I knew it was wrong the way the woman was being portrayed. She was selling her body so she didn’t get a ticket. The cop was rough, not treating her with respect. If I had to guess, Stanwick would make all these points.
The cop dropped his pants and—surprise!—was commando. Duh. The woman dropped to her knees and grabbed his enormous length, licking and sucking her way around it as if she’d known him for years. He leaned his head back into the wall and growled while gripping her hair and guiding her up and down his length.
Still busy with the blow job, the brunette moved one hand down her cat suit, sliding down her zipper. Then she shoved her hand inside and began rubbing herself. She looked to be in pure ecstasy with the man’s penis in her mouth and her own hand on her clitoris.
The sucking sounds became louder, his moans increased in intensity, and then he came all over her breasts, now bared and out in the open.
They both stood and laughed, kissing wildly before chatting about what fun it was to role play. Apparently, they were actually lovers, and they liked to pretend to meet in precarious ways on Sunday afternoons.
So, there’s a plot?
The movie didn’t end. Instead, the pair went back to their bedroom, where the guy performed oral sex on the woman before flipping her on all fours. He shoved himself inside her, gripping her hair as he rammed himself in and out until they both reached orgasm.
I was uncomfortably turned on. It was wrong, but I was. I wanted some of that heat; I couldn’t help it. Some primal force rose in me, waking up my libido, taking up residence in my heart and my girlie parts. I wanted to have hot sex.
Like now.
I reached for my water bottle and took a long swig of the cold liquid in hopes it would cool me down.
Stanwick went to the front of the room and started a second movie. I wasn’t sure I could take another. I wanted to run far away—to the nearest sex-toy store or male strip club.
I felt the telltale prickle of eyes on me and looked to the right to find Blane Steele staring at me from under his hood. How long had he been doing that? Was my squirming noticeable?
Luckily, the second flick was focused on bondage, more whips and chains than actual sex, and I didn’t suffer any more sexual panic attacks.
Until class was dismissed.
Blane
Cate was right—that professor was a tough one. Crap, I almost shoved my hand in front of my dick for fear she was going to rip it off. I could tell right away she was a jock hater, so I went with a fake identity.
Plus, I certainly didn’t need to get Cate into trouble.
Settled in my seat, I caught a quick glimpse of her. She was wearing an off-the-shoulder sweatshirt, a different color than I’d seen her wear before. Her hair was a wild mess of curls, her face glowing. And her ass filled up the seat in just the right way. God, I’d been a legs man until a week ago, but this girl’s curves were doing it for me.
Wait, I’m sitting in a women’s studies class. I shouldn’t sexualize her.
If I was totally honest, her eccentric personality and drive made her sexier. Cate was a ball-buster—except when it came to Sonny—and I liked it. What was the deal with that? Sonny was a fucker, and I needed to have a chat with him. But I suspected Little Miss Independent wouldn’t appreciate that.
I didn’t have time to dwell on it. The lights went down and the movie started.
Holy shit, if this was what women’s studies was all about, I wanted in. Right away, I knew the cop and the chick were role-playing. God, he banged her six ways to Sunday every week like that, and she was smoking in a non-curvy way.
It was right about when she slid down on her knees and shoved his cock in her mouth, I realized I didn’t even have a chubby. Hmm. And I hadn’t been laid since . . . a while.
Discreetly, I turned my head to face Cate, careful to keep my eyes hidden by the rim of my hood. The little pixie was squirming in her seat. Jesus F. Christ. I squinted to get a better glimpse, and sure enough, I could see her chest rising and falling with deep breaths.
Hot. Damn. My girl was turned on, and I was pretty sure that wasn’t why we were here.
Before I knew it, the movie was over, and I had no idea what happened after the blow job or how long it had been since I turned to watch Cate—who was now staring back at me.
I turned my head back to the screen and watched the second movie as if it was the NBA Draft. I made mental notes on all the bondage scenes, and what not to do. Ever.
As soon as the lights came up and the bitchy professor announced the discussion would take place the following day during class, I hightailed it out of there to the exit on the opposite side of the room, hoping to meet up with Cate.
Leaned up against the wall across from the door, I didn’t have to wait long. She practically ran from the room and stumbled over her own feet, face-planting into my chest.
“Hey! If I knew you were going to be so excited to see me, I would’ve sat next to you,” I mumbled into her hair, the curls tickling my nose.
She made a fist and jammed it into my chest. “Ouch! That hurt me more than you! No fair,” she whisper-yelled.
I threw my arm around her and led her toward the main entrance. “Let’s get out of here before Professor Meany discovers I’m nothing more than a male athlete. She’d probably strip me down and burn me at the stake in the middle of campus.”
“Hush. I had to fight to get into this class.”
“I can see why. It’s like a precursor to an orgy.” I squeezed her tight and tried to keep her glued to me.
“Shhh,” she hissed through a giggle. Then she conveniently slid out from under my arm to snatch her umbrella off the floor before we made our way through the revolving door and outside.
The rain had stopped since I’d arrived, and the air was damp but cold. I should have been chilly but instead was a little overheated, and the warmth emanating from Miss Turned-On and the sparks shooting between us didn’t help. I took off my hoodie and threw it over my left shoulder before sliding my other arm around Cate again.
“What are you doing?”
“Putting my arm around a lady,” I said, not bothered by her threatening glare.
“You’re supposed to be celibate. I mean, I’m not saying you want to do me or anything, but I don’t think it’s smart for you to be seen like this.”
“Are you fishing for compliments? Want to hear that I want you?” I turned the tables on Miss Know-It-All. That’s right, I have game both on and off the court.
“No!”
Okay, maybe my moves weren’t so great off the court when it came to actually liking someone.
“I wasn’t fishing for compliments,” she said. “You said it yourself, we’re buddies.”
“After what we just experienced together, we are more than buddies.”
“Blane, I highly doubt that. Stop fucking with me.”
“There you go again with that mouth of yours.”
I still hadn’t moved my arm, so I decided distraction was as good a tactic as any.
Cate blew out a huff. “My mom is a hot-tempered Cuban, my dad a full-blooded Italian. Tempers flare on both sides of my family, and even though they’re divorced, those two can go at it. Still.”
“Mine too. Divorced. Go at it. All of the above. Except for the Italian and Cuban part. My mom is really nothing. A Southerner, I guess. My dad, a nice Roman Catholic boy who left the church the day he got his driver’s license. He’s a truck driver. Been one forever.”
“And you? The big star? Going pro, making something of yourself . . . no degree necessary but you’re still getting one.”
I squeezed her shoulder. “You sound like my mom.”
Cate laughed. “Where are we going, anyway?”
“I don’t know. Let’s go get a drink. Something other than beer. Are you even legal?”
“Six more months, so no. You?”
“Yeah, I reclassed after eighth grade, so I’m good to go. Almost twenty-two.”
She lifted an eyebrow at me.
“I’m not dumb or anything. My dad just knew it would be to my advantage to stay back a year. We weren’t going to be able to afford a fancy post-graduate year, so I repeated eighth at a small Catholic place and earned a scholarship to their high school.”
“To me, it sounds sweet. Like your dad had your best interests at heart.”
“Eh, I don’t know. He just wanted to brag about his boy doing something.”
We walked a few beats in silence.
“I don’t suppose you have an ID?” I asked.
She giggled. “No, I don’t. I really don’t go out much. Overachiever, good girl. Except for the language and all.”
I swallowed, and some unfamiliar sensation lodged near my Adam’s apple. Missed opportunity punched me in the gut, and I thought quickly.
“How about my place? I make a mean cocktail, and I can’t drink another hot chocolate.”
She stopped in the middle of the walkway, the campus now dark and quiet around us. A breeze picked up, releasing leaves that floated down from the trees, and sent her citrus scent wafting by me.
I was lost in her eyes, all big and round, a brown so dark they seemed bottomless. For the first time since I left the palm trees and swamplands of Florida for Ohio, I felt real. Like a real man. A human with a beating heart and a future.
I’m a sap. Just stop it.
“I’m not sure about that.” Cate frowned up at me. “I’m serious. Sonny is a powerful person around here, and he made you make promises on the air. Just walking around with you is risky, and I don’t want to be the cause of you losing fans . . . or games.”
“I’m not doing anything. I’m hanging with a friend.”
Almost instantly, the spark winked out in her eyes. “What?”
Most girls would have bitten their tongue off rather than respond to the friend comment, but not Cate.
She glared at me. “You’re making my head hurt. You’re nice, and we’re friends. Then you wrap your arm around me, hug me tight, chat about porn, and ask me out for a drink, which seems like more than friends. And now we’re back to being friends again.”
“It’s complicated, like you said, with Sonny and the radio station. I’ve never done this before, actually liked someone or been intrigued. Whatever this is.”
“Well, I guess there’s a first time for everything.”
“It’s fucking just my luck, you know,” I said, shaking my head sadly. “I meet someone like you when Sonny throws down the gauntlet, and I can’t mess up because I’ve got Coach breathing down my neck. Everyone’s watching me. It’s been all eyes on deck since last season, when I decided to finish school before I go pro, and do what’s right. I must be jinxed or some shit.”
“Exactly,” Cate said firmly. “I may be all ‘I am woman, hear me roar,’ but I’m not about to trash your career over a silly friendship. You do what you need to do.”
She stood on her tiptoes, grabbed my shoulders, and placed a quick kiss on my cheek. “Take care of yourself, Blane. See you around. Thanks for walking me.”
Surprised, I realized we were standing by the dorms all this time. Cate pivoted and shot down the path to Southern A without saying anything more.
I wanted badly to chase her, hunt her down, but I knew it wouldn’t work. I had a championship to win and a professional sports deal to seal.
Cate was right. I didn’t have time.
Catie
My stomach lurched as I strode away from Blane Steele. I ran the back of a trembling hand along my lips where they burned from kissing his cheek.
It had taken every bit of willpower I had to turn and walk away because I knew what would happen. Blane would suck me into the fairy tale of believing we were friends, and then when the statute of limitations was lifted on his sex life, he’d dump me. As buddies, of course.
No, thank you.
Suddenly no longer hot and bothered, I shivered as I entered Southern A.
“Hey, Catie!” a high-pitched voice called after me as I headed toward the stairwell.
I stopped and turned. “Hey, Tess. How are you?”
“I’m cool. I got a job at the music fest. I’m going to be working one of the food trucks for my buddy, Ryan. So, maybe we’ll go down together? I’m sure you’re going to be there all weekend.”
Her fluffy blond hair bounced as she closed the distance between us. She’d gone a little heavy with the flowery perfume she wore today, and it made my eyes burn when she stood next to me.
“I’m there all weekend. Sonny’s got me on grunt duty.” I rolled my eyes, faking exaggerated frustration. No one had to know how hurt I truly was by the stupid shock jock.
“Why? I heard you on the radio for like two seconds. You sounded great. I was over at my sorority, and everyone cheered when you made the joke about Sonny Be Knocking Boots. What an idiot!”
Tess and I couldn’t be more different, but I had no reason to ice her out. We’d been roommates the year before, and she was incredibly tolerant of my obsessive overachieving and idealism. I wanted a happily-ever-after, both in love and in my career. She wanted to bang the alphas and eventually marry the guy from the book—Grey something.
“He’s okay,” I said with a smile. “You know better than anyone how I’m dying to take over that slot at the station. I know I can’t make it my women’s-only bitch fest, but I can grow the audience and show the world that women can be funny.” I leaned against the door to the stairs and sighed. “But I don’t know. Lately I’m not sure what I want more. To have fun or be serious.”
Tess pushed her hair behind her ear and stared me down. “What was I always telling you last year, Catie? You don’t need to be so serious. That’s what college is for, experimenting and trying on different personalities. You can have fun, perfect your on-air voice, and then go be the Howard Stern of women and their rage against the machine.”
“I know. I’m starting to think I should’ve listened to you more last year.”
She pulled me in for a hug. “It’s not too late to start,” she whispered into my hair.
“So, the music fest?” I said as I broke away. “What food booth?”
“The gyro truck, so come over anytime and I’ll feed you some meat.”
My cheeks burned, and I silently thanked God for my Mediterranean complexion. “Stop it!”
She burst out laughing. “We’ve got to get you some meat,” she said, waggling her eyebrows to taunt me.
“I’m going down around four o’clock on Friday, so I’ll swing by your room?” I pushed the door open a bit, trying to escape to my single room and my thoughts.
“Sounds good. We’re going to an almost-hump-day party tonight. Basketball guys, I think. Want to go?”
“Definitely not, but thanks for asking.”
I slipped through the door and raced upstairs to my room, my mind filled with visions of Blane at the party. Maybe he would have taken me to it if I’d said yes to a drink. As friends, I reminded myself.
After locking my door, I stripped out of my clothes, threw on pajamas, and plopped on my bed. Snuggled tight with my pillow, I let my hand wander over my hip. It was round, but not lumpy. My fingers lingered on my stomach; it was neither flat nor distended. My legs were short but toned from walking around campus and playing soccer in high school.
Maybe I should try intramurals; get more exercise. I wasn’t hideous, but I wasn’t a cheerleader or a supermodel or a ball baby.
Thinking about tonight, I slipped my hand beneath my waistband and across my dark curls, searching for my most sensitive parts. Opening myself to my roaming fingers, I grazed my clitoris and a shudder ran through me. Someday a man would touch me there, and it would mean something, be more than experimentation or a random hookup. His hand and heart would yearn to make me scream because I was me.
I moaned a tiny sigh into my pillow and allowed my fingers to trace my lips before dipping inside me. I’d brought myself to orgasm many times before, but I imagine
d it would be much different with a man deep inside me, mumbling words of love between kisses. Maybe it would be as hot as the porn movie. Not as cheesy or raunchy, but lusty and passionate.
Between the memory of the first movie and the tentative swipe of my fingers, my heart pumped faster. As my body began to tighten and then fracture, green eyes and stubbly cheeks came to mind. Thoughts of messy blond hair floated through my rattled brain, became my focus. I wondered what it would be like to run my fingers through that hair, to weave my red-painted nails through his mussed locks.
My breath came in short pants as visions of Blane Steele attacked every one of my cells.
One day, a man would think of me like that. And I would attack every one of his cells with my passion for life and my smile. It was a good smile. A bright one, according to my dad.
But that man wouldn’t be Blane Steele. I’d told him I couldn’t be responsible for fucking up his current season or upcoming deal, but the truth was I couldn’t fuck with my own heart like that.
Even as buddies.
Catie
Friday started with the last and final discussion of the porn fest with Stanwick. I couldn’t take another second of dissecting those movies. If we weren’t looking at still photos of the bondage one, the man whipping a tied and trapped woman, her face painted with a look of sheer ecstasy, we were chatting about the cop.
The first gave me a pit in my stomach. I didn’t even enjoy the idea behind it or that it actually happened in bedrooms. The latter made me ache in ways I didn’t care to admit.
When class was finished, I tried to make a beeline for the exit, but Stanwick stopped me.
“Caterina?” she called from behind the lectern. Her voice was as uptight as her look, with her hair pulled up into a bun, small readers perched on her perfect nose, and a fitted suit hugging her lithe body.
Dolce (Love at Center Court #2) Page 6
