saw him again after tonight, it was worth it. Three weeks of working and laughing and making love together. The best three weeks of her life. *
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What the hell do you wear to an art opening? Lucky ran a hand over the stack of denim that made up half his wardrobe. Some had holes in the knees, and the rest were splattered with paint and varnish. Way in the back, though, hid a black pair from 21
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three Christmases ago. He prayed they still fit. He untied the knot at his hip with shaky hands. When the towel hit the floor, he realized how nervous he’d become in the last hour. He didn’t know how to act around those people. Too old to hang with the students, too dumb to talk to the profs, and way too poor to make small talk with her parents. Maybe he could just nod a lot or pretend he didn’t speak English. He’d used the towel from the warehouse and could smell the scent of her body wash as he picked it up. Drawing the terrycloth closer, he inhaled deeply and thought of how she’d be in bed tonight after it was all over. Would she be tired and sweet, letting him love her slowly while she lay in his sheets? Or would she be wired and ready to relieve all of the tension stored up in her body these past few weeks? He would take her any way she wanted—wicked, needy, tender—as long as she’d promise to stay the night. He’d cleaned up his place, even bought some slipcovers to hide the gaping holes in his sofa. Her condo, with its sleek modern furniture and expensive décor, put his to shame. Hopefully she could appreciate his thrift-store chic and curbside finds. He wanted her in his bed at all costs, so he ignored the thoughts running through his head and worried instead about how people would like her work. Her ideas were good ones, and her figures eerily realistic, even with the rough texture of the clay lumped all over to make the bodies. After slipping on some socks and briefs, he yanked off the tag on the waistband of the jeans. The zipper closed up with ease, and he sighed in relief. Now for the top half. He browsed through the assortment of flannel hanging in his closet. The professors he’d met so far had looked pretty shabby with paint-flecked tees and crumpled khakis. He shrugged on a red, white, and black plaid shirt that could pass for new. A quick glance at the clock told him to get a move on. He grabbed his belt and boots 22
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then headed for the kitchenette. A heady mixture of roses and lavender flooded his senses. He grabbed the bouquet he’d bought on a whim earlier in the day and made for the door. His palms slipped on the steering wheel of his pick-up as he drove downtown. Cars lined the street leading to the old warehouse, every one of them clean and shiny and new. A space between vehicles gave him access to a dirt road, and he eased the truck onto the dusty path. He smiled as a thick cloud of brown settled on the sparkling paintjob of a sports car behind him and patted the dashboard. Nothing like a Ford. The place was packed. College students clustered around the doorway, smoking and trying to look cool. Lucky coughed his way through the haze and search for Sonya in the echo-filled room. Copies of his body remained still amid the mingling guests. Legs— his legs—strong and sturdy like the sculptures of Roman athletes she’d shown him after making love one night supported the weight of the heavy clay. He stepped closer to one of his favorites. He’d put a lot of detail into the bird’s wings and caught himself reaching up to touch the lifelike feathers. Then he noticed the label on a slender pedestal by the sculpture’s right hand. Brian Luciano and Sonya Walker. How long he stood there grinning like a fool, he didn’t know. But he did know that whatever he felt for Sonya was growing. He waited for anxiety to kick in, the what the hell are you doing feeling to take over and bring him to his senses. It didn’t, and his grin grew wider. He saw her then. She stiffened, watching and waiting. When her gaze dropped to the flowers he held, she seemed to cringe. “She must still be nervous,” he thought to himself as he made his way through the crowd. I’d be nervous, too. When she stood only three yards away, someone blocked his path. “She’s talking with the department chair. Hang tight.” The arm in front of him was attached to a smug-looking guy, probably another professor. Lucky took another step in Sonya’s direction. 23
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“I’ll talk to her unless she says otherwise.” His eyes shot to hers. She lowered her gaze and shook her head. The other man patted him on the shoulder. “Want some wine?” “Maybe later.” Lucky walked toward the back office and shut the door. Maybe he hadn’t dressed right; none of her colleagues wore jeans or carried flowers. He knew people tossed bouquets up on stage after an opera. Art must be different. I’m such an idiot. I’ll never fit into her world. He’d picked up bits of conversation while scoping out the exhibit. Lofty phrases he didn’t understand and didn’t want to use to impress some stranger standing by him at a reception. He jogged his memory for the title she’d given his favorite piece. Something about hypocrisy. The air was thick with it outside the door, so he sat down and hoped she’d come to get him. Introduce him to her highbrow friends. He gave her fifteen minutes, and if she didn’t come get him, he’d go out there and introduce his damn self. *
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*
The department chair, Dr. Franken, went in for the kill. She could see it in his eyes. Would he quiz her on concepts or materials, or something completely unexpected? She guessed the latter. “I heard you hired an assistant for this project.” She’d guessed right. Sonya cleared her throat and wondered where this would lead. “Yes, he’s great. He did so much that I consider this a two-person show.” Franken’s mouth thinned to a grim line. “I also heard he’s been assisting you with other things.” “What?” “Don’t play dumb. After last year’s sex scandal involving three freshmen and their instructors, we can’t have this going on. Especially not in one’s own studio.” 24
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“But he wasn’t a student—” “Worse. He was your paid employee. Our department’s reputation is in tatters, and you don’t have the sense to keep a low profile? I’m not sure you’re Melton material. In fact, I advise you to polish you vitae as soon as this exhibit is over. Unless, of course, I’m mistaken and what a student witnessed three weeks ago was the product of an over-active imagination.” Stuart. She’d forgotten all about that day Lucky had come for an interview and someone had walked in on them. That little slacker had always been late for class. “I take it Stuart didn’t like the grade I gave him last semester.” “Not one bit.” Franken paused to cross his arms across his chest. “You’ve been here a while, Sonya. Contrary to what you may be thinking now, I do like you. The whole department likes you. It’s your call. Is he, let’s say, lying to get revenge? Or is he telling the truth?” Waiting for a hole to open up in the floor was pointless. When she spied Stuart talking with the dean, she glanced back at Franken. He leaned in closer. “His family and the dean’s are tight. Very tight. We need to make this problem go away. All I need is your signature on the grade change sheet and Stuart’s report to the Ethics Committee will disappear.” “He deserved to fail. He’s lazy and arrogant and—” “And holding your future in his hands,” replied the chair. As if on cue, Stuart turned to her and winked. “Tenure at Melton is a coveted thing. I’m sure you’ll choose wisely.” With those words, he left her. Denial hovered on the tip of her tongue. It’d be easy to tell Franken what he wanted to hear, and Lucky wouldn’t even have to know. Let him stay a friend, an associate—just for tonight. She’d wanted tenure so badly for too goddamned long. To be a fixture at an institution, to become someone students looked to for advice and inspiration. Starting over would be a bitch, especially with the glut of new MFA grads 25
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flooding the market every year. Dazed and disheartened, she accepted the passing congratulations of her friends and colleagues while weighing the pros and cons in her mind. Her heart flip-flopped when her parents made their entrance. She’d begged them to come and somehow they managed to clear their social calendar for the evening. If they got wind of her indiscretion tonight, she’d never hear the end of it. After exchanging hugs, her parents spotted someone they knew and left her facing the clay man before her. The bird of truth carefully carved by Lucky drew her in. Guilt flooded through her. Giving in to someone else’s demands—Stuart’s, Franken’s, anyone’s—would go against everything this exhibit stood for and could hurt Lucky in the process. Lucky…who’d be leaving town next week to start a new job and a new life. Apart from the fact that he fucked like a wild man, how much did she really know about him? Her earlier doubts came rushing back. Would his new life include her at all? But there was something—a big something—that told her she’d still be seeing him. That he wanted her for more than just sex. They’d grown together during these past few weeks and, most importantly, Lucky had discovered a talent for carving that he never knew he possessed. She’d helped him see that, and he seemed open to letting her encourage him. To push him in new directions and develop his creativity. A glass of wine blocked her view. She pushed the thoughts racing through her head aside and considered the ruby liquid swirling in front of her. “I think you could use a drink.” She took the goblet from Lucky’s hand and drained it in one swallow. He took the glass back from her. “You didn’t look too happy a while ago, talking to your boss. You okay?” When she didn’t answer, he pressed her. “Did I do something stupid?” Sonya rubbed his arm with her free hand. He grimaced. “Still sore?” 26
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she asked. His only answer was a grin. “Sorry. Um, can we talk? Back in the office?” They snaked through the crowd, then closed the door behind them. “I pretty much lost my job tonight, Lucky.” His eyes widened in disbelief and anger. “Everything looks great. What the fuck happened? I don’t know much about art, but I know what you did—” “What we did,” she corrected. “Whatever. It was good stuff.” She took his face in her hands. “Remember our first day in my classroom?” “How could I forget?” When he tried to kiss her, she stepped back. “I meant when someone came in.” He nodded, and she continued. “It was a student. A student I failed last week. The bastard reported it to the University Ethics Committee.” “It’s his word against yours.” His voice lowered to a hush. “You could lie.” At first she thought the purpose of his whisper was to urge her to do just that. To lie. She searched his eyes. He seemed to be testing her like Franken had. She ran her fingers through her hair and tugged at the long locks at her temples. In an instant, everything became clear. Franken’s test meant nothing, but failing in Lucky’s eyes would make all that they’d achieved in three short weeks a farce. “I just spent some of the best days of my life creating art about truth and why some secrets shouldn’t be kept. I’d be a hypocrite. And I worried about hurting you.” “Don’t worry about me, Sonya. I can understand if you want to lie about it and do what they ask…but I’m kinda glad you don’t want to. Then again, I know how much this tenure stuff means to you.” But do you know how much you mean to me? She didn’t expect a 27
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declaration of love, but some hint about how he truly felt would be nice. With a guy like Lucky, a woman who shared her feelings could be in for a lot of hurt. But since tonight’s theme seemed to be about getting everything out in the open, she let the words tumble from her mouth. “Tenure does mean a lot to me. But you do, too.” There. She’d said it. Now the ball was in his court. A hint of a smile tickled his lips, but he remained silent. “And what happened that day, it’s really none of their business, is it?” He nodded in agreement. “Screwing where you work was probably a dumb idea, but, hey, aren’t you artist types ruled by passion and the heart and all that stuff?” “Yeah, we are.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, hoping that whatever he said next would make her heart go pitter-patter. “I think there’s an artist somewhere inside me, too.” He placed her hand over his heart. “What do you think?” “Hmm. I think there’s a lot inside you, Lucky. A lot you need to explore.” He opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out. She decided to let him off the hook. For now. “Wanna meet my parents?” His face contorted into an exaggerated frown. “I don’t know. Do they bite?” “No!” She laughed. “But they will bore you to death with talk of stocks and bonds and golf.” “I can handle that. And for the record, I can handle anyone else out there.” He gave her a hug for reassurance. “Good,” she said, resting her hand on the doorknob, ready to face whatever would happen next. “‘Cause I’m not sure I can do this by myself.” 28
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“Then take my hand.” She did, and when she opened the door, Stuart was waiting for her, arms crossed and mouth smirking as he leaned casually against the wall right outside the office. The haughty twist to his lips made her gut knot up, and bile seared her throat. She swallowed and hoped the gulp wasn’t too visible. “You have something to say to me, Stuart?” Lucky narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to the student. A quick tug on his arm held him back. “I’m waiting,” she said. “Don’t get upset, Ms. Walker. We both need something. You need to keep a secret, and I need a better grade.” Sonya mimicked his stance with all the bravado she could muster. “It’s too bad you didn’t put this much effort into my class. You would’ve passed with flying colors.” Stuart smiled. He looked her up and down, his gaze lingering on her breasts with obvious intent. “But if I’d been a good boy, always doing my work and coming to class on time, I would’ve missed out on seeing the hottest teacher on campus get banged—” Lucky’s fist blazed past her face and smashed into Stuart’s jaw. The smaller man stumbled back into a replica of Lucky’s body. The clay figure absorbed the force with minimal damage, and Stuart would have crumpled to the ground had the sticky clay not held him in place. Lucky tried to get past her, but she grabbed his arm. “I’m not sorry you did that,” she said, “but I will be sorry if you end up in jail for assault.” He took a calming breath, then approached the whimpering undergrad. “You can talk to the dean. You can talk to me. But don’t you ever talk to her again.” The dean and Franken emerged from the whispering crowd to help peel Stuart off the clay form. He got to his feet and rubbed his swollen jaw, then wobbled over to Sonya. A swaying finger pointed to her chest, then Lucky’s. “She’s sleeping with him. I saw them in her 29
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studio.” A student dressed in goth gear stepped out of the crowd. “You’re just jealous ’cause you’re not getting any, Stu.” Several other students came forward to support her. Another one yelled, “Your head’s so far up the dean’s ass, I’m surprised you see anything.” Sonya covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. The dean raised his hands and silenced the hecklers. “This is a disgrace!” His finger joined Stuart’s in singling her out. Then he pointed at Lucky. “You’d better be glad this isn’t on University property.” He turned to Stuart. “Let me take you home, Stu. I have an excellent attorney on retainer.” One stuffed shirt and another covered in red clay brushed past her. Lucky’s arm encircled her while she watched her future walk out the door. “I want to take you home, too—for different reasons.” She peered into his gorgeous eyes and felt her knees turn to mush. “What did you have in mind?” she asked. “Whatever you want.” One night might not be enough. She wanted so many things—to touch him all night, to make him squirm and grunt and groan. To wake up next to him in the morning. He gave her a few seconds to let her thoughts wander, then brought her back to reality. “But let me meet your folks first.” She took hold of his hand. “I’d like that, Lucky.” *
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He squeezed her knee on the way to his apartment and hoped the ancient shocks on his truck wouldn’t give her whiplash. “See, that wasn’t so bad.” “My dad almost had a coronary. My mom practically fainted. And 30
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tenure? I doubt I’ll ever see that in my lifetime.” Sonya buried her face in her hands and groaned. “But you didn’t cave in to that little shit’s demands. Plus you’ve still got money left from your grant, right?” “Yeah. I can survive off of it for about a year. But I live to teach, to help those few good kids who have talent and drive. Without them, I feel empty inside, like I’m not giving back.” He pulled into his parking space and inched closer to where she sat. “There’s a place in Washington called The Corcoran. They teach art there.” “I know. It’s a great school for—” He pressed a thumb to her lips. “They’re hiring for fall.” The mouth he’d grown used to kissing these past few weeks opened wide. He let his thumb drop. “How do you know that?” she asked. A sheepish grin widened across his face. “I asked around the other day when I was in DC.” He shifted on the vinyl seat and ignored the nervous feeling in his stomach. A squeaky spring made itself known and reminded him of all the times he’d nailed some chick as drunk as himself outside of a dive. Suddenly that lifestyle didn’t appeal to him— always moving, always getting laid and laid off. Always starting something new. He wanted something familiar and stable. The job he’d landed in the city offered benefits and steady pay, but he wanted more. He wanted Sonya. If she was close by, he’d take a chance at a real relationship. If she was interested… He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her open palm. The words that came next spilled out in a rush. “And if you wanted to give it a shot, maybe we could move in together.” She didn’t answer right away. The moments stretched out between them, and he silently cursed himself for blurting out his proposition. 31
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“Well?” “Are you sure, Lucky? That’s an awfully big change for a guy like you.” “I think I’m ready for a change.” He slid over to the door of his truck and pulled her with him. When he opened the front door to his apartment, he took a deep breath and hoped for the best. “It’s nothing fancy.” Sonya looked around and smiled. “It’s yours, and it suits me just fine. Now where’s the bed?” He carried her to his room, but before he could lay her gently on the bed, she wriggled free and pushed him down on the mattress. Buttons pinged against the wall. Nails scraped at his chest. Her lips captured a nipple, and she lapped at it with her tongue like she’d done to his cock that first day in her studio. Her hand covered his crotch, pressing hard against him and forcing a groan from his throat. Satisfied with his response, she abandoned the upper half of him and attacked his jeans. After yanking off his boots, she unzipped her dress. It wisped to the floor, leaving her bare body to glow in a stray beam of moonlight. “I want to ride you, Lucky.” He’d planned to take her slowly, caress as if he had all night, but when he reached out to cup her mound, she was already slick with need. He lay back down and watched her straddle his waist. She bent to nibble his earlobe. “I’m on the pill now. I’ve been dying to feel you skin to skin.” His hands guided her hips to his waiting erection. “Me too.” Her pussy opened up to him. She sank down lower and lower as each centimeter of her warmth wrenched the breath from his lungs. After a few strokes, they met bone on bone, and she leaned forward to grind out a rhythm that matched his thundering heartbeat. His prick throbbed, ready to shoot deep inside her pussy, but he wanted to hold 32
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back until she came. He didn’t have to wait long. Her moans grew long and loud, hushing up the cat in heat outside and drowning out the neighbor’s thumping bass. He slammed up into her, hips pumping, ass rising off the bed to feed every bit of his cock into her clean-shaven cunt. The softness of it—of all of her—pushed him closer to bursting. She gave a final moan and fell forward. Silky blonde hair trailed over his nipples, and the sensation rushed him to the edge of orgasm. He lifted his hips to pound deeper, faster, until he exploded into her tight heat. They both jumped when the people partying next door knocked over a trash can. Lucky chuckled. “The only place I could afford in DC sounds about like this. I hope that’s okay.” “If you’re with me, it’ll be more than okay.” She kissed him like she meant it, and for once in his life, Lucky saw some truth in his nickname and a future he could be proud of. When her nails raked along the flannel still on his arms, he winced and let out a yowl. “Aww, poor baby,” she teased. “You really are still sore from all the work I made you do.” He rolled to his side and tugged off his sleeve and the bandage beneath. “I decided to finish something I started.” He watched her reaction in the darkness. “Need the light?” “I think I see it. ‘Lucky in’…what?” She reached over and switched on the lamp. “Ah. ‘Lucky in Love.’ Well, leaving off a name was smart.” He sensed the disappointment in her voice. “At least you won’t have to worry if a new girl comes along.” “Look closer,” he whispered. She squinted for a few seconds, then lightly traced a subtle design embedded in the deep red heart. She found the “S” and smiled. When her fingers outlined the letter “W,” he added, “I’m hoping that won’t happen, Sonya.” She kissed his bicep above the design. “It’s beautiful. A work of art…just like you.” 33
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Lucky tenderly pushed her back to the sweat-cooled sheets and began to worship the curves of her body with his hands. “I’m nowhere near as beautiful as you are.” Sonya tilted her head, and a playful glimmer danced in her green eyes. Then she molded her body to his, burrowing her face against his neck, as if she belonged there. Belonged to him. “You really think so?” she asked. “I know so, babe. And I intend to prove it to you every night.”
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LAURA BACCHI
Laura Bacchi writes romance, erotica, and everything in between. Her science-fiction erotic romance, The Heart of a Hunter, placed second in Phaze.com’s Phaze One Writing Challenge, and her romantic short stories appear regularly in Sun Magazine. A librarian by day, Laura lives in the Southeast with her daughter and a super-supportive husband who is always willing to read her latest work-in-progress and assist with any “research.” Readers are always welcome to drop her a line at
[email protected]. For more about Laura and her work, please visit her website at http://www.laurabacchi.com. *
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After years of experimentation, Dr. Chella Ter-Berron developed a powerful new drug that will make pain a thing of the past. She’ll do anything to find the thief who stole her research—even sleep with the prime suspect. But when the man in question is a hot Cruthian male, her task quickly becomes more about pleasure and less about work.
Kain Suvan might be a thief, but Chella’s research has since been stolen from him. Kain needs the brilliant scientist he’s been lusting after to help him track down the missing file and return it to the High Council for safekeeping. Together, Kain and Chella journey to the edge of the galaxy in a search that yields more questions than answers. And some of those questions can be answered only by the heart…
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