Blink

Blink (Interracial Erotica)

Violet Williams

Published by Quiver Publishing at
Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Violet Williams

Simone Jenkins was just minding her business,
armed with a plate of Pad Thai and a Lifetime marathon waiting for
her at home. Easy, chill, drama free night--until Mark Roberts rear
ends her, putting a literal dent in her plans.

She's a recent college grad, he a suit oozing
with entitlement, but she can't deny her carnal attraction to the
handsome man.

When he asks her out for dinner, Simone will
learn that lots of things can happen in a blink of an eye-a fender
bender, romance, even swift removal of clothes...

Blink is an erotic romance short story
containing explicit language and sexual content. It is 6,244
words.

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***

Simone Jenkins bopped her head from left to
right as she reversed her Corolla, pulling from the parking space
in front of Lada Thai House. It was Saturday night and she was set:
she had a bottle of chardonnay chilling in the fridge, a plate full
of pad thai, and a marathon on Lifetime, stuffed full of taboo
romance.

She pulled to the exit of the shopping
center, clicking on her turn signal. She shot her head to the left.
The coast was clear except for a black car that was at least a
hundred feet away. With three lanes for traffic flow, she eased
onto the road, her mind on her evening and-

THWOK
.

Her car lurched forward with a metallic
crunch.

Holy shit. She’d just been rear ended.

She cast a look of disgust at her rearview
and saw the black car she’d seen a couple of blocks away glaring
back at her.

“Great,” she muttered, petering down the road
and pulling into the next shopping center on her right. “Just
great.”

She braked after she maneuvered next to the
side curb and put her car in park, killing the engine with a groan.
She tossed a sad look at her carton of thai food, her mind already
calculating. When she stepped out of her car and got a hold of her
rear bumper, punched in a perfect impression of the black sedan’s
front, she seethed, the numbers ticking away.

Simone was an accountant, so numbers were
kind of her thing. $11.98 for a plate of noodles was gonna end up
costing her a new rear bumper, not to mention the fun experience of
dialing up Nationwide and sitting on hold before going through the
lengthy claim process.

She put her hands on her hips, boring holes
into the tinted windshield of the car behind hers. Was the prick
gonna even get out of their car?

She took stock of it, noting the signature
contours and insignia of a BMW. It was sleek and dangerous, the
kind of car that Simone salivated over but could never quite
justify on her entry level salary. What she would give to have a
car like that parked outside her condo…

She gave her head a shake. She was 23, fresh
out of college. Over half of the graduating class from Sacramento
State was headed to the security of their parents’ couches. While
her job didn’t afford her a five figure salary, at least she
had
a job. And insurance. And the joker behind the wheel of
the Beamer better have some too.

She opened her mouth to call out whoever was
behind the wheel, but words failed her as she got a hold of the
driver. The man that eased out of the driver side was just that—all
man. Even in his sharp two piece suit she could tell that he spent
hours at the gym, perfecting every ounce of his body. His skin was
golden, tanned without the Donald Trump orange nonsense. His hair
was cut short, the dark strands coifed and gently spiked, giving
him a playful, yet conservative edge. He stepped closer and she got
a better look at his face: youthful, attractive features. He looked
about late twenties, maybe just shy of thirty. Deep blue eyes took
in her ebony ones and his apologetic smile plucked at her heart
strings.

Damn it. Of course he was hot.

“Christ,” he said, wincing beautifully as he
took in the damage on her car. “I am so sorry.”

The erratic beat in her chest, the romantic
inside her that got her into trouble, wanted to tell him that it
was okay. She silently pinched herself, hoping the flash of pain
would allow common sense to take over. It most definitely was
not
okay. The back of her car was fucked and she needed to
do something other than drool. “What the hell happened?”

He let out a chuckle. “Just got a hell of a
commission. 50,000 dollars.” He tilted his head to the side. Simone
saw a Bluetooth blinking in his ear. He held up a finger. “One
second.”

Rich people
, Simone thought with an
eye roll. It was suddenly real easy to stop fantasizing about what
he looked like underneath his clothes. He’d rear ended her, putting
a wrench in her plans, and he had the nerve to put
her
on
hold? “Excuse me-” She gasped when he turned his back to her, his
head bowed in concentration. Not on the accident, mind you—on the
very conversation that put them in this mess in the first
place!

She shook her head. “Unbelievable.” She spun
on her heels and walked back to her car, rummaging through her
pocketbook. She pulled out her Iphone and walked back to the scene.
She wanted to take pictures of the damage, maybe a shot or two of
his license plate.

As she pivoted the lens in his direction, a
ripple of longing went through her and without thinking, she hit
the ‘take’ button. Her phone flashed.

The guy’s attention turned to her in shock.
“Hold on a second,” he said to whomever,
whatever
was so
much more important than the issue at hand. He crossed his arms.
“What do you think you’re doing?”

Simone’s cheeks blossomed red as she pointed
the camera where it belonged—the damage, not the damager. Or was he
the damagee? It didn’t matter. She just wanted to get the pics, get
his info, and get out of there.

“I’m taking pictures,” she answered finally.
“And if I could just get your insurance information-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said with a chuckle.
His features softened and he gave her a look. Actually, ‘look’
didn’t do it justice. It was so intimate that she was surprised he
didn’t knock her up with the glance. Warmth pooled at her core and
she felt light headed, drunk on attraction. Drawn to him like a
moth to a flame.

She took a step back, overwhelmed by the
effect he was having on her. “W-what?”

“There’s no need for that,” he said with a
smile. “There’s no need for business as usual.”

It’s a little late for that anyway
,
Simone thought ruefully. She’d only been in two accidents before.
One was with an inanimate object when she wasn’t paying attention
and took the rear bumper of her SUV clean off when she swiped a
pole near a gas pump. The other was when some old lady backed up
and hit her car at the grocery store. In the thick of those
incidents, she hadn’t found herself wanting to drag the person, or
pole, to the ground and screw their brains out.

“Since we’re talking about business,” Simone
piped, trying to steer them back on topic, “It looks like you’re in
the middle of some.” She squared her shoulders. “Let’s just wrap
this up and we can both get back to our lives.”

But that would have been too simple. He gave
her another one of those earth shattering grins and she damn near
had to clutch the side of her car to steady herself.

He turned his head to the ground. “I’ll talk
to you later,” he said, pressing the Bluetooth. “Alright. Take a
message.” He pulled the device from his ear and dropped it into his
pocket and took a few steps in her direction. “You’ve got my full
attention, love.”

He called her ‘love’. When he stepped closer
and she got a whiff of his spicy scent, she knew all bets were
off.

Focus
, she ordered herself silently.
Stay on task
. “So, uh, I should get your number.” She
gulped. “And your insurance stuff. And we should probably file a
police report-”

“If you wanted to call me, all you had to do
was so say so,” he winked.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she scoffed. “It’s
purely so we can figure out how the damage will be repaired. I mean
we could go the insurance route or you could pay out of
pocket-”

“Ah, I see.” He stroked his chin. “So if I
give you my insurance stuff and my number, we’ll part ways.”

“Yes.”

“We’ll never talk again.” Beat. “I mean, each
of us will do plenty of talking throughout the claims bs. Allstate
will dish out the cash for a new bumper for you. My rates will go
up.” He shook his head. “Unacceptable.”

She gaped at him. He probably worked downtown
at one of those high rises. Hell, he just made more money with a
commission than she’d make in a whole year! “This is about money,
huh?”

“Not at all,” he said smoothly. His eyes were
so dark, so enticing. They were almost navy in the waning light.
“I’m saying that never seeing or talking to you again, you becoming
a blip on my insurance record, is unacceptable.”

The heat in her cheeks fanned out over her
body as his words seeped in. It wasn’t that she’d never heard she
was pretty. Simone had caramel colored skin, piercing ebony eyes
and dark hair that fell just past her shoulders. She was thin, but
had cushion where it counted—her hips, her behind, her chest.

She was suddenly real glad she decided to
wrap her locks the night before so her chestnut hair fell in gentle
waves around her acorn shaped face. She was even rocking real
clothes instead of her usual combo of yoga pants and a t-shirt. But
even though she was wearing a blouse and skinny jeans and her hair
was on lock, she felt undressed and bare at his words. There was
something about the way he was approaching her that made her
self-conscious.

Why was he flirting with her instead of some
socialite type? A guy like that usually had some blonde, anorexic
type on their arm. But the way he was looking at her…it was like he
knew that she had a thing for white guys.

Richy Rich definitely wasn’t her first time
being attracted to someone outside her race. There was Joey, a guy
her girls not-so-affectionately called an ‘Uh-oh Oreo’ because he
liked to wear Fubu and a do-rag for some bizarre reason. Then there
was the frat boy nightmare Josh, who just wanted an ebony notch for
his bed post. Her ex, Nick, was last. He was the normal-est of the
bunch. Suave, educated, one helluva lover, but he hadn’t been such
a good guy in the end. The sting of walking in on him sleeping with
some red-headed bimbo on the bed he’d first said “I love you” on
was enough to make her swear off dating altogether.

She’d kept up with steering clear of doling
out her heart and body, turning down invites from friends to go
clubbing and bar hopping, instead opting for slow, uncomplicated
weekends with her noodles and good ole Lifetime. Her drama was
where she liked it—on her television, not in real life.

Yet here she was, starring in her very own
romantic comedy. Boy rear ends girl, ends up being a rich hottie.
Hijinks ensue.

Simone cleared her throat. “What are you
saying?”

He took a step toward her. “I’m saying, park
your car…and let me take you out to dinner.” He must have picked up
on the look of alarm in her eyes because he flipped the script. “Or
you could follow me, just in case I’m an axe murderer.”

She didn’t laugh, but she couldn’t fight the
smile that tugged at the corner of her lips.