Chapter Three #4
Maybe it was because I had touched the dough, because Lucky had made it with me, or because for once I was actually paying attention to what I was eating instead of using a meal as something to do beside a screen.
I went back for more.
Lucky noticed.
He did not comment.
I appreciated his continued commitment to excellent judgment.
We divided the bottle of wine slowly between us through dinner, water on the table beside it. By the time I finished my second glass, I was warm from food, alcohol, the fire, and Lucky’s company, but my thoughts remained perfectly clear.
Conversation wandered instead of following any useful agenda.
Lucky told me about growing up believing every father kept enough hardware in his truck to rebuild a staircase at a moment’s notice.
I told him about the first time an actor missed a mark so badly that half the crew silently shifted equipment around him because resetting the person would have taken longer than resetting the entire shot.
“Did anyone tell him?” Lucky asked.
“Absolutely not. We congratulated him and moved on.”
“That feels dishonest.”
“That is called producing.”
His laugh carried across the table.
At some point we stopped talking.
The quiet stretched.
Bear slept near the hearth, his paws twitching against the rug. Snow brushed the windows with a soft, persistent whisper. The fire settled behind the screen with occasional cracks from the burning wood.
I could hear the refrigerator humming.
Lucky took a sip of wine.
I did not reach for my phone.
A minute passed, maybe more.
Nothing needed to fill it.
Eventually I looked at the cake cooling on the counter.
“I believe we have unfinished business.”
Lucky followed my gaze. “I was wondering when you’d remember dessert.”
“I never forgot dessert. I was exercising patience.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“Let’s not make this emotional.”
The buttercream was soft enough to spread, and Lucky handed me the offset spatula.
I eyed it.
“That looks sharp-adjacent.”
“It isn’t sharp.”
“I appreciate the technical clarification.”
The first pass went smoothly.
The second created a ridge in the frosting.
I tried to flatten it and made another one.
Lucky stood beside me while I attempted a third correction.
“You know you’re allowed to leave it like that.”
“I know.”
I moved the spatula once more.
A small swirl formed near the edge.
It was not symmetrical.
It was not what a pastry chef would have done.
It was also clearly frosting on a chocolate cake.
I set the spatula down.
“I’m done.”
Lucky leaned closer to inspect it. “Looks good.”
“It looks homemade.”
“It is homemade.”
I turned my head. “You rely very heavily on facts when I’m seeking reassurance.”
Lucky laughed.
A dark streak of chocolate marked the side of his index finger where he had moved the cake onto the plate.
My attention caught on it, and he noticed.
Neither of us pretended otherwise.
I reached for his wrist.
Lucky went still beneath my touch.
The skin there was warm, the tendons moving faintly beneath my fingers.
I drew his hand toward my mouth and slowly licked the chocolate from his finger.
The playful ease in his expression changed.
His green eyes darkened.
“That was deliberate.”
“Completely.”
His voice had gone lower.
Lucky dipped another fingertip into the vanilla buttercream and held it between us, waiting.
I leaned forward and took his finger into my mouth.
Sweetness spread across my tongue.
I closed my lips around him for one deliberate second before drawing back.
Lucky’s throat worked.
His free hand came up, touching my cheek lightly.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Yes.”
The first kiss was warm and controlled.
The second lasted considerably longer.
My back met the edge of the island as I pulled him closer, fingers sliding into his hair while his arm came firmly around my waist. He tasted faintly of wine and chocolate, but beneath both was simply Lucky—warm skin, clean soap, the slight roughness of his beard against my mouth.
The size of him surrounded me without making me feel trapped.
I wanted more of it.
Lucky kissed along my jaw.
I tipped my head.
His beard scraped beneath my ear, and a shiver ran down my spine.
My nipples tightened under the soft sweater.
Lower down, my pussy pulsed with the same wanting that had been building since yesterday, only stronger now because there was no maintenance call, no broken door, no property problem between us—only choice.
I turned my face and found his mouth again.
We reached the couch without either of us proposing a route.
Lucky sat, and I settled partly across his lap, one knee tucked beside his hip. His palm slid beneath the back of my sweater, spreading warmth over my skin.
I made a soft sound against his mouth.
He slowed immediately.
“You good?”
“More than good.”
“I wanted to make sure.”
I smiled. “I know.”
Then I kissed him until he stopped asking questions for a while.
His body was hard beneath mine. I felt the thick pressure of his cock through his jeans when I shifted closer, and the physical evidence of what I was doing to him sent another rush of arousal through me.
I liked being wanted by him, liked knowing it, liked that neither of us was pretending not to know anymore.
Lucky’s mouth moved to my throat.
My fingers tightened in his hair.
For once, wanting something did not need to become complicated before I said it.
“Lucky.”
He lifted his head.
“I want to go to the bedroom.”
“You want me to come with you?”
“Yes.” I ran my thumb along the edge of his beard. “Very much.”
Lucky stood with me in his arms.
A laugh escaped me as my feet left the floor, and instinct made my hands catch his shoulders.
For half a second, the familiar response appeared: I could walk. I had two functioning legs. There was no reason for another adult to carry me down a hallway I had successfully crossed dozens of times.
Then Lucky adjusted his hold beneath my thighs, steady and effortless.
I looked at him.
He looked back.
“Want me to put you down?”
I wrapped my arms around his neck.
“No. Keep going.”
His smile spread slowly.
“That I can do.”
The perspective from six feet four inches was surprisingly satisfying.
I kissed him all the way to the bedroom.
Lucky set me on my feet beside the bed instead of deciding what happened next. His palms rested loosely at my waist while both of us caught our breath.
“I want to cover something before we get too far to have a sensible conversation.”
“Protection.”
“Yeah.”
“I have an IUD. I was tested recently, everything was clear, and there hasn’t been anyone since.”
Lucky nodded. “Same. Recently tested, clean, nobody since. I have condoms if you want one anyway.”
I held his gaze. “I don’t.”
“Neither do I. But it needed to be your choice too.”
“It is.”
I tugged lightly at the hem of his henley. “Now I would like this off.”
Lucky’s smile returned. “That sounded like a direction.”
“I’m excellent at directions.”
He pulled the shirt over his head.
Any witty response I might have had became temporarily unavailable.
I had seen the shape of him under clothes for two days. That had not adequately prepared me for broad bare shoulders, a muscular chest dusted with dark hair, or the strong narrowing line of his abdomen disappearing beneath his jeans.
I reached for him because looking was no longer sufficient.
His skin was hot beneath my palms. I moved over his chest and shoulders, enjoying the simple fact that I finally could. Lucky’s stomach tightened when my fingertips traveled lower.
His reaction pleased me enough that I wanted another.
I reached for his belt.
Lucky caught my hand gently and brought it back to his chest.
“Come here first.”
His mouth covered mine.
He undressed me slowly, asking before he lifted my sweater and waiting while I stepped out of my trousers. By the time my bra joined the rest of my clothes, my hair had worked loose enough to fall over one shoulder.
Lucky’s attention moved over me.
There was nothing polite about the desire in his face.
My skin flushed.
He touched my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples before his mouth replaced one hand.
Pleasure shot straight through me.
I gripped his shoulders.
“Oh, that feels good.”
Lucky lifted his head just enough to answer. “Then I’m not changing anything.”
He went back to what he was doing.
I laughed, then lost the laugh when his tongue moved over my nipple again.
He kissed lower, across my stomach, down toward the waistband of my underwear. When his fingers hooked lightly beneath it, he looked up.
“Yes,” I said.
Lucky slid the fabric down my legs.
I lay back against the bed while he moved between my thighs.
My first instinct was to reach for him—to touch him, make sure he was enjoying this, keep the exchange even.
Lucky caught my hand gently and kissed the inside of my wrist.
“You can touch me because you want to. You don’t have to keep me busy while I’m touching you.”
The accuracy of that irritated me for approximately one second.
Then his mouth brushed the inside of my thigh.
“I want to touch you.”
“I know. You’ll get to.” He kissed higher. “What do you want right now?”
My answer came quickly this time.
“Your mouth.”
Lucky’s attention sharpened.
“Good.”
Then his tongue touched my pussy.
My hips lifted off the bed.
The sensation was warm, wet, and direct, no slow teasing designed to make me beg for something I had already asked for. He licked over my clit, adjusted when my thighs tightened, and did it again.
“Oh, fuck.”
Lucky made a low approving sound against me.
One of my hands found his hair.
He slid a finger inside me while his tongue circled my clit.
The pressure built immediately.
Then he added a second finger and curled them.
I gasped.
“Again.”
Lucky did exactly that.
I stopped thinking about how long it was taking, stopped wondering whether I should be quieter, and stopped planning what I ought to do next for him.
His mouth stayed where I needed it. His fingers kept the same rhythm instead of changing because I had reacted.
Pleasure gathered harder and tighter until my legs began to shake.
“Don’t stop. I’m close.”
He didn’t.