by Charish Reid
Victoria ran a hand over her mouth and suppressed a groan. Arguments like this one escalated because she made an attempt to stand up for herself. Katherine Reese knew how to take one tiny piece of her daughter’s argument and turn it back on her. Even though Victoria had taught rhetoric for nearly a decade, she was still unarmed against her mother. If they had a closer relationship that wasn’t based on constant criticism, Victoria would have called her mother right after class and asked for advice regarding Braden.
She could have told her mother how the students sometimes felt like her children. It wasn’t right or fair, but as a female educator, it was expected that she would nurture her students while she taught them. Unbeknownst to Katherine, Victoria often came home from a job feeling exhausted by playing mom to young people who weren’t hers. And sometimes she messed up and treated them like her own, right to their faces.
But this phone call wasn’t for those purposes.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” she said in her most contrite voice. If she apologized now, she could save herself from the rest of this lecture. “You’re not being a bother. I totally understand where you’re coming from.”
“I’m not trying to scold you for the fun of it,” Katherine said still sniffling. “I just worry sometimes, that’s all.”
Victoria closed her eyes. She didn’t know it, but her mother had repeated the same thing she had said to Braden. Or had Victoria repeated from her mother? She wasn’t certain, but she felt terrible all over again. “I know, but there’s nothing to worry about,” she said. “Even though it’s stressful, I really do enjoy my work.”
Her mother sighed. “Oh Victoria—”
“So, what do you and Dad have planned this evening?” she asked, swiftly changing the subject.
Her mother didn’t miss a beat to talk about herself. “Your father has some card game with the boys,” she said dismissively. “I’m joining the ladies of the event planning committee. We’re getting ready for your uncle Jeffrey’s retirement celebration. I had to convince Brenda that embossed invitations are really the only way to go. She insisted everyone would be happy with emails, but I think it’s just plain vulgar. For heaven sake, the man lost one of his fingers in The Gulf War.”
“That’s true,” Victoria intoned as she scrolled through her Facebook newsfeed.
“I told her, ‘Jeffrey didn’t sacrifice his blood on the battlefield so that we could settle for email invitations.’ And that shut her right up. The other ladies agreed with me and I went right ahead and ordered 80 cardstock invitations with gold-embossed script. Tonight, we’re reviewing The Drake’s catered offerings. Do you think salmon canapés are old-fashioned?”
“Huh?”
“Beg your pardon,” Katherine corrected. “I think we should have something with salmon as an hors d’oeuvre. I don’t think we can swing a full entrée, since the invitations bit into the budget, but there are the vegetarians, aren’t there...”
If Victoria had to guess, she would say her mother had her party planning binder perched on her lap while she spoke. Katherine’s questions weren’t meant to be answered; Victoria was only a sounding board for her thinking aloud. “There probably will be vegetarians,” she murmured, typing “John Donovan” into the Facebook search bar.
“But not enough to waste salmon-entrée-money on,” her mother said in a breezy voice. “I think we should stick with the sirloin and chicken. Everyone eats chicken. I read somewhere that chickens are the most consumed animal in the world.”
As she scrolled through John’s photos, she didn’t bother telling her mother that vegetarian wasn’t the same thing as pescatarian. Her beautiful librarian filled her screen and captured her focus.
“What we really need to do is to decide on the cake,” her mother continued. “You know what? I need to let you go because I think I remember hearing something about a new black-owned bakery somewhere downtown. I’ll have to Google them. Let’s talk later?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Katherine hung up.
Victoria put down her phone and willed her body to relax. As she went through each photo of John, her mind drifted back to their last tryst. Images of them fogging up an already humid greenhouse with their passionate lovemaking appeared. She opened her day planner, seeking out their next rendezvous. Tomorrow.
Thank god.
Chapter Sixteen
“Seems like you’ve got something on your mind, Dr. Reese.”
Victoria was in the middle of jabbing a box cutter through cardboard when John’s voice hummed like a faraway echo. The steady rhythm of unpacking picture books, counting, and marking numbers was a comforting way to take her mind off what bothered her. When John had told her they were going to the library basement to take inventory of a new shipment of children’s books, she’d been strangely relieved. What may have been considered boring by most, actually calmed Victoria. She hadn’t thought about her mother once.
“Dr. Reese?”
Victoria head jerked around to see John sitting on the floor with a pile of books. He was staring at her. “Beg your pardon?”
His mouth quirked into a lopsided grin. “Pardoned.”
“Did you say something?”
He shook his head. “You looked like you were in deep thought, that’s all. You got something on your mind?”
Quite the opposite. She had zoned out a while ago, completely focused on her task. “Nope.”
“It’s just that you’re very quiet,” he said.
“The job is pretty simple,” she said, ripping open her box. “You count the books, make sure they match the packing list, mark correct on the invoice...then put the invoice in that pile. I could do this all day.”
His low rumble of laughter made her look up from her work.
“What?”
John pulled himself from the floor, dusted off his khakis, and walked towards her work station. Victoria’s space held a pristine collection of books, perfectly stacked and arranged in straight rows. She was rather proud of the work she was doing. Once her boxes were emptied, she had planned to put the books in alphabetical order on a nearby cart. She was really looking forward to that part. That’s why it made her nervous when John approached her work station. His makeshift corner of the basement looked hazardous. His piles of books were balanced in precarious positions, small to large, threatening to topple over. “Oh nothing,” he said, running his large hands over her work. “I thought we would talk about tonight.”
“I’d like that very much.” Victoria watched as he moved one book out of place, before moving to the next stack. He picked up a picture book, looked it over, and placed it in the wrong pile. “Ooh, you know what? I’ll handle this bit and you can handle your situation.” She straightened her stack and moved one of the books just a smidge, putting it right back in its place.
His deep Viking laughter grew louder. “Dr. Reese, you’re being nitpicky.”
“No, I’m just—please don’t touch that,” Victoria said, shielding the books with her body. “Mr. Donovan, you’re messing things up.”
Having placed herself between him and her work, Victoria found herself much closer to him. She bumped into the solid wall of his muscular chest as she straightened up what he had moved. “No one in the history of library work has enjoyed this task as much as you do. That disturbs me.” He lifted the thick curtain of her box braids away from her shoulder to expose her worried face.
“Whatever the job is,” she said, turning to face him, “I like to do it right.”
“Right? Or Perfectly?” he countered. He stood over her, one hand on his hip and the other on her stack of Eloise in Moscow. It was difficult to argue with a man whose expression was a mixture of mirth and lust. John’s pine-green eyes twinkled as he stared down at her. She couldn’t tell if he was teasing her or if he wanted to kiss her. Victoria found herself okay with both. Perhaps she was
being a little too protective of her collection of children’s literature.
“You got me,” she sighed. “I like perfection if it’s possible.”
“As do I,” he said, leaning forward. “I’m looking at her right now.”
“I don’t know about that, Mr. Donovan.” What an odd compliment. She felt anything but perfect in that moment, dressed in jeans, a Golden Girls T-shirt Reggi got for all of them, and sneakers. She’d slowly let herself wear comfortable clothes around John since he was taking this library work seriously. Perfect was a word boyfriends used. And John was anything but that. Still, she was a little curious about his declaration. “How so?”
John’s smirk widened into a wolfish grin. “You’re an intelligent, beautiful woman with a dirty little secret,” he said, brushing against her lips. He kissed the corner of her mouth, sending an involuntary tremor of arousal to the pit of her belly.
Victoria’s eyelids fell shut as she weaved in her sneakers. “I am? I do?”
“You’re a sex kitten with OCD.”
Her eyes flew open to see John pull away from her and cross his arms over his chest. “What?”
“You’re a perfect mess,” he said with a shrug.
Laughter bubbled up in her chest and escaped in the same raspy chuckle John had described just a couple days ago. “Shut up,” she said, playfully pushing his shoulder and then immediately straightening the pile of Eloise books.
“See!” John exclaimed through his laughter.
“There’s nothing wrong with a little order,” she giggled as she blocked his advances. “No, stop ruining them, John!”
He began mixing up her stacks on purpose, putting The Stinky Cheese Man on the Fancy Nancy pile, and shuffling the paperback Berenstain Bears. “There, now it’s perfect.”
Victoria threw up her hands. “Fine, you win. They’re all out of order and now it’s going to be a chore to shelve them. I was trying to get them ready for the next person and you’ve just made it harder for them.”
“The next person to shelve them is me. And I don’t care,” John said, pulling her to him with his powerful arms. Trapped in his hug, she had no choice but to leave the mess and stand still. Even though she was irritated, the warmth of his embrace was so male, so comforting. “Don’t pout, Dr. Reese. It’s cute as hell, but I want to talk to you.”
“I’m not pouting,” she said, avoiding his laughing eyes.
“You are. So much so, that I want to suck on that bottom lip that’s stuck out.”
This made her laugh again. Victoria still couldn’t keep up with him. Between his flirty quips and his stolen kisses, she was always in a state of heightened arousal. “What do you want to discuss, Mr. Donovan?” she asked in a mock-serious tone.
He hugged her closer to his unyielding body, her softness pressed tight against his hardness. Speaking of hardness... The unmistakable poke of something below the waist caught her attention and warmed her face. “I want to discuss that,” he said in a low voice.
Her breath caught in her throat.
“Tonight is the last night of your schedule. The next time we see each other, I’m going to take you out on an actual date. Lunch or coffee or something inane, and we’re going to have first-date banter.”
“We’re already pretty good at banter,” she pointed out.
“I’m going to ask you about your childhood pets, we’re going to hold hands at some point, and I’m going to drop you off at your doorstep hoping for a kiss.”
The list he made was laughable. The things they had already done were salacious enough to make Victoria blush at certain points of her day. John wanted to date her. The idea of dating him made her heart pound. Dating meant...trying. And that was added work she didn’t need. Their trysts were fun and dangerous. She didn’t have to try or perform. “So, I guess we need to make tonight really fun...”
“I’m sure that can be arranged, Dr. Reese.” He dipped his head and gave her a kiss that was surprisingly gentle. The soft touch of his lips a delicious sensation that made her release a sweet sigh. Victoria melted under his tender touch, finding it difficult to keep herself upright. It was alright though, his embrace was solid and affirming, like a haven for her tired soul to fall into. When John finally pulled away, she was left wanting and unfulfilled. There had been a dreamy intimacy to their kiss that was unlike so many others. Victoria’s disappointment must have shadowed her face, because John gathered her against his chest and stroked the length of her spine. “You wear your emotions so openly, Dr. Reese.”
Something about this interaction puzzled Victoria. John had made an abrupt shift from teasing her about her orderly personality to hugging and kissing her in an intimate, loving fashion. Victoria wasn’t accustomed to being held like this. Like something precious, threatening to crack, if not treated with absolute care. “I hadn’t realized,” she said. The lure of his voice, his warm caress, the smell of his woodsy cologne, was enough to put her in a catatonic state. Was a simple hug really all it took to calm her rabbit-heart?
Only when he released her was Victoria shaken from her quiet reverie. John made another unexpected move by asking her, “Now, where would you like to have ‘fun’? There’s my office, which is right behind the checkout desk. Martha’s hearing aid is still messed up, but I can’t guarantee the patrons won’t hear us. As you can see, the basement’s pretty quiet, but I can tell you’re wildly uncomfortable about messing up your...system,” he said, gesturing to her workstation.
Victoria couldn’t control her burst of laughter. “Thank you for understanding,” she said. “Do you have a whiskey locker we can use?”
A sandy-brown eyebrow arched as he stared at her. “Excuse me?”
She looked around the basement space. “It’s a closet where all the cleaning supplies are kept. Is that one?” She pointed to the door labeled “Maintenance.”
“A whiskey locker?”
She took him by the hand and pulled him towards the closet. “It’s what my dad calls it.”
“Will I learn more about this at a later date?” John asked as he flicked the light on and checked the dimensions of the small space.
Victoria entered first and moved aside the Caution: Wet Floor signs. “You will,” she said with a grin. “But first, I’d like to have one last night of covert fun.”
John closed the door behind him. “I can give you that, honey. I can fun you real good until my shift is over.” Under the dim yellow light of the single bulb, he looked bold and dangerous. He was dressed in a tight black T-shirt. Its sleeves stretched and held on for dear life around his biceps, while the expanse of his wide chest rose and fell with every deep, measured breath. John reached into the back pocket of his slim-fit khakis and pulled out a trusty condom.
Victoria let out a dizzying breath as he approached her. Her stomach contracted and a rush of heat flooded her entire body. Wet-hot desire pooled between her thighs as she awaited his touch. Something came over her as she appraised his beautiful body. She could never tire of staring at his thick, sinewy thighs wrapped in tight khakis, or the way his stomach was tanned and taut with a ladder of firm ab muscles. Victoria eyed the glint of the condom wrapper and shook her head. “We don’t need that right now,” she said in a suffocated whisper.
John paused right before her. His green eyes darkened as they flitted to her waist, and he shot her an irresistibly devastating grin. “Dr. Reese, would you like me to—”
“No, not tonight, although you do that extremely well.” Before he could ask any more questions, she closed the distance between them and rested her hands on his belt buckle. She tried to steady her shaking fingers as she slowly unraveled the leather at his waist. When she got to the button and zipper of his pants, she felt slightly more confident. Victoria looked up to see John watching her, realization dawning in his eyes as she leisurely pushed his waistband over the tight curve of his ass.
“Absolutely,” she said, pressing her hands to his bare hips and sliding them to the tops of his thighs. His muscles jerked in response as she caressed his hot skin. John’s heavy cock stirred and stood, presenting itself in its full glory. Victoria backed John against a shelf of cleaning supplies and gaze up at him. “If it’s okay with you...” she asked, licking her lips.
“Jesus Christ, yes.” His voice rasped out in a strained affirmative.
She knelt down to the floor and held him in place. When she was face-to-face with his iron-hard organ, Victoria almost second-guessed her bold action. The proud erection stood beautifully; its girth and long shaft a pleasant memory of the pleasure she received on Sunday. She was hardly an expert at giving blow jobs—it had been years since she’d even tried—but Victoria wanted to give to him what he so selflessly gave her. John was such a generous lover, careful to pleasure nearly every part of her body and intuitive enough to know when she wanted more. She wanted him to feel that same pleasure.
As she took him in her hands, she heard him take a sharp breath. “Victoria...” he murmured, placing one gentle hand on her cheek. The velvety hot hardness of his cock jerked under her delicate touch. She ran her fingers along the sides tracing the pulsing veins, to the dark thatch of pubic hair at its root. When she leaned forward and gave the smooth tip a tentative lick, she glanced up at John, who had closed his eyes and rested a hand on his chest. She could tell he was fighting to keep his breathing in check, alternating between shallow pants and low drags of air. She held on to his narrow hips and gave it another try. As she wrapped her lips around him, she did what came naturally. No need to overthink it.
Above her, John pulled his shirt off and tossed it somewhere behind her. As he angled his hips forward to receive her mouth, Victoria pulled his pants down further, delighting in running her fingers along the springy hair of his thighs. Her other hand held his girth in place, as her tongue slid and caressed as much as she could manage. His soft moans and harsh pants made her quicken her pace. Victoria was surprised that the sounds of his pleasure turned her on so much. As she sucked and massaged him with her lips, she had the urge to touch herself. She waited a few seconds before pulling her mouth away and used her fist to stroke the slickness on his cock. “Do you mind?” she asked, pulling at her belt and loosening her jeans.