by Cynthia Hart
“I should know,” I harrumphed. “I’m the one who served you all night.”
“The nerve!” she blasted, grabbing her purse. “Where’s your manager? I want to lodge a formal complaint?”
I rolled my eyes, pointing out Cliff, who would have about as much patience for Blondie as I had. “Right there, ma’am,” I said, knowing the reminder that she was a little old to be flirting with “barkeeps” would put her right over the edge. I was right. She seethed, stomping off the find Cliff, keys in hand as he prepared to close up for the night.
I did my side work quickly, ready for the long night to be over and wanting to rest up before inventory with April the next night. Between stacking glass and polishing bottles, I watched the wispy blond rattle on at Cliff until, boozily, she stumbled out the door and, haltingly, across the street.
“What the hell was that all about?” he asked as I hung up my apron for the night.
“She offered me her room key,” I explained, digging my bike keys out of my pocket. “Then got pissed when I turned her down.”
“You?” Cliff snorted in disbelief. “Turned her down?”
I nodded. “I’m trying to change my ways, Cliff.”
He chuckled. “I’ve never seen you turn down a sure thing before, Caden,” he said, both of us turning to watch the hot young blonde cross the street. “Especially one as fine as her. That must have been pretty hard for you, player.”
“Actually, Cliff,” I said, patting him on the shoulder as I passed by on my way out of the bar. “It was the easiest thing I’ve ever done…”
Chapter 19 :
April
“Amoretto?” I asked, clipboard in hand, watching Caden reach for the last bottle behind the bar. It was dusty, and round, and fancy, and completely full.
“One,” he said, sliding it off the shelf and onto the bar instead of back into its dusty hiding place. “Just like it’s been every time we’ve done inventory. Hell, every time I’ve ever done inventory.”
I marked it down on the spreadsheet, sliding the clipboard away for the rest of the night. That is until I heard the telltale “crack” of a seal being broken around the bottle’s neck. “Hey,” I said, eyeing him curiously as he twisted off the fancy gold top. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve never tasted this before,” he explained, reaching for two delicate looking shot glasses from an overhead rack. “I think, as a true professional, I should at least try it, don’t you?”
I sighed, erasing the number “1” next to the bottle I’d just recorded and putting in “3/4” instead. “Well, you might as well now,” I scolded quietly, secretly savoring a taste of the rich golden liquor. “Seeing as you’ve broken the seal already.”
“Now you’re talking like a future bartender,” he beamed, pouring out amber liquid until both parfaits shaped shot glasses were full to the brim. “To the future,” he added, hoisting his carefully for a toast.
I followed suit, raising the glass high only to tap his and amend his toast, however slightly. “To our future,” I added, making him blush and savoring my amaretto in triumph. It was warm and sweet, redolent of almonds and the vague hint of some rich Italian dessert. I thought that, someday soon, it might be the perfect complement to a slice of tiramisu or even a powder dusted cannoli.
“What do you think?” he asked after a healthy sip of his own.
“I like it,” I said, taking another, smaller sip this time, and savoring the liqueur as much as I did the company. “But I wouldn’t want too many of them.”
“I think one will do for tonight,” he agreed, putting his empty glass down as I did the same. They sat on the bar, side by side, much as we did.
“I’m glad I tried it, though,” I said, savoring the sweet, almond aftertaste long after the shot was warming my belly. It seemed a perfect way to close out a long week of waiting – and waiting and waiting and waiting.
After that fateful ride home with Caden earlier in the week, standing in front of my house and hearing his pledges of loyalty and obedience, I’d thought for sure he’d screw up and fuck the next girl who walked into the bar. But night after night, shift after shift, he’d prove me wrong. Now, true to his word, here we were doing inventory. Alone. Together. Just like that first time when I was new to the Bistro, new to the job, and new to Caden’s immeasurable charms.
He seemed to hold many of them, and many more than his obvious ones: the handsome face, the long, sleek body, the sexy, mysterious tattoos and mischievous eyes. For he was a man that was more than his appearance and, so far, his heart had been true. Though I was doubtful Caden would ever stop looking at other women, for now, I was hopeful that I was the one he favored the most.
The idea warmed more than just my belly but made my heart ache with something it hadn’t held in many, many years, if ever: hope. The hope that we could actually be a couple, real and true, like the ones who paraded through the Bistro, night after night, hand in hand, gazing adoringly at each other over a meal of baked brie or a bottle of wine.
We’d only had the one date so far, though we’d spent nearly every night together, within eyeshot of each other, and it made me yearn for more now that we had passed a threshold of sorts and faced an uncertain, if exciting, future together.
“I’m glad I tried a lot of things lately,” he said, pulling me closer as I gave him no fight. This wasn’t like the first time we’d done inventory together, him sexy and cocky, me cagey and coy. Now I wanted him, full bore, and he clearly wanted me. It was a heady thought, one I was still coping with as his body beckoned, long and limber and lean.
“Yeah?” I asked as he wrapped me up in his arms, strong and safe and warm. “Like what, big guy?”
“Like giving up my bad boy ways for you,” he murmured into my hair, our bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces that had been at opposite ends of the box for far too long.
“Hey now,” I teased, pushing him away playfully as my loins did a wistful happy dance. “I fell in love with a bad boy, don’t neuter him for me.”
“Okay,” he said, rolling his eyes as if it was a personal challenge. “I’ll still be bad whenever you want me to.”
“Like now?” I purred, teasing him back into my arms.
“Anytime you want me to be,” he said, smirking as he slid his hand into mine and gently dragged me from behind the bar. There was a waiting area around the corner, soft and quiet and gently lit. Like the rooftop bar where we’d finally consummated our love – or lust, or whatever this was – it featured a large sectional I a dimly lit alcove.
We called it “the waiting room” because it was where we led anxious couples to cool their heels when the wait got too long during the nightly dinner rush. It was between the bar and the hostess stand, feeding into the dining room in two directions, gently hidden from the main entrance but near enough that customers could hear us when we called out their names as a new table became available.
He sank into a middle cushion, a hand on either hip as he tugged me closer. “Why here?” I murmured, drowsily, as he kissed my belly while tugging at my top.
“No cameras,” he murmured, sliding a hand off my waist to point at the ceiling, where painted black tiles featured no mechanical eye like everywhere else in the restaurant.
“I like the way you think, hot shot,” I teased, helping him tug off my shirt before I tossed it onto the sectional next to him.
“This way I can be as bad as you want me to be,” he murmured, sliding my skirt around my waist so he could access the zipper on the side.
“What about you?” I murmured, already moist as the sound of the zipper awakened a lust in me that had been gently buried all the long, celibate week. “Don’t you want to get bad again?”
“Only every waking minute,” he assured me, tugging my skirt down until it slid to the floor and pooled together at my feet. “Which is how often I think about doing this…”
With that he gently slid me down atop his thigh, my tender clit throbbing and m
y full lips gasping at the sensation of his muscles against me made me shiver and moan. “Oh, Jesus,” I murmured, knowing he would make me come, just like this, me clad in only damp panties and him fully dressed. “Even when you’re bad you’re oh so good…”
“And I’m only getting started,” he promised, lifting his leg slightly to tease my swollen mound as if to prove it.
“Correction,” I murmured huskily. “We’re just getting started, “Caden. We’re in this together now, remember?”
“How could I forget?” He asked, pausing to give me a full, wet, soulful kiss before dragging off my bra and teasing my nipples to life with his damp, sticky kisses. “It’s all I’ve been living for all week.”
“You and me both, player,” I sighed, sinking down onto his leg as the first orgasm approached, thick and wet, lazy and slow, confident – as I was – it would be the first of many to come…
High on Biology
Amelia West
High on Biology
Copyright 2017 by Amelia West
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to a person, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Warning: Due to mature subject matter, such as explicit sexual situations and coarse language, this story is not suitable for anyone under the age of 18. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older, and all acts of sexual nature are consensual.
Table of Contents
Arousing Suspicions 1
Seduced by The Werewolf
The Boss’s Mistress
Doing Inventory
High on Biology
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 1
They were moving against each other, panting and covered in sweat. Rachael arched her back, craned her neck as she raked her nails down Blake’s back. Blake leaned down, nipped at her exposed neck, traced the shell of Rachael’s ear. Breathing heavily he whispers to her-
Beep Beep Beep Beep
Rachael’s alarm was blaring, dragging her out of her dream. Her sex dream. Of Blake, of all people. Rachael groaned loudly and threw her blanket on the floor. She ran through a list of everything that was making her angry this morning. She was dreaming about a guy who was a jerk, she had only gotten three hours of sleep last night, she was going to be late for Biology. Again. A class she not only hated but one she was also failing.
Rachael got out of bed and put her blanket back on her bed, semi-neatly. Throwing a death-glare at her undisturbed roommate, Rachael marched to their bathroom, grateful that this university’s dorms each had their own bathroom so she wouldn’t have to share one with the entire floor like she was in some kind of prison. Rachael laughed quietly, prison was a good analogy for her life right now. She was trapped, unhappy, and trying to keep her head down until the day comes when she’ll be released.
Rachael threw one last glance in the mirror before grabbing her bag and heading off to her least favorite part of the day. Biology was the one class that made her feel like a complete idiot, she shouldn’t even need to be taking this class. Rachael had taken a college class on the side while she was still in high school, dual enrollment was one of her favorite perks from her high school. She made good use out of it, made sure to take Biology 101 and Biology 132 so she could get her science credits out of the way. Seemed like a great plan until the university she decided to go to told her that they’re not going to accept her science credits for some reason or another.
She should have just retaken the biology classes she took in high school but no, she wanted to challenge herself, that’s how she ended up in a Biology course that’s way over her head. Rachael never dealt with struggling well, she was one of those “Honor Roll Every Quarter” students. She was hoping college would be the same or at least similar, and it was, sometimes. Out of her six classes, she had A’s in four of them, a B in another one and an F in Biology.
An F. Rachael was not dealing with that very well, it was making her irritable, annoyed and just a terrible person to be around. She stopped and picked up litter outside the science building, just to have something she could rip to shreds before class. Tearing the paper only helped her mood slightly, but it helped, and that’s all that mattered.
“Rachael, cutting it close today, aren’t you?” Liz, the only person that made this class bearable and Rachael’s closest friend, smiled at Rachael as she sat down next to her in the lecture hall.
“Yeah, well. It’s hard to show up early for a class you can’t stand.” Rachael bit the tip of her tongue to keep from directing any of her from this class to Liz.
“I don’t get it. Why didn’t you just retake Bio 101 and Bio 132? They would’ve been easy credits.” Liz flipped to a clean page to start taking notes as their teacher, Mr. Jones, walked up to his podium to begin his lecture.
“That is exactly why I didn’t take those classed. I didn’t want easy, I wanted-” Rachael was cut off by Liz.
“To fail?” Liz was smirking.
“No.” Rachael made a face at Liz. “I wanted a challenge.”
“Not everything needs to be a challenge, Rach.” Liz looked genuinely sympathetic.
“I know.” Rachael sighed and started jotting down notes from the PowerPoint slide.
“Do you?” Liz asked, just above a whisper. It was so quiet that Rachael couldn’t even tell if she was supposed to have heard it or not, either way, she decided not to respond.
Chapter 2
When class ended, Rachael bolted out of the door as she did every time. She was eager to get away from the very building that made her feel useless. She couldn’t even figure out why she was so bad at this class, it was like the science of Biology had a personal vendetta towards her, and it was actively trying to ruin her life.
“Rach, wait up!” Liz shouted, moving quickly through a crowd of students. “Are you going to the bar with me?”
“No, I can’t,” Rachael said with hesitation.
“Come on,” Liz rolled her eyes. “I know you don’t like to go there because you’re 19 but it’s not like you ever use your fake ID for doing something fun like actually buying alcohol. You use it to get in, and then you study.” Liz hissed the last word like it was something for Rachael to be ashamed of.
“It’s not that, it’s-” It’s the place where Blake and his “gang” of friends hang out. Rachael left that part off and settled instead for silence.
“It’s just what? The only place that’s basically empty around eleven, a place that has good food for cheap. Rachael, you may just be a freshman, new to this world of money-saving ideas, but you need to get used to it. We’re college students, good food for little money should be music to our ears.” Liz had put her arm around Rachael’s shoulder and started walking her towards the direction of the bar.
“I just don’t know if I feel comfortable with this, Liz.” Rachael’s protests fell on deaf ears.
“Give it until your senior year and feeling comfortable will be one of the last things you care about.” Liz was shaking her head with a smile. “Hurry up, I’m hungry.”
“I know, I know.” Rachael laughed. “Good food for cheap.”
“Exactly. That’s my girl.” Liz beamed with pride as Rachael tried to ignore the unsettling feeling that washed over her.
The bar was
a cool place to be, Rachael would admit that. It was dark, whatever time of day Rachael walked in, it’s booths were always cold, and it had soft music playing from the speakers six days a week. The other day they would have a live band or an open-mic night on the rare occasions that they couldn’t find anyone to book. Rachael was glad to admit that it was a cool place, what she wouldn’t admit though is the fact that she always got a bit of a rush whenever she sat down in the corner booth with Liz and any other friends that would be with them that day. She was a “good girl”, the type to always follow the rules, but pretending to be just two years older whenever she ordered something to eat and the waitress or bartender would card her, “just to check”, man. It gave her a rush.
It hadn’t happened for some time though, she’s come here enough times for the staff to know her name, her face, her fake age. They have probably also caught on to the fact that her age is fake, she never ordered a drink and kept mostly to herself, and always tipped very well. Rachael didn’t cause trouble, that’s just who she was.
Rachael may not cause trouble, but Blake certainly lived to cause trouble. His eyes met with Rachael’s the moment she walked in, she tried to keep his gaze, to show that she was indifferent to his attitude but failed. She was looking at her feet in less than twenty seconds, Liz nudged her with her elbow.
“Everything all right?” Liz asked as they made their way to their regular booth.
“Yeah.” Rachael cleared her throat. “Just nervous, you know.”
“You need to work on getting over that, Rachael,” Liz told her as they sat down.
“I’m working on it, Elizabeth.” Rachael pulled out her syllabus and scanned it. “Oh, Christ.” She sighed and hit the piece of paper against her forehead.