Dolce (Love at Center Court #2)

by Rachel Blaufeld

  “I’m just kidding, bro. So tell me, darling Catie, why aren’t you on the air anymore?”

  “Um, I sort of lost my way and I was pissed at Sonny, but I’m rethinking it.”

  He nodded. “Good girl.”

  “And how’s your girlfriend?” I asked.

  “Angie’s good. She’s starting to show, so I guess I’m having a kid.”

  “Ya think?” Blane leaned forward.

  “Shit, man, this is not real. Me a dad, but it is.”

  “You seem like a good guy,” I told Mo.

  “Why, thank you, Catie.”

  Our food arriving at the table interrupted our conversation, and the guys dug in. Mo made good on his wanting a bite of pancakes.

  When the check came, Mo snatched it.

  “Hey, it’s the least I can do after crashing your date and all.” He pushed Blane’s hand away and got up to pay.

  Blane stood and helped me put my coat on, and then draped his arm around me.

  “I didn’t know we were a thing,” I whispered in his ear.

  He tugged me tight and said, “Oh yeah, we are, and I’m not sharing you with anyone.”

  I gulped down the lump lodged in my throat and snuggled a little closer into Blane’s embrace, committing the feeling to memory before I went home to get ready to meet Sarina and the gang.

  Every single encounter with the ladies further jeopardized Blane’s career, and yet I couldn’t stop myself from seeing them.

  Or him.

  Blane

  “Turn it up,” I yelled to Ashton after a grueling practice on Thursday.

  Coach had us going hard at the hoop in preparation for the upcoming game, and we were all taking our time in the locker room. I’d come out of the ice bath when I heard her.

  “Hi there, Hafton. Catie P. here, back on the air at 96.9. Have you missed me?”

  A grumble came over the air, and then a bang.

  “Haftees, it’s Sonny B. I had to grab the mic for a hot second. There was no not allowing this little missy back. Plus, that other dude was junk, and of course, Catie begged. Give my girl Cute Catie a big hello, and tell her to turn up the heat.”

  With a towel wrapped around my waist, I sank onto the bench and listened as if it were a post-game interview.

  “Thanks for allowing me to have the mic back, Sebastian, but this is my show so you may exit the booth, mister.”

  Zing. Good girl.

  “So, let’s see,” she said. “I took a little break and missed you all. Not Sonny, but don’t tell him that. Today, I’m going to play some music and, of course, take some calls. Not dating advice, though. How about this . . . Have you ever felt pressured by a professor to do what they wanted? Write what they wanted? Call me. Don’t use your name, just fill us in. While we wait, here’s a new one by the Dirty Souls. Remember how good they were at the music fest?”

  Mo slapped my back with a towel. “Aw, shit, that girl likes to poke the bear.”

  “Christ, Steele, when you decided to snatch one,” Alex teased, “you picked one that’s a handful. The bitch is ready to take on the whole school.”

  “Fuck off, White, and don’t use bitch when you’re talking about women,” I shot back, but agreed she was going to get into some shit.

  He gave me the finger and walked toward the steam room.

  I dressed quickly while the song played and plopped down on the couch for the rest of the show. Holy shit, were there a lot of discontented people.

  “Hi, Catie. Thanks for having this discussion. By the way, are you getting back on Twitter?”

  Cate laughed into the mic. “Go on.”

  “So, my professor asked me to redo a paper, taking a different stance, one that was more in line with their thinking. It was a big part of the final grade, so I did it.”

  “Did they now?” Cate asked, and the caller went into all kinds of detail without revealing names, but it was pretty obvious. It sounded like she was some type of business major, and the prof didn’t agree with her business plan.

  Finally, Cate said, “Listen, all you have are your convictions, darling, so I say stick by what you wrote and see the head of your department. But don’t tell them I sent you.”

  “Thank you, Catie. I feel better with that off my chest.”

  Then she played some more crap alternative music and took a few more calls before signing off.

  I stood in a hurry and thought if I hoofed it, I could meet her by the station. After grabbing my bag and coat, I headed for the exit. Of course, Coach stopped me outside the office, wanting to check in on how I was feeling. I tried to make it quick, but it was no use. Conley was on a tear.

  We needed to beat the crap out of Pitt, he said, “. . . make them never want to come back.” Rumor was he wanted a job there and they turned him down. I guessed it was true.

  I kept nodding and agreeing all through his speech, but by the time he shut his trap, I was pretty sure I’d missed Cate.

  Just in case, I drove to the studio and double-parked in the lot. Sonny was sitting in his cubicle when I rounded the back of the studio.

  He looked up and slammed his laptop closed. “Steele? What do you need?”

  “I was looking for Cate. How you doing, man?”

  “I’m good. In fact, I was looking for her too. She came and asked for her gig back, and I let her have it right away. Now, I’m not so sure.”

  “What the fuck, man? Don’t be a prick,” I yelled at him as I ran back toward the exit.

  I faintly heard him yell, “Me? A prick?”

  “Yeah, you,” I tossed back.

  I jumped in my truck and headed toward her apartment. When I found Cate waiting by the bus stop, I pulled over to the curb.

  Rolling down the window, I called, “Hop in!”

  She jumped into the truck, her hair tucked into a beret and a coffee in her hand.

  “Hey, you were good,” I told her as I checked over my shoulder. “How come you didn’t text me and let me know you were going on?”

  “I had to make sure I didn’t bomb.”

  “You were great,” I said, pulling out into traffic.

  “You going home?”

  “Yeah. I’m done for the day.”

  “Wanna grab lunch?”

  “I have to be back by three. Does that work?”

  “It’s twelve thirty, so I’m pretty sure we’re good. We can have dessert too,” I said with a wink.

  We would definitely be having dessert, just not the kind she thought. Well, we could have that too. My girl loved her sweets.

  “What kind of dessert?”

  When she interrupted my naughty train of thought, I dog-eared the sweet fantasies I was having. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

  I drove to Chantilly, which was a big buffet located on the edge of campus. The normal meal plan didn’t include it, but athletes could go whenever they wanted. Of course.

  “I’ve never been here. Or heard of it.” Cate got out of the truck, taking in the red brick building.

  “It’s a perk of ours; we can come anytime. It’s good.” I stole her hand and walked toward the entrance.

  We walked through the big glass revolving door and shrugged off our coats. I tossed them in a heap on a table by the window.

  “Come on.” I took her hand and led her toward the line. “Cathy, I have a guest today,” I told the lunch lady.

  “Hey, Blane, sounds good. We have omelets today.” She pointed toward the back.

  The buffet wound its way around the perimeter, with a large crystal chandelier hanging in the center of the room above the beverage station.

  “Wow,” Cate said. “This place is insane. How much is it? I should pay you back.”

  “Like I said, we get to come anytime, as many times as we want. A fringe benefit of dating me.”

  She punched my arm and said, “Fuck.”

  “Not here, babe.” I winked and gave her hand a little tug.

  She punched my arm a li
ttle harder.

  “Hey, that’s my shooting arm.”

  “Well, we wouldn’t want to hurt that. Then we couldn’t eat here.”

  I handed her a plate. “Hush and go get some food.”

  I wandered over to the omelet station first. “Y’all got shrimp today, Murray?”

  “As a matter of fact, we do, Southern boy,” he called back.

  I piled my plate high with creamed spinach—hey, I needed my strength—and fresh rolls while waiting for my double omelet.

  “Thanks, Yankee,” I called to my friend in the chef’s hat.

  If I were honest, I didn’t want to leave this place. I could have last year, but a small part of me was scared to go out in the real world. Hafton was good to me; pampered me, even. Would the real world be as nice?

  Cate stepped up next to me carrying a tray with a big salad piled high with fried chicken strips and loads of french fries on the side. The girl destroyed any worries I might have had, always making me feel like everything would work out. She was strong in a way I wasn’t. Look at how she’d lost her major and was finding new purpose.

  “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

  Blane 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 na
vel. 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

  “Heya, 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.