Our Little Secret
P.J. Cummings
Erika Smith leaned back against the locker, waiting for Deven Michaels to come in from the gym. She shifted, pretending to be more comfortable than she really was. How the fuck she’d gotten caught masturbating in public was beyond her. It wasn’t something she did regularly, but it had been a few weeks since she and her last lover had broken off their floundering relationship and she’d been desperate.
It had been during a martial arts match she’d been recording for her job at the sports magazine. They liked sending the women out to these for interviews, because they could get the guys to talk easier than other men could. Flash a little tits and ass and these guys would spill their dirty secrets.
She’d been waiting quite awhile for Deven to come in for his interview and had been checking out the sweating, half-naked pictures of him working out. The flex of his muscles, the flexibility, the glisten of sweat on his body, and the intensity of his gaze in those pictures had caused her neglected cunt to tingle with arousal. She’d made sure the room was empty before kicking up her feet on the nearest bench, fingers delving between her thighs. The resulting release had left her light-headed afterward, but she wasn’t nearly as distracted for the actual interview as she otherwise would have been.
If only she’d thought to check for cameras.
Erika sighed, ignoring the insistent throbbing between her thighs, attempting to concentrate on her current plight. Namely, how to get the incriminating photos from him before he decided to post them to the internet, or send them to her boss. She chewed on her red lacquered, manicured fingernail, considering her options. She didn’t know what it would take, but she was pretty sure that it would require some drastic measures.
He walked in from the gym, a towel draped around his neck, a faint sheen of sweat accenting every ridge of muscle from his shoulders to the waist of his pants. He looked exhausted, like he’d gone ten rounds already, and she found herself hoping that this would give her an edge in this little altercation. When his eyes found her, a faint smirk curved his thin lips and he pulled the towel from around his neck, wiping his face with it and tossing it to the side.
“Well, darling, I didn’t think you’d actually show up.” He chuckled, leaning against the locker opposite from her. Even tired, that dark gaze didn’t lose its power. She felt her sex throb and she swallowed hard, hoping he wouldn’t realize just how hot the sight of him made her.
“I want the pictures,” she said after a steadying breath. She put her hand out, tossing her long, auburn hair over her shoulder. “Now.”
His brow lifted, but he otherwise didn’t move.
Erika glared at him, pretending that her panties weren’t completely soaked under the leather miniskirt she wore. “What’s it going to take to get them? A hand job? Sucking you off? A quick fuck?”
“A tempting offer,” he chuckled, pushing off of the locker and standing there in front of her, relaxed.
“Though you could try asking nicely.” His voice was laced with amusement.
She just managed to keep from gaping at him, and she looked at him in mistrust, not believing him. “Then will you give them back to me?”
A spark flared in those dark eyes and the smirk on his lips broadened. “Might I have a please with that?”
She choked on her pride, sputtering a bit, then forced herself to speak. “Please give them to me.”