Lucky Kiss

By: Melanie Shawn

Chapter 1

It was official. The devil must’ve been wearing a turtleneck and UGGs, because hell had definitely frozen over.

Lucas “Lucky” Dorsey was staring at the most perfect pair of large, rounded, au naturel tits he had ever seen in his life. They belonged to a knock-out blonde who’d been on Maxim’s Hot 100 not once, not twice, but three times. A woman he’d never sealed the deal with. A woman who was currently sex Skyping—Skyxting, if you will—in the nude with him. A woman who was asking what he wanted her to do to herself, and the only answer he was coming up with was…

I don’t care.

Which was disconcerting, to say the least.

In Lucky’s entire thirty years on this earth, three things—and three things only—had mattered to him: Women. Mixed Martial Arts. Family. In that order.

Lately though, his number one was no longer holding its lifelong appeal. As he looked at his computer screen, he waited for his Dr. Feelgood to feel something. Anything. But unfortunately, his officer was not standing at attention. His love pump was deflated. His one-eyed trouser snake was so far from being charmed, it was sound asleep.

He was bored. Disinterested. Could. Not. Care. Less.

“Hey, listen, Gigi. I gotta go,” Lucky informed the pair of tatas bouncing on the screen as a yawn claimed him.

“What!?” A loud shriek sounded as the angle of the camera shot back up to a face—an extremely pissed-off, but beautiful face. Blue eyes bulged out at him. “Why!?”

He shrugged his right shoulder as he answered with the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. “I’m just not feeling it.”

Could he have made some lame excuse as to why he couldn’t continue Skyxting with this woman who’d been kind enough to bare her beautiful breasts to him? Yes, he could have.

Would it have spared this woman’s feelings? Most likely.

Did brutal honesty have its drawbacks? Absolutely.

But in his experience, anything less only prolonged the inevitable. Lucky wasn’t interested in Barbie Big Boobs no matter how bangin’ her body was, and pretending he was would’ve strung along a girl who he was sure had better offers on the table.

He was doing them both a favor.

“I can’t believe you! You asked me to do this! I canceled a meeting for this!” Gigi screeched in outrage.

“Sorry about that,” he apologized sincerely.

If Lucky would’ve had any idea that his vagina miner wouldn’t be interested in drilling Gigi’s cave, he never would’ve suggested this Skyxting session. He was honest, not cruel. And he never wanted to waste anyone’s time.

He and Gigi had been texting and talking on the phone since they’d met last month at a fundraiser for St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital. A mutual friend had introduced them, and their chemistry had been off the charts. He hadn’t been able to do anything about it then because they were both there with other dates. But Lucky never let a little thing like that keep him from what he wanted. So they’d kept in touch, and within a week, she’d broken things off with her boyfriend of two years and he’d moved on from his hookup of two weeks.

Since then, every time they’d talked, Facetimed, texted, or skyped things had gotten increasingly hotter.

That is, until today, when hell had unexpectedly frozen over.

“You’re sorry!?” she asked—a rhetorical question, he was sure. “Oh, you’ll be sorry! Just wait! You will be sorry!”

Sadly, that wasn’t the first time he’d heard that particular promise-slash-threat. Verbatim, even. He was running about a one-to-three ratio of those words leaving the mouth of a chick he’d been seeing, as their time together came to an end.

Usually, he just sat quietly to let them get out everything they needed to say. If he tried to respond or defend his actions…it made things worse. Any words from him seemed to fan the flames of the firestorm of emotions situations like this ignited in people.

So he’d learned to simply remain silent and take his punches like a man. Closure was the least he could do. Out of all the times he’d been on the receiving end of their veiled—and not so veiled—threats, he’d yet to suffer any of the promised fallout.

He guessed he was just lucky like that.

“Do you know how many guys would kill—kill—to be with me?”

Again, he assumed she was asking rhetorically. Again, he remained as silent as a mime in church.

“Do you really have nothing to say?”

Gigi’s eyes were enlarged and wild. Her face was red. If she were a cartoon character, steam would’ve been escaping from her ears. In mere seconds, she’d transformed into a completely different person than the sexy vixen who’d been on the screen moments before.

It shocked him how a girl could flip a switch and—presto chango—they were unrecognizable. Not just physically either, but emotionally as well, and that was actually a much scarier situation. It was mind blowing to him how quickly their emotions could exit Sane Street and take a sharp turn down Psycho Alley.

“Lucky!?” Gigi prompted.