Lucky Girl (Lucky In Love)

Chapter One

Eamon Keegan

My flight from Chattanooga was uneventful, as expected. Tennessee is where I call home despite owning many properties all over the country. I was born and raised within five minutes of where I currently reside. The only time I ever lived outside Chattanooga was when I lived in California for college. In fact, my entire family has lived in Chattanooga since my grandparents emigrated to America in 1949. Chattanooga was the perfect place to settle down for them. It has a city vibe while still being nestled in the mountains, which is perfect for me. We have since modernized the business, changing with the times. It is also the base of operations for my own company, Keegan Technologies. I still sit on the board of my family's company, which primarily deals with textiles. Located downtown, my building is among the tallest, situated on the corner of Market Street and MLK, directly across from the electric company's compound of buildings. Because of my success, the empire I've amassed attracts the wrong kind of attention. Exactly the type of attention I don’t want from my wife. As one of the richest men in America, I can no longer tolerate the games. Women throw themselves at me on a daily basis, ones I have absolutely no interest in. I am looking for a woman who knows the score from the very first. This wouldn't be about love. I don't think it exists. At worst, this would be a business arrangement and a tolerable companionship at best. I will remain faithful to my wife and expect the same in return. All in all, I don't think that I am asking too much.

Knowing exactly why I am here, Reno, Nevada isn’t exactly a hotspot on my list of places to visit, but a wife auction is just about the only thing that would get me to this desert tourist trap. My friend Kiernan from Atlanta met his wife Helena through this auction several Christmases ago. Last month, I went down to Atlanta for a meeting and met up with him for drinks. I was surprised when he had a wife in tow. I hadn’t seen him for a while, but it was still shocking. They were eager to tell me all about where they met. Then he suggested that he use his influence to get me in. What is it with married couples always trying to pair people off? At the time, I declined. Then I thought more and more about it, eventually thinking it would solve all my problems. I called him last week and asked him to do it, and now here I am.

A verifiable parade of women strut across the stage, all in various stages of dress. None of them capture my attention other than a passing glance, just as I suspected, but their biographies are being read out by a man dressed as a circus performer. It makes me want to laugh. The auctioneer is not giving this a level of credibility that I am comfortable with. How can I be expected to choose a wife from a place like this? I am about to throw in the towel as an audible hush comes over the crowd. I bring my now warm whiskey to my lips; another woman comes out and promptly almost choke on the amber liquid. The woman is straight out of my dreams.

At first, all I can see is her shiny, possibly glittery green heels. Then I look up. A mistake to be sure. Her long, thick legs are mouth-watering. She is just wearing a black bra and panty set, with a sheer black cover-up. Her body language completely conveys her discomfort. I can tell she's never been this exposed before, and that excites me like nothing ever has. Her tits are huge, and she has a soft belly. I have a fierce need to run my fingers over the smooth expanse and grip her hips while I fuck her hard and fast. I’ve never been with a woman, but I know what to do. For the first time, I have a primal need to wed, bed, and breed her. All from a look. A single fucking look, and I am hooked on 317. I chance a quick glance down at the, I don’t know, dossier or menu of those on the auction block. 317 is gorgeous, young, and about to be all mine. I’d feel like a dirty old man, but I want her so fucking bad, I don’t care.

I drop the packet onto the floor and scan her body, starting with those crazy Saint Patrick’s Day shoes. When I get to her face, I gasp. The picture in the packet doesn’t do her any justice. Her chocolate-colored eyes are expressive, and they are staring right at me. I watch as she takes a deep, calming type of breath, and I mirror her action. Her long brown hair is a riot of curls. I can imagine the ends of those curls tickling my thighs as she rides my cock. Speaking of, I shift in my seat to adjust my erection. Today is my thirty-fourth birthday. A thirty-four-year-old man shouldn't get erections just from looking at a gorgeous girl, but here I am with my dick uncomfortably hard and getting harder.