Read Dolce (Love at Center Court #2) Online
Authors: Rachel Blaufeld
Dolce (Love at Center Court #2) (39 page)
Mon dieu
, he was like a god. His hands were splayed against the wall on either side of my head, and my legs were wrapped around his waist. I was in heaven
,
and it had only been a few hours since I’d last visited this paradise.
My pelvis rocked back and forth, searching for his erection and my salvation. They were one and the same, the only balm I needed for the yearning that centered between my legs, but burned everywhere else.
I wanted his hand down there, or maybe his mouth. Or both.
“Pierre.” I moaned his name as I moved, trying to connect my sensitive spot with his cock. Desperate, I craved friction like I imagined a habitual smoker longs for a cigarette.
“
S’il vous plaît
,” I begged,
please
, then sucked in a breath to indulge in a long inhale of his cologne into my lungs. It was something fancy and French, of course, and another in the long list of reasons why I was head over heels for my Frenchman.
My older Frenchman
.
He shifted his hips away, teasing me, and I whimpered with need, making a noise that unfortunately sounded like a dying guinea pig. I was so desperate for him. He was my world, my universe. I wanted to spend the rest of my life lost among the planets circling his orbit. He was the moon and I was a lowly stalk of wheat bowing to him in the middle of the night, and I didn’t care what that said about me. I was that weak and pathetic when it came to him.
I’d never lived a moment until Pierre was buried inside me. We didn’t need to profess our love for each other or send each other cute texts. When he claimed me with those slow, languid strokes in and out of me, I knew he was the one to make everything else go away. Far away. He was the man of my dreams, and I wanted him inside me right that second, that very millisecond. I was an extremely demanding girl.
Finally, he ran his hand inside my panties and separated my folds with his slim fingers. He dove in with one finger, then two, and my body bucked into his strong, yet well-manicured hand.
My head fell back against the wall with a soft thud. “Oh, baby, more,” I managed to wrench out.
And then he lost control as I’d been hoping and praying he would. When I heard my panties tear and drop to the floor, I moved my hand to his zipper and opened his khakis, firmly grasping what I wanted. He was conveniently commando, hard and ready. I rubbed my hand up and down his length, pumping him. Before I knew it, my hand was pushed away and he was deep inside me, riding me fast and recklessly.
“Faster!” I demanded. “I love it when you’re rough.” I squeezed his ass, tilting my pelvis to allow him to slide in even deeper.
“Easy,
Tigger,” he panted, calling me by his nickname for me in that sexy French drawl, but not bothering to slow his pace. He was always in control, even if I thought I held the power.
I was kneading the shit out of his ass with my hands as he ran his tongue over my neck. He nipped and sucked before biting a bit harder, causing my orgasm to build in preparation to barrel through me. I didn’t want it to start or end because it always finished the same—with me wanting more.
“
Monsieur
, I’m coming,” I semi-yelled or gurgled, I wasn’t even sure because I was unraveling, tightening my thighs around his waist like a vice.
“Tigger,
ma chérie
.” He growled the sweet words, pumping faster, his release vibrating through my bones. A drop of sweat fell off his brow into my cleavage, and he leaned in to kiss me.
My entire body trembled; I was shaking with release and need all at the same time. I never wanted that feeling to end.
At that moment the door from the hallway into Pierre’s office banged open, apparently not locked as securely as we’d thought. The fancy diploma hanging on the wall above my head—the one that read
DR. PIERRE DUBOIS
—rattled from the impact, nearly falling. It didn’t really matter if it had because within a matter of days, the gilded frame was gone. And so was Pierre.
It all ended, and I felt like my life was over.
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This story came together quickly, and without the fast and furious help of Terilyn Smitsky and Robin Bateman, this book would never have materialized. Thank you, ladies, for all of your valuable feedback, texting, and commiserating (or at least listening to mine), and for both of you being wonderful readers, friends, and part of my original squad. There is a special place in heaven with unlimited cocktails for both of you after all you have dealt with, thanks to me.
I also need to say a huge
THANK YOU
to my assistant, Nicole Snyder. She’s the friendly voice behind many of my e-mails and posts. Without Nicole, nothing would get done these days.
Nothing—absolutely nothing
. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Thank you to Pam Berehulke, my editor, for being the umbrella in my storm. My husband calls me the hurricane for a good reason—I set off monsoons everywhere I go. Without Pam, I would be nothing more than a drenched author in a puddle of my own words. Love you.
This book wouldn’t have a gorgeous cover without Sarah Hansen. After six releases, I don’t argue. I just do.
To my family, for putting up with my hormones and me. I love you hard.
HB, you’re my guy; nobody else could fill those shoes. Love you more than eighteen years ago. Especially with the scruff.
To Queen Virginia Carey, there are no words. Your smiling face and kind words have been with me since
before
the beginning, and I love our daily check-ins.
To Sawyer Bennett, your face has been a welcoming beacon for me in the last few months. Thank you, fellow Pittsburgh lover, for all your warm thoughts and support.
To Susan Ward, without our convos and commiserations, I would be a general mess. You could be my mom and your daughters could be Judy’s girls. XO
To Ilsa Madden-Mills, God, our clandestine talks are the best!
To Christy and Fab, I worry if we don’t have our daily check-in or chat while I’m in the bath. #soapythighs
To my F-the Noise ladies, love ya!
To Neda Amini, for being the yin to my yang. We argue over every little thing. What would I do without you playing devil’s advocate?
To Erin and
The Southern Belles
, thank you for all your welcoming kindness at signings and helping me share this stunning cover with the world. XOXO . . . see you soon!
To Milasy and Lisa at
The Rockstars of Romance
, for their wealth of knowledge and undying support to the indie author world.
To Maryse, there isn’t enough room to thank you.
To Jennifer Wolfel, Becca Manuel, Miranda at
Red Cheeks Reads
, Fran and Greta at
Twin Sisters Rockin’ Book Reviews
, Ellen at
The Book Belles
,
Stephanie’s Book Reports
, Jesey at
Schmexy
, thank you for reading my books, loving me, and holding my hand all through the night.
For all the bloggers out there, your job is thankless and there are not enough bottles of wine, cups of coffee, or doughnuts to thank you. YOU make all this happen every day, posting, sharing, reading and reviewing, and pimping.
To Jennifer Dicenzo, reader extraordinaire. Thank you so much for letting me bend your ear . . . all the time.
This book wouldn’t work properly without Emily and Stacey Tippetts. Thank you, dolls!
And to all my readers, friends, and fans. Without you, my books are a great, big, huge nothing.
Special thanks go to my Electric Readers. My day is not officially started until I say good morning to you, and it doesn’t end until I say good night. You’re the most amazing, incredible, lovable group. YOU ARE FAMILY!
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Dolce
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Rachel Blaufeld is a bestselling Coming of Age, Romantic Suspense, and Sports Romance author. A recent poll of her readers described her as insightful, generous, articulate, and spunky. Originally a social worker, Rachel creates broken yet redeeming characters. She’s been known to turn up the angst like cranking up the heat in the dead of winter.
Turning her focus on her sometimes wild-and-crazy creative side, it only took Rachel two decades to do exactly what she wanted to do—write a fiction novel. Now she spends way too many hours in local coffee shops downing muffins while she plots her ideas. Her tales may all come with a side of angst and naughtiness, but end lusciously.
Blaufeld, also an entrepreneur/blogger, is fearless about sharing her opinion. She captured the ears of stay-at-home and working moms on her blog,
BacknGrooveMom
,
chronicling her adventures in parenting tweens and inventing a product, often at the same time. She has also blogged for
The Huffington Post
and
Modern Mom
.
Most recently, her insights can be found in
USA TODAY,
where she shares conversations at “In Bed with a Romance Author” and reading recommendations over at “Happy Ever After.”
Rachel lives around the corner from her childhood home in Pennsylvania with her family and two beagles. Her obsessions include running, coffee, basketball, icing-filled doughnuts, antiheroes, and mighty fine epilogues.
Dolce
Copyright © 2015 Rachel Blaufeld
All rights reserved
ISBN: 978-0-9970707-0-5
Edited by
Pam Berehulke
Cover design by
© Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations, LLC
Photo credit
© Hill Creek Studios
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