by Aubrey Irons
Half-snoring, no makeup, hair all a mess, legs tangled up in her sheets, and sexy as all fucking hell.
I mean, I’ve had morning wood before, but I was hard enough to cut fucking steel waking up to that sight. I’d groaned as my eyes landed between her slightly spread legs, at the slight outline of her pussy lips against the cotton of her panties.
Damn.
It was enough to get my dick surging hard and hungry for more.
Jesus I should have gotten laid last night, I’d grumbled to myself. Before, I came over to Hailey’s.
And that’s part of why my head is all messed up at practice - still trying to figure out why the hell I passed up on a foursome with three sorority girls and ended up going over for obviously nothing sexual at Hailey’s dorm.
Because that is not how Dalton Cole operates, I’ll tell you what.
In the end, I managed to yank my eyes away from the sleeping girl before I became some sort of creep. I grabbed my stuff, pulled the sheet up over her, and ducked out.
I’ve “ducked out” of a hundred bedrooms the morning after before, but I’ve never walked out with that much of a grin on my face.
Despite not getting laid.
And now I’m at practice, running my ass off, getting it handed to me, and getting it chewed out by Coach.
Finally though, we get a break, and I managed to drag my sorry, booze-soaked ass over to the water-station. There’s a clap on my back, and I wince as I turn to see Evan looking about as shitty as I feel.
“You as rough as me, bro?”
I pull a face and shake my head, wincing at the motion.
Evan grins, “Well, yeah, partying that hard the night before practice wasn’t really the plan, but oh well.” He laughs, “Fuck man, I heard you brought it with that drinking game with those chicks.”
I groan, feeling my stomach turn. “Yeah, I-”
“Dude,” Evan laugh and shakes his head. “The point of Never Have I Ever is to get the girls ready to fuck, not get them so drunk they black out on you.” He hoots out a laugh and pats me on the back again. “Anyways, sorry shit didn’t work out with that present. Jen and the rest of the Kappa girls though? They’re yours for the taking, bro.”
I nod, because I know I should. Except I’m not thinking about the damn Kappa girls and their willingness to fuck me as a group any way I please. I’m thinking of those cotton panties pulled tight across Hailey Garrison’s tight little ass, and her complete unwillingness to even give me the time of day.
Evan shrugs guiltily. “Listen man, I, uh - I may have fucked the blonde one last night though. I mean, after you left and all.”
I snort. “Which blonde one?”
I’m not aware of Kappa girls coming in any other flavor, honestly.
Evan frowns. “Cassie? No, wait, it might have been Sarah.” He grins and shrugs. “I dunno man, one of them. She woke up looking for you and I guess I was the next best thing.” He laughs again before he shoots me a look. “Hope that’s cool.”
I roll my eyes. “Dude, you’re a junior; I’m a freshman. And it’s not like I own those girls or anything. No harm no foul, man.”
Evan shakes his head and looks away before he turns back. “Dude, do you still not get it?” He grins. “You’re Dalton fucking Cole, man - you own whatever the fuck you want and fuck whoever the hell you want on this campus.”
Coach Garrison blows his whistle and Evan starts to yank his helmet back on. “Get used to that, dick,” he says, laughing as he fist-bumps me and runs back to his position.
Yeah, right.
Any girl on campus, whenever I want, however I want. It should have me drooling at the mouth. It should have me ready to run off this field and get myself balls-deep in a coed as soon as humanly possible. It should have me walking up to the Kappa house and fucking my way through the entire damn sorority - because I can.
Except it doesn’t make me want any of those things. It’s empty, and flat, because for all the strange and willing pussy on campus, there’s one fucking girl who’s managed to slip her way under my damn skin.
And that one girl has got my cock harder than a fucking goal post despite wanting nothing to do with me.
I duck back home to change after practice, my head still feeling like it’s shattered into a hundred pieces. The hot shower in my guest apartment above the garage is perfect, scalding hot against my skin and sore muscles, letting me sweat out the awful practice and the booze from last night.
Jesus, I need to get my head on straight.
This is my damn kingdom, which means I need to run it like one. I need to get my shit in line, not just party my way through a losing season, that’s for sure.
Being hung over is my own damn fault, and the last thing I need is some tender-footed coach coddling me and making me feel like the celebrity instead of the player.
Thankfully - or maybe not - one day into practice and it’s clear Coach Garrison is not going to be giving me any passes because of who I am. Which is why he was in my face cutting me down to fucking size today.
Part of me wonders what he’d say if he knew where I’d slept last night.
I don’t think it would be pretty.
And he wasn’t wrong. I need to get my fucking head screwed on straight if I don’t want to tank my whole career before it starts.
I mean, the NFL. I dreamed of that shit when I was a kid, but to have it right there and almost within my grasp is something surreal. In three years, when I’m eligible for the draft, that could be me, but only if I want it enough and only if I work for it hard enough.
Only if I don’t fuck up along the way.
And there are shitloads of things along the way that could mess things up that are out of my hands, like an injury, or a better team, or just shit luck in a season. But then there are the things well within my control that’ll dump the blame squarely in my lap if I let them get the best of me - partying too much, chasing tail more than the ball.
Or thinking the sort of thoughts I’m thinking about the Coach’s damn daughter, aka my stepsister.
Because however enticingly off-limits Hailey is, no matter how much her not being into me has me more and more interested in her, I need to keep my dick in my pants and my head on damn straight.
Because she is off-limits. Not in a flirtatious “chase it and work for it” kind of way, either. In the very real, very career-ending-because-the-scandal-would-bury-me kind of way.
Not to mention Coach burying me in a shallow grave.
And those images alone should get me off my current train of thought. The idea of ESPN or something finding out I’m having sleepovers at my damn stepsister’s dorm room should have me shoving Hailey Garrison right out of my head.
Except the only thought in my head - the only one that matters and the one I can’t get out is the image of that girl sound asleep this morning. The only thing roaring through my head is the image of her lips slightly parted, her hair tossed across her face, and those damn panties this morning molded to that impossibly perfect ass.
I’m hard as a rock before I know it, and I groan, dropping my forehead to the shower wall.
So much for getting those thoughts out of my head.
I’m reaching down and wrapping my hand around my cock before I know it, slowly stroking it as I close my eyes and put myself back in that dorm room this morning. I picture those panties pulled tight across the place between her legs, my eyes dragging over the smooth silk of her thigh, teasing up the inner seam of those panties that hugged right up against that forbidden, off-limits place between her legs.
I growl as I stroke myself, the image of Hailey Garrison waking to find me hard and ready. In my head, a shy smile dances on her lips and she arches her back, pushing her ass back towards me as she slowly peels her panties down for me.
I’m already close, after blue-balling myself last night, and then being near her, inhaling her scent all damn night in that room - not to mention the sight I woke up to.
Bu
t I stop suddenly, groaning as I hold my throbbing dick in my hand.
What the fuck am I doing?
Star quarterback Dalton Cole does not jerk off in the shower like some sort of loser - he goes out and gets laid.
He goes out and gets two sorority girls to suck his cock - goes out and lives out every single hedonistic cliché of a sports-star sex icon.
Except I’m broken somehow.
Somehow, Hailey Garrison has my screws loose inside my head. She’s like this little thing in my peripheral vision that’s got me off my game in a major way.
Something about those nerdy glasses, and the sassy attitude that curiously wants nothing to do with me. Something about that apparently banging body she covers up way more than she should. Or those lips - so pink and soft that I just want to cup her by the chin and slide my cock across them. Something about the innocent, inexperienced-
I freeze.
Shit, maybe that’s part of the allure.
I’m used to a certain - I guess you could say - caliber of women. The type of girl who want to suck a sports-star’s cock under the table of a club, or the type of girl who wants you to take turns on her and her friend - both of whom went out for the night without panties for that very reason.
Yeah, inexperienced isn’t exactly the word you’d use for those types of women.
And that’s fine - oh believe me, that is very fine - but it’s all I’ve ever known. Star-fuckers, coked-out models, club-girls, overly-eager cheerleaders.
But it’s the obvious inexperience - the obvious innocence - of Hailey that gets my cock throbbing rock hard and my blood pumping like fire.
It’s the innocence of her that I want to take.
I wonder if she’s a virgin.
I groan at the thought of untouchable, inappropriate, possibly virginal Hailey Garrison, riding my cock.
And hell, virgin or not, that girl has obviously never been fucked the way she should be. That girl has clearly never gasped for air and clawed her nails down a back while she got fucked hard and deep the way I know she should be.
And virgin or not, that girl has definitely never had a cock like mine.
She sounds like a challenge…
And I like a good challenge.
I take my hand away from my cock under the shower spray, breathing deeply and steadying myself. No, I’m Dalton Cole - sports network darling, sex symbol, King of Campus - I don’t get myself off in the shower.
…I get off with Hailey Garrison.
13
Hailey
His big, strong hands slide over my skin, pulling me on top of him as his mouth finds mine. I gasp into his lips at the ferocity of him - the animalistic way he manhandles me and puts me where he wants.
He’s hooking his fingers into the waist of my panties and he looks up into my face. “I thought I told you not to wear these anymore.”
“What are you talk-”
I gasp. He yanks hard on them, pulling them tight before they rip under his powerful grip. He grins wickedly up at me, straddling his muscled, rock-hard torso as he slips the torn panties from between my legs.
“Get up here,” he growls, grinning wolfishly at me as his powerful hands slide down to cup my ass. He pulls me up his body, and I moan as he centers me right above his face.
“Fuck, Hailey, I’ve been dying to eat this pussy like a fucking Georgia peach.”
He pulls me down onto his mouth, my lips opening in a silent scream of pleasure as his tongue buries deep inside of me. His hands grip me by the hips, sliding me bodily back and forth across his mouth, fucking me with his tongue as I melt into him.
His tongue slides over my clit, swirling around and around the hard little bud, pushing me towards the very edge. He growls, his tongue flicking faster and deeper, wanting to make me come.
Demanding that I come.
And then right before I do, he’s lifting me up. I whimper as he flips me over onto the bed and kneels between my legs. He’s wearing the white briefs from his billboard ad, and his legendary cock forms a HUGE bulge, stretching the cotton.
“I know you’ve been waiting for this, darlin,” he drawls out, hooking his thumbs into the waist.
“Please…” I whisper, watching as he starts to pull them down in slow motion. “I want it.”
He grins that cocky smirk of his. “I know, and I’m going to give you every last inch.”
And then he’s yanking the briefs down over that bulge, and his thick, straining cock springs free.
He’s stroking it, his eyes looking at me hungrily and drinking me in as he leans over me. His lips brush against mine, his eyes pierce into mine, and suddenly I gasp as I feel it.
I feel it right against my opening.
“Beg me for it, Hailey,” he growls. “Beg me to fuck your tight little pussy like you’ve never been fucked before.”
I awake with a start, gasping as I sit bolt-upright in bed with my pulse pounding in my ears from the dream.
With my fingers and my toes still tingling from it.
With my panties absolutely soaked from it and the lingering ache it’s left between my legs.
I blink at the light streaming in from my dorm-room window, and turn to glare at my silent alarm clock.
Which has apparently never gone off.
Shit.
I jump out of bed and swear at my dead alarm clock, before I curiously follow the cord down to the outlet. I scowl at the cellphone charger I don’t recognize in the spot where my alarm clock plug usually is.
Oh you have got to be kidding me.
Dalton, of course. Dalton who apparently managed to unplug my alarm clock for his cellphone. Dalton leaving the trail of chaos and destruction in his wake as always.
…Dalton who would not leave my head or my dreams last night, much to my mortification.
And as if my first day isn’t going to be off on the wrong foot already what with Dalton crashing my evening and spending the night, now I’m going to be late, too.
At least he’s gone when I get up, and I’m not actually late for class yet, just off my schedule. I bite my lip and feel the heat rise in my face as I glance back at the bed, hoping to God that the sheets weren’t kicked down like that when he left.
But forget that, today's the first day of classes, and I’m already behind schedule.
“Howdy, neighbor.”
Roxie’s sitting on a bench smoking a cigarette outside the English department when I leave later that afternoon.
“Hey yourself,” I mumble out. I’ve been tired all day from staying up too late dealing with Dalton - not to mention from the embarrassingly fevered dreams I had involving him once I finally went to sleep.
“So,” she grins at me, blowing smoke out the side of her lips. “Couldn’t help but notice you had a visitor last night.”
I feel my face go bright red, the heat blooming hot across my cheeks. I quickly shake my head. “Oh, no, that was just Dalton.”
Roxie rolls her eyes. “Yeah, no, I got that it was Dalton Cole.” She arches a brow at me, a mischievous grin on her face.
“Not what you’re implying,” I mumble quickly, still feeling my face burn and my body shiver as the memory of the dream comes rushing back. “Need I remind you he’s my stepbrother?”
“And need I remind you that literally every straight girl on this campus, and maybe even some of the gay ones, wouldn’t have minded being in your shoes last night?” She grins. “Or your bed for that matter?”
I roll my eyes. “He slept on the floor, Roxie.”
She laughs. “Hey, I’m just giving you a hard time, girl. But, uh, get ready for it.”
I frown. “For what?”
“For the fact that half the dorm saw him leaving your room this morning.”
Oh, God.
I cringe, feeling the heat come rushing back into my face as I bury it in my hands.
Roxie laughs and puts an arm around me. “Sorry, don’t hate the messenger.”
“Nothing happe
ned,” I sputter out. “I mean, obviously nothing happened.”
“You’re not related.”
I groan again. “Dalton and I could be complete strangers and I’d still think he was disgusting.”
She rolls her eyes as she stubs her cigarette out on the bottom of her boot. “Yeah, sure, okay,” she says, smirking to herself.
“Oh my God, Roxie, I wouldn’t be attracted to a guy like that in a million years.”
She snorts out a laugh and stands, “Garrison.” She grins and shakes her head at me, “You’re really going to have to get better at that, you know.”
I frown. “At what?”
“Lying.”
“You’re cute when you’re sleeping you know.”
I jump at the sound of his voice as I walk out of my last class of the day. I whirl to see the devil himself leaning against the wall outside the science building. He’s changed since last night, into khakis and this effortless white t-shirt that presses tightly across his broad chest and molds across his hard, muscled-
Oh stop it, I mutter to myself, shaking my head.
I glare at him. “Stalker much?”
He shrugs nonchalantly. “Hails, would a stalker spend all that time charming the nice lady at the registrar’s office into giving me your whole class schedule?”
I wrinkle my brow. “Uh, yes, definitely.” I shake my head. “And I’m sorry, were you watching me sleep?”
“Oh, certainly,” he says with that grin, his eyes twinkling as he steps towards me. “Heavy breathing, creepy touches, some cellphone camera shots - the whole nine yards, darlin.”
I grin in spite of myself, “Weirdo.”
I turn and start to walk away, but Dalton falls in next to me. “But anyway, on the subject of being a creep and watching you this morning, are the pink polka-dots with the frayed elastic just like a ‘go-to’ sleep thing, or were you just trying to spice things up since I was spending the night?”
I can feel my face bloom in red hot heat, as I drop my jaw and stare at him.