Baller: A Bad Boy Romance Read Online Free Page A

thing hotter than having one girl was having more than one girl. That way, if you got tired and weren’t into it anymore, you could just watch them. It was always just… just fantastic to see. That was another thing about these girls who chased the athletes…they would do almost anything if they thought you would like it. They would let you put it in the butt, do it with other girls, let you run trains on them… it was a lot. Sometimes, I would ask a girl to do something, just to see if she would. I wanted to see how far she would go for the dollars she thought she would be entitled to when she became my girlfriend. None of them ever did become my girlfriend…because I wasn’t an idiot. Why would I tie myself down to just the one girl? That was one pussy every single night. That was one person who you had to see all the time. That was nights you could spend having three different girls in your bed at once…but instead settling for one.
     
    Blondie was a nine, fake blonde was an eight and a half, and redhead was a ten. I loved freckles. She was the one I would have back for another round, maybe once I remembered, but there was no need to double dip. Literally . There was no need for me to ever fuck a girl twice if I didn’t want to. Newer, hotter girls were coming down the pipeline every day.
     
    I was sitting out for a minute, thankfully. It gave me a minute for my body to catch up to where we were, what we were doing, and what I needed it to do. I had never had a truly shitty game, but this one was definitely suffering. I could hoop in my sleep, but at the end of the day, I was getting paid to literally play a game and the people who paid me to do it expected me to be doing it while under the legal blood alcohol level.
     
    Were games always this loud? Were the lights always this fucking bright? I needed to go the fuck home. A little hangover couldn’t take me out, but when it got to the point that I almost couldn’t see straight anymore, I needed to call it a day and see whether I could still stand the next. I would though. I’d be fine tomorrow. If I didn’t do the same thing tonight and just went to bed, alone, then I would be golden.
     
    Maybe I wouldn’t have to go to bed alone. Girls I could do. It was the alcohol that was fucking me up. I watched the game unfold in front of me. I hadn’t even been following the score, but we were down some points. Nothing serious that we couldn’t come back from, but coach would likely have something to say about it. He had been stolen away by this reporter. A girl.
     
    I turned my attention to the girl who had been talking to the coach at halftime. She had a mic in her hand, and she was standing, watching the game from the sidelines. Her face looked like she was really concentrating hard on what was going on. As if she knew something about what she was looking at. A lot of girls didn’t know shit about hooping, but they could tell you what the NBA minimum annual salary paid to players was. They didn’t know the difference between a dunk and a lay - up, but they knew how much Kobe’s wife was set to get in their divorce settlement. Some of these girls, I swear, could only name Michael Jordan as a basketball player…and that was only because they had seen Space Jam as a kid.
     
    Her arms were crossed across her chest, which made her tits sit up. Those were nice. She had on heels, which I didn’t know people could wear on the wood floor court. Her legs were smooth and disappeared under this tight skirt, which clung to her hips and ass. Also pretty nice. She had a body , something to hold onto while you fucked her, which I appreciated. I liked it when a woman looked like she could bear me loads of healthy sons , if you know what I mean , even though I didn’t want kids. I just enjoyed a thicker protein shake.
     
    Her hair was tied up in a bun, so I couldn’t tell how long it was or wasn’t. It was dark—like the color of expensive hardwood floors. She was