Getting Lucky Read online

  Table of Contents

  OTHER WORK by DARYL BANNER

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  HARD FOR MY BOSS (Sample Chapters)

  FOOTBALL SUNDAE (Sample Chapter)

  BROMOSEXUAL (Sample Chapters)

  OUTLIER: REBELLION (Sample Chapters)

  A NEW M/M ROMANCE

  BY

  DARYL BANNER

  AUTHOR OF

  FOOTBALL SUNDAE

  HARD FOR MY BOSS

  BROMOSEXUAL

  &

  THE BRAZEN BOYS SERIES

  *

  NOTE: GETTING LUCKY is a full-length novel of over 99,000 words. This Kindle edition ends at 80%, as it also includes sample chapters from my other full-length M/M novels you’re sure to enjoy. Make sure to continue reading after the epilogue of GETTING LUCKY to check out some sample chapters from my other books and series!

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  Hey there! I’m so excited for you to read this story, and I hope you fall in love with these strong and sexy guys as much as I did.

  Getting Lucky is ultimately a heartwarming romance, but does dabble in some darker subject matter (nothing I feel that requires any sort of trigger warning; don’t worry!) and is guaranteed to uplift you in the end.

  This book contains some mild, consensual (heck, he begs for it) BDSM elements. Nothing extreme. Just the super tantalizing, tension-filled, sexually charged usual stuff.

  Y’know. Like, in other words: hot shit.

  :-)

  Happy Reading, you!

  xxoo

  Daryl

  www.darylbanner.com

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  GETTING LUCKY

  Copyright © 2018 by Daryl Banner

  Published by Frozenfyre Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including but not limited to being stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction.

  Names, characters, groups, businesses, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Model / Photographer

  Nathan Hainline

  Cover & Interior Design

  Daryl Banner

  OTHER WORK by DARYL BANNER

  The Brazen Boys (M/M Romance)

  Dorm Game ∙

  On The Edge ∙

  Owned By The Freshman ∙

  Dog Tags / Commando ∙

  All Yours Tonight ∙

  Straight Up ∙

  Houseboy Rules ∙

  Slippery When Wet ∙

  New Adult Romance (M/M)

  Getting Lucky ∙

  Bromosexual ∙

  Hard For My Boss ∙

  Football Sundae ∙

  A College Obsession Romance

  Read My Lips ∙

  Beneath The Skin ∙

  With These Hands ∙

  Through Their Eyes ∙

  The Beautiful Dead Saga

  The Beautiful Dead ∙

  Dead Of Winter ∙

  Almost Alive ∙

  The Whispers ∙

  The Winters ∙

  The Wakings ∙

  The OUTLIER Series

  Rebellion ∙

  Legacy ∙

  Reign Of Madness ∙

  Beyond Oblivion ∙

  Five Kings ∙

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  NOTE: GETTING LUCKY is a full-length novel of over 99,000 words. This Kindle edition ends at 80%, as it also includes sample chapters from my other full-length M/M novels you’re sure to enjoy. Make sure to continue reading after the epilogue of GETTING LUCKY to check out some sample chapters from my other books and series!

  Prologue

  JAMES

  It had been a really hard, long week. My hands were cramped from typing. My eyes were shot from staring at computer screens. Even my cheeks ached from all the forced smiling.

  So when that frustratingly gorgeous young man came into my office shirtless, his smooth chest muscles gleaming with sweat and his loose, low-hanging jeans showing off the V of muscle that led my eyes right to his crotch, I was so ready for him.

  Tonight, I was getting lucky.

  “You James?” he asked, his husky, deep voice filling my office.

  You can call me whatever you want, you cocky little shit, I would have replied, had I any voice left in my fast constricting throat. As long as I’m yours. Call me your bitch. Call me your pet. Call me the scum on your shoes, I don’t care.

  He already had his belt off. It was slapped into the palm of his other hand, and when he met my eyes, his sharp, deadly stare held nothing but contempt for me. He was young, slender, lithe as a panther, hard-bodied, and ready to take out his aggression on me.

  He was a bossy little fucker, too. And he was going to have his way with me whether I liked it or not.

  And I liked it. I deserved to be punished. I wanted to be.

  “The fuck you staring at me for?” he spat out.

  I brought my head down at once, casting my gaze to the floor. My hands trembled. My thighs quaked. Please punish me, I begged in my mind. Spank me with that hard belt. Own me. Humiliate me. Make me drop to my knees in front of you. Demand that I grovel.

  I felt his warmth as he strutted across the office, closing the distance between our bodies, yet still he didn’t touch me. He likely wouldn’t, not unless it was with the other end of that belt in his powerful fist.

  “Bend over the desk, bitch.”

  I complied, moving to the front of my desk and pressing my palms onto it. I didn’t stick out my ass expectantly like a porn-star showpiece bottom. This was the real world, and I was going to take my punishment like a man.

  Y’know. By letting him call me a bitch.

  And humiliate me.

  And spank me like a bad, bad boy.

  “Drop your pants.”

  Obeying his every command was so hot, but so was giving him a little lip and seeing what he’d do about it. “Oh, yeah? What if I don’t feel like it?”

 
He folded the belt and pulled it taut. The crack was so loud, I jumped.

  “Shit,” I breathed. “Not too loud or else everyone’s—”

  “Gonna hear?” he finished for me in an obnoxious, mocking tone. “What are you afraid of? That all your fellow bankers and customers find out you’re having your precious ass spanked by a cocky motherfucker half your age?”

  The next instant, my pants were at my ankles. Whether it was by my doing or his, I didn’t even know.

  “You deserve this, you know that?”

  I clenched shut my eyes. Sweat dripped down my back. My ass was exposed to the world and about to get a beating from a young, hot, infuriating punk. “I … I know,” I panted.

  “You’re going to count them.”

  “Count them?”

  “One at a time. Every single spank.”

  “Yes, sir.” Sir? Really? When did that start?

  “When I’m done with you, I’m gonna be a whole fuck lot more than just your ‘sir’.” He leaned in close—really close—then put his plush, wet, arrogant lips right by my ear and hissed, “I’m going to be your god.”

  He drew back. I felt the weightlessness of suspense. My whole body clenched up as I anticipated the first powerful swat—the one that would be full of his strength, of his youthful aggression, of his superiority, of his contempt for me.

  Give it to me. Spank me. Land that belt over my ass. Don’t make me wait a second longer. Punish me. I need it. I fucking need it.

  Instead of the crack of his belt, I heard a faint digital jingle.

  “Mr. McKinney!” came a sweet lady’s voice.

  My eyes flapped open. I lifted my head off my desk, a sheet of paper coming up with it, stuck to my cheek. The boy with the belt was gone. I was still seated with my pants totally not at my ankles.

  I pulled the paper off my face. A list of banking codes.

  Fuck. All I did was lay my head down for five minutes, and there came one of those dreams again. What was I? Some horny teenager who couldn’t take a five minute nap without dreaming up some ridiculously embarrassing sexual fantasy?

  Damn it, James.

  I coughed, sniffed, then fished through the mess of paperwork on my desk for the button to my intercom. My thumb pressed into it. “S-Sorry?” I mumbled, hoarse. “What?”

  “Ms. Olive, your two o’clock, is here!”

  I wiped a bit of drool off my chin. Ms. Olive. She wanted to set up a savings account for her son. “One … One m-minute,” I choked into the speaker, then clicked it off. My head still spun from the dream—which clearly made me sweat clean through my clothes. I had drifted off so deeply, I was completely convinced it was really happening. My heart still raced. I could picture him holding his belt and glaring at me menacingly—though now, I realized I didn’t know what his face looked like. Every time I blinked, I recognized him less and less.

  Then I glanced down at the parting gift my fantasy left me: a throbbing erection that had no chance of subsiding anytime soon.

  I leaned back in my chair, exhausted. It was bad enough when you hadn’t had sex in ages and every piece of eye candy you saw was a cock tease. But then your own vivid imagination also had to go and cock tease you when all you wanted was an innocent nap between banking clients.

  Pop, buzz, crackle. “Should I send her in, Mister Employee-of-the-Month Personal-Banker?”

  I tried shoving my erection between my legs. It popped right back up. I closed my eyes and willed it to go away to no avail. Then I straight-up flicked it with a scowl on my face. No dice.

  “Looks like I need another minute, Joyce,” I mumbled into the intercom, then pressed palms into my eyes. I was such a horny, overworked, tired little mess, and luck was never, ever on my side.

  Just paperwork, other peoples’ money, and midday erections.

  My weekend getaway with the guys couldn’t come fast enough.

  Chapter 1

  JAMES

  It was going to be my lucky weekend. I just knew it.

  I knew it the second I left the bank, packed a bag, and piled into Duncan’s minivan with my three best friends. Quinton rambled on like a horny college boy about a sorority of hot babes who came to his coffee shop, excitedly sweeping his dark curls of hair out of his eyes five times a sentence. Duncan, pale and tall as a stick of chalk, but cynical as a lump of coal, actually cracked a joke (instead of biting our heads off) about his arch nemesis from the snobby private school he taught at. Even Officer Lewis, a stoic, mustached black man who was the main security guard at my bank I worked at, was telling us something funny his wife said with a smile on his face—and he never smiled.

  Maybe we all needed to get out of town. We’d had a shitty past month since our last weekend together and were desperate to kick back, guzzle beer, and gamble ourselves silly.

  And it was going to be my lucky weekend, damn it.

  “Don’t you feel it?” I finally let out on the car ride into the city, unable to keep my thrill bottled in a second longer. “One of us is going to hit it big.”

  “You say that every weekend we go,” Lewis mumbled from the passenger seat.

  “True,” I conceded, “but this time, I really feel it. Just today, I sold four loans, three credit cards, and got old Ms. Olive to open not one, but two savings accounts.”

  “Is that supposed to be a lot?” asked Lewis teasingly.

  “Yes. It means good things are coming,” I stated. “It’s a sign.”

  “A sign from Satan?” cut in Duncan at the wheel, peeking at me in the back seat through the rearview. “A sign that capitalism is the truest manmade evil next to war, poverty, oatmeal raisin cookies, and season six of Game of Thrones?”

  “Says the underpaid teacher at a prestigious private school,” I threw back, “who spends his weekdays spoon-feeding arithmetic to spoiled rich kids.”

  “Only in the literal sense,” he returned, braking as the traffic came to a standstill ahead of us. “Oh, look. Look at all these good things that are coming for us. An eighteen-wheeler straight ahead, blocking our view. Five miles of ass-to-face traffic.”

  “I like ass-to-face,” murmured Quinton thoughtfully.

  I was too excited to let mere traffic bother me. Something big was going to happen. Hell, it didn’t even have to be me who made the lucky pull of the lever on a slot machine, or had the winning card flipped by the dealer, or watched my number get landed on at the roulette table. One of us was going to hit it big.

  This weekend was ours. Nothing can stop us.

  Hours later when we finally arrived at our usual hotel, the beautiful woman at the front desk smiled as she slapped the room keys onto the counter. “We hope you enjoy your stay here at the Royal Flush Hotel & Suites. You’re in the Spades Tower. You will find cards in your rooms preloaded with a courtesy $5 useable at any of the connecting casinos—”

  “Are you new?” sang Quinton sweetly as he leaned against the counter, eyeing the woman. “I haven’t seen you here before, and my buddies and I are here at least twice a month. Though, last time, I’m pretty sure we were at the Clubs Tower instead.”

  If Quinton wasn’t flirting with someone, he was dead.

  “Quinton, man, don’t shit where you eat,” mumbled Lewis.

  “No one’s doing any defecating of any kind,” Quinton threw over his shoulder. “I’m just getting to know our brand new hotel receptionist.”

  To that, the pretty blonde’s lips curled. “Mr. Small,” she cooed right back at him, saccharine sweet. “I’ve been here for five years, and saw you the last three times you were here.” She chuckled as she leaned on the counter. “You’ve got quite the reputation. Made an impression on a lot of girls in town, I’ve heard.”

  Quinton flashed a smile. “Oh, yeah? Have I?”

  “Yep.” She tilted her head, her blonde curls bouncing. “The reason you never noticed me before—you big hot shot—is because your eyes are always too buried in my best friend Rebecca’s cleavage to see anyone else.”
/>   Quinton flinched. “Rebecca? Who?”

  “The waitress at your favorite Italian place across the street.”

  It took him a second to remember. “Oh, the one who always plays hard-to-get?” Quinton wiggled his eyebrows knowingly at us as Duncan sighed and Lewis shook his head.

  “She plays hard-to-get,” answered the receptionist, “because she’s already gotten—by the female gender. She’s gay. Like, hella gay. When a horny boob-starer like you hits on her, she tells me after closing, and we laugh about it over a bowl of fettuccini.”

  “Ouch,” grunted Duncan. Lewis chuckled dryly behind him.

  Quinton’s eyes turned into two pebbles. Then, just as quickly, he nodded back at me. “Hey, we’ve got a gay with us. We’re cool with the gays. Aren’t we, James?”

  I screwed up my forehead. “A gay? Really? You’ve got ‘a gay’?”

  “As a matter of gay fact, my big brother is married to James’s sister. So James here is even my family. Besides … to be honest …” Quinton went on, grinning, “it kinda turns me on, hearing that two hot chicks are laughing at my expense. Wait.” He lifted his chin. “Are you a lesbian? You only said she was one.”

  Duncan put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Better quit while you’re ahead, buddy. Get your room key. We’ve got a casino to hit up and ten rounds of drinks to desperately be had, and the line behind us is growing.”

  I glanced back at the less-than-patient faces waiting in the check-in line. For a Friday evening, you’d think they’d have more than just two people working the front desk.

  My gaze, however, drifted past the lines. By the front glass doors of the lobby, I saw a young man leaning against the wall.

  Correction: a young demigod.

  This man had a face that was so beautiful, my heart jumped in place as if it knew at once that I would never see anyone more beautiful again. He had high, statuesque cheekbones and a firmly squared jaw that exuded strength. His cheeks were lightly flushed with a generous dusting of facial hair.

  And his lips. Fuck me mid-cartwheel with a banana in each hand. His lips were plush and perfectly pouty. They had to be the most kissable lips I’d ever seen.