Blink (Interracial Erotica)

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.