Page 12 of Lucky
Lucky lets out a grunt as I swallow him into my mouth, my saliva coating every inch of his skin. My mouth glides up and down, even as my hand massages his balls. I feel the skin of his sac tightening, the impending explosion as it spirals through him and he lifts and arches into my mouth with one heady thrust, exploding down my throat with a moan.
I don’t move until I’ve swallowed every last drop of his come and licked him dry. I climb into his lap, my knees pressing into the cushions on either side of him. His hands slide up my thighs, but I grab his wrists again, pinning them against the back of the couch.
“I said, not until I say so,” I remind him, my lips brushing against his, my words a whisper of heat and promise.
His dark eyes meet mine, blazing with a mix of frustration and desire, and it’s intoxicating. For once, Lucky Gatti isn’t in control. He’s mine, and I have all the control over him. The realization sends a jolt of energy through me.
I move against him, slow and deliberate, my fingers tangling in his hair as his breath hitches, his control fraying with every passing second.
We fit together like a hand and glove, every movement, every touch igniting something deeper, something raw and primal. It’s not just lust—it’s a yearning, a need that’s been simmering beneath the surface of our aching hearts, finally breaking free.
When I finally let go of his wrists, his hands are on me in an instant, pulling me closer, his lips trailing fire down my neck. I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders as the tension between us reaches a fever pitch.
In this moment, there’s no pretense, no walls, no games. Just us—bare, unguarded, and burning for each other.
And when he whispers my name, low and reverent, it feels like a promise, one I didn’t realize I’d been waiting for.
I fucked Lucky Gatti.
I don’t know if that makes me some kind of superstar or just stupid.
Maybe some of my decisions lately haven’t been the best, but sleeping with him is one I refuse to regret.
I meet Marco’s glare with an arched brow, sliding into the backseat and smoothing my skirt over my thighs. “You’re in a mood tonight,” I say, my tone cool, unbothered.
“It took you damn long enough. You look like you’ve been thoroughly fucked,” Marco snaps, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. He turns to face me, his jaw clenched tight enough to crack a tooth. “Do you understand how dangerous it was for you to come out tonight?”
“Dangerous?” I echo, feigning surprise as I fasten my seatbelt with deliberate slowness. “I was probably in the safest place on earth tonight. You know the sort of patronage the club collects.”
“This isn’t a joke, Jacklyn,” Marco growls, his knuckles whitening. “You can’t just disappear into a place like this on your own. Especially not one owned by the Gattis. You don’t know what they’re capable of.”
I lean back, letting my head rest against the seat. The leather is cool against my overheated skin, and I close my eyes for a moment, smiling to myself. “I know exactly what they’re capable of, Marco.” Especially the third brother. Damn, he can fuck.
His silence is louder than any scream.
I crack one eye open to look at him. His face is a storm cloud, the veins in his neck straining, his mouth pressed into a grim line.
“You’re being dramatic,” I say, waving a hand dismissively. “I went into a club. I had a drink. I danced. I’m still alive. The world didn’t end.”
“You didn’tjusthave a drink,” he spits. “And you didn’tjustdance.”
“Oh?” I ask, tilting my head. “Do enlighten me, Marco. What exactly did I do?”
His eyes flicker to the rearview mirror, meeting mine for a brief, furious second before he looks away. “You’re smarter than this, Jacklyn. At least, I thought you were.”
The words hit harder than I want to admit, but I refuse to let it show. Instead, I lean forward, crossing my elbows on the back of the passenger seat as I look at him. “Let me ask you something, Marco,” I say, my voice low, steady. “Do you trust me?”
He scoffs, shaking his head. “This isn’t about trust?—”
“Do you trust me?” I repeat, cutting him off.
His jaw works, his hands flexing on the wheel. “Of course, I trust you,” he says finally, through gritted teeth. “But that doesn’t mean I trusthim.”
I sigh, leaning back again. “Heisn’t the problem, Marco. The problem is that you can’t accept that I know what I’m doing.”
“What you’redoing,” he snaps, turning in his seat to glare at me, “is walking a razor’s edge with that family. They will chew you up and spit you out the first chance they get. You think you’re untouchable because you’ve got me and the others watching your back? You’re wrong, Jacklyn. Dead wrong.”
“Noted,” I say dryly, turning to look out the window. The city lights blur past, neon streaks against the darkened sky. “Get me home.”