HEATED PLEASURE (Erotica Collections)

Played 6

Elara pov

After signing that piece of paper, my life turned into a blur of following Chase Caruso everywhere like some kind of loyal pet. I wasn't just a journalist anymore; I was his personal shadow, tasked with documenting every breath he took while trying to meet standards that seemed to change every five minutes. It had been four days since this nightmare started, and I had already learned that impressing him was an impossible task. He had made it clear from the start that he would review every single word I wrote about him, and his version of a review was basically a demolition project.

Today, I actually thought I might see my own bed before dawn. I had spent hours polishing the drafts, tweaking the tone, and making sure every detail was exactly how he liked it. I was practically vibrating with the hope of leaving the office on time, but Chase had other plans. He decided he needed to work a night shift, and in his typical demanding fashion, he told me I had to stay right in front of him. He wanted me to revise everything I had written about him in real-time, essentially turning my evening into a grueling editing marathon.

Three hours crawled by, and the cycle became a torture device. Every time I finished a section and slid the tablet toward him, he would barely glance at it before sliding it back with a dismissive flick of his finger. He told me it lacked depth, or the phrasing was off, or he simply didn't like the way I portrayed his ambition. He kept telling me to start from the beginning, erasing hours of my hard work with a single sentence. It was getting on my nerves, and the frustration was building up in my chest until I couldn't keep it in anymore. I didn't care about the power dynamic in that moment; I just wanted to know why he was being such a prick.

“Sir, are you doing this because of that incident that occurred that day?” I blurted out, my voice laced with irritation. I was referring to the water spill, the moment I had completely humiliated myself in front of him. I expected him to be annoyed or maybe even fire me on the spot for the outburst, but instead, he just grinned. That smug, knowing look of his was enough to make me want to scream. He asked me why I would think so, but the way he said it made it obvious that he was enjoying every second of my misery. He liked seeing me frazzled, and he liked knowing that he held my entire career in his palm.

I didn't have the energy to argue further, so I went back to revising the text. But as the clock ticked past midnight, the adrenaline wore off and a heavy exhaustion settled over me. My eyelids felt like lead, and the words on the screen started to swim. I knew I shouldn't have let my guard down, but the warmth of the office and the repetitive nature of the work were like a lullaby. I rested my head on the cool surface of the desk, thinking I would just close my eyes for a second, and then sleep completely took over.

When I finally opened my eyes, the first thing I realized was that I wasn't on a desk anymore. I was resting on something firm yet soft, and as I shifted, I felt the heat of another person. I looked up and realized I was draped across Chase’s lap. We were inside his car, and the engine was off, meaning we had already reached a destination. I bolted upright, my heart hammering against my ribs, and I immediately started apologizing. I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me, wondering how long I had been out and what he had been thinking while I was dead to the world on his legs.

He didn't say a word in response to my rambling apologies. He just sat there, watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read. I looked out the window and froze when I realized we were parked right in front of my house. The shock hit me harder than the sleepiness had. I didn't remember giving him my address, and I certainly didn't remember agreeing to a ride home. I scrambled out of the car, feeling disoriented and exposed. I stood on the pavement and thanked him for bringing me home safely, though the gratitude felt forced because I was too busy wondering how he had tracked me down.

"Take the day off tomorrow," he said, his voice cutting through the silence of the street. Before I could ask him any questions or demand to know how he knew where I lived, the driver shifted the car into gear and drove him away. I stood there on the sidewalk, stunned and shivering slightly in the night air. I finally walked inside my house, but my mind was racing. The man was a predator who didn't just control my professional life; he had somehow invaded my private one without me even noticing. I went to bed, but I didn't sleep well, knowing that Chase Caruso knew exactly where to find me whenever he decided he wanted more of my time.