Snippet Monday: Lou n Lucky #amwriting #erotic #paranormal #romance #interracial

Hey y’all. Heroine Lou is soaking in Lucky’s loving like, well like one of his plants…Enjoy this unedited snippet. Lemme know what you think! – SS

It got weird quick. She barely left the house anymore. He and Potts pretty much controlled what she ate, and Lucky often determined when she got out of bed and when she went to sleep at night. He even decided when she’d wash because he’d lead her into the bathroom and give her a shower like some extremely tall Japanese handmaiden.

She had an extraordinarily hard time saying no to him. First of all, he aroused her effortlessly, and when she wanted him her body didn’t listen to her mind. It just wanted to lay back, open up and let him pound everything away. Last, he could be quite manipulative when he wanted her. He’d pout, pretend to be hurt, angry, anything if it got him what he wanted – her.

Before she tried to go for walks at least every other day, if only to work out the kinks from sitting at her desk all day. But since Lucky arrived, they seemed to have faded. She speculated it was the all the sex that was doing it. She’d read somewhere that sex was an acceptable form of exercise.

Despite the inactivity – relatively speaking – she didn’t feel weak or infirm. In fact, the more she slept with him, the better she felt. She wondered aloud to Potts if it was possible to become addicted to another human being.

“How so?”

“Like chemically.”

“No idea, Miss. Could be you’re just happy.”

Could be.

“I miss complaining,” she complained to Tommy. “Lucky’s got all my apartments fixed, they’ve all been rented, none of my tenants are assholes – so far – and the place is beautiful. I swear nothing in this joint would dare break. If something even thinks about getting loose, he’s there, tool belt at the ready.”

“Cry me a river, honey,” her friend laughed. “How are you managing through all the pain? Say, what do you think of the term lifestyle specialist?”

“Pretentious for some, but for you, completely appropriate. Why?”

“I’m doing my thrice yearly web site redesign, and freshening my branding at the same time.”

“Well, it makes sense. You’re certainly more than a publicist, more than a stylist, more than a party planner. It fits.”

“Yeah. It does. But listen, don’t complain about having to complain about. Just soak in the joy while you can. Life has a way of throwing curveballs when you least expect them.”

“No shit,” Lou laughed. “I’m off. I gotta write before he gets here and wants to have sex with me.”

“Tragic life you’re leading, Lou. Absolutely tragic,” and Tommy hung up to the sound of her friend’s laughter.

Weeks passed. She got to the point where she had to fuck him before she went out. It was part of her routine, customary, like tipping your hat in the old west when you greeted someone. After he made her come once or twice, and she was limp with feel good hormones, she usually forgot she wanted to leave the house anyway.

On the rare occasions she followed through, he often went with her. She never asked for his company, mind. He just invited himself along, and it was never important enough for her to stop him. so far he’d accompanied her to a meeting with her accountant – Lucky spent all his time with a junior associate interrogating him in the nicest way possible about the office goings on – a meeting with Tommy – where he fixed a loose door knob and a faucet where the water had mysteriously slowed to a trickle – and a trip to TJ Maxx to look for some new pots – Potts had accompanied them too. He did not trust Lou to get anything decent, and he would be using them most anyway.

Mostly, however, Lou went no farther than the garden, which now had a lovely new patio area thanks to her handyman. She’d bring her laptop out there and post up with a glass of something semi-sweet – Potts was determined to quell her sweet teeth and was slowly and painfully weaning her off juice – and write until Lucky appeared.

Occasionally she’d pull weeds in the new vegetable plot. A blooming experiment Potts had requested. Lucky didn’t have a green thumb, he seemed to have several completely green limbs things grew so abundantly and easily for him. They’d started to leave overflow vegetables in a basket in the common area, and he looked on with satisfaction when he saw one of the tenants picking up a few tomatoes or some of the mint that grew like weeds.

Sometimes Lou felt like one of Lucky’s plants. Waiting to be watered, tended, and under his patient care, she thrived.

“You’re a blessing,” she whispered into his flesh one night.

The warm, loving stroking she got in return was better than any thank you. But she meant it. He was like a 6’4 inch Bandaid that soothed her mind and spirit as easily as a shot of whiskey.

Before Lucky she’d liked a shot – or two – when the memories got to be too much. Try as she might to forget her former career, she still missed directing. It was an intense, multi-headed dragon. One she’d conquered more than once, increasingly attracting bigger and bigger beasts each time. She’d thrived on the endless challenges. And while she was an introvert by nature, she enjoyed being around creative people.

She figured if it wasn’t for her girlfriends and her books and Potts, she’d probably dry up as an artist. Of course, her fixation with her handyman’s laugh – a charming, raspy, he he he that never failed to bring a smile to her face – now provided ample inspiration. It helped that he was usually directing said charming laugh at her. He seemed to find her endlessly interesting. It was enough to go to a girl’s head.

If she was a regular girl. Which she was not, thank you very fucking much…

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