Dolce (Love at Center Court #2) (31 page)

“Nice! You’re going to need that strength for dessert,” I told her and she smiled like a devil. I’m surprised she didn’t grow horns, her grin was such a naughty smirk.

“You mean I’m not going to get dessert here? Look at that cheesecake.”

She got my drift earlier? Good girl.

I patted her ass. “It’s a double-dessert kind of day. If you’re sweet enough.”

We sat next to the window, eating and chatting as if we’d been doing this forever.

“My mom gets here tomorrow around noon, and she’ll probably burst into the locker room and pester all the guys,” I admitted. “She’s a bit of a flirt; she ogles the whole team.”

Cate shifted in her seat. “I’m a little nervous to meet her. She sounds all sexy, like some seductress.”

“She’ll love you because you’re real people. She hates all the plastic ball babies.”

I nabbed one of Cate’s fries, dipped it in ketchup, and fed it to her. Her lips folded around the fry and, yes sir, my cock got immediately jealous.

“So, is that why you’re keeping me around? To ward your mom off the ball babies?”

I leaned over and kissed her nose. “I’m keeping you around because I like you, Cate.”

“Oh.” Her mouth made a small pout.

I ran my finger over her pursed lips. “I do. A lot.”

“Blane, I think—”

“Steele! Get your ass over here. They say you ate all the shrimp,” Alex called from across the room, interrupting Cate.

I flipped him off. He didn’t take the hint and walked over, turned a chair, and straddled it.

“Seriously, you dudes have the worst timing,” I said, eyeing him up.

Alex ignored me and addressed my lady. “How ya doing, Ms. Catie?”

“This place is awesome. Want a fry?”

Of course, the ass took it.

“You know what? We’re taking some cheesecake to go,” I said.

“Now?”

Cate looked at me with half-lidded eyes, and I didn’t care if it was the cheesecake or me putting that sexy look on her face. I wanted that face under me and turning around, looking at me when I was behind her. Now.

“Peace, White. Sorry about the shrimp. Try the ham.” I bumped his fist and grabbed Cate’s hand, dragging her out of the place.

Catie

B
lane dragged me out of Chantilly, but not before slapping half of a cheesecake on a paper plate. I was certain if he hadn’t had the cake in his hands, he would have thrown me over his shoulder. And I couldn’t say I would have minded.

My hormones were raging and my heart thumping. For the first time in forever, it wasn’t over hand-cut french fries or New York cheesecake. It was because of a man.

“Let’s roll,” he said, his voice all rumbly once we were in the truck with the cake on my lap and his eyes narrowed on the road ahead.

I smiled and caught Blane watching me out of the corner of his eye. We clearly didn’t need any words. Only smiles and dessert innuendo.

A small part of me felt guilty. I wanted to tell him about my project, to clear the air. I felt I owed him that, but we were interrupted. And then he got that look. The
sexy-sexy
one, and I couldn’t see straight.

I was turning into a trollop.

Scratch that; I actually was one.

Ariel might have been my alter ego, but her existence stood to burn me forever. My hand actually shook at my side, and I slid it under my leg to quiet the tremor.

When we pulled up in front of my building, Blane jumped out and ran around to my door. He opened it before I could even move. Swiping his finger across the top of the cake, he ran some cherry topping over my lips. My tongue darted out to lick it off, and his mouth joined mine.

“I wasn’t sure if I liked cheesecake, but I definitely do. Come on.” He grabbed the cake and my hand.

All thoughts of Ariel flitted from my head as we hurried inside my building. Avoiding the elevator, we took the stairs and ran to the privacy of my apartment.

Blane walked inside calmly, but as soon as he kicked the door closed with one boot and set the cake down, he was a madman. He tossed his leather jacket aside and ripped his shirt over his head, taking his sweatband with it. His hair was a wild mess and he pushed his fingers through it, shoving the thick waves out of his face. Then he kicked his boots off and approached with a determined glimmer in his eyes.

The tattoo with my name on display made my mouth water. I swallowed my lust and breathed faster as he stalked me. Highlights of that first porno we watched with Stanwick flickered in my mind. It was hot, but nowhere near as hot as this.

“Wait a sec, I’m going to get you naked,” Blane said while shoving off his pants, leaving him in nothing but dark green boxer briefs.

“I like your underwear. Way to show your team spirit,” I joked.

“Those are my lucky underwear, I’ll have you know. And right about now, I think they’re extra lucky.”

He pounced on me, cupping my face and kissing me as he walked me backward to the bed and sat me down. It was a seamless transition. I perched on the edge of the bed as Blane pushed my coat off and lifted my shirt, tugging it over my head before he unsnapped my bra. Dropping to his knees, he shimmied down my leggings and slid my boots off. My pants and undies joined our other clothing in a messy heap on the floor.

He crawled back up, kissing a path from my ankle to my knee, stopping to slide next to me on the bed. He took my face in his hands and kissed me with urgency. We kissed like savages, taking each other’s mouths, knocking teeth and bruising our lips. It was nothing like the sex portrayed in pornos. It was pure, unadulterated passion.

“Taste so good,” Blane mumbled. “But it’s gonna be sweeter.”

He stood and motioned one sec, and went to the kitchenette. With the plate of cake in hand, he made his way back to the bed. Grinning, he set it next to me and swiped off a bit with his finger. Then he painted it across my abdomen and proceeded to eat it off, licking and sucking until he reached my bare skin.

Not satisfied, he fed me a small bite off his index finger and I licked it clean. Another piece he smeared around my nipples and took his time eating it off, which drove me insane. My nipples were as hard as his dick when he was done.

I’d never liked dessert this much. The room smelled like cherries, sugar, and impending sex. I pressed my thighs together, soaking wet between them.

Blane found my nub and rubbed me to a quick orgasm, swiping his finger back and forth over my most sensitive spot while fucking me with another few fingers. On a scream, my body fragmented in a million pieces, my senses on overload from the kisses, the food, and the orgasm.

As he reached for his jeans, I whispered, “Wait.”

He stilled, and I knocked him flat on his back. With my right hand, I grabbed some cheesecake and moved down his body to smear it around his navel. I took the tip of my tongue and cleaned him up, and when I was done, I grabbed another piece. This time I painted his inner thigh, taking my time to nip along that sensitive spot between hip and groin while devouring my new most favorite dessert.

When I was done, I wrapped my free hand around him and pumped his length.

“I’m not going to last like this, I’m too hot,” he said.

No problem
. I bent down and took him in my mouth, taking leisurely trips up and down his length, and stopping to pay attention to the slit. I had been studying up on this, and judging by Blane’s moans, I was doing better than I’d done in women’s studies. I tickled his balls with my sticky fingers and used my other hand to pump him while I sucked hard.

“Christ, I’m going to come,” Blane roared.

I didn’t back off but stayed the course, my inner thighs totally drenched by the time he exploded into my mouth.

Collapsed in my bed in a sticky heap, I shut my eyes and dreaded getting up, but we did. I had to be ready at three, and Blane needed to watch tape.

With promises of finishing later, we parted ways.

Catie

“H
eya, girl.”

Chantae pinched my cheek and headed straight for the kitchenette, wearing a ruby-red scarf over her wild curls. I had coffee ready to go, and she helped herself to a huge mug.

“Mich is sick,” Tish said as she came through the front door, wearing stiletto boots paired with skinny jeans.

Brittany was right behind her, looking like an average coed today in leggings and a sweatshirt with little makeup and cold-pinked cheeks.
Like me
.

“Hope she feels better,” I said.

While the others grabbed a coffee, I surreptitiously sniffed around my apartment, wanting to be sure it didn’t smell like Blane and I had just got it on. Which we had—exchanging orgasms with our fingers and mouths, and eating cheesecake off each other. A tingle ran through me at the thought of what might come later.

“Hey,” Sarina said, the last through the door.

“What’s up?”

“I’m good. My son’s sick, so I had to scramble to make sure his sitter was all prepped.”

I ran my hand down her back. “You have to go?”

Her situation made me firm in my resolve to see this project through. If Sarina worked in a bank or a school, she would have sick days. As it was, she didn’t get time off in the movie-making biz she called her career.

She shook her head. “I’m going to shoot a few extra clips for Frank tonight when I leave here, and then I may take tomorrow off.” She ran her red-tipped nails through her straight hair, tucking it behind an ear as she let out a long sigh. Pulling me into a hug, she said, “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, help us justify our choice to the rest of the world.”

“Hey, don’t get all sappy on me.” I squeezed her tight.

She laughed and we parted, both of us grabbing coffee and joining the other girls.

We sat around for an hour discussing where the women saw themselves going in the long term.

“I’m just paying my way through school, but part of me wants to be discovered. I kind of like it,” Brittany quietly admitted. “I feel like I’m in charge of my destiny, self-sufficient.”

“What’s your degree in? Journalism?” I lifted my mug of coffee to my lips.

She nodded. “Yep. In fact, I think I’ll look for an internship at
Playboy
or
Esquire
, somewhere like that.”

I felt a weird sense of pride at her courage to make her own choices, choose her own destiny.

“Me, I’m gonna bank as much money as I can and open a little boutique,” Chantae said. “Scarves like this and hair ornaments. Probably African jewelry and maybe some art.”

“Where? Here?” Sarina asked, a worried look on her face.

“I’m not leaving you, babe.” Chantae winked at her.

“You’re my family,” Sarina admitted. “All of you. This little gang. If you go, what will I do?”

There was something else to consider when writing all this up. The network these women had formed gave them bonds stronger than most I had ever experienced. They not only were a support system of friends, but were also sisters, caregivers, and protectors.

“Mich and I are going to try to start our own web TV thing,” Tish said. “We’re going to do something with gay men, I think.”

“Get out!” I blushed at the idea, but since I’d been so affected by porn, maybe gay men were too.

Hmmm? I would google that.

We laughed for the last half hour, the girls teasing me about Blane.

“Our girl’s got her a good one,” they joked.

At four thirty, they all filed out to do what they needed, and I texted Blane.

CATIE
: You still watching tape? I’m going to make dinner.

I wasn’t sure, but it seemed like that’s what couples did, touched base on the minutia of their day.

A tendril of anxiety curled around my heart while I waited to hear back from him. When I got no response, which wasn’t like Blane, I told myself he was busy with the team, and tried not to make it into something bigger than it was.

A lonely package of mac and cheese called to me from the cabinet, so I scrapped any plans I had to do something fancier. Nothing better than processed cheese on a winter’s night.

With my belly full of pasta, a while later I sat down at my laptop and banged out about twenty-five pages of what I had learned. So far, I had close to a hundred pages of the book I planned to either shop around to a publisher or self-publish. The title was
Feminist Choice or Choice of Feminism.