Silly Girl Read online

  SILLY GIRL

  Michel Prince

  Sports Romance

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  Sports Romance

  Silly Girl

  “Smashwords Edition”

  Copyright © 2013 Michel Prince

  1st Edition Secret Cravings

  2nd Edition Michel Prince Books

  First E-book Publication: August 2013

  Cover design by Dawné Dominique

  Edited by Kyle Lewis

  Proofread by Belinda Barton

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2013 by Michel Prince Books

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Michel Prince Books

  www.MichelPrincebooks.com

  DEDICATION

  A huge thanks to those who buy and enjoy my stories. You inspire me more than you know. To my publisher for believing in me and my editor Kyle for making my stories shine.

  My biggest thanks always goes to my husband for fostering my dreams and my son, especially for this book, who reminded me how much I love the game of basketball.

  Prologue

  Matthias Jessup’s pen glided across the bottom of the document like it had a thousand times before. Funny, this was probably the most expensive autograph he’d ever done. There were basketballs, jerseys, and a few playing cards worth up to ten grand floating around the world his pen had touched, somehow making them valuable. Last he had heard, just by signing his name on a blank piece of paper made it worth fifty bucks. But this wasn’t a blank piece of paper, and he was paying for a change.

  Early in his career the thought crossed his mind to use a shell to go and sell a ton of his signatures to make him money, but she had been the only one he’d ever truly trusted, and now…she was done.

  Not that Matthias blamed her. Looking across at the beauty that made herself available for all press releases and necessary public appearances for the last decade with her lips held tight, Sharee’s eyes told him everything he needed to know.

  Sharee was elegance personified, a former beauty queen, winning the coveted Ms. Teen America when she was seventeen, a year before their marriage. The face of an angel. Never a blemish to have to cover on her smooth dark cocoa colored skin. Her hair was always perfect. Currently she had curls pulled away from her face, but the way she had styled her locks today made them flow like a princess. Her long fingers ending in a French manicure tapped on the oak table. The seven-carat diamond Matthias gave her on their wedding day had already been removed from her third finger.

  Matthias tried not to think about how much fetti he had put down on that thing. Basically his whole signing bonus from the draft. He had been picked up by the brand new expansion team, the Kansas City Emperors. KC was already the land of leaders with their Chiefs, Royals, and historical Monarchs; it shouldn’t have taken a subcommittee to come up with a proper name, but it did. Since Sacramento stole their original team, The Kings, the Emperors was the only logical choice.

  Being one of four expansion teams added in 1998, they got the first round draft choices. Coming straight out of high school probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but between Sharee and his mother there was a clause in his contract that the Emperors would have to pay for college whether Matthias blew out his knee in the first game or played with them for twenty seasons.

  Now twelve seasons later, Matthias had a nice NBA pension and a Masters in art history. The two never really made sense together, but sculpture always spoke to him, and if he was going to go to class, it had to be for something that made him feel whole.

  But now Sharee wanted a real marriage, not the fantasy she created that the world believed. True to form, she had waited until his team was knocked out of the playoffs. Having started removing their joint pictures from billboards after their Christmas charities were done, the tabloids seemed to accept that there would never be a reconciliation.

  The rumors started when Sharee consulted a lawyer. People had been speculating about them locally after he’d missed a few events with her, then a paparazzi caught her going into her lawyer’s office. When she didn’t answer the real speculation began. Matthias had been on a five game away stint that started in Boston. By the time he hit Miami, it was all over ESPN. She called when he was on his way to the airport to fly back.

  “I’ve talked with all your sponsors and there shouldn’t be any issue. I told them it was a mutual breakup with no infidelity, just the normal growing up. Got married too young crap.”

  “Thanks for that,” Matthias replied more out of training then sincerity.

  “I knew who you were and what I wanted when we got married. It was my fault for accepting being your mistress all these years.”

  Basketball was his wife. That’s what Sharee always said. The hours watching film, days in the gym, the apartment in the stadium. All in the pursuit of being the best in the world. The West had the Lakers, the East was Boston, but since Jordan left the Bulls, the Midwest needed a team and the Emperors had become that in less than five years thanks to Matthias Jessup.

  Sharee’s sweet voice brought him back to the reality of what he had just signed.

  “The last of your clothes and trophies have been sent to your condo.” Sharee pushed back from the table and walked towards the door. She stopped and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Matthias I hope someday you find out there’s more in the world than basketball. I truly do.”

  As she left Matthias breathed in the light smell of lavender and took peace in the knowledge that she wasn’t leaving. Not really. She would stay in charge of his businesses still drawing an income. Sharee would not be a normal ex-wife. Much like she had never been a normal wife.

  Matthias shook his lawyer’s hand and walked out grabbing his practice bag. Time to go back to the gym for three hours, alone.

  Chapter One

  Sylvia Kinder tingled with heat as she watched Matthias Jessup’s body move with hard, calculated lunges leading to only one conclusion…

  “Yes!” she screamed, thrusting her arms into the air.

  “You want a beer?” her best friend Leslie asked.

  “No, I’m good.”

  “It wasn’t that good of a shot.”

  “Yes it was. Do you have any idea how hard it is to dribble into traffic and come out with a basket like that?”

  “Be honest, do you actually climax when he scores? Because if that’s the case, then I understand why you love the league’s leading scorer.”
r />   “Only the trick shots,” Sylvia chided her friend. “And he’s not in the lead right now.”

  “You’re like a walking sportscaster spouting useless information. I swear you could come up with a stat about how often he takes a dump before a game and its direct correlation to his ability to rebound.”

  “Matthias doesn’t take dumps, but he does average eleven point six rebounds a game so far this season.”

  “He’s human, Sylvia.”

  “If he’s human, I’m an amoeba.”

  Sylvia couldn’t explain why Matthias Jessup had her undying love, but she’d followed him since he first hit Sports Center at age sixteen. He had it all. Then he was still a little gangly, but now he was tall and fit with the toned body of a god. His milk chocolate skin was flawless. He always sported a perfectly shaved head and goatee; even his street clothes were finely pressed.

  She remembered the headlines. “There’s a new MJ on the horizon. Check this kid out. Matthias Jessup is a junior at Trinity High School in southern Alabama. Images of the player flashed across the screen. Flying through the air. Finishing an alley-oop. “After the drafting of Kobe Bryant last year, and Kevin Garnett the year before, high schools across the country have been forwarding their star players to the NBA. But this MJ may be the heir apparent to take over when Michael Jordan steps down from his throne.”

  “Are your grades up?” Leslie asked as she pulled her dark blond hair up into a ponytail.

  “Yes, I’m a genius and more importantly, The Royals approved my application to go for spring training, so I will get the last of my internship hours in.”

  “In the middle of basketball season you’re going to abandon your man.” Leslie swooned with her hand on her chest as she fell to the couch in Sylvia’s apartment.

  “They’ll have cable and if not, I can stream his games on my laptop. Plus, I haven’t been able to afford any games this season. Are you sure you don’t want to leave your husband and move in? I’m really missing Patrick’s half of the bills.”

  “Are you sure it’s not Patrick’s half of the bed?”

  “Yes. I’m sure. I love stretching out all by myself.”

  “You haven’t been singing Celine Dion have you?”

  “Suck it. I don’t need a man, this is my last semester before graduation and it’s taken me almost seven years, the last thing I need is the distraction of a man.”

  “Then go on one date with someone and I’ll get off your back.”

  “Someone? You’re just requiring human interaction, not specifically a male?”

  “Someone you could have sex with smart ass. I don’t care if they’re male or female—”

  “As long as I give it up on the first date. What kind of girl do you think I am?” Sylvia gasped while holding her hand to her chest in fictitious shock.

  “Pest, a date and I don’t count.”

  “How ‘bout this,” Sylvia sighed. “I promise to go on one date by July 4th.”

  “Promise.”

  “Yes…the finals will be over and I’ll be free.”

  “You are seriously twisted woman. Is this game almost over?”

  “No. Maybe for Matthias, I think they’re resting him.”

  “Good, so can we turn it off?”

  Sylvia looked at her friend as if she had lost her mind.

  “Right, but can we mute it at least?”

  “Fine.”

  Sylvia muted the TV, but kept it in the corner of her eye in case Matthias stepped back on the court. Leslie regaled her with stories of her husband and their crazy schedules. How he had been trying out new recipes on her for his catering business and all the new marketing she had been doing. At the end of the night they said their goodbyes and Sylvia returned to her normal routine.

  Snuggled under her covers watching the highlights from the evening games, only really paying attention to the KC Emperors as she fell into another dream of Matthias. He’d see her in a crowd or across a room and then they’d start a conversation. This night’s ended the same way most of hers did with a beautiful woman walking by.

  Sylvia looked down to see she was covered in mud. Her fingers ran through her hair only to become tangled in the knots. Matthias was gone. Across the crowd, she saw him stroking the back of the beautiful woman’s equally elegant hair. Matthias then whispered in the woman’s ear and they both laughed and turned toward Sylvia.

  She felt herself shrinking away into the folds of a couch, losing not only her identity, but her whole self to the microplush fabric. She gasped for air, hoping for an escape, but each glance at Matthias made her feel even smaller and more insignificant.

  Sylvia sat up in her bed as her phone went off, tossing her thankfully back into reality.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey Sylvia, we have a sick call. You’re on break from classes now, right?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “How about an extra shift?”

  “Thank you Kirk, I could really use it.”

  “Good. You might want to head out early, the roads are already slick.”

  “Great. I can’t wait.”

  Sylvia lumbered from her bed to her bathroom and started the shower. Flipping on the radio she showered, but couldn’t seem to get rid of the sensation of dried mud on her skin soiling her.

  It wasn’t that she believed she could ever be with Matthias Jessup, but she did believe someday she’d find a man who looked at her the way Matthias looked at his…well, now ex-wife.

  * * * *

  The game against Dallas hadn’t been what Matthias thought it would have been, but then again the season had barely started. He probably only played a half of what he’d have to later in the year, but he earned his time to rest on the bench as the new kids showed they were good enough to be backups. If nothing else, it let him relax. Nobody liked to watch a blowout, but his knees would appreciate the early icing from the trainer.

  Walking into his hotel room, he could smell the cheap, overly perfumed road whores before he took two steps in the suite. Langston, his bodyguard, was standing between three women in short skirts, high heels, and big earrings—the official uniform of the professional sports groupie. Their asses were big, their tits were fake, and they swam in perfume to cover the stank that engulfed their very souls.

  “Matthias Jessup, this is…” Langston made introductions, but as he said the names Matthias’ internal censor added beeps over the monikers to maintain what dignity they may still have left.

  Matthias knew he’d never remember them and had no desire or care to. In fact, as he looked at them, he didn’t see their faces. Instead, all he saw was an olive skin colored blur with curled black hair lying loosely around it, what appeared to be an Asian skin coloring with straight black hair around it, and a rich dark chocolate blur with short black hair around it.

  Well, he did like dark hair, their bodies were fine, and he was bored. If nothing else the giddy in Langston’s dark russet eyes was enough to make him cave and say fuck it, might as well.

  The orange spandex-like dress of the olive colored blur hugged nicely to her ass. Matthias breathed in deep as her hand started to glide around her body to make sure he made out every curve.

  “I’m Clevon’s girl. He said he thought you’d like me,” she said, a tongue must have licked her lips because the blur had a flash of red in it.

  “Shouldn’t you be home helping him lick his wounds?”

  Wrapping her arms around his neck she purred, “I only fuck winners.”

  Matthias could only imagine how many winners she’d fucked. He could tell this girl was either trying to work her way back in with a winner, or was on her way up and getting hand-me-downs. Either way, she could stay with Clevon.

  “And your friends?” Matthias questioned.

  Her head tilted to the side and she let her hands slide down his chest. She wrapped her fingers around his cock through the nylon warm-ups he threw on after the game. He hardened, not from her touch, but more from the desire
to avoid rumors he couldn’t.

  “You like my friends?” she asked as she slithered her hand back up and under his waistband. “It appears you have enough to share,” she pointed out as her warm soft hands gripped firmly to his length.

  Langston’s eyes were like a kid at the Macy window during Christmas time.

  “Just in case, I have back up,” Matthias offered knowing he could take all three at once, but what was the point of getting money and fame if you weren’t gonna share it with your friends?

  He’d take two, not that it mattered because all three would eventually be had; Matthias went to his bag and retrieved a condom. If nothing else, he had staying power and he knew well enough that the girls didn’t care if their juices mixed, but he wasn’t about to go home needing an antibiotic and lawyer to handle a paternity case.

  While the girls started to strip themselves and him with the professionalism he’d expect at any upscale juice bar, he went into the zone. He had played a game tonight and even at half speed, an NBA game was not the easiest thing on a body. Especially at thirty. There’d be no music or soft stroking touches. This was raw sex. No feeling, no attachment, no call the next day.

  All of it was a game. They each had a goal. Maybe they were hoping they’d bring him some level of pleasure that would send him into some pussy whipped spending spree ending in a ring. Maybe they hoped they could have a million dollar semen deposit. Maybe they just liked to fuck.

  Whatever their story, he knew he could order them to do anything. It amazed him that they’d suck toes, lick assholes, and even bark like a damn dog when they came if he commanded.

  “You.” He pointed in the general direction of the blurs. “Let him have you first.”