Page 44 of Stroke of Luck

“Hey boss man, Skyler has something she’d like to show you,” Paolo says into the speaker.

A few moments pass before he answers. “I’m finishing up a call, tell her I’ll be up when I’m done.”

Both men look shocked to hear the answer Othello has given, but don’t choose to comment on it.

Now that my food is hot and ready, I grab a Coke out of the fridge and settle at the island. Paolo sits to my left, while Remo starts to heat up his meal.

“Where is Giorgi? I haven’t seen him around yet,” I ask before shoving my mouth full of pasta.

Paolo looks at Remo as if asking him a silent question before returning his attention to me. “He had some business matters to attend to. I’m not sure when he’ll be back.”

“He manages the dealers, right?”

“Yes, he helps with the dealers, making sure production moves efficiently, and keeps tabs on product inventory. Especially in the clubs, so they have it for clients who want it. Giorgi also helps any of us with whatever else we need, and that is all I’m going to say about that,” Paolo says, leaning back in his chair and watching me eat.

“Is he safe?”

“Is anyone?” Paolo counters. “He’ll be fine. Othello always makes sure he has backup since he is such an awful shot with a gun.”

This is the only aspect to their jobs that I’m not thrilled with. Everything they do puts them in some kind of danger, whether they realize it or not. To them it’s normal, but for me it makes me nervous not to have them all under our roof, safe and sound, at night. Remo comes and sits on my other side, and we fall into a comfortable silence as we listen to Paolo tell us what he can about his day. Just as I finish my dinner, Othello comes up the stairs with a dark look on his face that makes me sit at attention.

“Is everything alright?” I ask when he joins us.

“Hmm?” he hums, looking up at me as if he hasn’t really seen us all sitting here. “Oh, I just got a call from one of our men telling me that things didn’t go as planned on a job. I have them coming by the house in the morning to walk me through the situation.”

I relax at once, knowing none of my men are in danger and it isn’t anything I need to worry about.

“What was this about you wanting to show me something?” he asks, coming up behind me and setting his hands on my shoulders.

Now that I know his night hasn’t ended all that great, I’m worried how he is going to take my “arts and crafts” moment on his stairs. “Ah, I can show you later if you have something important to deal with.”

“No, it’s fine. I welcome the distraction, actually,” Othello responds, kissing me on top of the head.

Welp, I guess now is as good a time as any, and it would be better for me to show him myself then for him to wander over and find it. “You asked about my project earlier, and I think I have it far enough along that I’d like you to see it. Only on one condition though.” He cocks an eyebrow at me but nods his head for me to go on. “You have to promise to take it all in for three minutes before you say anything. I don’t want your first gut reaction. I need you to take it all in and give me your feedback once you’ve done that.”

“Alright, I can do that. Any reason for making it three minutes?” Othello asks with a smirk.

“One or two minutes isn’t enough, and five minutes would be too long,” I share with a shrug. “Come on, off we go.”

Hopping off the tall chair, I snag Othello’s hand and lead the way. Paolo and Remo join us, but give a little room so Othello can take it all in without them breathing down his neck like I will, waiting to hear his answer. The supplies left on the landing give him a clue as to what’s up, but once Othello takes in the sight of the painting, he freezes. I lean back to catch Paolo’s eye, signaling him to set a timer, which he does without any fuss.

The wait is pure torture. I know I said that three minutes is the perfect time, but I lied. It should have been a minute or two, because this right here feels like a million years.

“Did you just paint yourself in a full-body shibari position on our stairwell?” Othello asks, not taking his eyes off the wall as Paolo’s alarm sounds.

“Ah, what would be the correct answer to give you?” I hedge, causing him to turn his gaze to meet mine. “Right then, the answer would be yes. I absolutely did paint that, ignoring everything you told me not to do.”

Othello’s hand snaps out, grabbing me by the throat and pulling me to him, his lips slamming down on mine, devouring me. Shocked, it takes me a moment before I catch up to the change in mood and climb up him, wrapping my legs around his waist as he lets go of my throat to cup my ass.

“Oh no you don’t. That shit isn’t dry. Slam her up against the other wall, you heathen,” Paolo directs as Othello starts to move.

Quickly, he readjusts, and my back collides with the directed wall. Othello grinds himself against me, letting me know just how much he likes my painting. No longer worried that I’m going to get tied up in the playroom for a serious punishment, I’m more than happy to help him with his needs. Reaching a hand between us, I undo his pants and grip his cock, pumping it as he thrusts into my hand. He yanks on my hair, giving him access to my neck as he moves to kiss and nip down to my collarbone. I quicken my pace as I feel his breathing change, letting me know he is getting close, and with my free hand I yank my shirt up so that when he comes it’s on my skin, making it easier to clean up. Hot ropes of cum land on my stomach to the sound of Othello grunting his pleasure as he gives his last few thrusts into my grip. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he carefully sets me down, making sure not to get himself covered in his own cum.

Once he steps back and tucks himself back into his pants, I whip off my shirt and grab one of the rags I've been using for painting and clean myself up. Othello cups my face in his hands and kisses me languidly before looking down at me. “It’s stunning, and I’m honored to have a self-portrait in my home. It was wise of you to put it somewhere that no one but us can see it. You realize that I will have to kill anyone but our house staff that tries to venture past this point… Was that your plan to keep the second level all to yourself?”

“I’m flattered you think I put that much thought into it.” I grin.

“You’re telling me you didn’t? I find that hard to believe,” Othello challenges. “You have come to have quite the possessive streak where we are concerned.”