ELENA'S POB
The beep of my alarm clock dragged me from the memory. My eyes snapped open, the vivid images of the club, the dance, the charged moment outside the guest room all of it fading like smoke.
Two months. It had all happened two months ago.
A genuine smile touched my lips as I stretched beneath the soft covers. My old life already felt like a nightmare I'd escaped. Now, I had stability: a job, a safe room, and a glimpse, however narrow, into the world I craved.
Working for Draven Sterling was complex. He was demanding, his moods unpredictable. But he was also fair, his pay generous, and he mostly left me to my tasks. Our interactions were just brief nods in the hallway, clipped instructions on the counter, the occasional shared silence in the penthouse's echoing vastness. The intense man from that night, the one who'd looked at me with such potent hunger, rarely surfaced in my day to day reality. He was my boss.
My alarm buzzed softly: 6:00 AM. Time to start the day. Prepare the house. Make the coffee. Ensure perfection before Draven began his reign. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, the smile still lingering. I was in. Not the dream, not yet, but closer than ever.
The memory of that morning, the day after the club, the day I officially became his employee, surfaced with startling clarity, pulling me back across those two months:
Sunlight painted the unfamiliar guest room in a soft glow. I'd woken with a strange mix of anticipation and unease, the raw energy of the previous night throbbing beneath my skin. I proceeded to the bathroom to freshen up.
In the adjoining bathroom, the cool tile against my bare feet did little to quell the fire that raged within me. The memory of Draven's hands on me, the way his eyes had burned with possession, sent a jolt of pure lust through me, centering in the core of my being. I couldn't help myself. My fingers found their way between my legs, and I began to stroke myself, my breath hitching in ragged gasps.
The fantasy bloomed, vivid and demanding. I imagined his hands, strong and possessive, sliding down my back, his fingers trailing along my spine before gripping my ass, the pressure firm and possessive, pulling me closer until I was flush against him. I envisioned him sliding a finger deep inside me, stretching me open with a slow, deliberate thrust, and I bit back a moan at the delicious invasion, the sensation so real it was almost tangible. My cunt throbbed, slick and needy, as I moved my finger faster, mimicking the rhythm of his imagined touch. I squeezed my breasts, my nipples hard and aching, as I went in and out with my other hand, the sensation both exquisite and torturous. I propped one leg on the edge of the tub, the other planted firmly, my hips tilted, my pussy presented in full display, a silent offering to the man who dominated my thoughts.
The images intensified. I imagined him grabbing my neck, his fingers firm but gentle, tilting my head back as he pressed a hot, possessive kiss to the sensitive skin beneath my ear. Then, lower, his lips trailing down my neck, his teeth grazing my collarbone, his tongue leaving a wet, possessive mark. My core pulsed. And then, the ultimate fantasy: I imagined him kneeling before me, his dark eyes locked on mine, his hands parting my legs wider, his tongue tracing the delicate folds of my clit. I imagined the exquisite torture of his mouth on me, the wet heat of his tongue licking and sucking, drawing out every last drop of pleasure, his breath hot and ragged against my most sensitive flesh. I moaned, the sound lost in the rush of my own blood, my body arching in anticipation.
I came hard, a silent cry escaping my lips as I arched into the pleasure, the world narrowing to the intense, throbbing sensation between my legs. The aftermath left me trembling, my skin flushed and sensitive, the air thick with the scent of sex and my own arousal. After washing up, I stepped from the shower, the towel slipping from my grasp as I reached for a lotion, I noticed a pretty dress laid out on the chaise lounge. It wasn't mine, clearly expensive, and a silent instruction. For a fleeting moment, I was completely unselfconscious, the lingering pleasure still humming through my veins.
A sharp knock echoed on the door, and before I could react, it swung open.
Draven stood there, framed in the doorway, his presence dominating the space and stealing the air from my lungs. His eyes, widened as he took in the sight of me. I stood before him, utterly naked, every curve and hollow of my body on full display. My breasts, still heavy and swollen from my recent climax, jutted out, their nipples tight and erect, begging for his touch. My ass was completely bare, the curves of my hips and the fullness of my rear an open invitation.
Draven's gaze moved over me, slow and deliberate, taking in every detail. His eyes lingered on my wet skin, the way the water droplets clung to the curves of my body, before settling on my face. His expression was a complex mix of hunger, possessiveness, and a dark, unreadable intensity. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken desires and a dangerous undercurrent of power.
"Elena," he finally said, his voice a low, rough-edged rasp. "Dress and meet me downstairs in the living room in a few minutes." He withdrew, leaving the door slightly ajar.
My heart hammered against my ribs. That brief intrusion had been a violation, a calculated display of dominance that left me breathless and shaken. I could still feel the weight of his gaze. Yet, beneath the fear, a flicker of something else stirred, a dangerous curiosity, an awareness of the powerful man who held my fate in his hands.
I dressed quickly and proceeded downstairs, following the faint sound of movement. I found him in a vast, elegantly furnished living room, sunlight streaming through floor to ceiling windows. He was standing by a sleek coffee machine.
"Good morning," he said, his tone purely business, as if the events of the previous night were irrelevant. He gestured to a chair near a low glass table where a cup of coffee was already poured.
"About your offer last night Elena," he began, his tone shifting slightly, "A slave is not what I require at the moment. But a housemaid... someone reliable to manage the running of this place... that is something I could consider."
A maid? I thought." That's fine by me Sir
We discussed terms, hours, duties. It was a straightforward negotiation, devoid of the charged atmosphere of the previous night. By the time I left, a few hours later, I had a job. A legitimate job, in the home of Draven Sterling. It wasn't the stage, but it was a foot in the door, a proximity to the power that could potentially open doors.
The memory dissolved as a sharp rap on my door in the present jolted me awake. My eyes snapped open, the feeling of the plush sofa and the scent of coffee replaced by the cool air of my small room.I was already wet thinking about everything. I glanced at my phone: 6:30 AM.
I pulled on a robe and padded to the door, my heart pounding. I opened it a crack.
Draven stood in the hallway. He was already dressed in a crisp shirt and trousers, his dark hair perfect, every inch the formidable CEO even at this hour. His eyes, sharp and impatient, swept over me, taking in my state of undress.
"Do you operate on a different understanding of time, Elena," he asked, his voice low with a possessive edge that made the hairs on my arms rise, "or have you forgotten that my schedule commences at six?"
My breath hitched. His tone wasn't just annoyed; it was a command, a stark reminder that my time, even my waking hours, were his to dictate. "No, sir, I..."
"Six AM means six AM," he cut in, his gaze intense. "My coffee does not make itself."
"Yes, sir," I whispered, pulling the robe tighter. "It won't happen again."
He held my gaze, the silence stretching, before giving a curt nod. "See that it doesn't." He turned and strode down the hall, his footsteps echoing.
I closed the door, leaning against it, my heart still racing. That was…new. That possessive command, outside the memory of the club. It was a clear reminder that even as his housemaid, I lived under his absolute control.
Shaking off the encounter, I finished getting ready, urgency now a sharp prod. My morning routine was a well-oiled machine: shower, uniform, downstairs. The penthouse was vast and silent in the pre dawn light. My steps were quiet, efficient.
I went to the kitchen, the heart of my domain, and started the coffee. Strong, black, just how he liked it. It was ready just as sounds from upstairs reached me, the soft click of his door, the measured tread of his footsteps descending.
He appeared around seven. I would usually be in the dining room, setting out his minimalist breakfast. Today, I finished early and found myself near the front entrance as he emerged from the hallway, ready to leave for Sterling Holdings.
And that's when I allowed myself a moment. A moment to simply see him, not as my employer, but as the man who held the keys to the kingdom I desperately wanted to enter. He was, as I'd thought in my memory, the devil himself when it came to looks. His suit was perfectly tailored, emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders and the lean line of his body. His dark hair was meticulously styled, his jaw clean and shaven. The power he wielded in the business world seemed to cling to him, an almost visible aura of control and authority. Even just standing there, adjusting a cufflink, he commanded the space. It was impossible not to acknowledge the presence of him, the polished exterior that hid…what? The hunger from the club? The coldness I sometimes glimpsed?
He glanced towards me, his dark eyes sweeping over me briefly, before his expression settled back into its usual controlled neutrality.
"Elena," he said, a simple greeting, nothing more.
"Good morning, sir," I replied, my voice steady, my gaze respectfully lowered.
He gave a curt nod and strode towards the small table where a single cup of coffee steamed, the minimalist design mirroring his own controlled aura. He picked it up, took a slow sip, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer, and then continued towards the door. The heavy door clicked shut behind him as he left for Sterling Holdings.
The sound of the closing door echoed through the silent penthouse. I took a deep breath. My morning routine demanded attention. I turned and headed towards the kitchen, the vast space waiting for my ministrations.