One Lucky Girl Read online

  One Lucky Girl

  A Reverse Harem Collection

  Natasha L. Black

  Copyright © 2019 by Natasha L. Black

  All rights reserved.

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

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Introduction

  Book One - Cuffed to my Roomies

  Book Two - The Cabin

  Book Three - Double Trouble

  Book Four - Training the Rookie

  Saving Sky (Sample)

  A Note from the Author

  Also By Natasha L. Black

  About the Author and Mailing List

  Introduction

  Book One - Cuffed to my Roomies

  My heroes wear blue… or nothing at all.

  It's my first night in the city and everything goes wrong.

  I'm left to crash the night in my car. All alone on the side of the road.

  Then, two gorgeous cops come to my rescue.

  Book Two : The Cabin

  I’m trapped in a mountain cabin with a man.

  Did I say man? I meant men; four of them to be exact.

  My big brother’s best friends in the world, and my biggest fantasy come true.

  Book Three : Double Trouble

  My men have me against the ropes and begging for more.

  I’m an ER nurse. I play it safe.

  Until Jake and Owen walk in, all wicked sex appeal and prizefighter swagger.

  The Powers twins are identical in every way.

  Jake’s a successful boxer, and Owen is his manager.

  Both ex-military, both alpha, both hot as hell.

  Book Four : Training the Rookie

  I was just a rookie.

  I never knew how dirty a cop could be.

  Until I had three of them in my bed at once.

  When I started on the force, I knew I’d have a partner.

  I didn’t know Jeremy would be hot as hell.

  Or that he’d have two brothers that are just as sexy.

  What I didn’t know turned out to be delicious.

  Book One - Cuffed to my Roomies

  Prologue

  “I want this. I want as much of both of you as I can have, all at once.” I kissed him again and again, his tongue and mine mating.

  Then he stripped off his shirt and leaned back against the headboard. I sat with my back against his chest, and his hands trailed up my belly, his palms covering my breasts and working them. I started to pant. Brett climbed onto the bed with us, first straddling my legs and kissing my mouth while Derek’s hands moved between us, stroking my nipples, his knuckles bumping against Brett’s bare chest as Brett kissed me.

  His big hands rode down my hips to my thighs and he opened them wide. With his thumbs, he rubbed the outside folds until I was quivering, my legs jerking. He stroked the inner lips of my slit and I writhed under his hands. Derek worked my tender nipples between calloused, rough fingers as Brett dipped a thumb inside me. I clenched around it instantly, so ready.

  He stopped kissing me, looked in my eyes, “Do you want me?”

  “Yes, God, yes,” I whimpered.

  I wanted him to replace his hands with the big cock I saw throbbing in his boxer briefs. I was rubbing Derek’s legs through his jeans, feeling him get hard against my back. For an instant, I wanted him in me, in my ass while Brett penetrated my pussy. The very idea sent wetness spilling into Brett’s hands.

  “What are you thinking, naughty girl?” Brett said, his mouth at my cheekbone as he rolled down his underwear, his cock jutting out. I wrapped my hand around it instinctively.

  “I was thinking of how to take both of you at once, if my body could stand it,” I panted.

  “Baby, we’ll give you anything you want,” Derek said, his fingers roaming down to find my clit even as Brett’s thumbs were pressing into my pussy.

  My head dropped back against Derek’s shoulder as he teased my clit, as the thick, rough thumbs of Brett’s hands carefully aroused me until I was bucking my hips. My arm ran back around Derek’s neck, brought his face to mine to kiss him. We were kissing, hot and wet, when Brett took away his hands and I felt the wet, blunt head of his cock at my slit.

  “I’m ready to fuck you raw.” Brett said,

  He was pushing my boundaries. I wanted them pushed. I wanted him, hot and slick with nothing between us.

  “Please,” I whimpered, “Please, I need you inside me now.”

  He took his cock in his hand and rubbed it around my pussy, spreading my wetness on himself with his hand. He teased me with it, with the lewd sight of it as Derek rubbed my clit with one hand, his other hand gripping my jaw to kiss me again. I couldn’t take my eyes off Brett’s cock, though, not even for the satisfaction of Derek’s clever tongue in my mouth.

  “Wait,” I said, “I want to watch.”

  “Then I’ll watch, too,” Derek said, “Brett, you have our attention. Now start fucking her before I cut in line and take my turn.” I tried to laugh but all the sensations were too intense.

  Then as Brett’s impossibly big, rigid cock rubbed against my pussy, I clenched, biting my lip. Derek rubbed his thumb across my lower lip and I sucked it rhythmically, needed it in my mouth, needing to be filled in every way, wanton and desperate to come. I felt dizzy, everything going blurry.

  I didn’t want this moment to end.

  1

  F*ck me. I’m totally screwed.

  I listened with composure on the line, because that was what my dad taught me to do. I remained quiet, instead of saying all the things that came to mind, like ‘what the hell?’ or ‘are you sh*tting me right now?’.

  Dad always said manners were important, even with people who were screwing you over. I sat in my car in the dark parking lot, listening to the caller. Driving at night on an unfamiliar road wasn’t a problem, but I didn’t live dangerously enough to talk on the phone while I was looking for the next place to turn. So there I was, in the dark lot of a shuttered Mexican restaurant, holding back all the curse words in the book as I listened to my plan dissolve into thin air.

  “I guess I didn’t get your message,” she said, her tone the equivalent of a shrug, “so I rented the room to someone else. She’s really great—she’s a drummer.”

  “I see,” I said, rubbing my forehead. There was clear tension in my voice.

  “I’m sure you can find another place in the city. There’s always people looking for roommates.”

  “Thanks,” I said, and hung up.

  Shit. Shit. SHIT.

  There went my destination, the address I’d programmed into my phone when I started the GPS guidance. My new home. The apartment where I would be renting a room during my internship.

  And, no, there were not loads of people looking to rent a room to a stranger who was so broke she was probably going to have to steal toilet paper from the magazine office where she’d won the unpaid internship. I rolled my eyes at myself. It would be fine. I’d have to get a motel room, which wasn’t in the budget I planned, but I could find someplace cheap until I found a rental.

  I’d always prided myself for taking the lemons that life threw at me and making a damn good serving of lemonade out of them. Growing up, I’d been through my fair share of trials. I was the independent type. The kind of girl who didn’t let a few roadblock get in her way. That was another trait I’d credited my dad for passing down to me.

  I swung back out onto the highway and drove on. I blasted the A/C even though it was chilly out, to make sure I didn’t get sleepy. I cranked up my work
out playlist, some classic Britney Spears tunes to keep me from balling my eyes out. I made three turns in quick succession, squinted at an oncoming truck with its brights blinding me, and was glad when it passed by. I turned off the music when I was within a half hour of the city. With no one on the road, I switched on voice search and said ‘motels near me’ in hopes of finding someplace affordable to crash. The phone didn’t respond. I cut my eyes to it and tapped the screen experimentally. It didn’t light up. I’d never bothered to buy a car charger, so I’d have to wait until I checked in at a motel to plug the phone in and let my dad know I’d arrived safely.

  Oh well, people had stayed in roadside motels for decades before cell phones were invented and found them just fine by following the signs right?

  I could do the same.

  I kept driving, fighting the yawns that started coming, and rubbed my eyes even though I knew it smeared my mascara. The lights on my dashboard flared and went out. I flicked the interior lights, which didn’t come on, and a slow grinding sound filled my car. I managed to steer it onto the shoulder of the road before it died.

  “Well, crap,” I said to myself.

  My phone was dead. My car was dead. I wasn’t about to try and walk ten miles of highway into the city alone in the dark. So it looked like one problem solved, I thought wryly, I knew where I was sleeping for the night—in my car.

  Perfect.

  I locked the doors, fished a bottle of water out of my purse and took a drink. In the morning I’d walk a little ways and flag down a car, get someone to call a tow truck for me. It was annoying, but I’d make it work. I didn’t have much other choice.

  I got out my notebook and started to write down a list of observations, some funny, some bitchy, about my road trip to the big city, about starting life after college on my own—things that excited me and things that scared me. This was all raw material I could use for the magazine if I ever got a chance to do a feature article or even a sidebar. It was too dark to see, and my handwriting was never the best. Yawning, I put the notebook aside and started to take off my shoes when I saw the flare of red and blue lights track across the dashboard from behind me.

  “Things will turn for the better soon”, I thought out load.

  I wasn’t quite sure if I believed my own words.

  2

  “License please.”

  As relieved as I was to see cops at the door of my car, instead of some wild serial killer, I still couldn’t ignore the pickle I was in.

  For all I knew, they probably thought I was pulled over trying to sell drugs out the trunk of my car.

  I dug out my license, put my hands on top of the wheel. I couldn’t roll down the power windows because the car was dead, so I opened the door and stepped out once the officer showed his badge.

  “My car broke down,” I said.

  “I see. Miss Weaver, I’m Officer Derek Jennings. My partner, Officer Harding, is in the squad car. We clocked out after a shift and saw your car. Thought you might be in distress.”

  “No, I’m good,” I said, “I’d appreciate it if you could call me a towing service though, give them my location.”

  “You’re good?” he said, a half smile quirking the corner of his mouth.

  I squared my shoulders, wanting to seem like a capable woman, not a recent grad down on her luck and starting to feel noticeably less courageous in the face of adversity. I gave him my brightest smile, the ‘can I get you anything else?’ waitress smile I’d used when working my way through college.

  “Yes, I’m good,” I said again, brightly.

  “You wouldn’t, say, like a ride into town? I’m sure you have someplace to stay that’s more comfortable than that old Nissan.”

  “Actually, I don’t. My rental plans fell through right before my phone battery died. And then, the car. It’s been sort of a rough night, now that I think about it,” I said with a laugh to show it didn’t bother me all that much.

  “Listen, I’ve got my phone right here,” he held out his cell phone, “use it to call whoever you want to come get you. I don’t feel right leaving a stranded female at a remote roadside.”

  “You said you’re off duty. I don’t want to trouble you. I promise I’m fine,” I said.

  Fact was, Officer Jennings was hot. I didn’t like to give into the damsel in distress stereotype, but there might be something to it after all—given the fact that the cop who stopped me wasn’t some fat chauvinist, but a guy who, frankly, could have played a stripper with a cop uniform in the Magic Mike movies. Brown hair, dark eyes, the kind of square jaw that plays well on movie posters and cologne ads.

  “Is there someone you can call?”

  “No,” I said, “Look, I just graduated college a couple months ago. It’s my first time moving out on my own. I’m working without a net here.”

  “And you don’t want to call home and admit you need help? Miss Weaver, everyone needs help sometimes.”

  “Home is six hours south of here. It’s not like I’d let my dad miss work tomorrow to come up here and tell me my car needs to be towed and I should’ve made sure I had a place to stay before I took off. I got the internship at Envy. I worked so hard for it, and never dreamed I’d be chosen, and I got it. So here I am, trying to make it on my own,” I said, throwing my hands up in frustration, “I can’t afford a motel for more than one night. If I had any friends nearby, I’d call them. I can’t call the HR lady from Envy at midnight two days before I start and beg for help. I’ll just handle this my way. Sleep in the car, get you to call me a tow truck in the morning. It’s the best way.”

  “Ma’am, I can’t allow you to do that. It’s unsafe. Your vehicle could be struck by a passing car because it’s barely on the shoulder. It’s also possible that someone might want to take advantage and prey on you.”

  “Like werewolves?” I said wryly.

  “No. If you’re smart enough to score an internship at Envy, I’m sure you’re smart enough to know that your plan is shitty. I didn’t become a cop to leave stubborn people stranded by the side of the road in the middle of the night. We’re going to help you.”

  “I’m not comfortable with that,” I said.

  “And I’m not comfortable leaving you here. Do you want me to go get Brett out of the car? He insisted on staying there because he said two of us coming to your door would be intimidating. But he’s pretty big on keeping women safe, so I’ll wave him over and let him give you the stats on violence against women in this state.”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend. And since most violence against women is committed by an intimate partner, I’m safe,” I said, growing more frustrated by the minute. I didn’t want to be treated like a helpless little kid.

  “I wouldn’t try the smart mouth with him. He doesn’t have a sense of humor like I do,” Derek Jennings said, showing no trace of playfulness.

  In fact, he looked stern. I was embarrassed to admit to myself that I found that attractive, his stone-cold sober demand that I let them keep me safe. I knew I’d describe him tomorrow to my friend Ainsley by saying something silly like ‘he was so alpha’.

  I scolded myself. Here I was, thinking like a horny teenager when I was supposed to be an independent woman with my first job out of school.

  I leaned against my car, crossed my arms to try and look casual. When hot cop #2 got out of the squad car, taller and bulkier than Officer Jennings, I felt my cheeks flush. I’d always had a wild imagination, gotten in trouble for daydreaming, but this was insane. I blinked back a good cop-bad cop fantasy that threatened to scoop up all my attention. No. I’d file that away, think about it on my own time once I was settled in to my new life.

  I extended my hand to greet the second gorgeous officer. His uniform was unbuttoned to reveal a black tee beneath.

  “Brett Harding, ma’am,” he said, ducking his head a little. He was hulking and handsome, his skin caramel in color if the flashing red and blue lights did it justice, black hair, and a dimple when he smiled. He had s
houlders that looked like he could bench press my Nissan.

  Holy mother of all things sacred. Hubba hubba.

  “Lynette Weaver,” I said, “I’ve had some car trouble. I told your partner here that I’d appreciate if you’d call a tow truck for me and then you guys can go home and rest. I know you two must be tired, since you’ve just ended your shift.”

  “We’re not leaving you here. We will wait with you until someone comes to pick you up,” he said.

  “You acted like he was going to throw me over his shoulder and carry me kicking and screaming to your car,” I said to Officer Derek.

  “I never said he was a caveman. I said he’s the protective type. Most cops are. It’s against our training and our judgment to leave you out here. It’s not happening,” he said.

  “I thought you were supposed to be the good cop and he was the bad cop. Is this just bad cop-bad cop?” I said, trying to make light of it. I just wanted them to go. I was embarrassed enough to find myself stranded with no money and no plan without attractive men fussing over my safety, acting like I was helpless.

  “We have a room,” Brett said.

  “What?”

  “She won’t get in the squad car with us. She’s not gonna go for staying the night,” Derek replied.

  “How do you guys even know I’m not some psycho chick trying to set up a mark?”