Her Baller: Sports Romance

Do you enjoy Sports Romance?

>>> MADDY ROMAN <<<

VOTED as one (#23) of the Top 50 INDIE books of 2016!! 

fbads-1-917

PLAY | iBooks | B&N Nook | Kobo | Amazon

62 Reviews!! 4.5 star average

5-star-review

HER BALLER

RYAN: I’ve always been known as a lady’s man… but I’m ready for something different. I’ve retired from pro soccer and am starting a new stage in my life. I want a partner, a lady friend – dare I say, wife material? But old habits die hard, right? And right now SF49girl has my attention…

Celeste: I don’t have time in my life for a relationship. I’m too damned busy with my career. Sure, I’ve got needs… and I take care of those casually, finding what I need online – but I’m just not the right type to be a wife or mother.

2017-bc

Ryan has always been known as a lady’s man. A famous, newly-retired soccer player – he’s had a change of heart and is seeking a committed relationship with a woman of his dreams.

SF49girl, a.k.a. Celeste is a very successful businesswoman residing in San Francisco who has many private sexual conquests to her name. Using online dating websites and casual sex forums, she finds her lovers via the internet. Most never make it to her bed, but of those who do, they find themselves enjoying her and her toy box. Smart, safe, and savvy – she’s been content and satisfied not being in the confines of a relationship until she meets Ryan, online.

———

Drawn to one other with unexpected playful, erotic intimacy, will the online relationship wither and die like so many have before? Or will it blossom and turn into something tangible, in the real world?

PLAY | iBooks | B&N Nook | Kobo | Amazon


her-baller-ad-b-11-1-16

CHAPTER ONE

*  *  *

[ RYAN ]

Diving into my lap pool, I welcomed the first few minutes of the day with the sound of my hands and arms cutting through the water. Within a couple of laps, I’d hit my stride and have the first workout of the day done and over, thirty to forty minutes later.

Taking in large breaths of oxygen, I’d be more awake in fifteen to twenty minutes than what taking a shower and having a cup of coffee did for everyone else.

Grover, my four-year-old chocolate Labrador watched me keenly as I did my morning laps. He laid with his face resting on his paws, hoisted just at the pool’s edge and as I swam back and forth, observing me with devoted concern. One eyebrow would rise, then lower, the other rising to replace it.

I’m genuinely convinced that he’s life-guarding me.

Watching for any sign that his Master and owner isn’t in any form of distress or running the risk of drowning, as I’m fairly certain he’s ready to leap in at any moment to rescue me if needed. Retrieving me like a duck his breed has been trained to fish out of ponds.

Pulling myself out of the pool, I give Grover an affectionate neck and face scruff. “How’s my boy doing?” I coo at him, talking like adults do when something they love is equally cute and endearing.

In a cartoon-talk voice I’d never let anyone hear me using.

Grover gave me something akin to a sweet whine-grumble-howl indicating his displeasure at being suddenly made wet, but happy about the rub-down.

As a child, it was my dream to be an Olympic swimmer, but I never grew tall enough to have the lanky frame, very broad shoulders and long legs that my ambition required. Instead, at five foot ten inches, I found my way to soccer and never looked back. Both are passions of mine. One is extracurricular, something enjoyable that keeps me fit, healthy, sane and happy. The other had turned me into a pro player in major league soccer. Now, I’m retired at the ripe old age of thirty-five which is surreal to me.

What now?

It would be another day of wondering what in the hell to do with myself. Something I dared not admit to anyone, certainly none of the ladies who frequent my bed.

Done with my morning laps, I snuck quietly back through the sliding glass door of my home and into the bathroom to take a shower.

Kayla was still sleeping, passed out and dead to the world in my bed, her arm draped over the edge, face buried in her pillow and a wee bit of drool coming out of the corner of her mouth that she’d be mortified by, if she knew I’d seen it.

We’d certainly had a fun night. Maybe a bit too much tequila on her part… I’d make breakfast for us both, but I knew it would be a couple more hours before she opened her pretty eyes.

I jacked in the shower despite having a perfectly sexy, very willing woman in my bed. Old habits die hard, I guess. Besides, I wasn’t thinking about Kayla giving me a delicious blowjob. No, there was someone new on the horizon that my lusty thoughts were motivated by. Someone different. Something I’d never had a taste of before.

Done with my shower and dressed in nothing but my briefs, I set about making breakfast. Bacon, eggs with some cheese, toasted sourdough bread with butter and strawberry jam, fresh squeezed O.J. and coffee, black.

In my opinion, the classics are best.

Grover sat patiently by, tail wagging slowly, waiting for a scrap of bacon here and there. I affectionately rubbed him beneath his ears, petting him whenever I can, between making food and preparing coffee.

I turned on my big-screen TV, muted as always, watching as the busy world woke up and did what normal people do. I’d long figured out that I was never destined to be a ‘normal’ person. I don’t wake up at the crack of dawn to go to my corporate job. I wake up at the crack of dawn since that was just the way I am, ever since I could remember. I’m an early riser.

Pun intended.

Sitting down to enjoy my simple meal, wearing nothing but my briefs, I sipped on my almost-too-hot coffee and typed my password into my laptop. I go straight to the online hook-up dating website and am pleased to see that SF49girl has already sent me a sexy message. Along with it, an arousing shot of her tight ass in a very flattering, lacey G-string that cups her curvy ass-cheeks perfectly.

She’s been spunky, sexy and smart in our chat so far…

A good girl with a naughty, and what I’m sure, a kinky side as well. Her shorter, chiseled bob haircut complements her pixie-cute features. Her honey-green eyes seem all the bigger for it. A mischievous look hiding behind her gaze. She strikes me as sexual, in control and curious. I wasn’t sure, but I got the sense that she knew how to play the field.

Especially to her advantage. And honestly, this intrigued me.

As I munched on my toast, I thought about what my reply would be. I want to keep her interest, but I’m not so sure about revealing my famous, albeit retired, soccer persona to her. Not yet, at least. I want to impress her, naturally but not so overtly.

Too many jocks I know do this. Put it out there that they’re a big name in the sporting world to impress a lady. Not that I think there’s anything wrong with that, just that it has a tendency to attract the same type of woman.

Women who’d rather be self-identified by a successful, athlete rather than their own achievements in life. Women who enjoy doing their part to back a man, but mostly in the bedroom as his own private sexual cheerleader, stroking his ego and then some.

I’d had and played with plenty of those types.

Hell, there was even one still asleep in my bed. But you know how the saying goes. If you eat cheerios every day, you eventually get bored with your, once favorite, morning cereal. This had something to do with my boredom. Something my therapist had helped me realize recently.

I was maturing. Finally.

No longer a man-child that so many chanteuses sang about. It was time to get the message.

I’d grown tired of being entertained by this type of woman. In fact, he’d made me realize that my attitude about male sexual entitlement was selfish. That expecting a woman to center her life, her world around men, to sexually titillate and please the male sex drive, was shallow.

Based and founded on a great deal of societal bullshit.

Very shallow.

Which I’d already figured out by my late twenties after playing the field for a decade.

I’d finally admitted it to myself, over the course of a year. A year that had included some months of consciously intended celibacy. I needed to redefine my desire, my sexual needs and that meant a cold stop, a chance to reorient and a new approach.

A completely new approach.

Which had opened the door to a different type of attraction.

One that had to do with a whole, complete woman. Not some compartmentalized version of a woman. A person. Another human being who happens to be female.

What I was craving was a highly eroticized, sensual connection with a smart woman in charge and control of her life. Let’s face it, a woman who doesn’t necessarily need me but one rather, who craves me, psychologically and physically. Passionately.

Hopefully mutual. No, definitely mutual.

And certainly no gold-diggers.

In the meantime, I was working on the relationship aspect of my life with my therapist. In the end, I wanted a partner. Someone to wake up to and spend a life with. Someone I could share my spoils with and spoil.

Some men call them wives. Some don’t.

For me, I recognized that like my pet, I’d be happier with a loyal, loving companion. I’d been scared to go there. Until now.

Hadn’t had much practice, ironically. Considering how much I practiced everything else in my life, the irony of it had struck me as funny.

It was time to practice.

Time to practice with the right kind of woman, a person in her own right. Independent of me, or any man for the matter. This was the type of woman I sought. And so far, SF49girl had all the traits of what I sought. And then some.

Having found her on an online hook-up site had been purely coincidental. I’d decided to cancel them all, the ones I’d used to troll for sex. I hadn’t expected the very intelligent and smart message from her. So, I’d kept the account open.

All the others were closed. Gone, forever.

We’d been messaging back and forth for a few weeks now.

We hadn’t met in person. Yet.

Or web-cammed. Yet.

Secretly, I was both terrified and thrilled that I may or may not have what it took to enthrall her. To pull her in and to pull her out of herself.

Stuck in my thoughts, I hadn’t noticed that an hour had passed and was suddenly semi-startled by Kayla’s warm, tan, thin arms wrapping around me from behind and nuzzling her face into my neck and shoulders.

“Good morning sexy…” she murmured into my ear, her hot breath delighting me.

I somehow managed to close my laptop without her noticing, I hope, the website on my browser.

“Good morning. You’re up early,” I say softly. I was selfish in that I was relying on her usual behavior, to sleep in late. I wasn’t quite ready to interact with and entertain her – just yet.

I wasn’t even sure why I’d called her last night. Some habits die hard, I guess. I was feeling lonely and frisky, stirred by the recent interactions with SF49girl.

“What’s on the agenda today?” She purrs into my ear like a cat.

“I’ve got training to go to in a bit,” I lie.

“Training?” She says, puzzled, standing up straight and releasing me. “I thought you were retired now, Ryan?”

“I am, but I still have events to go to and such. Have to keep in shape. You know how it goes,” I say casually, hoping she doesn’t see right through my white lie. Secretly, I feel bad. I don’t want to lie to Kayla. She’s a neat girl. But she’s not a woman. Not what I really want and need, anymore.

Still, it was bad that I’d invited her over for casual sex.

I’m an ass-hat, clearly.

I don’t have the opportunity to do right by her as she storms back into my bedroom and I can hear her angrily and quickly getting dressed. Then, gathering up her purse and keys. She storms through the kitchen on her way to my front door.

I watch helplessly by, annoyed with myself. I never was a good liar.

“Kayla…” I attempt the start to some apology she’ll never hear as she is already halfway out the door and muttering loudly, “Ryan, you’re an asshole. Fuck you!”

On that point, I have to agree with her.

Grover barks back, alarmed at her raised voice and the door slamming shut loudly.

I scruff him behind the ears, “Its okay buddy. I deserved that.”

He tilts his head at me and gives me one of those adorable looks. He understands me best. He truly does.

 

2 thoughts on “Her Baller: Sports Romance

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s