The Player Gets Coached Read online

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  ISBN: 9781543947021

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Finn eased himself from the king sized platform bed that was intended to be the focal point of his spacious master bedroom - little surprise, he mused wryly, considering how much action this particular bed had seen over the past few years. Less than five minutes ago, in fact, the bed had been rocking and shaking as he’d given the lusty young blonde he had met earlier this evening a hard, thorough fucking. She’d been every bit as eager and enthusiastic as he was, practically tearing off the few articles of clothing she’d been wearing as soon as they’d walked through the front door of his condo, and urging him to do her right there in the living room. Finn had never been a man who needed to be asked twice to do anything, and especially not when shoving his cock inside a warm, willing female body was involved. He’d barely had time to unzip his pants and roll on a condom - a cardinal rule that he never, ever, broke no matter how drunk or horny he was or how tempting his partner might be - before the now naked nymphet had dropped to all fours and wiggled her pert ass at him invitingly.

  That first time had been wild and frantic and more than a little on the raunchy side, with the angelic looking young blonde shouting out some of the filthiest words he’d ever heard. It was obvious she liked it rough, and fortunately for her Finn had been more than willing to accommodate her needs. They had made it to the bedroom the second time, where his voracious bedmate had used her admittedly talented mouth to coax his dick back to the ready stage.

  He’d been on top this time, but that hadn’t stopped his bedmate from fully participating in the action. The little hellcat - damn, why was he having so much trouble remembering her name - had screeched and yelled and bucked like the wild thing she was, her long, blood-red nails raking along his back as he’d brought her closer and closer to climaxing. Unsurprisingly, she’d made very sure he had known she was coming, shouting this fact out so loudly that Finn had found himself wincing, and hoping that the walls of his condo had sufficient enough soundproofing so that his next door neighbor couldn’t hear what was happening.

  Not, of course, that said neighbor - or any number of other residents in this posh, modern building - weren’t well aware of the virtual revolving door of females who came in and out of Finn’s place. He had a small group of male friends and acquaintances who lived in the building - some, but not all of them professed bachelors like himself - and they loved nothing better than to be regaled with detailed accounts of Finn’s most recent hook-up. Unlike, recalled Finn with a scowl, his two closest friends Jordan and Max, who more often than not changed the subject nowadays whenever he tried to discuss his latest conquest.

  ‘It’s a pretty sad state of affairs when a guy can’t even discuss his - well, affairs with his two supposed best friends,’ grumbled Finn beneath his breath as he grabbed a terrycloth robe from the hook on his en suite bathroom door. ‘Maybe it’s finally time for me to make good on my threats and find some new friends. Ones who haven’t been pussy whipped by their girlfriends or decided that celibacy is somehow a good thing.’

  But Finn knew that his threats were empty ones, and that it would take some sort of major disagreement or altercation for him to ever seriously consider breaking ties with his former frat brothers. Jordan and Max were as close to Finn as his own biological brothers - maybe even closer in some ways. They’d been the best of friends for twenty years now, ever since the three of them had been assigned to the same floor in their dorm at Stanford. All three had despised or had some sort of issue with their respective roommates during freshman year, and as a result the trio had wound up spending a good deal of time together at other locations around campus.

  After mutually agreeing that another year in the dorms wasn’t for them, Finn, Jordan, and Max had debated between getting their own off campus apartment together, or pledging to one of the on-campus fraternities. But after touring a few of the cramped, semi-dingy apartments that they would actually be able to afford, the threesome had decided that frat life was the way to go. Finn and Jordan had shared a room in the house, while Max - ever the loner - had opted for a tiny attic room of his own rather than take the risk of having to share with yet another obnoxious roommate.

  Finn glanced over at the bed where his energetic partner - wait, was her name Cindy or Mindy? Or maybe it was Candy or Mandy? - had evidently worn herself out and was snoring softly. He finished belting the robe around his waist before gingerly unlocking the sliding door that led from his bedroom to the balcony, then closed the door carefully behind him so as not to wake Cindy/Mindy/Candy/Mandy.

  He shivered a bit as his bare feet made contact with the cool porcelain tiles on the balcony, and was glad he’d thought to grab his robe. It wasn’t quite springtime yet in San Francisco, and the early March night air was more than a little on the brisk side. But it was also a crystal clear evening, he noted with pleasure, with nary a cloud in the sky, and no hint of the damp, chilly fog that could blanket the entire San Francisco Bay when it rolled in at times. The oft-changing, unpredictable climate, however, was one of the things Finn loved best about this city - a city he’d become infatuated with from the very first time he had visited during his freshman year at Stanford.

  The lively, bustling city was a far cry from the laidback ski town he’d grown up in back in Colorado, a place where Finn had known most everyone in town, and where his family had resided for several generations. And while he’d had the happiest, most normal of childhoods, the greatest parents in the whole world - at least in his opinion - and where he had easily been the most popular boy in his high school class, Finn had always known that he needed something bigger and better than working for the family construction business, marrying some local girl, and staying put in the only town he’d ever lived in.

  Football had provided him with that opportunity to spread his wings. After earning the starting quarterback position during his sophomore year of high school, Finn had broken nearly every school passing record, plus several state ones, and drawn the attention of a dozen different top universities around the country as a result. And since he was more than a little tired of dealing with snow for nearly half the year, choosing a location where the winters were much milder had been a prime factor in making his decision. It hadn’t hurt that Stanford was also one of the top academic colleges in the world, not that many people realized that a fun-loving playboy like Finn McManus was also pretty damned smart.

  It was his father who’d pointed out that a career in the NFL was no guarantee after college, and that the risk of injury in his chosen sport was higher than most, so that Finn had darned well better have what Jerry McManus had referred to as a “back-up plan”.r />
  “And it sure wouldn’t hurt to have a big name school like Stanford on your resume one day, Finn,” his father had advised. “So if they’re willing to pay your way, then I’d say go for it. That being said,” Jerry had added jokingly, “it wouldn’t break my heart - not to mention your mother’s - if you decided to stay local and attend the University of Colorado.”

  But when the time had come for Finn to head out to California, his parents and three younger siblings had been nothing but supportive, even though they had all quietly realized that the likelihood of him ever moving back home permanently was practically nonexistent. Finn had known within a scant month of living on the Stanford campus that he would find a way to make California his home, and after his first weekend visit to San Francisco, had determined that the big city would be where he’d settle after college.

  It had been a huge disappointment when he hadn’t been drafted by the San Francisco 49ers football team, even though he would have wound up as the third string quarterback back then. Instead, he’d headed to Miami, where he became the starter after a scant year as the backup, commanded a hefty salary, and enjoyed a successful career that had spanned a dozen years. But he’d still insisted on living in San Francisco during the off-season, originally buying a much smaller condo than the one he currently owned, and had always considered the city his primary residence.

  His current job as an analyst for the NFL Network took him around the country on a regular basis to attend games and other events, though he mostly worked out of the network studios in Los Angeles. Fortunately, it was a short flight to southern California, and the taping of the show only took a few hours of his time each week. Not, of course, that the taping was the only part of his job. He had to spend long hours each week reviewing tapes of previous games, pouring over statistics and injury reports, and studying the match-ups for next week’s games. Jordan and Max frequently teased him about his cushy, high-paying profession, but his pain-in-the-ass friends had little to no idea about just how hard he really worked.

  Finn took a deep, appreciative breath, drinking in the cool, crisp night air of his beloved, adopted city, and thought he’d never get tired of this view. His condo was on one of the uppermost floors of the building, and had one of the best vantage points of any of the units. The spectacular, panoramic view of the San Francisco skyline had, in fact, been one of the major selling points of this place when he’d decided to move into a larger, more modern building a few years ago. From the balcony, he could pick out any number of famous landmarks and buildings - the Transamerica Pyramid, the Ferry Building, San Francisco Bay, and, in the distance, the Golden Gate Bridge and the Farallon Islands.

  And the view was even more breathtaking at nighttime, when all of the office buildings were lit up, and Finn knew it was a sight he would never get tired of.

  All in all, he mused, he had a pretty fine life. He had more money than he could spend in three lifetimes, having socked away and invested a good portion of the hefty salary he’d earned as a pro football player. He loved his current job as a network analyst, loved the media attention he continued to receive, and enjoyed the traveling and social events that came with the job. He still had a few lucrative endorsement deals as well, serving as the spokesman for an athletic apparel line, a brand of vodka, and a hotel chain. He was admittedly enough of an egotist to get a kick out of seeing his face in print ads or hearing his voice on television commercials, and especially loved being recognized and greeted by fans.

  As a confirmed and dedicated bachelor who didn’t believe in long-term relationships, Finn was footloose and fancy free, being able to come and go as he pleased without having to answer to anyone. He liked that freedom, liked the idea of being able to watch whatever he wanted on TV, or lounge around all day in his rattiest jeans and T-shirt, or go for a week at a time without shaving if he felt like it. When he wasn’t working - which amounted to more than half the year - he could sleep in as late as he pleased or get up at the crack of dawn, depending on his mood. He could eat whatever and wherever he wanted, could hang out with his friends, or catch a flight out to Colorado to see his family at practically a moment’s notice.

  And of course, the very best part of being a carefree bachelor with no intention of ever getting married or having a relationship that lasted more than a week or so, was that he could freely flit from one eager bedmate to the next without the slightest qualm or hesitation or even a smidgen of guilt. Finn had lost count a long time ago of the number of women he’d fucked and then forgotten, not that he’d ever really made a serious attempt to keep a running tally. He was unapologetic about the fact that he loved women, loved sex, and wasn’t all that picky about the type of women he had sex with - provided, of course, that they were attractive, willing, and eager. Finn liked them tall or petite or somewhere in between; blondes, brunettes, or redheads; slim or curvy, though he tended to shy away from the stick thin model types who had no boobs or hips to speak of. And he’d been with women from a wide variety of ethnic backgrounds - Caucasians, African Americans, Latinas, Asians. A number of his former lovers had been older women, though that had mostly been when he’d been quite a bit younger. And while the horny blonde who was currently fast asleep in his bed was definitely in her early twenties, most of his partners these days were typically no more than five to ten years younger than his own age of thirty-nine.

  He grimaced now to realize that he was going to be forty years old in just a few more months. ‘Forty fucking years old,’ he thought to himself in disgust. ‘No wonder some of those younger babes at the club tonight wouldn’t give you a second look. Shit, they’re probably too young to even know who you are, McManus.’

  Over the years, Finn had taken shameless advantage of his celebrity status, picking out only the most attractive of the groupies who had always hung out around the football stadium or team hotel. He’d had more than his fair share of celebrity hook-ups, too, dating actresses, singers, and models, and having his photo splashed in the gossip magazines and newspapers on a regular basis. Since his retirement from football, he wasn’t as easily recognized, but still had plenty of opportunities to meet hot women at all of the social events he attended for the network. Though he was beginning to suspect that most of them had no real idea of who he was, given that they’d likely been in middle school when he’d been playing football, and only gravitated to him because they guessed he had money.

  Jordan and Max had begun throwing hints - and not very subtle ones - that perhaps it was time for Finn to get over his Peter Pan syndrome and start acting like something other than an overgrown frat boy for once in his life. Max, thought Finn caustically, had more often than not been something of a buzzkill. The often moody, sometimes withdrawn British expat had always been picky about the women in his life, had frequently regarded Jordan and Finn with distaste at their choice of bedmates, and it had been rare for old Max to really let loose and enjoy himself. And over the past couple of years, Max had become almost a recluse, rarely agreeing to accompany his friends out to a bar or club, and Finn was willing to bet a considerable sum of money on the fact that it had been a helluva long time since Max had gotten laid.

  Even Jordan, who’d nearly rivaled Finn at one time for the unofficial title of Manwhore of the Decade, had mended his ways over the past year, ever since he’d met his girlfriend Aubrey during a vacation in Hawaii. Not only had Jordan remained entirely faithful to the admittedly hot, gorgeous blonde for all that time, but she was actually living with him. And Jordan had very nearly caused Finn to choke on his steak sandwich during lunch last week when he’d secretly confided to him and Max that he was seriously considering proposing to Aubrey within the next few weeks.

  “I so have to find some new friends,” Finn had grumbled after drinking down a glass of water to clear his throat. “The two of you are as much fun as a couple of old men at a bingo game. In fact, I’m willing to bet those old men would be more fun since they’d probably enjoy watching some porn with m
e. Unlike the two of you.”

  Max had shrugged. “I’ve never really enjoyed pornography, if I’m being honest. Why settle for that when the real thing is so much more enjoyable?”

  Finn had looked at his friend in disbelief. “Speaking from memory there, Max? Or have you been keeping secrets from me and Jordan? Though given how far up your ass that old stick has been wedged, the only way I’d believe you’d had sex in recent times was to see you in action for myself. And while voyeurism isn’t quite as satisfying as sex, I definitely wouldn’t turn down the opportunity.”

  In response, Max had merely taken a sip of his wine and rather discreetly flipped Finn off.

  Jordan, meanwhile, had taken a different approach. “Did you ever think,” he’d asked quietly, “that maybe it’s way past time for you to stop acting like you’re still twenty-five years old, Finn? Or quit reliving the glory days when you were playing football and could snag any hot young thing you snapped your fingers at? We can’t freeze time, after all, or prevent ourselves from getting older. And sure, you can try to find some younger friends, or pick up a woman who’s ten to fifteen years younger than you are, and try to cling to your youth like grim death. But sooner than later you’ll have to face facts - you’re almost forty years old, my man, and you need to grow up one of these days. Max and I have both accepted that fact, and now it’s your turn.”

  Finn had glared darkly at both men. “Well, fuck that. Just because Max is turning into a virtual monk, and you’re this close to being pussy whipped doesn’t mean that I have to stop enjoying my life. Hell, even my father stopped lecturing me about my lifestyle a decade ago.”

  Max had given an eye roll. “That’s probably because he figured you were a lost cause, Finley. And perhaps he’s right. Leave him alone, will you, Jordan? This is something Finn’s going to have to come to terms with himself. Let’s just hope it’s before he turns seventy five and he’s the only one in the singles bar using a cane.”