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He pauses, nods his head approvingly, and turns back to the road. “Good girl.”
Oh. My. God. I smash my thighs together to try to alleviate the sudden ache there. My breath hitches and Jay looks over at me. His eyes darken as they flick to my thighs pressed tightly together.
He makes a noise like a half-growl, half-grunt, and reaches down to adjust himself. The sight of Jay touching the huge bulge in his pants and knowing I’m the one responsible has me ready to combust. I’m hot all over and aware of a pulsing deep within my body.
I can't wait to get back to the house. Maybe I can coax Jay into rubbing himself against me again like he did last night.
It's embarrassing, but last night was my first orgasm. I’ve tried touching myself in the past, but I could never reach that pinnacle—not how I did with Jay. Even if I’d been able to make myself come, it would never feel the way it did with Jay rubbing himself against me. I'm wet thinking about it.
To my consternation, Jay doesn't turn in at his house. He keeps driving until we reach a diner.
“Need to make sure you're fed before your big game tonight,” he says when he catches me watching him.
I'm not stupid. Jay is afraid to be alone with me. He's afraid of what he might do. I lower my head to hide my smile.
Until later then…
six
Jay
Watching Layla eat is an erotic experience in and of itself. Hell, everything this girl does has me ready to bust in my pants. I couldn't focus on making a sale today because I was thinking of her in that tight cheerleading outfit, knowing all the boys were creaming in their pants over her.
My hands ball into fists on the table as I remember the young prick talking to her and how he looked at her. I saw the filthy thoughts in his head.
“Are you okay?” Layla asks me before she takes a sip of her strawberry milkshake, her big blue eyes staring at me while she sucks the straw, her cheeks hollowing. I imagine replacing the straw with my cock and those blue eyes gazing up at me with my swollen flesh halfway down her throat.
“No,” I finally grunt out honestly.
She stops with a fry halfway to her mouth and frowns at me prettily. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Yes,” I bark at her impatiently. “Eat your food.”
She blinks at me, the hurt instantly transforming her face. Tears shimmer in her eyes, and she lowers her lashes, hiding herself from me.
I’m instantly chagrined, and a sharp pang shoots through my chest.
“Fuck, Layla.” I run a hand through my hair. “I'm sorry, princess. It's been a rough day.”
She peeks at me from beneath her lowered lashes when I call her princess. “When we get home later, I'll give you a massage and help rub some tension out of you,” she offers sweetly.
I close my eyes and fight back a groan. Fuck, this girl is every man's wet dream. Young, innocent, barely legal, cheerleader, virgin, masseuse. I'm confident there's no fantasy she can't fulfill.“We'll talk about it later.”
She smiles and finishes her cheeseburger and fries. I readjust my dick under the table and try my best not to watch her as she slurps on the strawberry milkshake, closing her eyes and moaning as she does so.
Sweet Jesus, it’s no wonder her father wouldn’t let her date. If she went out with a boy and acted like this, he'd maul her before the night was over, whether she wanted it or not.
When we’ve eaten, I pay the check, and we head back to school for the football game.
Layla is buzzing with excitement. She directs me to a seat in the front of the stands where the cheerleaders’ families usually sit. My chest squeezes again when I see how proud she is to have me there. It makes me want to go down to the jail and kick Doug’s ass for never supporting her.
When the other cheerleaders ask her who she has with her, she introduces me proudly as her friend, Jay. My heart aches for her. Thank god she doesn't introduce me as her uncle because my thoughts about her are far from uncle-ish.
I used to play football in high school, and while I'm still a fan of the sport, I don’t spare a glance at the field. I can’t tell you which team is winning or which players show the most potential because my eyes are glued on my princess the whole time. She's always front and center of the squad, leading them in their cheers, looking pretty as a button as she swings her hips, kicks her legs, and sashays around the field. She jumps up and down excitedly when the team scores a touchdown, shaking those pom-poms and flipping her ponytail all over the place. She dazzles the crowd with her gorgeous smile. When halftime comes and the cheerleaders take the field to do their halftime performance, I'm clapping and whistling louder than anyone in support of her.
Layla’s eyes seek me out throughout the night. She looks right into my eyes as she shakes her butt and pops her hips. I pray to God nobody looks over at me and sees the huge boner tenting my pants. They’d probably charge me and ban me from school grounds forever. By the end of the game, I'm so wound up, the barest breeze could set me off.
I leave the stands and head down to the field to get Layla and escort her back to the vehicle when I see that arrogant prick in his football uniform, his hair sweaty, walking over to my princess with a big grin on his face. He's holding his football helmet under his arm with one hand. The other arm, he wraps around Layla’s shoulders. He looks down at her and says something. I’m too far away to hear, but I don't care what the fuck he’s saying to her.
