“I’M AN AWARD-WINNING REPORTER!” I yell at Steve from across his desk. “I sure as hell deserve my pick of the Blazers’ games and practices!”

Steve sighs, “Sit back down, Lexi.”

I take my chair again, next to Jade who has a smug look of triumph on her face. She and Steve exchange a glance. Jade’s been after my work since she was hired last season. Looks like she’s finally convinced Steve to hand her the reins.

“Here’s the thing,” Steve says, “it’s not only that you won’t apologize for the cockgate incident. I think the network wants to start grooming a younger face for the Blazers.”

My jaw drops in abhorrence, “That’s not right. That’s discrimination.”

“It’s part of our industry,” Steve says pointedly. “You’ll still get a chance to do interviews throughout the season, but they want to give Jade a chance to do interviews of dramatic upsets and wins after games.”

Jade presses her fingers to her lips, suppressing a laugh. I turn to Steve, “That’s bullshit, Steve, and you know it. How is Jade going to cover all that on her own? That would mean she would have to go to some practices, and all away and home games! How much of the Blazers will I be covering this season?”

“Well, actually.” Steve stops, seeing my face redden in anger. “The network feels that since the whole cockgate thing, maybe you shouldn’t cover the Blazers’ games. They haven’t made any firm decisions, but they are considering you for another team. You might have to move to another city.”

“WHAT? WHAT?” I shout as I jump to my feet. “What happened with that camera wasn’t my fault!”

“Well, thing is, Lexi, Brett seems to think you’re a bit of a perv,” Steve says.

Jade cackles haughtily, “I hear he’s not the only player thinking that.”

“Shut it, Jade,” I say.

“Your interview with Jimmy Schnell didn’t help matters,” Steve says, “Brett feels that you think it’s all a joke.”

“That’s not true. I didn’t think it was a joke. I only went on to Jimmy Schnell to clear the air a little. I didn’t want anyone thinking it was a publicity stunt.”

“Doesn’t matter, Lexi. Brett has specifically requested that you no longer interview him.” Steve clasps his hands together. “Management figures if there’s one player you can’t interview then we should make it easier on ourselves and send Jade.”

I pause. This meeting feels odd. Why is Jade here? It’s a ruse to get me to say sorry to Brett. I give Steve a dirty look, “Is this the network’s way of forcing me to apologize to Brett on television?”

Steve looks sideways.

“Argh! Your face says it all, Steve. Fine! I’ll give Brett his stupid public apology.”

“Good. The network didn’t want to be forced into cutting your airtime. New York loves you,” Steve says. “I’ll get in touch with Brett’s agent and see if Brett is willing to do an interview with you.”

I glance over at Jade; her jaw is slack. It’s hit her that the only reason she was invited to this meeting was to incense me to give in to the network demands. She storms out the room in a huff.

I leave Steve’s office annoyed. I can’t believe how immature Brett is. How was I to blame? Normally, I wouldn’t apologize for something that wasn’t my fault. On the other hand, I can’t let this ruin my career or change my location. It took a lot of work to land my position in New York.

I’ve been given a break. Surprisingly by the one person that has been a thorn in my side for the past week—Brett Brock. He has agreed to allow me to continue to do interviews in the locker room on one condition; he wants to speak to me after Sunday’s game, one-on-one.

When Steve first told me the news on Saturday, I was ecstatic. After hearing the big news, I prepared myself for what I thought would be another Dion Calloway flop interview. But now I’m not sure what to think. It was an unusual game; Dion’s usual heroics weren’t seen today. He’s out with an injury. It was an opportunity for Brett Brock to show how he can dominate as a quarterback. And God, did he play the game of his career. I wonder if the after-game interview I’m about to have with Brett was something set up by the teams; did the Tigers intend to lose? Was Dion really out with an injury? But then I realize that I’m being an idiot. The billionaire owner of the Tigers wouldn’t have his team lose. Nor would Dion Calloway miss out on a game and a chance to showboat. I need to face the music: Dion’s out, and Brett fought for every inch of the field. This is going to be awkward.

As I head to the locker room, in a black pencil skirt and a red teardrop blouse, I nervously adjust the cuffs of my sleeves. I had prepared for a lame interview with Dion, I hadn’t thought of interview questions for exciting plays made by the second-line quarterback. Brock had made two impressive touchdowns, both were risky.

“Lexi!”

I hear Steve’s voice in my earpiece, “Wh … wh … what?” I say.

“Where the hell are you? Mike and Jax are already in the locker room! Other hosts will get the interview before you!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m almost there, Steve. But I had to fix my mic.”

Total lie. While Mike and Jax rushed ahead of me, I took a casual stroll to the locker room in my heels. I press my hand against the door and enter.

Bethany Wilcox, a sports journalist with SNY is standing next to Brett beaming. Oh no. Bethany asks the lamest questions. Nonetheless, tons of mics are being held up around Brett, other networks trying to get in on Brett’s thoughts.

“We lost the interview.” Mike shrugs. “You’re going to have to hold up your mic.”

“To Bethany’s lame-ass questions? I don’t think so, Mikey. Our viewers deserve better than that.” I smirk, nudging him with my elbow. “Besides, right now all of America would love to see Brett Brock and Lexi Driver do an interview.”

Jax nods, “Hell, yeah, they would.”

“We’ll wait until Bethany finishes, and I’ll make damn sure it becomes interesting.” I stand by a locker and watch Bethany as she continues with her questions.

“Were you surprised that Dion was out with an injury?” Bethany asks bug-eyed. All the nearby male reporters holding up mics, roll their eyes.

Ugh. What a shitty question, Brett has been waiting on that opportunity. Does she expect him to admit that?

“Well, yes and no,” Brett answers. “Dion pushes himself to his limit in every game, and he gives a hundred and ten percent in every practice. He’s had the longest streak of playing games of any quarterback in the NFL, but nobody can expect perfection. It was bound to happen at some point.”

Wow. That was a good answer for a dumb question.

Bethany bats her eyes before she continues, “So, this has been a nice change from the crazy media storm that has been surrounding you these past couple weeks?”

Everyone in the room goes silent. Bethany’s boom guy groans.

“Yes.” Brett sighs. “This has been a welcome change.” Brett turns away and spots me from across the room, “Ah, there’s my favorite sports reporter now,” he says drily.

All the cameras turn to me. I quickly straighten up, regaining my composure.

“Wow, do cameramen never learn?” I grin. “Whipping those cameras about, watch out ladies, we might get another money shot.”

Everyone cracks up, except Brett. “Well, Miss Driver, it’s good to see you here,” Brett says sarcastically. “I imagine you would like to give your apologies?”

He looks sexy as hell raising his brow like that. I casually walk toward him with my mic, signaling Bethany to haul ass. “I would, Brett,” I say, smiling as I approach him. “But today is not about what has been posted all over the Internet and the newspapers. Today is about you as a professional, and your journey to get to this point in your career. Do you feel you proved yourself today on the field?”

His eyes soften, and I sense that he appreciates that I’m trying to put the stupid cock shot to rest. He pauses a moment before he answers into my mic, “I’m certainly hoping I have. To be honest, I was pretty anxious before getting on the field today.”

“I suppose you’re hoping for a few repeat performances in the upcoming weeks? How did it feel to finally get the opportunity and play like you did today?”

“Amazing.” His gorgeous eyes brighten. “I’ve been training hard these past few seasons and Dion has definitely been a great support to me. It’s good to get the opportunity to show him that his time and effort haven’t been wasted on me. I’ve learned a lot from him.”

Smart boy; paying Dion a little respect … but don’t forget the coaches. I nod slowly, trying to give him a hint to continue to kiss ass. But he doesn’t take the hint. I continue, “So, were the coaches nervous when they found out that Dion couldn’t play today?”

His eyes light up in understanding, “No. All the coaches have been fantastic with their support. Head Coach Dietrick told the other players that I had his confidence before we hit the field. That meant a lot to me. All the players have a lot of respect for him, so that helped.”

Great answer. But any more ass-kissing and he won’t sound genuine. I ask him some more questions, reviewing some of the statistics of the Tigers players and what he thought it meant for his team. After several questions, I notice his playbook, with the team’s crimson, black, and gold colors, sitting on the top shelf of his locker. It’s beaten, with a few loose-leaf pages peeking out. When he finishes speaking, I pull it off the shelf.

“I see you have been busy studying plays. Seems this is a well-travelled playbook.”

His face brightens, and he chuckles. “Yeah, I certainly have looked over that book.”

As Brett speaks, Steve talks to me through my earpiece, letting me know the live feed will be coming to an end in thirty seconds and that I need to wrap up. I see Jade across the room scowling. She and I both know that with the interview I just conducted, there was no way the network would cut my airtime.

I look directly into the camera, signaling that the interview was over, “A humble, strong quarterback. Looks like the already successful Blazers also have a strong future in their back pocket.”

All the mics around us descend, and he whispers beneath his breath, “Don’t think you’re off the hook yet, Driver.”

“Wouldn’t dare.” I scan the sweaty white shirt clinging to his abs.

“Good. Let me get cleaned up first.”

As he grabs his towel and bag, Mike, Jax, and other crews and journalists head out of the locker room, leaving me in a room full of naked male athletes. I sit on one of the red crimson couches, looking about the spacious room, full of naked men. Damn. I’m usually trying to sneak peeks during interviews. Brett has made this so easy for me.

I consciously try my best to not let my jaw drop to the floor and my tongue hang out of my head. I also try not to stare. But some of these guys are HUNG. When gorgeous dongs were being handed out, some of these boys were first in line. On the other hand, most of them are not. It reminds me of the few times I’ve slipped my hand down the front of a man’s pants and held some serious disappointment. While I’d normally be able to hide my chuckle in the dark, I’m split between drooling over some huge cocks and giggling over the unexpected small ones.

“Hey,” says one of the players, raising his brow. “It’s how you use it.”

I lose it. I fall onto the bench, in hysterics. It takes a good minute before I can catch my breath to speak, “I don’t think I can handle this. Huh, I’m feeling a little pervy right now.”

“That’s right girl … and if you stay here any longer, things might get pretty pervy.”

Another high-pitched giggle escapes me as I get up and step out of the locker room. I wait by the door, fanning myself with my blouse. Too hot. Eventually, the players start heading out of the locker room in small groups. I wait for Brett, but he doesn’t come out. After some time, I push open the door and peek in. Damn it, he’s almost dressed. I glance about the room, but he’s the only one there. Despite not getting another look at his naughty bits, he looks delicious in a pair of jeans and no shirt. My thighs tighten.

“Driver,” he says in a casual tone.

“Hey … you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yeah.” He quickly walks toward the locker room doors and locks them. I cock my brow.

“I want this conversation private,” he says simply, and returns to his locker. “I heard your little chat with Jimmy Schnell. No regrets, huh?”

I blush as I gaze up at his chiseled face, but I stand my ground. “Why would I? I didn’t do anything wrong.”

He bites his lower lip, and taps the side of his locker with his finger. He rummages through it, putting some items in a bag. “Look, Lexi, I’m going to give you one last chance to apologize.” His crystal eyes look down at me, stern. I felt a fluttering in my stomach.

My lips curve and I stare up at him. “Or what? You won’t allow me to interview you anymore? Face it, Brett, Bethany and Jade don’t ask great questions—”

“No apologies then?” His voice lowers in disappointment. He comes closer to me his face inches from mine.

“No.” My eyes drop to his washboard abs.

I suddenly feel his lips pressed to mine, his hand at the small of my back. Huh. My eyes flutter as he pulls away. “What was that about—”

He interrupts me, his lips taking another sample of mine, then gently pulls away a few inches from my face. I gaze up into his smoldering eyes, “How ‘bout it?” he asks.

Is he serious? I wonder. With the way his career is going, he’ll be the most wanted man in New York. I question whether I misheard him. I thought he was pissed with me.

“I like a little fun after a good game. A kind of reward.”

As he says the word ‘reward’ I feel his erection poking into me and swallow hard. His hand slides from my back to my bottom. I exhale shakily. It’s obvious what is going to happen from here, and I’d be a fool to refuse him. I’m about to pass out from the excitement. As my heart races, his hand glides to the back of my blouse and he swiftly unbuttons my top.

I look at his sculpted chest, glistening from the humidity in the room. I brush my fingers down the ridges and shudder. He pulls my red blouse over my head and tosses it to the wet floor. Though it cost hundreds of dollars, I couldn’t care less. I scramble to unzip my pencil skirt as he frantically unclasps my bra from the front. He pulls the straps down, releasing my tits from the restraint. His eyes glaze over as he stares at them, “I like what I’m seeing so far. Pull that skirt to your ankles.”

I yank my skirt down and allow his eyes to soak in my nakedness. He grunts as he does and moves closer to me, his skin brushing against mine. I can feel his hard cock pressing against my stomach as he clutches my hair into his fist and his lips crash against mine. I feel sparks crawling up my skin as I feel his fingers slide up my inner thighs. A delicious shudder shoots through my body and his finger reaches my clitoris. “Huh,” I murmur as he begins to gently knead one of his knuckles around my cunt, teasing me. He then pushes me up against the locker behind me, his mouth becoming more forceful, gripping my lips with an intensity I’d never known. My hands slide up his hard pecs and up to his shoulders and all I can feel as I explore him is sculpted muscle after muscle.

He slips his hand down between my legs and continues massaging my twat with his fingers. He shoves two fingers inside and I mutter in appreciation. “Rub yourself,” he says as he gets down on his knees.

“What?” I’m stunned.

“Rub your pussy.” He stares straight at my cunt, his fingers still thrusting inside me. “I want you to cum hard.”

I look down at him as his fingers are ramming my sex, his eyes staring hard at it in desire. Despite being a modest girl, I have to submit. I’ve never felt so horny in my life. My hand drops down and I look up to the ceiling as I begin to press my thumb to my bud, and gently rub circles.

“No, no,” he says huskily, slowing his fingers down. “Stare down and watch yourself get off.”

I glance down at his hard stare and look further down to my cunt. I massage my fingertips into the moist flesh as he prods inside me with his digits. It’s a gorgeous sight and feeling; his lips are pressed together in determination, his eyes searing into my sex.

“That’s it,” he praises. “Good girl. Cum.”

“Huuhhh … ahhh!” I release, screaming and I swear it’s not only because it feels so goddamn electric, but because he demanded me to do it.

He grips both his hands to my rear and his mouth is enveloping my twat, greedily licking and drinking everything I have offered him. But then as my orgasm comes to an end, his tongue begins to arouse again. He’s playing my clit like a virtuoso plays a violin, “Jesus!” I whimper, knowing I’m seconds away again, “YES!” I’ve cum again. “Huh!”

As the pleasure of my orgasm slowly ebbs, he turns and grabs something from his locker. A foil packet. Hearing the package rip, sends a stream of excitement through my being. YES!

But as he takes it out and slowly rolls it down his shaft, I question if he needs it. His doctor shut down all suspicion of him having an STD and I have an IUD. I bite my lip, somewhat frustrated. Would asking for condom-less sex come off as slutty the first time?

As I ask myself this question, his hands pry my thighs apart. The tip of his cock at my entrance. The pressure of him pressing against me. I shudder as he slowly forces himself inside. God that IS a huge cock. I absentmindedly spread my legs further apart.

I gaze up at him as he places his palms on the bench, on either side of my face. He lowers his body closer to mine and gyrates his hips. My back arches and my breath hitches as he glides inside me for the first time.

And he’s deliciously slow; I would have thought our casual fun would be a ‘wham, bam, thank you, mam’—which I would have gratefully taken. But it’s not. Each time he thrusts, chills course through my skin. I know he’s going to last for a while. Sweet.

If I had any sense at this point, I’d listen for the door – a coach could unlock it and walk in. But it’s the furthest thing from my mind. Anyone could walk in at this point, I’d want him to keep going. As he takes his time, building me up, I look up longingly at the perfectly etched details of his body. Watching the smooth skin of his hard body brush against my breasts and stomach makes me shudder. His cheek caresses mine and inflames me. I clasp his face between my hands and smash my mouth to his. His pace quickens in response, and his tongue massages mine in a frenzy. We are moving as one, both on the cusp of ecstasy.

“So close.” I gasp. He gives a hard thrust. My body tenses, the strain of orgasm reaching, “Huh, Brett!” I shriek. He groans, shutting his eyes tightly.

His eyes open slightly and he gazes down at me. “You’re a sweet reward. You should stay after interviews more often.”