Lucky 13: An Older Man Younger Woman Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants #13) Read online

  LUCKY 13

  AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE

  _______________________

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 13

  FLORA FERRARI

  CONTENTS

  Copyright

  A Man Who Knows What He Wants Series

  Lucky 13

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Coming Soon

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright © 2017 by Flora Ferrari.

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS

  Book 1: Baby Lust

  Book 2: Veteran

  Book 3: Built

  Book 4: Bambino

  Book 5: Rescued

  Book 6: Leader

  Book 7: Professor

  Book 8: Burned

  Book 9: Worldly

  Book 10: Pistol

  Book 11: Policed

  Book 12: Driven

  Book 13: Lucky 13

  Book 14: Lumberjacked

  LUCKY 13

  Some guys have all the luck.

  And if luck be a lady tonight, then I’ve got a full house…a full house of women lining up for the biggest c*** in Las Vegas. A full thirteen inches of thickness.

  They call me the “Schlong of the Strip,” “Her Ultimate Hold 'Em,” and the “C*** from Clark County,” but they can’t stop calling.

  Except her.

  I see her in the crowd. She checks me out, and I raise. I want to ante up and see if her slot's ready for a big deposit, but she only wants a safe game with low limits.

  She’s the first girl ever who’s playing high stakes with my emotions, and I can’t read her poker face.

  They said the king could do no wrong, but I ran into an ace.

  I thought twenty-one was lucky in Vegas, but it's her first time experiencing Sin City.

  I'm going to do whatever it takes to show her we're two of a kind...the perfect pair.

  She thinks I’m gambling with her heart, but all I want is for her to pull the handle and hit the jackpot that shoots us into the stratosphere to paradise…forever.

  *Lucky 13 is an insta-everything standalone romance with an HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.

  Get your FREE extended epilogue of Lucky 13 by signing up to my mailing list. You’ll receive an email as soon as it’s available.

  *If you already signed up, THANK YOU! You will get this and all future freebies automatically.

  Click the link below to get your freebies

  http://tinyletter.com/floraferrari

  CHAPTER 1

  Addison

  R ight this way, ladies,” the doorman said, leading us to our table.

  I had specifically requested a center table, for the view, but not too close to the stage. I didn’t see my aunt much these days, but there was one thing I knew…she loved to get crazy.

  She had called me three months ago with news that she was getting married, for the third time, and was hoping I might be able to help organize her bachelorette party. Of course I wasn’t the maid of honor or anyone important, but I did hold the keys to one thing that was very important to her.

  I lived in Vegas, and like all Vegas residents our family and friends from out of town love nothing more than to treat us as full time tour guides whenever they visit the city. As much as I loved my aunt, I wasn’t really looking forward to this weekend. I mean, come on…your third husband in three years. If she was on the rebound anymore she’d be a professional basketball player.

  I put on my happy face and ordered drinks for my aunt and her crew. I was the youngest one in the bunch, by about fifteen years it seemed. They started talking about ex-husbands, and daycare, and condo membership fees before I even took a first sip of my cosmo. I was a fish out of water, emphasis on fish because tonight I was ready to be a shark.

  At least I was going to have a good time at Adonis’ All Male Review. Rumor had it they had just hired an absolute babe with a physical specimen that measured thirteen inches. Thirteen freaking inches! As amazing as that sounded my first thought was, “Where is he going to fit all that?” My second was, “What’s my co-pay?” because if I ever got ahold of that thing, or more accurately it if ever got ahold of me, I’d be in the hospital for weeks. I’d be physically and mentally scarred after that beast.

  But a girl can at least look, right? There’s no harm in that.

  Suddenly the room went dark. All I could hear was screaming and clapping until purple light pierced the fog that was coming from the stage. That distinctive sound from the opening of Ginuwine’s “Pony” blasted from the speakers. The roars from the ladies reached stratospheric levels, and as much as I wanted to be above this and keep my cool, I couldn’t help but admit I was excited as hell.

  A spotlight hit the stage and then I saw him. Oh my god did I see him. We all saw him. He had his head down, but I couldn’t see his face due to the yellow construction hard hat. He was dressed like a carpenter, and Jesus, I wanted to be a board so he could lay the fuck out of me. I take that back, I’d rather be a nail so he could hammer me all night long.

  Suddenly he jumped straight up in the air and came down gracefully on the ground, slithering in an S motion as he humped the ground. All the thoughts of being angry about having to entertain out-of-town guests disappeared as my mouth dropped open and I leaned forward in my seat. I was the one getting entertained now, and was even kicking myself for not getting seats closer to the stage.

  From the side of the stage a sledgehammer came flying in, which he quickly grabbed with one hand as it if was a toothpick. Oh my god, was he strong.

  He twirled the sledgehammer in his grasp like it was a baton before taking a big step over it, straddling it and stroking its long, thick handle.

  I reached for my martini glass, but grabbed a salt shaker instead, not even noticing until I had dumped half the bottle on my chest.

  What had gotten into me?

  I had no idea, but I sure knew what I wanted to get into me.

  He dropped the sledgehammer and ripped open his flannel workman’s shirt like it was a tissue. Two ladies in the front row dove for the buttons, clawing and scratching in the dark on the floor like tweekers looking for a fix.

  He could fix me up, all right. All night long!

  And then, oh my…I didn’t know Levi’s was making pull away pants these days, but thank heavens they did.

  And then total silence. What in the world?

  Holy shit it was true.

  He was wearing a Ferrari red S
peedo that had to have been custom made, because this man was packing the heat, and heat is exactly what I felt in my chest, thighs, and deep inside my girly bits.

  At my job as a headhunter we’re constantly reminded of two things. Lead with your strongest offer, and no false advertising. Apparently Adonis’ All Male Review got the message as well, because this was exactly how they’d described him! This was the man everyone was talking about, and I was absolutely sure the claims of a full thirteen inches were not false advertising. Oh my, was it ever true.

  I was ready to run a flag up that pole and salute it…with both hands! And both hands still wouldn’t have been enough.

  “Oh my fucking…”

  “Aunt Elsie!”

  “Is it too late to call off the wedding?” she said, to a table full of laughs.

  “Cheers to that!” her friend from Florida said.

  Behind the man onstage a giant TV screen lit up like Times Square.

  Just like any good handyman, Mr. Bob the Builder was carrying a measuring tape. The TV screen was zoomed in as he jerked the tape out along the edge of the enormous budge in his trunks.

  “Lucky thirteen, ladies,” came over the loudspeakers.

  The visual on the screen changed to one of those sound meters that registered noise in decibels. It was already well beyond 130 dBA which apparently was equal to a jet airplane takeoff. The room screamed louder pushing it over 142, which had the words “loudest football game ever” next to it. Then the screen flashed, “WE BEAT THE BOYS!!!”

  Damn, they were right, and if this was like any of the strip shows I’d heard of then the noise levels weren’t the only thing that were going to be beaten.

  I had read online how some of these crazy nights end in a “creaming.”

  Bob the Builder reached for his cock. Was he going to do it? In the first act? This I had to see!

  But I saw something else, entirely different. His hand shot up and pointed into the crowd.

  I felt our table light up under the spotlight, and suddenly got super jealous. They had asked me the name of the bachelorette when I reserved the table. He was coming for Aunt Elsie!

  His body swayed so damn sexually as he made his way on the extended stage toward our table, his head still down. Talk about swagger, just watching him move was poetry in motion.

  He reached the edge of the stage’s runway and pointed…at me!

  They must have got the wrong seat, or ID'ed the wrong girl. I pointed with both hands to Aunt Elsie, who started flopping around like a fish in the bottom of a boat.

  He shook his head no, as he curled his finger towards him.

  I was frozen in place.

  He turned his back to the stage and flexed. Oh my god, what a back. I didn’t even know the human body had that many muscles!

  He reached up and grabbed his helmet before tossing it down the runway, still not revealing his face.

  He bent down at the knees and brought his hands and arms back, before springing up and back.

  A freaking backflip!

  He stuck the landing and spun half way around until he was facing me.

  The spotlight was shining on me so brightly I could barely see him, not to mention I was sweating like a whore in church on confession Sunday. And a whore was exactly how I felt right now, and being a slut never felt so stupendous!

  He dropped to a knee before holding out his hand. My hand was shaking, but I managed to extend it to meet his fingertips. His hands were so big, but so gentle. His touch so electric. He slowly guided my hand back towards him and kissed the back of my hand.

  That room may have been the loudest place on earth at that moment, but I didn’t hear a thing. All I saw was this perfect specimen of a man on one knee in front of me, treating me like a princess.

  He stood up, guiding me up with him, and with my hand still in his, he pirouetted me so fast that I lost my footing, but of course where did I fall? Right into his arms. I felt myself moving and realized he was taking me to the stage.

  Thank god he was a gentleman and kept my legs together, because if the spotlight hit my absolutely soaked panties the reflection alone would have been enough to blind half the women in attendance.

  This was happening so fast, I barely had time to react. He got me to the stage and sat me in a plush, comfortable red chair that must have cost a fortune.

  I felt his hands on me from behind as he massaged my shoulders before his hands slowly slid down my arms, brining them behind the chair and tying them together.

  Hello bondage fantasy!

  And then he stepped in front of the chair. I could finally get a good look at his backside as he was in position to block out all the spotlights.

  What an ass!

  He spun to face me and I felt all the heat inside me turn cold. The room may have been well over eighty degrees and my temperature north of one hundred, but I was so cold I was shaking.

  I was the ass now.

  CHAPTER 2

  Dylan

  I want to open tonight, Doc.”

  “Calm down there, cowboy. You know we like to save you for last. Gotta get 'em warmed up before coming in with the big gun.”

  “I know, but I gotta go first tonight.”

  “Schedule’s already out. Johnny Boy’s batting lead off tonight.”

  I went back into the changing room and found Johnny Boy.

  “I’ll trade you spots tonight, Johnny Boy.”

  “No way man, you know how much I love opening.”

  “All my tips.”

  “You’re gonna give me all your tips tonight just to trade.”

  “Every last wrinkled, folded, sweaty dollar bill.”

  “You gotta leave early or something?”

  “Nope, just want to open.”

  Johnny continued his bicep curls but changed his focus from the mirror to me.

  “Which one is she?”

  “Blue dress. Table thirty-seven.”

  “Not your age old man. The girl.”

  “Very funny. She’s mine. I don’t want anybody else making a move on her.”

  “Damn, you got it bad.”

  “I know what I want and I’m going for it.”

  “Three weeks at Adonis’ and not so much as a single word out of you, and now you’re head-over-heels for one of the clientele.”

  “I’m serious man. All the tips. Just let me go first.”

  Johnny set the weight down.

  “Okay man. I got your back. You can lead off tonight.”

  “Thanks. I’ll cash you out at the end of the night.”

  “Don’t worry about it, amigo. This isn’t about money. I can see this is important to you.”

  I shook Johnny Boy’s hand and ran for the side of the stage. We were starting in less than thirty seconds, and I needed to be ready. I was going to give this girl the show of her life.

  The lights went out and I made my way onstage. Once the DJ started “Pony” I felt the energy shoot through my veins. I hadn’t been performing long, but I was definitely getting the hang of it, or should I say the hung of it.

  That’s what the club was promoting. The “Hung Hunk,” and hung I was. I always knew I had a lot more than the other guys. Everything seemed fine to me until my first shower in the locker room in sixth grade. The other boys were pointing and staring, and that night my dad had a talk with me about why.

  But it wasn’t just my dick that had grown so fast, it was everything. I was always taller, more developed, and faster than the boys my age. My voice started cracking at eight years old. I guess that was the first hint something was different.

  But tonight I wasn’t thinking about how I was different. I was thinking about how she was different.

  The guys liked to stand offstage and watch the girls get seated. It was a fun to see the girls having drinks, getting loosened up, and brining the electricity to the show before we even stepped out. I felt like a boxer before I entered the ring, but with this show nobody got hurt and the only knock
out was the one in my pants.

  And tonight I was going to give it her.

  I hadn’t been with the team long enough to pick my own girl out of the crowd, nor had I wanted to until tonight. You had to have enough practice to be that guy that goes into the crowd to get his girl, as all eyes would be on you. You had to deliver the ultimate fantasy, and that took time and training behind the scenes. That was all going to change tonight. Tonight I was ready and after one look at the girl in the blue dress I knew I didn’t need anymore practice. All I wanted was to show her the best time of her life, and give her a private dance for everyone to see. To claim her right then and there onstage, and that’s exactly what I was ready to do.