Lucky for Him

by Rachel Randall

  It’s about—

  “Sex,” Renzo breathes. The word is hoarse, throaty. Rob watches his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows convulsively in time to Rob’s squeezes.

  Rob pumps his fist, letting the foreskin glide through his fingers. He feels out the curve, enjoying every solid inch, then slicks his thumb on the leaking tip and runs it across the glans. He’s in the driver’s seat now, he can feel it in the subtle tremble of the other man’s body against him. The knowledge of his power makes him slow down even further, resisting when Renzo tries to push faster through the vise of his fingers.

  “That was so hot before,” he says. He’s practically blind from the salt in his eyes, the lust raging through him. All he can see is Renzo’s open, panting mouth, the fine lines at the corners of his clamped-shut eyes, the vivid blue sky burning above them. “Down on her knees, sucking me. I know—ahhh—I know it was her idea. You can’t make Lucky do anything she doesn’t want to, can you? But sharing her with me—”

  Renzo grapples for Rob’s free arm and succeeds in pinning it down to the deck. His eyes open, glassy, his pupils contracting as he focuses. “Shut up and fuck,” he commands.

  Rob fastens his mouth to the side of Renzo’s throat. He can’t get enough of the taste and he can feel the other man responding, his body tightening and tensing and pushing harder against his. Rob throbs with impatience.

  “Your hand,” he gasps, moving his mouth just long enough to get the word out before he goes back to sucking and licking up every bit of salt and musk on offer. Renzo scrabbles between them, his hand finding first his own cock then Rob’s. The webbing of his palm is calloused. Rob whines as Renzo steers their straining cocks together, then joins him, combining his movements to push and pull in a roughened rhythm. There’s friction underneath the pre-cum glossing their skin, just enough to bite with pleasure. He loses track of which is his hand, which is Renzo’s, whose full balls he’s kneading, whose foreskin is stretched out and wet. Whose orgasm builds first doesn’t even matter, because their hitching breath and the bruising pace of their fists mean they’re both going to come. They’re going to come, they’re going to—

  Rob’s body shudders, going utterly limp underneath Renzo’s. I still can’t fucking breathe, he thinks, but he starts to grin anyway.

  Renzo moves furiously, just seconds behind him. Warmth spreads between their bodies, trickling down Rob’s thigh, pooling in his navel. It’s brilliant.

  “We made a mess of your boat,” Rob points out. He’s ended up splayed on the deck, arms spread wide, embracing the sun. Renzo is finally off him, on his side, a bemused expression on his face as he surveys the carnage. There’s a loud rattle as, behind them, the glider fights its moorings to escape back out to sea.

  “It’s a big boat,” Renzo says. He sounds very pleased with himself.

  “It’s a big mess.” Rob kisses him, open-mouthed.

  “We’ll have to make you swab the deck then,” Jade says. She’s wearing enormous sunglasses that shade her face and a white bikini that shades practically nothing. Her tablet computer is lying abandoned beside her. With her palm splayed across her Lycra-covered pussy, she sounds breathless herself. Rob has no idea how long she’s been there watching, but there’s no question she’s enjoyed the show.

  She tosses him a towel. “Go get cleaned up. We expect you to dress for dinner so we can undress you again.”

  “So now I’m your sex slave, not your prisoner?” he manages, still panting.

  Renzo holds Rob in place with an arm around his waist.

  Jade says, “Don’t be silly. You’re the onboard entertainment.”

  Chapter Six

  It’s very late when Renzo comes to his bedside. Gentle but insistent hands shake Rob awake. He’s naked and sleep-drugged and follows without question as his host leads him down the corridor to a private lift. Up it goes. They don’t speak. They stand close.

  Nothing else on this luxury oasis can compare to the place where Renzo Vega invites him now. Nestled at the top of the ship, at the zenith of this isolated world, is a room made almost entirely of glass. It’s so large that it juts over both sides of the ship, over open water. What Rob’s inexpert eye had taken as a control room for the captain from the outside is actually the private kingdom of a billionaire.

  In the centre of the room is an enormous sunken circle of cream-coloured cushions. An antique brass telescope, set beside its professional twenty-first century cousin, are the only other furnishings. There is one solid wall where they are standing as the lift closes behind them. Discreetly inset panels offer technological solutions. Shade. Opaque. Music. Service. Map overlay. Wet bar. These last two are intriguing, but Renzo tells him, “Come,” and Rob follows again, still lost in this dream. And that’s how he discovers that at its edges, the floor is made from glass as well.

  It’s like being on the glider again, flying. It’s like falling again, and being frightened of the water. Beneath his feet, on every side of him, the ship is racing over the waves, kilometres falling away in foam and surf. Racing towards tomorrow, and every possibility it offers.

  “Lights,” Renzo commands, and almost immediately the lights in the room go out. In fact, they go out all across the ship leaving only the safety and warning lights at its very farthest reaches.

  It takes a few moments, but when his eyes adjust…

  “Las estrellas,” Rob realises, and presses himself to the glass.

  Stars, stars, so many of them that they crowd into the glass and press him back. The floor spins beneath him as the waves reflect back the sky’s fire.

  Renzo’s breath is slow and even against the back of Rob’s neck. Awed by the ends of the world, Rob thinks he understands. You can’t live this life alone.

  Jade is waiting. When Rob tumbles into the circle at the centre of the room, she’s there to wrap herself around him, to ground him here on earth. She smells warm, like sex. He moves immediately to her pussy, desperate for the taste of her. She cries out at the first touch of Rob’s tongue, but he’s damned if he’s going to show her any mercy. Her salty musk coats his mouth. He can feel her shivers vibrate through him and she clings like a limpet as he sucks her clit free of its hood. It’s not enough, though, he still hasn’t touched her enough. His hands are at her straining thighs, stopping her from clamping them shut.

  She’s whimpering Renzo’s name, not his, and Rob finds himself loving her for her defiance. But still his ego roars, demanding acknowledgement. He drags his fingers across her folds, drawing out her quivers, before he plunges three fingers into her. She takes him immediately, closing around him in hot, wet welcome.

  “Rob—”

  “That’s right,” he urges.

  Beside him, lying so close that their bodies touch, Renzo is tugging his own cock. The sense-memory of how that curved thickness felt against his palm overlays the sensations of his fingers moving inside Jade.

  “If you could have anything tonight, Lucky,” Rob whispers. “Him, me, us. How would you take it?”

  She keens and arches up, climaxing in tiny spasms around him. Her body helps him to know just where to rub to get more cream from her. It’s only after he’s been pulled away by Renzo and pushed onto his back against the cushions that he realises she hasn’t replied.

  Jade straddles him, her knees pressing into his hips as she settles across his groin. Underneath her meltingly supple flesh, his penis hardens. She gives him a smile with the edges worn away by her orgasm. He pushes up, grinding against her. He gasps as her slippery entrance embraces him.

  “Let me have you,” he urges. Just the barest nudge of his hips will push him fully into her. He’s so close to taking her it aches.

  Renzo stirs, saying something in Spanish too quickly for Rob to translate. He gets the meaning, though, as Jade slides across Rob to straddle the other man. He fights back his disappointment. Now it’s his turn to touch himself, a poor substitute, as Jade opens her mouth for Renzo’s tongue. They kiss for what seems an
eternity of warm, succulent sounds, each well-pleasured sigh licking at his arousal.

  She wraps her hand around his wrist, stilling his pumping hand. “Lie as close to him as you can,” she commands.

  Hips bump. Jade lies on top of Renzo, but it’s Rob she kisses now. She eats into his mouth, her tongue flicking against his with growing urgency. Rob can taste Renzo on her lips. He searches out every bit of the man’s potent flavour as he carefully begins to ease Jade off Renzo and back onto his body. Her nipples are hard buds that catch across his own.

  “You boys today,” she whispers in his ear, “tasted so good. All that cum. Do you have more for me?”

  She’s pornographic. She’s perfect.

  “Yes.”

  “Let me have it—”

  “Yes, take it—”

  She sinks down. Just an inch. Squeezes around him. His eyes fly open. She’s a shadow above him, gilded by the silver of the stars around them. She’s setting him on fire with her body. Then she’s moving, lifting off him and lowering herself on Renzo instead.

  “Christ,” Rob whispers.

  She’s giving Renzo just a taste. Squeezing around him, too shallow. Making Renzo curse too. She places her palm flat against his chest to steady herself and rocks back and forth, moaning as she hits some sweet spot.

  When she moves back across Renzo’s body, Rob helps her eagerly. His hands close around her waist and pull her back down to him. She reaches down, holding the leaking tip of his cock in place so she can position him just so. Rob grits his teeth as she sinks again, this time deeper, like she can’t quite help herself. He feels his dick parting her and aches to push. To flip her over and get better leverage so he can go as deep as he can. He’s not sure if he wants to eradicate all traces of Renzo or work them into her. The intimacy, the lack of barriers between them, is making him crazy.

  Renzo’s warmth disappears from beside him. Before Rob can think to wonder, Jade is lifted away. Both of them groan. Renzo kneels over him with Jade in his arms, in his control. The display of strength is as arousing as it is frustrating. Rob’s hips surge up but Jade is lifted away before he can take advantage.

  “You wanted to share her,” Renzo says.

  Oh.

  Renzo pushes her so she slides down onto Rob—so wet, no resistance. They whimper at the flood of sensation. She’s ready but he’s still big, and the pressure makes them cry out again. She shifts, wanting to move, but Renzo’s hands on her shoulders keep her seated exactly where she is. Rob has none of that leverage he wants so badly. He can only jerk his hips beneath her, putting pressure on her pubic bone as she leans forward seeking friction.

  Later, he’ll have no idea how long they move like this. All he knows is that the pressure builds and builds under Renzo’s direction. That Jade moves where he tells her, that Rob moves where he tells him. That eventually they are both begging for release.

  Renzo comes just after Jade does, hot against their skin. Rob’s orgasm takes him by surprise in the end. He’s buried deep when the spasms take him, and they murmur encouragement as he lets himself go.

  Chapter Seven

  Rob wakes again in his own bed, with his head surprisingly clear and his body still humming. He takes a moment to soak it in, letting the memories lap over him like the waves he can hear against the hull of the ship. His skin is covered in trophies—the marks of her teeth, bruises from his fingers.

  Today, there’s a pair of swimming shorts laid out for him. They’re pale blue, and fitted, like the ones worn by Daniel Craig in his first Bond film. Jade’s idea, he thinks, and grins. The trunks fit perfectly, of course, leading to the question of what they could possibly have in store for him today. He hadn’t needed any such thing last night, when they’d eventually dragged themselves out of the cushions and down to one of the pools. Floating there beside them, with the white noise of his own blood deafening his ears, he’d felt truly at peace.

  He’ll take that with him, he knows, along with this new focus he’s found here. The satisfaction of something worth pursuing will keep him on this course.

  He emerges onto the deck to see Renzo and Jade deep in conversation. She’s wearing a scarlet one-piece that shows off her athletic body. A matching scarf around her throat and looped up over her head adds a touch of supermodel to the scene. Renzo’s in navy shorts and a gleaming white polo shirt.

  They look expensive and untouchable, yet as Rob approaches he can see that he’s not the only one with marks. There’s a hint of beard-burn on Renzo’s throat from Rob’s attentions, and Jade’s holding herself a little self-consciously, like she can still feel them deep inside her. They break off their conversation as he approaches, and Rob feels a surge of exhilaration at the heavy-lidded looks on both of their faces as they watch him approach. There’s no way he can possibly indulge again this morning—surely even these two must have refractory periods—but he can think of plenty of other fascinating things they could do with that bit of code he created yesterday, those handcuffs and whatever that Map overlay button does.

  Jade takes in the sight of him with raised brows. “You look like you’ve been attacked by a school of bloodsucking jellyfish.”

  “Very nice,” Renzo agrees. He traces one particularly dark bruise, pressing firmly enough to make Rob jump.

  “I wonder what the locals will think?” Jade muses. “Sea god or sea monster?”

  Rob, who has been staring down at Renzo’s tanned hand on his skin, blinks up at her. “Locals?”

  Her eyes are too bright. He’s reminded immediately of the way she looked at the party, that greedy predator’s grin. Glancing warily over his shoulder, he sees that the endless blue-white of the horizon has smudged into a darker band of brown-grey. As Estrella storms across the waves, the smudge begins to resolve itself into sand and rock, with little stick people moving across it.

  “Land-ho,” she says.

  Surprised, Rob turns to Renzo. “We’re making port?”

  It’s Jade who replies, “We are making port this evening. You’ll be leaving a little earlier.” She gestures, and Rob sees that the springboard from the pool on the mid-deck has been moved out over a gap in the railing. It’s a…plank.

  “You’ve got to be joking.” The shoreline still looks very far away. “You’re going to throw me overboard again?”

  “Oh, man up, big boy. I don’t think there are any sharks.”

  “None except you,” he mutters. Rob appeals to reason. “Renzo, you can’t be serious.”

  He looks unconcerned. “I told you from the beginning, the lady may do with her captive as she pleases.”

  Rob stares at them both, then the humour of his situation bursts over him. “You’re both bloody lucky I can swim.”

  Renzo’s farewell kiss is spicy but all too brief. “Don’t disappoint us, corazón.”

  Laughing, Rob says, “Trust me, there’s only one thing more intimidating than your hospitality, and that’s your non-disclosure agreement. You’ll hear from me soon.”

  They shake hands, more lingeringly, then Rob lets his pirate crowd him out onto the board. She pushes roughly at him, like she wants to touch him but needs a good excuse.

  “You’ll come to London?”

  “I prefer to work here. June’s much nicer on the Med.”

  “London,” he tells her. “Within the month. Or I’ll come find you. And stare like a sulking teenager. And burn your damn firewalls to the ground.”

  Predator’s grin. Greedy, greedy. Gleeful, even. I did that, he thinks.

  “Oh, fine.” She winks at him. “I suppose we can always test each other’s protocols.”

  At the very edge, they pause, balancing together. Her scarf brushes across his skin as it flutters like a red flag in the sea breeze.

  “One more kiss,” he demands of her, “for luck.”

  She tastes like salt as she smiles against his mouth.

  He dives.

  Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:

  Temptin
g Temps: Temporary Truce

  Rachel Randall

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  The first shot took me high on the thigh, coming uncomfortably close to unmanning me. Next came the jolt of agony and, with it, a pleasurable rush of adrenaline. A red stain spread rapidly across my trousers, shockingly vivid in the sunshine.

  I called out, but there was no offer of help, nor any reply from the hunter using me for target practice. Nothing, except for the menacing crunch of footsteps in the undergrowth. Heart pounding, I lifted my briefcase as a protective shield and headed up the driveway, but the safety of The Lodge was still a hundred metres away.

  I’d requested this location on the outskirts of Richmond because I’d guessed it would be as far from the centre of London—and all the city’s distractions—as my notoriously difficult new clients would be willing to go. But, now, isolation seemed like a very bad idea.

  I managed no more than a dozen limping steps towards the house before my would-be assassin stalked out of the woods, barring my way. She was a stunning redhead, wearing jeans that fitted her like a second skin. Suddenly, worrying seemed redundant. What was the point when the sight of her alone was already enough to slay me?

  Bobbed hair fell across her serious expression. “Your leg looks painful.” With a practiced jerk of her hands across the pommel of her gun, she reloaded. “You’ll have to use your tie as a tourniquet.”

  There was something so business-like about the way she said it that I was tugging at my half-Windsor before my startled laughter caught up with me. The assault weapon she hefted so casually read ‘Paint and Play’ on the barrel, while most of the ‘blood’ coating me with scarlet had already gummed to a peelable latex.

  She didn’t quite manage a smile. But she didn’t shoot me again either, which, given her reputation, was more than I’d expected. I found myself feeling sorry for those poor sods who crossed her path in the courtroom.