The Casanova Experience: A Friends to Lovers Romance (Ballers Book 2)

by Mickey Miller

  “I don’t watch porn so I wouldn’t know.”

  “You don’t watch porn at all?” I almost laughed because I’d never heard that. “That’s strange.”

  “Why would I when I have the real thing in front of me right now?” He grinned while making his moves on me. “Plus, you could totally do porn. You and me? Now that’s a porn I could watch. Real chemistry.”

  A surge of courage came over me, and I whispered in Chandler’s ear. “I’m going to do something I’ve been dreaming about for a while. And you just reminded me.”

  Chandler arched an eyebrow at me. “Oh yeah?”

  I whispered again. “Yeah. I’ll give you a hint. It involves my mouth and your cock.”

  He started to say something, but nothing came out. Any time I could leave Chandler speechless was a win for me. Instead, he brought my face to his, covering my mouth. I felt his now stubbled face against my cheek, and it heated me up.

  “Lie on your back,” I commanded him, and he reluctantly obliged while I reached for a hair tie on the nightstand.

  “Oh fuck, she’s getting the hair tie. She means business.”

  “Damn right I do. I mean, that cock isn’t going to suck itself,” I said.

  His reaction was priceless. Eyes widening and jaw dropping. Once again, rendered speechless.

  My hair in a ponytail behind my head, I slinked over to his body and hovered over him, my face inches from his. “Honestly, I don’t even know where some of the stuff I think of comes from,” I admitted, laughing lightly.

  “Well, wherever it comes from, it’s fucking beautiful.”

  “You know, you’re the first person to ever tell me my dirty talk is beautiful.”

  “Well, it’s not as beautiful as your gorgeous fucking face, but it’s still great.”

  I could feel Chandler’s erection throbbing against my leg. Holding my hands up with my arms, I dragged my nipples lightly across his chest, moving my body back and forth. “Did you mean my gorgeous fucking face, or my gorgeous sucking face?”

  “Both,” he said without hesitation. “Although I think I’ll need to see your sucking face more to be able to compare.”

  “Well, you are about to see my sucking face.” I smiled then kissed him on the lips once more.

  I left a trail of kisses down the middle of his body, going from his neck, between his chest muscles, his abs, and below his belly button. I kneeled between his legs and took him in my hand. He moaned as I kissed the tip of his cock.

  He wiggled his hips as I ran my tongue up and down his length. I looked up at him and saw a pleased smile.

  “How am I doing?” I asked.

  “Hotter than any porno I could ever imagine.”

  His words spurred me, and I opened my mouth up and took him in, swirling my tongue on his tip. His breath became short and throaty. I came up for a breath of air before I dove back onto his cock, deeper this time. He moaned louder, and I bobbed my head up and down on his hardness. I slowed, his moaning slowed. I sped up, he got louder. Tiny as I was, I took a sort of pleasure in the way I could control him. One thing I couldn’t control, though, was how wet I was getting by the second.

  I lifted my head up to take a breath of air. He rolled his eyes down at me, but before he could say anything I wrapped my lips back around him.

  “Fuck, Amy.”

  I loved the way he growled my name. I took him deeper, went faster, and then I felt his huge hand on my head, half massaging and half guiding me. I hummed somewhat involuntarily and now I felt his hips starting to rock as he fucked my face. Wet and greedy, I wanted so badly to reach down and touch myself. As if reading my mind, Chandler pulled my head up by the hair. I was panting as he spoke.

  “I want to taste you as you suck my cock.”

  “Fuck yes.”

  He spun my body around so that my pussy was on his face. I held his cock at the base and began to take him back in my mouth. I felt his tongue or finger flicking my clit and let out a noise that sounded halfway between a moan and a slurp. Suddenly, I lost all power to control his moans, and he was controlling me with his tongue. I lifted my head up.

  “Oh God, oh God, Chandler,” I moaned. He said nothing in response, his tongue concentrated between my legs. But I felt his hands running up and down on my back, massaging my shoulders and reaching my neck. I wanted to concentrate on his cock, but I couldn’t. “Chandler please, just fuck me already.”

  After another minute I think my words must have registered, and he lifted my ass up and set me on his stomach. “Lay on your side, baby,” he whispered.

  I followed his command, and then I was on my left side with him behind me, and his huge arm wrapped around my waist. I lifted my leg up, reached down for his cock, and guided him into me. I glanced back and we made eye contact, him staring intently into my eyes. He grabbed hold of my face and kissed me deeply.

  His tip pushed into me and I let out a purr. Wet as I was, it took a minute to get adjusted to him. He dropped a hand between my legs on my clit as he started slow.

  “This just feels so fucking right,” he growled. He kissed—no, more like sucked on—my neck.

  “Yes it does,” I managed to answer as he entered deeper into me. He gradually sped up until he was bucking hard against me. One hand was wrapped gently around my throat, pulling my head back so it was touching his. I screamed as I came hard, his finger on my clit while he entered me all the way was too much.

  “Mmm, I love the way you sound when you come.”

  “Shut up and fuck me harder,” I breathed.

  “So that’s the way you want it?”

  “Yes.”

  Without pulling out, he rolled my body over so I was flat on my stomach. I felt his hands grip the sides of my body as he slammed his hips into my ass. With every stroke I screamed louder.

  He pressed his chest onto my back and kissed my neck, sending shivers up and down my body again. I felt the orgasm building, and my pussy tightened around his cock. His breath caught, and I knew he was close.

  I couldn’t believe this was still the first day that we had let ourselves have sex.

  This was what I had been missing in my life.

  This was why I’d been depressed on and off the last five years.

  It might have been the first day, but this orgasm was five years in the making.

  Not like I hadn’t already orgasmed to the thought of him.

  I screamed louder than I ever imagined I would or even could during sex, my ass grinding into Chandler’s hips as I rode him, or he rode me, or whatever the fuck we were doing. He dug his lips and teeth into my neck and I came. The full weight of Chandler’s body was on top of me now, and I had never felt so liberated, so free while physically closed in.

  “I want to see you come on my tits, Chandler.”

  Like we had rehearsed this a thousand times, he pulled out and I flipped over. I sat up slightly and grabbed his cock to help him shoot ropes of come onto my boobs, stomach, and well, some got on the covers.

  “How’s that for a porno finish?” I giggled.

  “Who cares?” He grinned, still holding his cock. “That was fucking awesome.”

  Twenty-One

  Chandler

  We lay in bed after it was all over, just looking up at the ceiling mirror, staring at our sweaty bodies. Amy’s chest heaved next to me while she took deep breaths, her hard nipples pointing straight upward.

  The feeling was like the first kiss at the bar, except this time, it permeated throughout my entire body. I had to ask, “Amy…you feel that too?”

  “You mean the fact that you just gave me more Os in one session than David gave me in all six months combined?” she asked, still sounding drowsy.

  I chuckled. “Maybe it’s that. To be honest, I’ve never had this exact feeling before. It’s kind of like that kiss last night. But times one hundred.”

  She rolled over on her side and draped a leg over my knee and her arm on my chest, tracing her hand in figure eights ar
ound my chest. “I know. This is crazy. What do we do now?”

  I wrapped my arm around her body and brought her in close to me. “We enjoy this fucking day.”

  She leaned her chest on mine. “Do you mean, ‘we enjoy this fucking day,’ or ‘we enjoy this fucking day’?”

  A smile spread across my face from ear to ear. “Both. But mostly the second.” I fisted up a lock of her hair and brought to my nose, and inhaled.

  “You enjoy sniffing my hair.”

  I nodded, doing it again. “I love it.”

  “Such a perv,” she said, but she was smiling.

  “Guilty as charged.”

  “I have an idea for the rest of the week.”

  “Oh?”

  “We should trade planning days for the other person. Like, fantasies. I mean, my plane leaves next Saturday for Chicago. That’s not even ten full days. Until then, though, I want to keep doing this. Whatever this is.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief, but at the same time felt stressed out already thinking about what would happen when she left. I had been wondering about her for five years. Although I personally wasn’t on any social media accounts, my old buddy Le Ral had given me his log in so I could personally stalk Amy and see what she was up to. He was friends with her through Becca. Every time I thought about giving her a call or shooting her a message to see what she was up to, it seemed like she posted a new picture with some guy she was dating. And I wasn’t a homewrecker. Nor was I the guy who desperately reached out to some girl he knew years ago and had a crush on. I’d always been satisfied knowing that she was happy—even if it wasn’t with me.

  Now, the girl of my dreams was telling me she wanted to be my fuck buddy for the rest of the week. As much as I wanted more, how crazy would she think I was if I told her my long-term thoughts less than twenty-four hours before we had fucked the first time?

  So I did what any reasonable man would do in this situation: I made sure to play it cool. “I can get on that idea. Until then, amigovios?”

  She grinned. “Yes. Let’s be amigovios.” Her eyes darted from side to side, and she parted her lips but didn’t say anything.

  “I know that face.”

  “What?” she denied.

  “Oh please. You’re thinking of something dirty.”

  She chuckled.

  “What are you thinking about?” I pressed.

  “Okay, you can’t laugh at my fantasy.”

  “Ha! I knew you were thinking dirty! I won’t make fun of you. And, actually—let’s make that a rule. No laughing at each others’ fantasies.”

  “Okay, fine. I want to do it in a church.”

  I stared at her, a little shocked. “You want to do it…in a church. Like on the alter?”

  She shrugged and laughed. “I haven’t thought too much past the church part.”

  I ran my hand through her hair.

  “Have you ever told anyone else about this?”

  “No.”

  Mentally I began to flash through all of the churches that I knew of in the area, and I looked at the clock. “Oh shit.”

  “What?”

  “I have an hour until I have to leave for pre-game practice. And I’m damn ravenous. We also need to let the dog out.”

  Jess must have heard, because she grumbled on the other side of the door.

  “Can I come to your game today?”

  “Course you can, Squirt.” I grabbed her and kissed the shit out of her. She had asked the question so innocently, like I wasn’t going to want her there or something. “I’ll have a ticket waiting for you when you arrive at the gate of the stadium today.”

  * * *

  The Friday afternoon crowd was pretty big for this game. I dribbled down the court, Blagovich guarding me close. He was yelling some stuff in Serbian that I didn’t understand. I passed to Le Ral who was in the post, and they doubled him. I ran to the corner and yelled for the ball. Le Ral faked like he was going up to the hoop and then found me with a no look pass.

  Blagovich closed out but it was too late.

  I swished another three pointer in as the buzzer sounded to end the first half. We were up by twenty, a surprisingly healthy lead over one of the best teams in the league.

  Le Ral trotted over and gave me a butt pat and a high five. I loved the combination of his goofy voice and French accent.

  “Hell yeah Spiros! What the fuck, man? The hell are you on today?”

  “What?”

  “Oh please,” he said, and chuckled as we walked to the locker room for our break. “Don’t be humble. You’ve hit like six threes this half. Is there a scout in the stands or something?”

  “No clue.”

  “You’re playing inspired tonight, that’s for sure, man.”

  We walked under the walkway and I saw Amy. She stared at me, a giant smile plastered across her face. She blew me a kiss.

  “Ahhhh!” Le Ral yelled, then doing a double take. “Is that…Amy?”

  “Yep. We met on the plane here.”

  Le Ral looked over at me. “Spiros, you finally made her your girlfriend! I knew it’d happen someday!”

  I chuckled. “Not my girlfriend.”

  “No?” he asked, waving back at Amy but shooting me a confused look.

  “Just my amigovia.” I winked at him. I loved fucking with Le Ral.

  We passed the underpass of the balcony and Amy disappeared from sight.

  “Amigovia?” he asked. “Like…a side piece, eh?”

  I clammed up. Le Ral was just fucking around, but something didn’t sit right with him calling Amy my ‘side piece’. But I also didn’t know how to explain my relationship with Amy .

  “Nah,” I finally answered. “Not like that, exactly.”

  “So, she is your girlfriend?”

  “No. Um, not exactly.”

  We reached the inside of the locker room, grabbed a couple of towels, and took a seat on the bench inside. Le Ral knew me well, maybe better than anyone. He’d seen me run through entire groups of girls. He knew what I was capable of. And I could tell he was having a hard time processing this information.

  He put a hand on my shoulder and nodded. “You don’t have to explain man. I get it. She’s not one of the other ones. Don’t worry man, I am French. We get romance.”

  I chuckled. “Thanks bud.”

  “She’s your muse.”

  “My what?” I asked, chugging down water while waiting for the coaching staff to give their half time pep talk.

  “Muse. That’s what all the great French artists had. One girl who inspired them.”

  I looked at Le Ral, wondering if all Frenchmen thought like he did. “I’m not an artist, though.”

  “Well, you sure looked like one today on the court. You just use a basketball, not a paintbrush.”

  “Fuck, Le Ral. Where’d you come up with all this poetry?”

  A shit-eating grin spread across his face. “I don’t know man, it’s just a bunch of bullshit I’m making up on the spot.”

  “I don’t know how to describe her man. She’s just…Amy. She’s Squirt.”

  “Did you just say ‘Squirt’?” he asked, his face scrunching up.

  I grinned. “Long story.”

  “Ohhh…”

  After a brief talk by our coaches, mostly to keep the score nice and cushy, half time was over and we all went back out on the court to a thunderous crowd. I felt like I was playing in slow motion the rest of the game. My senses, my reaction time, everything was enhanced.

  I put up fifty-two points all in all in the game, and we won by the largest margin this year. Afterwards, everyone was asking me where the hell this outburst had come from. I wasn't sure, but I sure felt different that night. It was like all of the previous games I'd been playing in black and white, and now I was playing in color.

  Amy was waiting for me at the players’ entrance, which was an open-air tunnel that led to a private parking area for the team, coaching staff and people who worked at the stadium.
She was leaning against one of the side walls, in jeans, a v-neck t-shirt, and a jacket. She had a baseball cap on too.

  "Hey there," I said, grabbing her around the middle.

  "Hi. Good game tonight."

  I turned her cap around slowly.

  "You messed up my ponytail," she complained.

  I leaned down and kissed her against the brick wall of the stadium.

  "Didn't want any obstructions to stop me from doing that." She wrapped her arms around me, and I even felt one hand slide down to my leg.

  I released her.

  "Dirty girl," I quipped, feeling her hand and where it was on my ass.

  "I can't help it. You make me this way."

  "I think I've found my mission on this earth."

  "Speaking of missions, I'm hungry as hell." She raised an eyebrow.

  "Me too. But I need to eat something else first. How about we go home and have a quickie, then I'll take you out to a proper dinner?"

  She lowered her other hand on my body.

  "How about a quick bite and a marathon?"

  “Let’s just head out and see where the night takes us.”

  Twenty-Two

  Amy

  Saturday morning, I went out to the corner café to grab Chandler and me two dark roast coffees. He was extra tired after his game and, well, our marathon session that had lasted into the wee hours of the morning.

  I had woken up after just a few hours sleep, instantly awake. So alive. Since I’d arrived, I hadn’t taken a single pill for my depression, and the cloud of fog that usually followed me around had lifted.

  As I ordered two coffees in Spanish, I randomly thought about my dad. He used to tell me that most of life could be boiled down to a handful of moments. For him, there was the time he saw my mother for the first time. His wedding day. When he got fired from his first job only to start his own company and mine and Sam’s births.

  With Chandler, I wasn’t sure where our moments were leading us. There were three in particular that stuck out to me, though. The first, when we were chatting at some bar on Becca’s birthday five years ago, and I’d felt like I knew him better than any of the girls he’d slept with.