Basketball Babymaker Read online

  BASKETBALL BABYMAKER

  AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE

  _______________________

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 104

  FLORA FERRARI

  CONTENTS

  Copyright

  A Man Who Knows What He Wants Series

  Basketball Babymaker

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Series

  Newsletter

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright © 2019 by Flora Ferrari.

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS

  Book 1: Baby Lust

  Book 2: Veteran

  Book 3: Built

  Book 4: Bambino

  Book 5: Rescued

  Book 6: Leader

  Book 7: Professor

  Book 8: Burned

  Book 9: Worldly

  Book 10: Pistol

  Book 11: Policed

  Book 12: Driven

  Book 13: Lucky 13

  Book 14: Lumberjacked

  Book 15: Protector

  Book 16: Carpenter

  Book 17: Italian Stallion

  Book 18: Gardener

  Book 19: Budapest Billionaire’s Virgin

  Book 20: Billionaire’s Babysitter

  Book 21: Cocky CFO

  Book 22: Fireman’s Filthy 4th

  Book 23: Mechanic

  Book 24: SEAL’s Secret

  Book 25: Police, Pooch, and Smooch

  Book 26: Fireman’s Fake Fiancée

  Book 27: Billionaire’s Virgin Ballerina

  Book 28: Bitcoin Billionaire’s Babysitter

  Book 29: Veterans Day Daddy

  Book 30: Cowboy’s Christmas Carol

  Book 31: Police Officer’s Princess

  Book 32: Statham

  Book 33: Bodyguard

  Book 34: Greek God

  Book 35: Billionaire Single Dad's Babysitter

  Book 36: Mountain Man

  Book 37: SEAL’s Justice

  Book 38: Royal Romance

  Book 39: Doctor Mountain Man’s Special Delivery

  Book 40: Crocodile Dan D

  Book 41: Mountain Man’s Secret Baby

  Book 42: Doctor Bad Boy’s Secret Baby

  Book 43: Cop’s Babysitter

  Book 44: Nanny for the Cop Next Door

  Book 45: Small Town SEAL’s Saving Grace

  Book 46: Cop’s Fake Fiancée

  Book 47: Billionaire’s Nanny

  Book 48: Cowboy’s Babysitter

  Book 49: Steamy

  Book 50: Brother’s Best Friend

  Book 51: Possessive Professor

  Book 52: Firefighter’s Babysitter

  Book 53: Soldier’s Secret Baby

  Book 54: Ward’s Independence Day

  Book 55: Doctor Next Door

  Book 56: Possessive Policeman

  Book 57: Coached by the MMA Fighter

  Book 58: Boss’s Babysitter

  Book 59: Virgin in New York

  Book 60: Rock Star’s Baby

  Book 61: Possessive Protector

  Book 62: Possessive Australian

  Book 63: Best Friend’s Brother

  Book 64: Possessive Cowboy

  Book 65: Summer Romanced

  Book 66: Possessive Prince

  Book 67: Lovers’s Enemy

  Book 68: Cop’s Best Friend

  Book 69: Possessive Firefighter

  Book 70: Football Next Door

  Book 71: Doctor December

  Book 72: Possessive Canadian

  Book 73: Blue Collar Billionaire

  Book 74: Possessive K-9 Cop

  Book 75: Possessive Brazilian

  Book 76: Hockey Obsession

  Book 77: Possessive Boston Irish American MMA Fighter

  Book 78: Halloween Next Door

  Book 79: Possessive Russian

  Book 80: Baseball Mine

  Book 81: Cop’s Caribbean Captive

  Book 82: Instalove Island

  Book 83: Dad’s Best Friend

  Book 84: Thanksgiving with Dad’s Boss

  Book 85: Possessive Italian Neighbor

  Book 86: Possessive Portuguese

  Book 87: Possessive Christmas Cop

  Book 88: Russian’s Obsession

  Book 89: Possessive Doctor’s Christmas

  Book 90: Possessive Parisian Pilot

  Book 91: U.K. Boxing Day

  Book 92: Jealous Russian Stalker

  Book 93: Italian Mountain Man

  Book 94: Aggressive Russian

  Book 95: Possessive Valentine

  Book 96: Possessive Hunter

  Book 97: Dad’s Russian Mafia Friend

  Book 98: Russian Teacher

  Book 99: Australian Obsession

  Book 100: Russian Next Door

  Book 101: Dad’s Irish Friend

  Book 102: Nanny for the Russian Mafia

  Book 103: Best Friend’s Dad

  Book 104: Basketball Babymaker

  BASKETBALL BABYMAKER

  My dad’s best friend is an All-Star basketball player…and the star of my dreams and wildest fantasies.

  I’ve had my eye on him since I was eighteen, and after my mother’s tragic death forces me back home to live with my father, it’s clear to see that this older man has his eye on this younger woman.

  When my dad’s not able to do his job, for the first time I, as my father’s apprentice, get to step in and direct a big time commercial for my dad’s best friend’s new signature basketball shoe.

  And when we see each other, it’s the first time I’ve ever been one hundred percent sure that I’ve met the man I’m ready to give my first time to.

  Will my dad’s best friend take his biggest shot yet, risking fame, fortune, and most importantly my father’s friendship in the hopes of the HEA I’ve always wanted?

  Or when it comes to this younger woman will this older man decide to pass, meaning I never get a real shot at love with the only man I ever wanted?

  *Basketball Babymaker is an insta-everything standalone instalove romance with an HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.

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  CHAPTER 1

  Stephen

  “Where’s Al at?”

  Keith, our assistant coach, looks at his watch. “He should have been here five minutes ago.”
>
  “Al’s never late. Never,” I say bouncing the basketball into our practice facility’s parquet floor extra hard, catching it at waist level on its way back up.

  “First time for everything,” Keith says.

  “And that’s definitely the first time I’ve ever seen… her,” I say, my eyes darting across the gym to the young woman who’s just walked in through the visitor’s entrance. I finished my sentence with “her” but “a woman that beautiful” would have worked equally as well. How have I never seen her before?

  A professional basketball team and its staff is a tight-knit group. During the season we’re doing everything together including traveling, eating, and tons of conditioning.

  We’re in the playoffs fighting for a championship right now, but damn…when it comes to this women I want to make her the champion of my castle, under the condition that she can’t travel anywhere…that’s she’s tied up to my bed for days as I cover her body in Hershey’s chocolate syrup and lick off every last drop…at least thirty times, which would match my age and my jersey number.

  She’s at the other end of the ninety-four foot court, and not all the lights are turned on in here, but my eyes are locked in on her as she makes her way straight towards us.

  Behind her are a group of much older men with oversized Pelican cases.

  She’s tiny, no more than five foot four at most, and young, barely twenty maybe? But the way she’s out in front of the pack of those big dudes that look like off-duty Special Forces operators makes it look like they work for her.

  “Mr. Saffron,” she says with confidence as she glides over our logo at half court.

  “Yeah,” I say. This may just be our practice court but nobody’s allowed to just march up in here and ask for me like that. Athletes are modern day gladiators, and this is our coliseum where we shed our blood and sweat. And just like hundreds of years ago in Rome I’m thinking I’d win whatever challenge was put in front of me just to have a chance to kiss the hand of this queen.

  “I’m Skylar Attwell…Al’s daughter. We’ll be working together today.”

  The basketball drops from my hand.

  “Al doesn’t have a daughter,” I say, wondering if this is one of those goofy reality TV shows. This could be some ridiculous prank someone’s filming for YouTube for all I know. Or maybe the other team is sending some absolute dime, a term we ballplayers use for a perfect ten of a woman, and a term I’ve never used, over here to mess with me…throw me off my game.

  I’m not gonna let it work. I’m not gonna let it work. I’m not gonna let it work. I just keep repeating it, thinking it into existence.

  “He does and I’m it, and we’re late. We need to get started right away.”

  “I’m right on time. You’re late.”

  “Al sends his apologies. He couldn’t make it today. That’s why I’m here.”

  Oh, you’re here all right. She’s moving closer and closer and I feel my body leaning toward her from where I stand. My feet want to move toward her like one of those cheesy movies where two characters see each other for the first time and go running into each other’s arms.

  Those movies are stupid, completely lame…until they happen to you.

  Damn! What is this pull this woman has on me? I try and keep my feet planted, but I take a step forward, unable to control my movements.

  “Jeff, Dave…let’s set up over there,” she says pointing to the baseline. “Keith, Rob…lights back here by the three point line facing the basket.” She turns and looks at the biggest of the guys. “Rick, let’s get camera one over here.” Then she turns to another man in her crew. “And James, let’s get some B-roll footage for the behind the scenes online stuff from this angle.”

  My dick is hard as a rock as this woman directs these Special Forces operator look-alikes just like that…like she’s the commander of an assault.

  And this is an assault all right. She’s stormed right into my court, my house so to speak, and has taken whatever she wants.

  Well I want to take something my-damn-self.

  And that’s her.

  CHAPTER 2

  Skylar

  You can do this. You got this. Nobody knows this is your first time.

  I keep repeating my Stuart Smalley type aspirational thoughts. Fake it until you make it, right?

  Well, I’m sure as hell not faking my desire for Stephen. He’s the league’s leading shooter, draining three point baskets from deep, and even from here I can see that’s not the only thing that’s deep and needs draining.

  I swear I can see his long, hanging, thick cock through those flimsy gym shorts from here. And about three seconds after I spot it it’s not flimsy anymore. It’s standing at attention and by the way he’s grimacing it’s not because he’s upset with my coming in here and attempting to take over. He needs a release, and not the kind that involves a basketball.

  I try not to stare, but how can I miss the only object in the room that’s longer and harder than the steel structure that supports the hoop? I can’t.

  And I’m so wet right now that I have to be careful not to drip all the way down to the floor. Imagine explaining to the ad agency that the star of the league slipped and fell on a wet spot on the court…that I created.

  Basketball sexual puns are running through my head like all the thoughts I’ve been having about him ever since he won the MVP award two years ago.

  At the time I was just an eighteen-year-old girl, living all the way on the other coast with my mom. I wasn’t that involved in my father’s life, but once my mom passed away I was devastated. I started watching TV and by chance I flipped on one of Stephen’s games.

  The way he moved with the ball was like poetry, and the way he shot was magical. I’m not even a sports fan, or at least I wasn’t back then, but watching this man maneuver through bodies much bigger than his only to release a shot that just barely missed being blocked by men that were over seven feet and two hundred and fifty pounds was incredible. What was more incredible were their reactions, and the fans…and I quickly became one, as the ball would fall straight through the net oftentimes well over thirty feet away.

  Magazines said he was “reinventing the way basketball was played.” He wasn’t tall, by basketball standards, but at six foot three and one hundred and ninety pounds of muscle he was a lot bigger and stronger than me.

  I’d stay up late on the east coast just to watch him play all the way out in California. And after the bank repossessed the house my mom had just bought, I decided to move out west and start over anew.

  I got a catering job and as luck would have it one day we worked on a commercial set. I asked some of the crew about their jobs, grilling them with questions in exchange for extra food that day. We were only hired to work until seven p.m., but I stayed around after, just watching how a commercial was shot…and how long it took to just get fifteen or thirty seconds of footage.

  As seven p.m. quickly became midnight, and one of the crew members had to go, I just grabbed some reflectors and jumped right onto the set.

  It was amazing being a part of it, even if I wasn’t supposed to and I wasn’t getting paid. The director didn’t know. For all he knew I was just another person trying to make it in Hollywood. They are a dime a dozen, and there were at least a dozen on set that day.

  We wrapped at four a.m. and I had to be up at five to report for another catering gig.

  I made it and immediately when it was over I met up with one of the other young grips, as they’re called, from the commercial and discussed how I could get a job in the industry.

  The big thing I was leaving out was that my dad already worked in the industry, but I didn’t want a handout. I knew he was still mad at me for going to live with my mom. I hadn’t even called him since I’d moved out to Hollywood, not more than a ten minute drive from him.

  But true to the saying that “it’s a small world” he found out I was in town and over the course of the next six months we reconciled. He broug
ht me in to work with him and a year and a half later here I was, leading my first shoot at the tender age of twenty.

  Technically I didn’t have all the credentials I needed, but then again I was just filling in for my dad today. My dad had done so many shoe commercials over the years that he knew the shoe company wouldn’t actually be on set. They trusted him completely and gave him creative control with very minimal guidance.

  When he got food poisoning last night he’d initially thought to cancel the shoot, which had me damn near distraught.

  I’d been looking forward to this for weeks, ever since we booked it. I knew Stephen worked exclusively with my dad and I wanted to meet him…and a whole lot more.

  Fortunately I convinced my dad to let me lead the shoot, which mostly just meant following out the plan he’d already laid out. I could FaceTime him from the location and if anything came up it was almost like he was right there. Plus his crew was not to be messed with and could film a commercial in their sleep.

  Speaking of sleep last night I didn’t get any, just thinking of Stephen all night. You’d think I was dreaming about my first opportunity to direct and in some ways I was. But this was much bigger than work, this was…him…the man who’d got me through the toughest time in my life even though we didn’t even know each other.