FEEL THE FIRE
“Oh, you are definitely a fresh face.” Alyssa Green slid up beside Eazy while he observed an abstract painting in front of him.
The black Ralph Lauren suit accented his ripped shoulders and back.
All two hundred pounds were spread into a large, muscular stature that left her eyes roaming him hungrily.
Tilting his head, he squinted at the picture before giving her his attention.
Skimming her with scrutiny, his tongue swiped his lips sexily, and a smirk hit one corner of her mouth.
He looked even better face to face. Eyeing her in the sleek, black beaded dress flowing past her knees to her calves and clinging to everything else, he could appreciate her beauty.
The thin material of the dress told on her when her nipples pebbled beneath it.
“You must be Ezekiel.” She extended her hand in greeting. “My name is Alyssa Green.”
“Oh yeah? So, you are the woman who runs things around here.” He was glad to be able to put a face to a name.
In all the info he’d gathered on the gallery, a photo of her was the only thing missing. Even her social media was just a bunch of impersonal posts and quotes, or her logo.
“And do.” She flashed a jaunty smile and batted her fake lashes. “Welcome to the team.”
Eazy took her hand, shaking it briefly, but when he pulled back, she was resistant in releasing him. Never once did she take her eyes off him.
“Your profile says you studied art in Spain.”
“Among other places.” Eazy nodded.
“Well, what do you think about the Garino Collection?” she asked, emphasizing the many pieces on display through the space.
The party was in full swing. Champagne flowed as their guests smiled and mingled. In the corner near the entrance sat a small orchestra, all African American men and women from the local college, dressed to the nines and playing softly. A small group gathered to listen to them play.
“It’s pretentious. Overrated, but I think it was a smart move putting this together.
Given his place in the game, the timing is perfect and will bring the right attention not only to this gallery but to the artist. If he sells out, he’ll put his work on display in the future as well.
He could even have an annual residency,” Eazy surmised.
Impressed, but masking it with annoyance, Alyssa only added that to the list of things she already found intriguing about him.
The tattoos on his hands also left her with more inquiries.
Ezekiel’s presence dominated the room. She was ready to submit and pop out as many babies as he wanted off her initial interaction.
He had that bust it open aura, and she was ready to shut this entire event down to be alone with him.
Meanwhile, she reserved herself. Ezekiel didn’t need anybody telling him who he was.
On top of that, his charismatic, yet blunt nature left him irresistible to most women with a pulse.
“I like the way you think. Every artist deserves their opportunity for exposure. Art is to be interpreted. Everyone won’t always see the same thing.
This was smart for the gallery as well. It brings a different crowd and raises awareness that new artists are welcome here.
I never would have guessed by looking at you—” she cut her eyes over him once again, “that you were as refined as you are.”
“Refined?” Eazy questioned. “You mean a real nigga with tattoos? A little rugged around the edges but cleans up real nice and knows how to rub elbows with the elite?” He mocked her with a cocky smirk toying with his lips.
“I just meant…”
“I know what you meant.” He nodded then shook his head, assessing her slowly.
“Just like you sized me up, I did the same to you. This gallery is your life. Literally. Pussy locked so tight you ready to bust it open for any man who looks at you for five seconds too long. Instead of being sexually free, you chose celibacy, but that rose is reaching the end of life, and that pussy wants something warm and real to stretch it open.”
His words swiped her mind of the smart shit she wanted to say next, and her mouth slipped open, but nothing came out. Oddly, his smugness both agitated and aroused her.
“You realize that could be taken as a form of sexual harassment? I am your boss. You work for me and this gallery. I didn’t have to hire you.
I saw that you were born and raised here, and your credentials and references were up to par.
Don’t make me regret giving you a chance.
Trust there were other candidates who fit the profile, and I would be more than willing to call one of them up—”
Eazy stepped closer, watching her breathing hitch when his cologne practically submerged her. Grabbing her shoulders, he spun her toward the crowd, and goosebumps rippled her skin. Eazy brought his lips closer to her ear.
“Every seller was assigned a color-coded marker this evening. Mine was green. So, take a look around and let me know if you have any other questions on my skill set.” There were six pieces on the wall near the front door, and all of them had a green dot near the description, indicating that they were sold.
Stumbling for words, she half turned, face balling up contemptuously when her eyes landed on his smug grin.
“Well, why don’t you do us both a favor and get back to work.” She stomped off, leaving him chuckling to himself and shaking his head.
When a tray of champagne bypassed him, he snatched up a flute and brought it to his lips for a sip.
He was going to enjoy this shit. The rush from making a sale was one thing, but making a play to double the price on the black market made his dick hard.
Eyes scanning the room, he stopped when they landed on something in a far corner, holding up the wall.
The buttery skin bombshell warmed the blood in his veins, leading right to his semi hard dick.
Something in his chest stuttered when he watched her.
Holding her flute in one hand, with another arm tucked across her chest, she rolled her eyes and tipped the glass to her mouth.
Like she wanted to be anywhere but here.
He got his rocks off with bitches but made it a point never to go any further than a casual fuck.
The idea of a relationship died with Niva.
That shit wasn’t for him. If he fucked a bitch three times, she had exhausted her shelf life with him.
Shorty in front of him was like fire. From where he stood, he knew he shouldn’t get too close.
Diamond shaped face, full bow shaped lips covered in a caramel tint.
A nose perfect for her face, rounded at the tip.
It was her eyes that stole his attention.
Slanted, oval shaped, a rich bronze tint from what he could tell.
Little mama’s face card was ten out of ten.
Something across the room had her attention, and she tipped the remaining champagne down her throat.
Following her line of vision, Eazy spotted a couple with two kids at their side while the photographer talked them into a family photo.
The woman was petite, with big breasts that spilled out of the sheer portion of her dress, while the rest flowed over her legs in tulle material.
She brushed lint from the shoulder of her husband’s suit, and he casually draped an arm around her back, then pulled her into him for a kiss.
Shorty in the corner swallowed her drink and turned to go back to the bar.
“The fuck she doing here?” a familiar voice asked, sending Eazy’s eyes left.
His boy, Jasiel, who most knew as Jewel, slid up on him, eyes on the same woman in the canary yellow beaded dress.
“You know her?”
Part of him was relieved, because the thoughts that invaded him were nothing pure as her ass bounced in her dress with each step.
“That’s my fucking sister,” Jewel declared, a slight frown wrinkling his forehead.
Eazy nearly choked on the last of his drink and wiped the corner of his mouth.
He came up with Jewel, but the two didn’t really get close until later in high school.
By that time, they were both diving headfirst into the streets.
Jacking became their lifestyle, so Jewel didn’t spend a lot of time at home, and neither did Eazy.
He’d only met his daughters a few times, and his baby mama, Rhema.
Jewel ran the streets, kept a room at his parents’ crib, and let all his mail go there, but he was a rolling stone.
The type to lay up with a different chick every night or get a room at some hotel for like a week.
When they saw each other, it was usually a club link, work, or if he slid up on him when Eazy visited his grandparents. He mentioned his sister was in college somewhere, so they’d never crossed paths. She arrived back in Prospect Pointe after Eazy decided to take off a couple of years ago.
“What she doing here?” Eazy found himself repeating, hoping she didn’t disrupt what the fuck they had going on.
“I don’t know, but I’m gon’ find out.” Jewel took off in the direction of the bar where a few people gathered for drinks.
His sister dropped into a chair, giving her back to the crowd as she signaled to the nearby bartender.
Eazy decided to hang back as Jewel slid up beside her.
He watched her look him up and down, turn her nose up, and give the bartender her order.
It was obvious she was annoyed by his presence as she waved him off, but Jewel’s angry frown never wavered.
Before things got too heated and they drew attention to themselves with their little tussle, Eazy moseyed over calmly.
“I’m at work, just like you, Jewel. I’m not here to fuck up whatever the hell you have going on, okay. Now, can a bitch have her drink in peace, please?” she sassed, causing Eazy to smirk.