Nunew accidentally crashes CEO Zee Pruk Panich's car when working as a valet. He expects Zee to make him pay back the cost of damages but the young businessman has another arrangement in mind.
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It had been three weeks since I had spent an unforgettable night with him.
Three weeks since he touched my skin.
Three weeks since I screamed his name.
Three weeks of torture.
I sighed as I slammed the door of my car shut, my hands tossing the stack of unused resumes into the passenger's seat. Another rejection. Another 'sorry, we just don't have a position for you at the moment' or 'we'll keep in touch.' Empty promises, false hope. It was frustrating as hell but not unexpected. I was a recent graduate with little job experience, just fired from the only full time position I had been able to keep. From a huge corporation. One of the biggest. It was no wonder that other companies didn't want to hire me.
I wished I could blame him. That I could blame his car, his money, his eyes that had watched me as I came undone beneath him. My throat tightened and I gripped the steering wheel, my mind flashing with that nigh, reliving the first climax of many. I couldn't forget the way he had stayed in me, unwilling to leave me empty, ready for more, wanting to take. And he did, many times. Too many to count. I took a shaky breath, briefly closing my eyes, trying not to get distracted. I didn't want to remember how it had been—to acknowledge that I was now ruined in every fucking sense of the word. Nothing would ever compare to that night. No one would ever compare to him.
I pulled up to my apartment, deflated from the day, feeling like a failure all over again. Not because I couldn't find a job. I would keep trying. Eventually something would give, someone would see my potential. My failure had nothing to do with my employment status. It had everything to do with my thought and the fantasies that dwelled within my head. Or rather, the memories. They constantly bombarding me with how it had felt; how he had tasted; the smell of his skin. I awoke every day determined to forget and move on. I needed to recognize that it had been one night and one night only. He wasn't going to call me. He wasn't going to look for me. He had wanted a good fuck. I had wanted the same. The only difference was that deep down, within a part of my soul that I dared not acknowledge, I wanted more. I wanted to call him mine.
My jaw clenched as I left my car, slamming the door before climbing the steps to my apartment. I jammed the key in the lock, twisting it viciously, begging my mind to stop this torture and let it go once and for all. This was unhealthy, the obsession I was living in. Couldn't that one night be enough?
My apartment was dark as I entered, quiet and empty just as I had left it. Just as it always was. I threw the pile of resumes on the counter, my hands dropping the keys beside them. My back ached from driving around all day. It hurt from sitting in those uncomfortable interview chairs, my spine kept straight, attempting to look the part of a professional candidate yet counting down the minutes until I could get in my car and drive back home. Maybe I wasn't cut out for full time work. It always seemed like I had one foot out the door, even in my last job.
It didn't matter, though. Not when a job meant living the life I wanted or admitting defeat. Without a job, I'd end up crawling back to my parents, having to listen to their reprimanding lecture, forced to live the life they wanted for me. A life that was a lie. One that I wasn't willing to give to them. They could shove it up their asses for all I cared. This was who I was, who I wanted to be. I wanted no part of their agenda, not when it meant they couldn't accept every part of me. The most important parts.
