We started making out for what felt like a lifetime and then he asked me to turn over. He always told me that he was a big fan of a girl with curves, as he felt like he was having sex with a teenage boy when making love to models. Once I turned over, he continued to kiss the back of my thighs, and caressed my butt and in between my legs. I could feel myself getting drenched with excitement, and it made him harder than I'd ever seen. He had this trick where he would blow all over my body while tickling me, which drove me wild.
I begged him to come inside. But he teased, and teased between my legs and finally entered slowly making me beg him to continue.
He finally was inside and it was nothing but pure bliss. I felt like the only people who existed were him and I. He started thrusting slow, while using his other hand to stimulate my clit.
I could feel the feeling getting stronger, and my moans were getting louder. He'd first go slow, then harder but never too hard, he knew exactly how I liked it. I finally came and just when I hit that point he pulled out, pulled my legs over his shoulders and put his head down to put in more work. I came again, and again. I wish I could stay in this moment forever.
Chapter 2
“Ms. Allen, are you dozing off? I said this isn’t going to work for us.” Reese leaned back in her chair, her back making a muffled thumping sound as it pounded against the tight leather seat. This was the second night in a row she had been running on less than 2 hours of sleep, and between her two jobs, wouldn't be the last. There was a stinging sensation in her eyes as they began to fill with tears. She tilted her head back, staring at the low ceiling fan and chipping paint as she struggled to blink the tears away. She clasped her cold hands together, intertwining her thin fingers and crossed and uncrossed her legs.
“I don’t understand.” She muttered through tight lips.
Alexis, her supervisor and mentor, set her folded hands onto her dark mahogany desk and leaned towards Reese. “Our department doesn’t have the funds necessary to back a project of this magnitude.”
Reese dropped her eyes until they were level with Alexis. She glowered at her, taking in her wrinkled skin covered in pancake powder, her fading red lipstick, her stringy blond hair, and the determined set in her jaw. “But, that doesn’t make any sense. You just started a project on cell signaling.”
Alexis pursed her lips. “Comparing yourself to your peers is not going change my mind.”
Reese’s eyebrows furrowed and she uncrossed her legs. Her feet dropped to the floor like two cedar logs. She rested her elbows on her knees. “I’m not comparing myself-”
“Then you understand that we just don’t have the money.”
“Yes you do.” Reese pressed.
“Are you questioning my authority?” Alexis demanded.
Reese rolled her eyes. She hated it when Caucasians in positions of authority pulled the rank argument. Being a strong curvy African American woman, it just didn't sit right with her. She hated that they would sink so low as to condescend in a situation such as this, and more than that, she hated that pulling rank meant not only that they were aware that they were wrong, but that their decisions were not going to be swayed with reasoning. “No. I’m questioning your judgment.” She muttered.
Alexis sat back and slammed Reese’s research binder shut. “Well, I am not going to sit here any longer and listen to this.”
Reese’s jaw dropped. “But!”
“Come back in six months with a different attitude and a new persuasive strategy.” Alexis stood up, buttoning her suit jacket.
Reese ejected from her chair and stood indignantly with each arm tensed from her shoulders right down to her clenched fists. “But I don't have six months!”
Alexis shrugged. “If the project was so urgent, you should have thought twice about your arrogant approach.”
Reese bit her lip in the continued attempt to keep her tears at bay, then replied with, “This isn’t about me!”
The old woman raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“You know this is a good thesis. It’s a hell of a lot better than the one’s I’ve seen. Alexis, this could change medicine as we know it.” In the back of her mind she wondered if Alexis was holding her back because she was black, but she stopped herself, after all this was her mentor.
Alexis’s chest rose as she sucked in a deep breath, then released it, slowly and painfully. “You haven’t thought this through.”
“Yes, I have!”
Alexis shook her head. “You want four hundred subjects. Do you realize how much that could cost, and for an experiment that isn’t even guaranteed to be conclusive?”
“Of course it isn’t guaranteed. If we knew what was going to happen, we wouldn’t need to do it in the first place.”
“And what then? After you’ve systematically murdered four hundred mice, cultured trillions of bacteria… then what? You still don’t know if the organs will be viable. You still don’t know if they will even be functional. You’d need four hundred more subjects, and not to mention multiple trials and repetitions of this experiment before you can even move on to human subjects, which is a whole different financial burden.”
“That’s complete nonsense!” Reese exploded. “Bacteria go for fractions of cents and their easy to grow. And I can breed more mice. I can breed as many as I want. If people thought like you did, the human genome never would have been sequenced.”
Alexis narrowed her eyes and shoved Reese’s binder at her. “Your research. isn’t. good. enough.”
Reese stared at Alexis through her watery eyes. Her mouth opened and closed with fractions of phrases, because she didn’t want to give up just yet. Reese believed that somehow, she could convince Alexis, if only she said the right thing. Confidence had not worked, facts had not worked. She had researched and read up on this for almost a year now, and this idea was not one that had come easily. She had chased it around her mind for months and months, until finally, she had captured it and packaged it into this perfect package of a research proposal, and yet it wasn’t enough.
“Please get out of my office.”
Reese snatched her binder up in her arms and left the small 9th floor biology office. With the heavy door shut behind her, she leaned her back against the stone wall and sunk to the floor, heartbreak and hopelessness washing over her like the turbulent wave of a thunderstorm at sea. She rested her head in between her knees and let the binder that contained months and months of hard work slip to the floor with a thud. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks and dropped onto the linoleum floor, leaving small puddles of salty water. A lump grew in her throat as she pressed her lips shut in an attempt to keep herself as quiet as possible. Her muscles tensed as her grief turned to frustration that she could be so right and still not get the funding that she deserved. A quick look at her watch told her that she was already ten minutes late for her waitress shift at Per Se. With a gasp, she pushed herself off of the floor and flew down nine flights of stairs.
Reese emerged from the Biology building on Waverly place and joined the swarm of New York University students. Her tears dried in cold streams on her cheek as the crisp fall wind tousled her short curls and flipped her scarf inside out. She sucked in deep breaths, as she struggled to clear her mind of the argument she had just had in order to prepare herself for what was going to be a very long Friday-night shift. As she hopped through the crowds, swerving from this place to that and jay walking every chance she got, she absorbed the dirty city air, the sharp sounds of screeching brakes, whooshing tires. The snippets of conversation here or there; meaningless words or annoying phrases that hung in her mind for a second or two, before dissolving in the acidic environment of her worrisome thoughts.
Eventually, she made it to the subway station of west 4th street and 6th avenue. A wave of warm, diesel-infused air washed over her face and neck. Her chilled fingers slipped the scarf from around her neck and shoved it into her oversized messenger bag. In the stuffy, underground air, she could hear the dinging sound of th
e reader as she swiped her metro card, then the whine of the heavy gate as she pushed her body through the barriers. As she stood on the yellow line of the platform, fatigue drooping her eyes and thoughts of her catastrophic failure weighing on her mind once more, she took a step over the yellow line and stared into the dark abyss. A muffled squeaking sound cut through the relative silence as the soot-covered body of a rat scurried into view, then disappeared under a fold of track. She contemplated jumping into the tracks and patiently awaiting her death , but as the roar of the incoming subway flooded her ears, she vanquished her foolish thoughts and patiently waited to board her train.
Chapter 3
Reese yanked the freezer door open and stuck her head inside of it. She had discovered the noise-canceling effect of the restaurant ice-boxes and freezers months ago, when, during a conversation with one of her colleagues, she was unable to hear any of grating words once she had stepped inside of the over-sized appliance. She placed her free-hand on her forehead, swiping the beads of sweat away. Her mouth hung slightly ajar as she sucked in buckets of cold air, hoping that that would calm her. She was currently waiting on four tables at the same time and it didn't help that one of them went through their cocktails at a rate that would make an alcoholic's head spin. On top of that, the image of Alexis' face, much too close to hers, telling her she wasn't good enough, kept coming to mind.
“Reese!” A firm hand gripped her upper arm and pulled her out of the freezer. She turned to find the tall, lean frame of her manager, Frank, staring at her, his blue eyes darkened by a scowl. “What are you doing in the freezer when your table 22 needs refills?”
Reese blinked twice and shook her head, as if her thoughts were an etch and sketch that could be erased in such a manner. She opened her mouth to speak, but wrapped his fingers around her wrist and lead her out of the kitchen. “I just sent Janet home-”
“Why?” She snapped.
Frank ignored this question. “I need you to take table 54.”
Reese's brows furrowed as her lips twisted into a frown. Her heart sank into her stomach and the muscles in her arms began to tingle in a way that made her fear that they might fall of. “But-”
Frank just rolled his eyes. “ I don't have time for this.” He mumbled, before turning around and stalking down the back-hallway up to the bar in the front of the restaurant.
“I already have four tables.” Reese mumbled to herself as she proceeded down the back hallway, one hand rummaging in the pocket of her apron for the one working pen she had left, and the other attempting to straighten her dropping ponytail. She emerged from the hallway and entered the dining room. An instant rush of about 72 hushed voices reached her ears all at once. With skilled eyes, she surveyed the floor for table 54, but what she saw rooted her to her spot.
At the four-top sat two younger men, probably no older than her. One of them wore a gray suit with silver cufflinks that even from this distance were obviously real silver. His blond hair was slicked back in such a way that gave Reese the impression that he was trying too hard. But, next to him sat the other young man. He had a thick head of dark curly hair that he kept under strict control, except for one semi-spiraled lock that trailed down his perfect forehead, colliding with one of his bushy eyebrows. He was fairly tanned for a Caucasian man and his face looked like it had been chiseled out of marble and, although his emerald eyes were shadowed under a heavy-set brow-line, they were captivating even from this distance. He slightly narrowed his eyes as he read the menu, swift fingers turning page after page. His peach lips moved every now and then as he lifted his gaze to respond to the two older men sitting across from him.
“Oh shit girl, Reese have you seen table 54?” Maria, another Latino waitress with long dyed red hair and a tattoo of some gibberish written in cursive on her neck skipped up to Reese and whispered into her ear.
Reese nodded slowly. “I'm looking at them right now.”
“Oh what I wouldn't give to have that section.” Maria sighed.
Reese raised an eyebrow. “I do have that section now.”
Maria's gray eyes went wide. “Well, go flirt with them!” She hissed. “Or,” she shrugged, “You could take their drink orders.”
Reese rolled her eyes and stalked over to the table. From close range, the man with the dark hair was even more captivating and she felt her mouth run dry when she said, “Hi. My name is Reese and I'll be taking care of you tonight.” She tried and epically failed at sounding enthusiastic and confident. In her mind she thought about what taking care of him would really be like.
One of the older man, dressed in a pin-striped suit with cracking lips, turned and ran his eyes all over her body from the tip of her sweaty forehead to her toes encased in non-slip shoes. “Hi, Reese.” He replied in a silky voice.
The other older man leaned over the table, so that he could get a better look at her and mumbled, “You'll be taking care of us?”
Reese ignored his suggestive comment and turned her attention to the side of the table with the younger occupants. “What would you like to drink?” She asked the man with the blond hair.
He smirked and responded with, “I'll just have a martini to start with.”
“What kind?” Reese asked.
“Martini, honey.” Pin-striped suit cut in, his voice bearing an unmistakable condescending tilt. “Not margarita.”
Reese raised an eyebrow. “I know what martini is.” She answered in a dry voice, before turning her attention back to blondie. “What vodka would you like in your martini?” She could see the man with dark hair smirking just out of the corner of her eyes.
“Absolut.” Blondie replied.
Before Reese could ask the other young man what he wanted, the other two old men cut in. “That sounds like a good idea.” One of them said. “Why don't we get a round of those for the table.” The other one added. “And put in some of the stuffed mushrooms as an appetizer.”
Reese nodded, slightly bummed that she wasn't able to speak to the man with the dark hair directly. However, when she came back with the martinis, she immediately shifted her attention to him. “What would you like for an entre?” She asked in a voice that came out way more demanding that she would have liked.
However, pin-stripes interrupted again. “Excuse me toots!” he exclaimed in between unappealing chuckles of laughter. “Did you forget all about the wine?”
“What wine?” Reese demanded.
His colleague gestured with his figures for her to come closer, then pointed to one of their more expensive bottles on the menu. Reese nodded, scribbled the first three letters of the name of the wine in her book, then stepped back.
“I would like,” Reese shifted her gaze to find that, that voice which had the perfect combination of silk and husk had come from the man with dark hair. Her mouth hung slightly ajar as, with an irresistible smirk on his face, he finished his sentence with, “the filet, medium rare and a side of asparagus.” Reese jotted this down and the orders of the other three, then disappeared to the computers to input the order.
“How's it going with the Calvin Klein models?” Maria asked as she began punching numbers on the computer next to her.
Reese glanced back at her table. “Is that what they are?”
Maria broke into a fit of high-pitched laughter before replying with, “Obviously not. They're like from some stock broking company or something.”
“Oh.” Reese mumbled. She sighed to herself as the man with the dark hair just became that much more out of her reach.
“But don't lose hope.” Maria replied. She finished on her computer, then slid closer to Reese, wrapping her arms around her shoulder, and murmured. “Contrary to what you might believe, you are in the midst of a good hair day, girl.” She layed two aggressive pats down on her shoulder, then disappeared into the kitchen, screaming, “Where there is hair, there is hope!”
With a sigh, Reese quickly checked on her other four tables, refilling a coke here and dropping off a check there, unti
l finally, it was time for the wine presentation. She draped a white cloth over her arm and, just as she was taught, floated over to her table of men, the wine bottle held “just so,” with the label in clear view. Once she reached the table, she plastered the biggest smile she could muster on her face and proceeded to cut the foil off of the top of the wine bottle. With this accomplished, she then penetrated the soft surface of the cork with her screw and drilled it in. As she glanced up, she caught the gaze of the man with the dark hair, who had been staring intently at her, a soft smile brightening his face. Reese remained fixated on those emerald eyes as she continued to screw the cork, only averting her gaze to make sure the hooks of her wine tool were properly aligned with the rim of her bottle. With this assured, she slowly eased the cork out of the bottle, all the while, keeping eye contact with the man with the dark hair. Somehow, just looking at him calmed her nerves but made her blood run hot at the same time. She trembled in her socks at the mere thought of his voice, or what little she could remember of it.
She finished the wine presentation and disappeared for the next thirty minutes, to attend to her other tables, which were slowly dwindling. About an hour later, she returned to the table with a check book, then scurried off so that they could appraise the bill, have the usual arguments about how they were going to split it, or not split it and then, finally, slip and card into it. As soon as the check book went back up with the sharp edge of a credit card slipping out of it, she rushed back to the men and swiped it off of the table. Once she was back at her computer, she opened it to find a platinum United credit card... and a business card. It read, “Daniel Scott; Broker.” Hoping that this Daniel person was the man with the emerald eyes, she pocketed the card and returned the book to his table.
City Vibes - Complete Series (BWWM Interracial Billionaire Romance) Page 2
