Played9
1432 Words
I woke up the next morning with my head spinning and my body feeling heavy, the sheets of the hotel bed tangled around my legs while the sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains. As I tried to sit up, a sharp ache shot through my hips and lower back, reminding me exactly how Chase had handled me the night before without any restraint. I pushed my hair back and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirrored wall, seeing the dark purple hickeys marking my neck and chest like brands of ownership that I couldn't hide. The sight of them made my stomach flip, not with regret, but with a lingering heat that made me want to crawl back into the blankets and find him again. I looked over and saw him already awake, leaning against the headboard with a smug expression on his face as he watched me realize the extent of the damage he had done to my skin.
He didn't say anything at first, just let his eyes roam over my body with that same possessive hunger that had driven him the night before, and I felt myself flushing under his gaze. I tried to pull the sheet up to cover the marks on my neck, but he reached out and gripped my wrist, pulling me toward him until I was pressed against his bare chest. He told me that I looked exactly how he wanted me to look, and the way he said it made me feel like a prize he had finally won after a long game of cat and mouse. I wanted to argue, to tell him that he couldn't just mark me up like some piece of property, but the words died in my throat because the truth was that I loved the feeling of belonging to him in that moment.
We spent the next hour in a haze of slow, lazy movements, the tension from the previous night evolving into something more intimate and suffocating as he kissed every single mark he had left on me. He kept reminding me about the deal, telling me that this was only the beginning of what he expected from me if I wanted to keep my position and get that bonus. I knew he was manipulating me, using the s*x to blur the lines of our professional agreement, but I found that I didn't care about the ethics of it anymore. I was too far gone, completely addicted to the way he dominated every aspect of my existence, from the work I did in his office to the way he made me scream in his bed.
When it was finally time to get dressed, the atmosphere shifted back to that cold, corporate energy, though the heat between us remained just beneath the surface. He watched me slide my gown back on, his eyes lingering on the thong and the curve of my hips, and he told me that I needed to be back at the office by noon to finish the reports he had assigned. I felt a flash of annoyance that he could switch from a lover to a demanding boss in a matter of seconds, but I didn't dare complain because I knew he enjoyed the power trip. He kissed me one last time, a hard, demanding press of lips that felt more like a command than a goodbye, and then he let me go so I could gather my things.
The ride back to my own place was silent, but it was a heavy silence filled with the memory of his hands on me and the knowledge that I was now completely entwined with a man who didn't know how to do anything halfway. As I walked into my apartment, the smell of stale air and old laundry hit me, and I suddenly felt a wave of disgust for the life I had been leading before Chase entered the picture. I went to the bathroom to wash the scent of him off my skin, but as I looked in the mirror, I realized that the hickeys were still there, vivid and stubborn, and I knew I would have to wear a scarf or a high collar to work for the next week.
I was still staring at my reflection when I heard the front door slam, and the sound of my boyfriend's voice drifted through the hallway, sounding arrogant and entitled as always. I had been ignoring the signs for months, telling myself that the distance between us was just a phase, but seeing the marks Chase had left on me made me realize that I no longer wanted the lukewarm affection of a man who didn't even try to keep me satisfied. I walked out into the living room and saw him lounging on the couch, wearing the clothes I had paid for and eating food I had bought with my own salary. He looked up at me and made some comment about how long I had been gone, his tone dismissive and cold, and I felt a sudden, violent surge of anger that drowned out everything else.
I didn't even let him finish his sentence before I started screaming at him, telling him that I knew he had been cheating on me and that I was done playing the role of the supportive girlfriend who funded his entire existence. He tried to laugh it off, telling me I was being hysterical and that I had no proof, but I didn't need proof because I could smell the desperation and the lies coming off him in waves. I told him that he was a parasite, a man who had spent the last year living off my hard work while sneaking around with whoever was available, and the look of shock on his face was the most satisfying thing I had felt all day.
He stood up and tried to get in my face, his voice getting louder and more aggressive as he told me that I couldn't just kick him out because this was his home too, even though my name was the only one on the lease. I didn't flinch, instead stepping closer to him and telling him that he had exactly one hour to pack his things and get out before I called the police to remove him for trespassing. He started cursing at me, calling me names and telling me that I was probably out with some rich guy, and for a second, I almost laughed because he was actually right for once in his life. I told him that it didn't matter who I was with because any man in the world would be a better partner than a pathetic loser who couldn't even hold down a job.
The argument escalated into a shouting match that echoed through the small apartment, with him throwing things and me screaming back at him to get the hell out of my sight. I felt a strange sense of liberation as I watched him scramble to throw his clothes into a suitcase, realizing that the weight I had been carrying for years was finally lifting. I didn't feel sad or lonely; I only felt a burning desire to get back to the hotel, back to the man who actually knew how to take what he wanted and make me crave it. I told him that if he ever tried to contact me again, I would make sure he regretted it, and I slammed the door in his face the moment he stepped outside.
I leaned against the door, breathing hard, my heart hammering against my ribs, and I realized that my entire life had changed in the span of twenty-four hours. I was no longer the timid journalist who was afraid of her boss, and I was no longer the girl who let a cheating boyfriend drain her bank account and her spirit. I felt powerful, dangerous, and completely consumed by the thought of Chase Caruso and the dark, twisted deal we had struck. I took out my phone and sent him a short message telling him that I was coming back to the office early, and the immediate reply he sent back—telling me to be ready for whatever he had planned—made me shiver with anticipation. I knew that the next few days were going to be a chaotic blur of work and pleasure, and for the first time in my life, I was perfectly fine with losing control as long as he was the one holding the leash.
- Writer
