DIRTY DESIRES: A Short Collections.

F**CKING MY BOSS 1

Samantha’s POV

For the umpteenth time that day, I stole a glance at the large clock that hung on the wall up ahead. A few minutes past six. Almost three hours to go before the gym cleared out. That was three torturous hours that I would spend succumbing to my wandering gaze that I couldn't keep away from the tall, broad man occupying one end of the gym. As if on cue, my eyes darted in that direction again.

He was still lifting weights, sweat glistening on his arms like diamonds. Each upward and downward movement of his hands had a seemingly calculated rhythm to it. And he just kept on going. I wondered if those machines he had for arms ever ached. As I entertained myself with the glorious sight, my mind returned the favor by conjuring up an image of those muscular arms wrapped around me. My waist, my neck, and even my butt. The thought of it sent a thrilling sensation through me and for a moment, I thought I felt something wet between my legs.

It wasn't until the ache in my arms became unbearable that I realized they'd been suspended mid air with dumbbells adding unfair weight to them. With a heavy grunt, I dropped my arms and placed the dumbbells on the mat. That left me panting heavily. Scanning the gym with my eyes, I felt my heart doing a little excited jump as I saw that some people were already leaving. Just a few more hours.

The soft music playing from a speaker somewhere and the rhythmic hum of machines gave the place a serene atmosphere but that was far from what I wanted. Not with the ideas running riot in my head.

After taking a few moments to rest my arms, I went at the dumbbells again.

“Need help with that?” A voice asked behind me.

I paused and turned to see a blonde guy with freckles standing behind me. A smile I recognized too well was plastered across his face and it sent irritation crawling up my chest.

“No. I'm fine,” I answered, forcing my lips to offer a polite smile.

“Oh. Alright. You seemed to be struggling a bit and I thought I should help.”

Get the f**k away from me.

I continued lifting the dumbbells, deciding not to dignify his remark with a response. I added more pitch to my grunts, hoping he would take the hint. His slowly receding footsteps told me that he did and I felt a little relieved. I couldn't imagine the number of girls he'd tried to use that stupid tactic on.

Still battling with the dumbbells, my eyes traveled to the end of the gym again. At that same moment, he looked up. Our eyes met and my heart nearly stopped. His entrapping gaze lingered for a moment, causing warm sensations in my belly. Something glinted in his eyes as he rose to his feet. Was that a dare?

His gaze shifted elsewhere as he turned away and I felt as if I'd suddenly been set free from a trance. Damn. How could someone look so good? And hot? From the little streaks of silver in his hair, I could tell he was older but that didn't matter. Not with the delicate features that contributed to his handsome face. My eyes followed him as he moved over to the Smith machine.

His sweat made his shirt cling to his body, outlining the well toned muscles on his chest and his abs. Again, my mind helped me with an image of my hands caressing those muscles. I imagined being pressed to the wall by him while those large hands of his did unspeakable things to me. The wetness between my legs returned, forcing me to peel my gaze away. If I continued at that rate, I would come undone on the spot.

With a lot of effort, I was able to manage keeping my eyes away from him. But that only lasted for a few minutes. And so it continued, me stealing occasional glances at him as he moved from machine to machine, barely taking a break.

Outside, the darkness chased what was left of the day out of the sky. When I looked at the clock again, it was already a few minutes past seven. More people were leaving the gym, some alone, some in duos or more.

After almost an hour, I realized that there were only three people left in the gym—me, Mr. Muscles, and the guy that always closed up. It was dark outside then and all the lights had come up inside.

The next time I stole a glance at Mr. Muscles, he was in a conversation with the guy that always closed up. A few minutes later, the guy took his leave. I knew he would be back in an hour or so to close up. Then, I moved on to my last routine for the day. Stretching.

I started with my arms and my back, before moving to my legs. I must have gotten lost in it at some point because I didn't notice him until he was halfway across the gym. My heart rate sped up when I saw him approaching through the corner of my eyes.

Was he coming towards me or I just happened to be in his pathway?

The answer to that question was provided a few seconds later, when his deep voice rumbled in my ears. “Nice moves, but you look like you could use some help.”

I froze, wanting to make sure I wasn't dreaming.

“I'm real, don't worry,” he said smoothly.

I turned fully then, meeting his gaze. The smile on his face made my stomach generate butterflies. For the first time in a long time, I found myself at a loss for words.

His smile widened. “I'm Derek. Lemme guess what a pretty doll like you would be named. Sabrina? Samantha? Annabelle?”

“Sam…Samantha,” I stuttered, trying not to let my eyes move to the rest of his body.

What the f**k was wrong with me? How did I suddenly lose control of my mouth and my brain?

“Samantha.” He said it softly, as if it was something delicate and I would suddenly wither away if he was any louder. “Now, can I help you, Samantha?”