His Sexy Cheerleader (The Halloween Honeys)

by Alexx Andria

  Such a bad boy. “Glutton for punishment, I guess. Let me guess, do you have a latex suit and a ball gag hidden in a closet for special occasions?”

  “How’d you know?”

  I laughed in spite of myself. “I never took you for the submissive type.”

  “Who said it was for me?”

  I shivered and swallowed reflexively. There was nothing submissive about Oz. Even from the way he handled the team on the field, he had a firm controlled way about him that excited me in a private way that I would never talk about.

  I started to rub my clit, ever so softly with the silicone nub of the vibe. “How’d you get my number?” I asked, enjoying the sweet tingles starting to build as my body heated.

  “It’s 2018,” he answered as if that was a dumb question, which it probably was. There were a million different ways to get someone’s cell if you were determined enough. I didn’t know if I should be flattered or freaked out. “What are you doing right now?”

  I glanced down at my hand slowly moving up and down on the sensitive hood of my clit, my breath hitching slightly. “Nothing much,” I answered, drawing a deep breath, closing my eyes. “You?”

  “Stroking my cock.”

  Oh fuck. I had to shut this down, right? I mean, phone sex? Really? But damn, this was so hot. “And you felt the need to share?” I asked, pretending boredom. “There was no one else you could call?”

  “I felt it appropriate seeing as you’re the one I’m always thinking about when I jerk off,” he answered and I held back a tiny hitch in my breath.

  “I doubt that,” I said, rubbing a little harder, even pinching a little. Keeping the gasp behind my teeth made it ten times hotter as I rubbed a little faster. “You only want what you can’t have.”

  “You think you know me. What if I told you, you don’t know me at all?”

  My breath quickened, his voice in my ear was the sexiest thing I’d ever experienced. I tried to laugh off his assertion but tiny sparks of pleasure were starting to betray me.

  “Layla…are you…touching yourself?” he guessed, the amusement and delight in his tone both embarrassing and arousing. “God, please say yes.”

  I wanted to deny it but I couldn’t. God, I couldn’t. I wanted to come. I wanted to come with his voice in my ear. Maybe this was the compromise my dignity would allow. I allowed my breathy silence to answer for me.

  He chuckled with aroused satisfaction. “Tell me what you’re thinking about,” he said.

  “What if it’s not about you,” I countered.

  “I’ll take my chances,” he said with just enough arrogance to be sexy because somehow he knew he was in my head. When I hesitated, he pressed a little harder, that silky sexy voice pushing me a little more and I wanted to play so bad. “Come on, Layla, tell me what’s in that beautiful brain of yours? What turns your crank, baby girl?”

  “You between my thighs,” I admitted, my cheeks heating, my eyes squeezing shut as pleasure rippled through me. “You eating me out.”

  “Ohh, my favorite meal. I’ve imagined your taste so many times I almost feel as if I know you already.”

  I shuddered as let him into my head. I was playing a dangerous game. To this point, I’d managed to keep Oz out but now he knew I wanted him as much he wanted me and the rules had just changed.

  Even if I was making a huge mistake, I couldn’t stop the wild pulse throbbing through my veins.

  In that moment, Oz in my ear was the hottest thing I’d ever encountered and I wasn’t about to give it up.

  I was hurtling down a highway at breakneck speed, no brakes and it was exhilarating.

  Chapter 6

  Oz

  My cock had never been so hard. I palmed the thick flesh, the drop of precum at the tip oozing out as I slowly stroked myself to the breathy tone of Layla’s voice in my ear.

  I couldn’t believe this was happening.

  In my wildest dreams I never imagined I’d be having phone sex with Layla Laughton before even seeing her naked but it was hotter than fuck.

  Hotter than anything I’d ever done in my debauched life.

  “Tell me how you want to fuck me,” Layla said, her tone a soft purr.

  “Baby girl, you have no idea. I’ve been dreaming of fucking you since the first day I laid eyes on you. You were the hottest freshman to walk Oak Ridge University. I was fucking stunned. Those legs, girl. Seriously, so damn hot. You kill me every time I see you in uniform.”

  That was the damn truth. I remembered the moment I saw her in uniform. I had to know who she was. She was the first girl who’d gotten a full ride to Oak Ridge on a cheer/dance scholarship and holy fuck, it was warranted. I didn’t get to watch her perform during the half because I was in the locker room but I caught the replay later and I was stunned. It was like watching a superstar.

  Some people had that certain something that made them shine. Layla had that thing — that certain spark.

  People just seemed to notice her wherever she went. Including me. At first, yeah, I just wanted to fuck her. Not gonna lie. But slowly, that simple desire changed into something deeper, something more complex.

  Until this year when it became almost an obsession.

  Now, I understood it for what it was.

  Layla was meant to be mine.

  Her breath caught and my cock surged against my palm. I groaned. If my cock got any harder, it would split in two. “You have no idea how I want to throw you over my shoulder, take you into the locker room and bend you over. I want that ass in my hands so I can drive my cock so deep, you can feel every inch. I want to pound that pussy so hard, your tits bounce with every thrust. I want to hear my name on your lips as you come, baby girl.”

  I had to slow my strokes or else I would come too fast. I wanted to draw out this pleasure. No sense in blowing my load like a two-pump chump at the first chance I get with the woman of my fucking dreams.

  Yeah, okay, so I admitted it. Maybe not to my buddies but privately.

  Layla was unlike anyone I’d ever met. She was the real deal. Maybe even someone I could see myself with for longer than a month.

  Or maybe I was just as guilty of what Layla was accusing me — only craving the chase, not the prize.

  All I knew was that I had to have her.

  And right now, if phone sex was what she was offering, hell, I was going to take it.

  “Tell me how you like it, Layla,” I instructed softly, needing to know how she ticked, what made her squirm. I wanted to drink in every detail.

  “Hold me down, force me,” she revealed with a gasp and I squeezed my cock so hard the head turned purple. I pictured holding her arms above her head, pinioned helpless as I railed into her wet heat and I nearly lost it all over again.

  I had to throttle myself back before I spurted like a twelve-year-old boy first discovering what his dick could do. I loved that the headstrong, willful Layla with the sassy mouth wanted to be dominated.

  I could hear the exquisite humiliation in her arousal and it was like gasoline on a fire. “Suck my clit until I cry, make me come over and over until I can’t take anymore!”

  “Oh baby, you know I will,” I promised fervently, wishing she was there with me so I could taste her pussy, drink her sweet juice and memorize the feel of her shudders under my tongue. I wanted to know how she tasted when she came. I wanted to lick the cream from my fingers and stick my tongue in her mouth so she could taste herself on my lips after.

  I wanted her to know that I saw how dirty she could be — and I approved.

  Holy fuck, I approved.

  “Say you want me,” I told her in a firm voice, taking the lead. “Say it now.”

  She moaned in sweet agony but tumbled easily. “I want you, Oz,” she admitted. “I hate you but I want you so bad.”

  “Then let me fuck you,” I said, offering with a seductive chuckle, “I’ll make you come so hard, I’ll ruin you for other men.”

  “I know you will,” Layla agreed, groaning.
“Oh God…”

  She was nearing her climax. I didn’t want her to come yet.

  “Layla, if you come for me, you’re mine. You know this, right?”

  Layla’s low throaty laugh sent a wild arc of arousal straight to my junk. There was something about her that turned my crank in the worst way, even when I was struggling to keep the upper hand. Just when I thought I had control, she flipped the script and I was scrambling.

  “How close are you to coming, Oz?” she asked breathlessly.

  Too damn close. I’d deliberately stopped stroking myself. If a feather so much as touched my cock at this point, I’d spew so hard I’d blow the bedroom door off the hinges. “Close enough,” I admitted.

  “If you come for me, maybe that means, you’re mine.”

  “Baby, what if I told you, I could’ve been yours a long time ago?”

  “I don’t believe you for a second,” Layla said. “But I want to hear you say my name when you come.”

  “Ladies first,” I said, my heartbeat kicking up a notch just thinking of those lovely lips parting on the cry of an orgasm. “I want to hear you cry my name. Now, baby. Come for me.”

  I heard the subtle sounds of Layla’s vibrator rising in intensity. I tensed as Layla’s breath quickened. I pictured her tits swelling, her nipples hardening. I craved those pearled tips in my mouth as she arched, finding her release. I wanted to watch as her thighs shook, her belly trembled.

  I wanted to suck her clit and stroke her G-spot. I wanted her to see stars.

  I wanted to hear my name on her lips.

  I wanted her to pass out with the knowledge that I’d been the one to knock her out.

  “Come on, baby girl, give it to me, come for me,” I encouraged in a strained voice, returning to my own strokes, needing very little to get to my own critical moment. “Layla, baby, now…”

  “Oh God, Oz…Oz…OZ!”

  And there it was. I exploded at the same time. “Layla!” I grunted as the heaviest load ever spewed from my cock, spurting in great gobs, spending on my chest and missing my fucking face by mere inches. Even as I was through, my cock continued to dribble fluid, and I was suddenly exhausted.

  Goddamn, it was if I’d actually had a marathon session of sex instead of phone sex.

  I grinned. “Layla?” But the line was dead. Shit, she was gone. I let the phone drop to the bed. I contemplated calling her back but I had a feeling my call would go straight to voicemail.

  My impulse was to jump in the car and drive to her place but something told me the better play was to let it lie.

  Patience was a virtue, right?

  We’ll see.

  For now, I’ll take the win.

  Chapter 7

  Layla

  “You don't seem to understand the gravity of what has happened,” I complained to Chrissie the following day over a much-needed chai tea latte at our favorite campus coffee shop.

  She disagreed while munching on a bagel. “I totally understand what has happened. You finally gave into what has been an undercover crush since we started at Oak Ridge and you’re freaking out because you’re a control freak but honestly, I say, it's about time you scratched that itch.”

  I balked, shocked that she could get this situation so wrong. “Chrissie, you know I can't stand Oz. I'm sure this weird sexual attraction is some kind of Freudian thing. I’ll bet if I were to grab one of the psych majors they’d tell me I have some issue with my father or something but I can tell you whatever it is, it isn't going to continue. No more phone sex with Oz. Good God, what was I thinking?”

  “You were thinking you needed to get laid. Jesus, girl, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

  “That’s not the point,” I grumbled, sipping my tea. And yes, it had been a while. Casual sex wasn’t my thing and I was too busy to get to know anyone well enough to let them get into my pants. It was all so exhausting, honestly. Who had the time? “But of all people, Oz? Can I just claim momentary insanity or something? I have no idea what came over me.”

  The memory rose up, hot and uninvited to scorch my brain and I nearly choked on my swallow of tea. I wiped my chin as Chrissie just shrugged as if none of this registered on the “Oh Shit” meter and picked a piece of her bagel to pop in her mouth.

  “I say, just go with it.”

  “Go with it? Are you nuts? Have you lost your mind?”

  “You said it was the hottest thing you’ve ever done. Where's the harm in it. College is all about experimentation. I kissed a girl the other night and I liked it. Go for it.”

  I did a double-take. “Is there something else you need to tell me?”

  Chrissie laughed. ”I’m not saying I'm switching teams. I'm just saying it was nice. Girls have soft lips,” she said, puckering for effect. “And they smell nice.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, returning to my own crisis before I had a mild freak out that my best friend was out there smooching on girls. “What am I going to do about Oz? He thinks we're going to be a thing, which we absolutely are not.”

  “I think you're getting ahead of yourself. Maybe he just enjoyed whatever happened and you guys can just go back to whatever it is you had before.”

  “We didn't have anything before.”

  “Well, go back to that, then.”

  “But I think he wants more.”

  “Do you want more?”

  “Of course not.” Maybe?

  Chrissie pinned me with her gaze. "I hear you saying the words but your expression tells me something different. Are you doing that girl thing where you say one thing but you mean another? Because right now I'm really confused."

  "I'm just saying I don't know what came over me last night. I guess I was really horny and he called at the right moment. We all know that fantasies never really mean anything. If I have a fantasy about being double teamed by Thor and Loki that doesn't mean I'm looking to show up at a cosplay convention hoping to make that happen, right? Exactly. No, fantasies are fantasies for a reason. They stay in our heads so we can pull them out of our mental porn box and then we put them back when we're done. We don't make them a reality."

  Chrissie thought for a moment but added, “That may be true. Sometimes I fantasize about having sex with a woman but I'm not sure I would quite go that far. However, now that I've kissed a girl maybe that's not so far-fetched. I don't know. I think right now my sexuality is a little fluid."

  “And that doesn't bother you at all?"

  “No. Not really. Should it?"

  “No I guess not. Gender, sexuality, nothing is set in stone these days. Do whatever feels good. I'll love you no matter what,” I said, a bit exasperated by Chrissie’s circular logic today. “Here's the deal, I really need to know what to do about Oz. I'm so confused. This whole thing has got me all twisted up inside. I never should've taken that call. I should've hung up the minute I realized it was him. I never should've let him pay for those Halloween decorations. What was I thinking?”

  “You were thinking that you needed to rectify a situation that your pride put you in and he presented with a solution. I don't fault you for that but I think you're riding yourself pretty hard for being attracted to a guy that's good-looking, hot as fuck and honestly, he's probably a good time. Why are so opposed to just having fun with the guy?”

  “Because he’s a terrible person,” I maintained stubbornly.

  But Chrissie wasn’t buying. “And why is he a terrible person? Refresh my memory.”

  “Because he uses people.”

  “Everyone uses somebody at some point.”

  I frowned, pursing my lips. “Are you Oz’s personal PR girl or something? Why are you so intent on being his champion?”

  “I’m not. I’m just not sure why you’re so adamant that you won’t give him a chance. I mean, if you have a solid reason why you won’t, then, by all means, tell me. But so far, you haven’t given me a very persuasive argument.”

  “That debate class ruined you,” I said, grumbling.<
br />
  She winked. “No, it ruined your ability to just get your way because your personality is overbearing.”

  I pretended to be offended. “I’m not overbearing.”

  “You are but I love you,” Chrissie said, smiling. “Look, I don’t hear anyone complaining about Oz being a dick around campus. Sure, he likes to have fun but he’s not hurting anyone. I think you’re judging him against a pretty unfair yardstick.”

  “He’s not boyfriend material,” I said, sticking to my guns.

  “You’re not girlfriend material.”

  Ohhhh, snap. My jaw dropped. “Did you just…damn, girl, that was savage.”

  “Best friend duties include being necessarily harsh when the other half is being an idiot. I’ve watched you push Oz away for years and every year he keeps coming back.”

  “Maybe he’s the idiot.”

  “Agreed or maybe he’s just fucking crazy about you.”

  That stopped me.

  Actually the words kinda dried up and went away.

  Oz crazy about me? As in, for real? Not the fake bullshit that he used to get into girls’ panties on a Friday night?

  As in, real Netflix and chill, I’m-wearing-yoga-pants-and-a-bun kind of relationship real?

  Was it possible?

  Did I want that?

  I shared a look with Chrissie, not knowing what to do with that truth bomb.

  Seriously.

  “I could’ve went the rest of the year without that question in my head,” I told her with a sour look.

  She sent me a sweet smile. “I get to be your maid of honor.”

  “I’m not marrying Oz.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Why did a shiver just fucking dance up my spine?

  Holy shit. Things just got weird.

  Chapter 8

  Oz

  I waited for Layla to call me but when two days went by and my phone remained silent, I knew she wasn’t going to budge.

  The woman’s pride was epic.