His Sexy Cheerleader (The Halloween Honeys)

  His Sexy Cheerleader

  Alexx Andria

  Alexx Andria

  Copyright © 2018 by Alexx Andria

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Also by Alexx Andria

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Layla

  “Don’t look now but your favorite person is heading this way,” my best friend Chrissie Phillips warned in a sing-song voice because she knew how much I loathed Ozzie Nash. “Try to play nice. He is the captain of the football team and you’re the captain of the cheer squad remember?”

  “He could be the King of England and he’d still be an insufferable trust fund baby who wouldn’t know how to problem-solve his way out of a paper bag.” I forced a lukewarm smile at best as Ozzie “Oz” sauntered up to our booth where we were selling tickets for our sorority’s haunted house fundraising event, his grin already irritating my taut nerves. “How can I help you?”

  “You can agree to go out on a date with me,” he said, flashing that stupid grin Chrissie’s way as if he were some kind of campus Adonis when, in fact, he made me want to get my tubes tied.

  “Not even if you were the last man on earth and the human race were in danger of extinction,” I responded with a short smile. “Now, would you like to buy a ticket to the Mi Alpha Alpha Haunted House Fundraiser or not? If so, $20 per ticket, please.”

  “Make it worth my while.”

  “No.”

  Chrissie tittered and then made some excuse before disappearing, leaving me alone with Oz for a minute. I wanted to punch her in the titty. “What’s it going to take to get you to go out with me?” he asked, dropping the fake grin for a moment.

  “Apart from a total personality reversal on your part and a lobotomy on mine? Not sure…” I tapped my bottom lip as if giving it serious thought. He seemed so earnest, it was almost sad but I knew it was a practiced act. I knew Oz’s game. He was tantalized by the forbidden fruit. He’d blown through the rest of the squad but he couldn’t have me and it was killing him.

  Well, newsflash, he wasn’t going to have me — ever.

  Oz Nash was nothing but a rich pretty boy with abs for days because he did nothing useful with his time but work out and stare at himself in the mirror. I had no use for someone as vapid as that in my life.

  I came to Oak Ridge University to make something of myself. I earned full dance/cheer scholarship and I’m using it to get my bachelor’s degree in communications. It’s my senior year and I’m so close to reaching my goals that I’m not about to let some idiot with a pretty face and, albeit, hot body, distract me.

  And frankly, Oz had been chasing me for years but this year his efforts had gone into overdrive. Not sure what that was all about but that was his problem. This girl? So, not interested in whatever he was selling.

  I leaned forward, giving him a purposefully delicious view of my ample tits — I’m asshole like that — and said, “Look, Oz, I don’t have the patience to let you down nice and easy because I have senior-itis and I’m done with what feels like the remnants of high school bullshit. You’re a fucking manwhore. You’ve slept your way through campus and whatever your cock is swimming with I’m sure I don’t want to know but I do know I don’t want it near my vagina, okay? You, me — not gonna happen. Ever.”

  I expected him to back down. Maybe even get defensive, call me a bitch or some other choice name that guys pulled from their hat when their male ego was bruised but I should’ve known the challenge would turn him on.

  “If she's amazing, she won't be easy. If she's easy, she won't be amazing. If she's worth it, you wont give up. If you give up, you're not worthy.” He grinned, then cocked his thumb and forefinger at me before saying, “Bob Marley.”

  A completely reluctant grin threatened. Had he just quoted Bob Marley at me? Okay, that was unexpected. Did he actually know I was a communications major? That I majored in journalism? If he knew that much, that would mean he’d cared enough to do some research. Uh oh, whoa girl, this was how panties ended up Nash’s floor. I’d seen it too many times. He had a pattern, a tried-and-true method for getting inside a girl’s head and turning it to oatmeal. He was manipulative as fuck, remember that.

  “Nice try, Captain, O’ Captain,” I said dryly. “Do you want a ticket or not?”

  “I don’t know, sell me on this haunted house thing. What’s happening?”

  I held back the irritated sigh. He was stalling. Oz could care less about the cause they were raising funds for, he just wanted me to dance like the monkey for a few dollars. What the hell, it was for a good cause.

  I pasted on a sweet smile, in case anyone else happened to be in earshot. “Well, this year we are raising money for the Oak Ridge Children’s Hospital. All proceeds from the Mi Alpha Alpha Haunted House Event will go directly toward the hospital.”

  “Worthy cause.”

  “I can’t imagine a better one.”

  “I guess I should buy a ticket.”

  I shrugged. “I mean, only if you’re a decent person who cares about sick kids, but I don’t want to influence you.”

  “That kinda sounded leading.”

  “Oh? Leading? What’s next, Captain? Law school?”

  Oz chuckled. “Actually, maybe.”

  Well, that sucked the wind out of my sails. Hard to be full-speed sarcastic when someone was being sincere. Damn it. “Good for you,” I said, wishing Chrissie would return. Of the two of us, at least she would’ve enjoyed flirting with Oz. “About those tickets…”

  “Look, I feel you’ve gotten a really shitty idea about who I am and you’re not really interested in giving me a chance to prove that I’m not that guy,” he said.

  “That’s fairly accurate,” I agreed.

  “How about I propose a deal.”

  “What kind of deal?”

  “I’ll buy every single one of your tickets here today, if you agree to go on one date with me.”

  “That’s extortion. It’s 2018. That kind of thing is frowned upon nowadays.”

  Oz smiled and nodded. “Look, I’m not asking for sexual favors of any kind, just conversation, maybe some food and the chance to show you that I’m not the devil you think I am.”

  This was some next level manipulation he was putting in play. The question was, why? Why did he care what I thought of him? What was his angle? Had his football buddies made a bet or something that he couldn’t land the frigid cheerleader before the end of the year? Or was it that his ego couldn’t stand that I hadn’t given into his charm as of yet? I mean, look at his stats — he was popular, handsome, had a brilliant future ahead of him, oh, and he was fucking loaded.

  Another point against him in my book.

  Rich guys were the worst.

  But I was curious as to where he thought this was going.

  I knew where it wasn’t going — however, I was amused enough to watch and see what Oz thought he could pull to make my panties drop.

  He was going to learn real quick, I wasn’t like most girls.

  Chapter 2

  Oz

  “You paid how much for those tickets?”

  “It doesn’t
matter. I’d pay whatever I had to,” I said, tossing the football to my buddy, Rhett. “You don’t get it, she’s my final exam. It’s pass or fail, my friend. Without her, the rest of my time spent here at Oak Ridge has been a total failure.”

  “A little dramatic don’t you think?” Rhett said, smirking. “Seriously, she’s not that hot.”

  “Matter of opinion and it’s gone beyond her physical looks at this point. Do you realize that woman has turned me down every year since our freshman year at Oak Ridge? No one has been able to turn me down that long.”

  “Maybe she’s a lesbian and you’re not her type.”

  “Well, if she is, she’s done a bang up job of hiding that fact to this point. Besides, I know she dated that band geek, Mike Malone, last year so she’s not totally into girls.”

  “Can’t you just accept the possibility that she’s just not that into you?” Rhett teased, tossing the ball.

  I caught it easily. “No.” I tossed the ball back hard. Rhett caught it square in the solar plexus with an audible oof. “Besides, the point is this, all women are into me. She just doesn’t realize it yet.”

  “Dude, you’re going to eat your words. Layla Laughton isn’t like the girls you usually run around with. She’s smart. Like real smart. She’s here on a full-ride scholarship.”

  “A cheerleading scholarship,” I quipped with no small amount of derision. “Look, I’m not knocking cheerleaders, they’ve got hot bodies, but they’re not rocket scientists. Layla’s probably banging a professor or two, looking for that sweet, older man hook up to pave the way to easy street. Trust me, I know how this works. I’ve seen it a million times in my old man’s circles.”

  Rhett chuckled, tucking the ball under his arm as he walked toward me. “Okay, if you think you’re so smart, care to make this interesting?”

  “I’m listening.”

  “The pink slip to your sweet ride says you can’t get Layla willingly into bed by Halloween.”

  I scoffed. “That’s easy.”

  “Really? You haven’t managed it yet.”

  “I haven’t really put my mind to it. There have been plenty of other fish in the sea to play around with but as Layla so eloquently pointed out, I’ve already made my way through the cheer squad and I’m not one for left-overs.” I folded my arms with a grin, loving a challenge. “And if I manage to pull this off, would you take my word for it?”

  “Hell no. Video.”

  “I’m a gentleman.”

  “The fuck you are.”

  I barked a short laugh. The man knew me well. “A selfie with the lady’s approval, of course,” I offered.

  “Naked.”

  “Not naked but implying sexual congress is imminent or has happened,” I negotiated.

  Rhett considered my offer. “Fine,” he agreed, rubbing his hands together after we shook on the deal. “I’m going to look mighty fine cruising in that lifted Dodge.”

  “Don’t get too comfortable with the idea because you’re going to lose. Now let’s discuss what I get when I win.”

  “Go for it,” Rhett said, spreading his hands like a Black Jack dealer, ready to play. “Name your terms.”

  “If I deliver, I get to finally take your sister out on a date.”

  Rhett’s nostrils flared. Rhett had made me promise to steer clear of his little sister, Clara, when she’d first stepped on campus a year ago. I’d honored our deal but Rhett had to realize his little sister was a sexy sophomore now with banging curves and there was only so much a man could ignore, even for a friend as close as a brother.

  But Rhett suddenly relaxed with a chuckle and shook his head saying, “What am I worried about? You ain’t gonna win. Layla’s going to shut you down so fast your head’s going to spin off your shoulders. In fact, not only is she going to shut your ass down she’s going to chew your ass up for even trying.”

  “Ye of so little faith.” I wasn’t worried. I hadn’t even begun to pull out the stops to work Layla’s defenses. “Watch and learn young padawan.”

  Rhett gutted me with the ball, perhaps with a little extra heat for that mention of his sister, and left me behind to hit the showers in the locker room.

  I’d spent a pretty penny to buy out Layla’s booth but it was nothing compared to what I was willing to do to get Layla in my bed. The thing was, she was my obsession. I wasn’t going to admit that part — there was something about Layla that I couldn’t get out of my head. Her sharp blue eyes were quick to pick apart any bullshit and I found that invigorating. Most times, I could bullshit women. They were dazzled by the stupidest shit.

  Money.

  I had lots of it.

  Well, my dad had lots of it and I had a trust fund but I didn’t like to lean on the fact that I had money in the bank. I liked to work for what I had but I wasn’t above using what was available to me.

  So yeah, I used my money when I was trying to impress a girl.

  But some girls — correction, most girls, were so damn easy to impress — except Layla.

  At first, it’d been exhilarating. Almost addicting. I’d throw around some cash, and the panties would come flying off. I’d been amazed at how women, of all sizes, shapes, ages, colors and backgrounds, were willing to do whatever I wanted as long as I hit the right price.

  Kinda jaded me, to be honest.

  One chick let me piss in her mouth for five grand.

  Layla’s fuck-off attitude turned me on. If that wasn’t some sick shit, I didn’t know what was.

  I wanted the woman who didn’t want me because I was tired of women mindlessly wanting me.

  Yeah, therapy for one, please.

  But it wasn’t as if Layla was hard on the eyes. No, Layla was hot as fuck.

  I’d lost count the number of times I’d jacked off to her Instagram pics. I didn’t even need porn anymore. I just closed my eyes and thought of Layla’s hot, sassy mouth closing over my cock, sucking me dry. Or going doing on her sweet bare pussy until she came, screaming my name, pulling my hair and clenching my head with her thighs. Yeah, who needed porn when the shit in my head was ten times hotter?

  When I’d heard about Layla dating that fucker Mike Malone, it’d taken everything in me not to run the fucker down with my truck. Thinking of her kissing him, yeah, it ruined my day. I had to screw the thoughts out of my head so I didn’t do something stupid. I was relieved when they broke up. He was all wrong for her anyway. She needed someone who could handle all that sass, not someone sensitive and soft like Malone. The guy listened to New Age and talked about his feelings too much.

  Not that I was trying to audition for the job.

  Hell no, don’t get it twisted. Layla was a burr in my side. I just needed to get her out of my system so I could move on with my life. The thing was, senior year was about closure.

  My old man was going to expect me to go to law school after I graduated Oak Ridge.

  And I wanted to do that with a clean slate.

  No regrets.

  So, Operation Halloween Honey was officially in action.

  Chapter 3

  Layla

  After my broadcasting class, I hustled over to the abandoned Shackleford mansion where the Mi Alpha Alpha sorority sisters were busy decorating for the event. We each had a room dedicated to our own particular scare-fest and I’d selected a political theme, much to the chagrin of all of my sisters.

  “Seriously? This is so lame. No one is going to get this,” Lexi Grant lamented pointing at my perfectly hideous and I thought terrifying mug of a zombified Trump-supporter wearing a MAGA hat. “Why couldn’t you have just picked plain zombies? That’s scary enough.”

  “If our current political climate doesn’t scare the bejesus out of you, then nothing will. Honestly, this right here should encourage people to vote,” I said, pointing at my zombie MAGA-wearing fiend.

  “Stahhhhp, no one wants to hear about politics on Halloween,” Lexi said, stomping her feet and glaring. “You’re going to ruin our fundraiser. If you hadn
’t sold out your booth I swear I’d have your membership revoked.”

  Lexi was totally overreacting but lately I was definitely getting on some of the sisters’ nerves but tensions were running high with the election stuff starting to hit a crescendo. I couldn’t help myself. I was a communications major. I was constantly immersed in the thick of things with journalists being attacked by the current administration and it was as if I were being attacked personally. I felt I needed to take a stand, not only for myself but for future journalists.

  My sisters didn’t exactly share my passion.

  “Can you please, tone it down, at least for the fundraiser? We want to raise money for sick kids,” Lexi reminded me with an exasperated groan as she looked over my decorations, most of which I was very proud of. She pulled my print out of vampire Nixon and dropped it with distaste. “Your theme should’ve had to be approved first. This is ridiculous. Vampires, witches, zombies, even alien babies, serial killers…but no, you have to come up with some ridiculous political statement that no one is going to pay attention to. Ugh!”

  Lexi threw up her hands and stomped from my room, the wooden floor creaking as she went down the stairs. I winced as she slammed the door, leaving me behind, no doubt to whine to Stacy Barren, our Sorority President, about how I’d gone rogue and was ruining the haunted house fundraiser.

  I lifted my vampire Nixon and frowned. “I find you very scary,” I murmured to my handiwork.

  It was too late to change things now. I’d just have to make it work.

  Maybe I’d pushed it too far, though. Of course, I wanted to make money for the kids’ hospital but if people started trash talking my part of the house, then it could affect sales. I chewed my bottom lip as doubt crept into my decision. Damn, maybe my ego had taken control of the situation a little too hard.