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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…”
