Chambers of Desire: Opus 1 (17 page)

”I want to make you feel good,”
I said, my voice husky.

“You do, do you?” he asked, his own voice a warm caress.

“Yes, sir,” I said.

Why I’d called him sir, I had no idea. It felt like the right thing to say.  He didn’t respond, at least not in words. Instead, he pulled me close and pressed our lips together again. Passionate, searching, tender… I melted under that kiss.

”Stand up,” he said. “I want you completely naked. Now.”  I stood, catching my breath as I saw the outline of his hard cock in his pants. 
Christ, he’s huge,
I thought. It was a relief to peel off my soaked panties and I tossed them away impatiently before unclasping my bra and letting it fall.  Calvin stood. “Now undress me,” he said, and I was all too happy to comply.

I dropped to my knees to work the button and zipper. I ran my hands over his thighs, high on the blend of his cologne and his own musky scent.  I pulled his socks off one by one, and then slipped his pants under his feet. When I looked up, my eyes widened. Through his boxer briefs, I could see what I had only imagined before—his thick, hard manhood straining to be
released.  I slid my fingertips beneath the hem of one leg of his underwear, feeling them brush against hot, velvety skin.  I let out a little gasp of awe as he shivered at my touch.  “Take them off, Sabrina,” he said, his voice nearly a groan.

“Oh, my God,” I whispered.

I let my hand wrap around its base, my fingers sliding over the warm skin, hypnotized by the contrast of hardness and silky skin. His defined thigh muscles shifted, and I kissed the flared head of his cock. The feeling of it in my hands and the musky scent of it sent my head spinning. I was breathless, unsure of what to do next, because I wanted to do
everything.

“Beautiful,” I said, half-whispered.

“I’m sure. Stand,” he said, all poise and command. I didn’t want to obey that order; I wanted to explore the amazing thing I had in my grasp, but I obeyed. He put his hand around my neck again, gentler this time, and led me back to the couch. He pressed my face down on the soft seat and raised my ass into the air, my pussy on display. I’d never felt so exposed, and so
okay
with it. “Good,” he said, admiring his handiwork as I sat, my hands splayed over my head, my dripping wetness set before him. He ran his palms over my ass. He spread me wide, teased at my sensitive spots with his thumbs to watch me squirm, and then dove in. I cried out as his tongue invaded my lips. I hadn’t realized how sensitive all his play had made me, but when he penetrated me with his tongue, it felt as though I had been struck by lightning.

Warmth cascaded up my spine, spreading hot tendrils of pleasure through my skin, and suddenly, I found it difficult to stop my thighs from shaking. He spared my comfort no thought, licking and biting at my lips, replacing my wetness with his saliva as he tickled and teased. My fingers curled over the cushion, my teeth clenched—I had never felt anything half as good as this.

“Calvin!” I cried out, mindlessly, but his only response was to slide his tongue up between my cheeks and lick my ass. At this, I nearly screamed—half in discomfort, half in pleasure. My body was his, and I knew I could trust his touch to always set my nerves on fire.

I felt an orgasm coming and felt my entire body spasm as it flooded through me. . I’m sure I cried out, though I was too lost in my body to notice. As it subsided, I collapsed, dropping my body from the position he’d put me in and lying down, shuddering on the couch.

“I’m sorry Calvin, I—” I started, but he shushed me and slipped a pair of fingers inside me, giving me a gentle massage as I caught my breath. His hand felt so good in me, soft where before he had been rough, slow where he had been fast. I don’t know how long I lay there, moaning breathily as he teased me and soothed me simultaneously.

“Now, you’re going to return my kindness,” he ordered. I nodded.
God, how I wanted to make him feel good.
I crawled to his lap, caressing his huge erection with both hands.  So warm.  A firm but gentle hand tangled itself in my hair, and I bent my head out of instinct, taking the head of his cock into my mouth, tasting the sweet, slightly salty flavor of his skin. I felt his sharp intake of breath as my tongue explored him, moving my head in response to pressure from his hand.

I pushed myself, taking more of him into my mouth than I thought possible. Feeling him press first against the back of my throat, and then
filling my throat.
I took slow careful breaths.  My hand clasped the base of his shaft, working it as I worked the rest with my mouth, all of him covered with my slick saliva as his fingers clenched and relaxed intermittently on my scalp. I could tell what he liked by the intensity of his grip on me, and I began to work harder at doing what made him tighten his hold.

He loved when I used my tongue or when I sent his head hurtling deep into my throat. He moaned when I spun my lips over his shaft, and bucked if I started to go slowly. As submissive as I felt pleasuring a man with my mouth, I felt powerful too. I controlled his orgasm, and I dictated the pace. For a while, he seemed content to let me. For minutes, I quietly sucked, rising and falling rhythmically as he twitched and bucked under me. Eventually, though, he pulled me off him and laid me down again.

His wet cock hung brushed against my inner thigh and my hips rose instinctively. I didn’t want to protest, but I was worried about his size. I wanted him inside me, I wanted it so badly, but suddenly, and despite everything, my nerves flared. This was it; this was real and actual sex with Calvin. If I failed here, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.

“Calvin…” I moaned, half-eager, half-terrified. I felt him s
troke my wet folds, and the gentle heat nearly drove me insane, but the anxiety remained. I closed my eyes and bit my lip. Despite how much I wanted him, I felt my body tensing as he nudged his way inside.  His breath came hot and fast, but he was in total control.  I tried to be as well, tried to consciously relax, but as he applied pressure and the first inch of his girth entered me, I let out a yelp.  He saw the look on my face and pulled away. 

“I’m so— Calvin, don’t stop,” I pleaded.  . I didn’t want to disappoint him, not now.

“Let’s take our time with that part,” he said, a smile in his voice.  “Don’t worry, we’re not done.” He pulled my face back toward his cock. I looked up at him, taking him in my hand and smiling tenuously. He smiled back, and I wrapped my lips around him again. This time, I was determined. I didn’t waste time teasing; I grabbed him by his hips, savoring the salty taste. I roughly slid my tongue up and down the base of his manhood, I let my teeth gently graze over his skin, and I felt his pleasure as his muscles jumped.

“Good girl,” he panted, leaning back over me and sliding a soft touch over my cheek as he pulled out.

“But don’t you want to…,” I said. The last word finished in a low moan as his hand worked its way back inside me.

“
I’ll
decide when that happens,” he said, and there was no room for argument. “You’ve done very well, Sabrina,” he continued. There was nothing to do but lay back and lose myself to his touch as explored my clit, teasing me by dipping his finger inside of me. It wasn’t just the way his hands could bend me to his will; it wasn’t just his experience. I felt like I’d come across the first
man
I had ever met in my life. Moments later another orgasm rocked through me, silencing my thoughts. When it passed, I crawled over his chest and curled in his arms, never having felt as safe as I did there, hurtling through the air at hundreds of miles an hour with a man who made me feel as if time stood still.

Chapter 9

I pulled my knees to my chest, sinking into the soft cushions. Calvin had persuaded me to sit on the oversized couch in the large living room of his Presidential Suite for a cup of tea before heading to bed. The sweet smell of peppermint filled my nose, and I let the steam warm my face. He watched me carefully as I blew on the hot tea, trying to cool it, as if he worried I’d make a mad dash out the door.

“How’s the tea?” he asked.

“Delicious,” I said. “Thanks.” Typically when I was nervous, I couldn’t stop myself from chatting up a storm, but for some reason, I was having trouble thinking of anything to say.

“I have a few meetings tomorrow, and then I can show you the city.” Calvin took a sip of bourbon—no tea for him—before setting the glass on the coffee table in front of him.

“Sounds good,” I said quietly. “Whatever works with your schedule.”

“Anything in particular you want to see?”

“Not really,” I answered, taking a sip of my tea, singeing the tip of my tongue. I resumed my blowing, concentrating intently on the task.

We both were quiet for a moment, and the knots in my stomach tightened. “What’s wrong?” Calvin asked, somehow sensing my discomfort.

“Nothing,” I said apologetically. “I’m fine.”

“Do you feel uncomfortable about what happened between us?” he asked directly, watching my face.

My eyes met his. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’m not even sure how to feel.” My thoughts were a jumble inside my head, and my body still buzzed from our tryst on the plane, leaving me dazed and disoriented.

“Do you regret it?”

“No,” I answered quickly. Of that much, I was certain. That didn’t mean I wasn’t afraid, however. I’d never had anyone make me feel that way, and I wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen next. The uncharted territory made me feel lost and unsettled. Somehow, I couldn’t find a way to put that in words without sounding embarrassingly young, so I stayed quiet.

“Good,” Calvin said. He didn’t push any further, letting me finish my tea in silence.

When I took the last sip, Calvin took the mug from me. “It’s late. You should get some rest,” he said. “You’re welcome to stay with me, but I reserved a room a few doors down if you’d prefer some privacy.”

I nodded, thinking that maybe I needed some time alone to sort through my feelings. Reluctantly, I said good night to Calvin and made my way down the empty hall.

By the time I brushed my teeth and climbed into bed, I was exhausted, but my eyes refused to stay closed. The large hotel room felt cold and lonely, for some reason my childhood fear of the dark intruded. Shadows danced on the wall, and a strange whirring sputtered from the air-conditioning unit in the corner. My heart began to beat erratically, and I pulled the sheets over my head, hoping to drown the unfamiliar noises.
Nope, not helping.

Before I knew what I was doing, I had slipped out of bed, tied a robe loosely around my waist, and found myself in front of Calvin’s suite, finger poised over his doorbell. If he was surprised to find me outside his door, he didn’t show it.

“I guess I didn’t want to be alone after all,” I said, with an awkward smile. “Do you mind if I take you up on the offer to stay with you?”

“Not at all,” he said, holding the door open for me to come in.

“Thanks.” I stood awkwardly in the middle of his living room, feeling vulnerable and exposed in my flimsy robe. Calvin, in only a pair of flannel pants, walked to me, tucking my hair behind my ear. I swallowed, flustered by the proximity of his chiseled chest. “I was about to get in bed, want to join me?” he asked, voice low.

Oh, my God, did he think I came over just for sex? So embarrassing!
“The couch is fine,” I said, a flush creeping on my cheeks. “I don’t want to bother you.”

“You wouldn’t
be bothering me,” he said.

“No, really, I don’t think it’d be a good idea,” I answered, looking at the floor. “Honestly, the couch is better. Is that OK?” The bed sounded good… but I had a feeling that being next to Calvin would keep me too wound up to sleep.

“Sure,” Calvin nodded. “Let me just grab some sheets for you.”

I didn’t have any more luck falling asleep on the couch than in my hotel room. I closed my eyes, determined to be still, and calm… of course, that backfired.  I had an itch. I had to adjust. The couch cushion was comfy for sitting but too bouncy for using as a pillow.  The blanket got scrunched between the back and the bench. I tossed, and turned.  My hair was in my face; I knocked the pillow on the floor trying to get comfortable. I gave an exasperated sigh and sat up.

“You can’t sleep.” I turned over to see Calvin standing over me, hair slightly mussed from the bed.

Sighing, I lay on my back. “Sorry to keep you up. I’m just trying to find the right position.”

“Stay with me,” he said, crouching next to the couch.

“The couch is totally comfortable,” I lied, feeling a coil digging into my spine.
You’d think in a hotel this expensive, that wouldn’t happen,
I mused, feeling a bit like the Princess and the Pea.

“Don’t lie to me, Sabrina,” he said, and he was smiling but there was an undertone of seriousness.
I know when you lie,
it said.
Even about such a small thing.
“Come on.” Easily, he slipped his arms under me and hoisted me to his chest. “You’re sleeping in my bed.”

“Calvin, I’m—”

“Shhh,” he said, already lowering me onto the king-sized mattress. “We’ll go right to sleep. I’m not going to let anything happen. We both need sleep.” He winked at me, and my stomach flip-flopped nervously.

A strange thrill shot through me as Calvin climbed into bed next to me. Lying next to him felt inexplicably intimate. Being less than a foot away from his half-clothed body caused my heart rate to speed up, adrenaline surging.

He rolled on his side, moving toward me. “Good night,” Calvin whispered and kissed me lightly on the lips. True to his word, he pulled back slowly, returning to his side of the bed, and laid his head against the pillow.

“Good night,” I answered, turning to face him. A sweet smile crossed his lips, and he closed his eyes, bringing the comforter under his arm. His breathing slowed, and I could see his eyelids flutter as he drifted off, quickly and peacefully. I studied his handsome face, thinking how surreal it seemed lying next to him, sharing the bed with a man I’d met only a few days ago.

In just a week, my life had been turned inside out. I would have never imagined that I’d end up alone in a hotel room with Calvin Chambers, world’s youngest billionaire. In fact, if you had asked me two weeks ago, I wouldn’t have thought I’d had it in me. Obedient, eager-to-please Sabrina.
If you could see me now, Mom and Dad.

             
In the last few days, I hadn’t spent much time thinking about my parents, wishing I could forget the last words my dad said to me, but now, suddenly, I missed them. It wasn’t easy being on my own, trying to forge my way, but I was proud of myself for trying, even if no one else was. Instead of curling up like a weak child when I was hurt, I
did
something about it. The thought made me smile. I wasn’t sure whether this qualified as making lemonade out of lemons, but it was something.

I felt safe and significantly less alone being in Calvin’s bed. The deep in and out of his breathing calmed me, lulling me into a drowsy cocoon. I snuggled deeper into the covers, finally submitting to my exhaustion.

***

A low baritone unexpectedly filled my ears, and for a moment, I thought it was morning, and I had overslept. Confused, my eyes blinked open, struggling to figure out what was going on. I looked around the room and realized it was still dark. The red neon alarm clock read 2:30.

Calvin shifted next to me. “Stop,” he muttered. “Make it stop.”

“Calvin?” I whispered softly. “Are you OK?”

As I adjusted to the darkness, I saw that his eyes were still closed, brow furrowed in agitation. He shook his head as if trying to wake, trying to escape a nightmare. Back at SMU, my roommate often talked in her sleep, so I knew the nonsensical midnight chatter, but Calvin sounded desperate, tormented, unlike the silly ramblings I was used to.

I placed a hand softly on his chest, hoping to calm him, but he began to mumble again, and I tried to make out what he was saying. “
Don’t do it,” I thought I heard. “Stop.”

“No
more,” he went on. “No more!” Then, he spoke more clearly. “This has to
stop
,” he cried, then sighed and turned over, silent, breathing returning to normal.

I withdrew my hand and pulled the covers up to my chin, troubled by his words. What pain was he talking about? Had he been dreaming? He’d sounded so distraught; I wanted to take him and rock him against my chest, quiet him until he felt safe. I squeezed my eyes shut, but I couldn’t get his words out of my head. It felt like hours before I could fall back to sleep, hearing the moans repeatedly.

When I woke the next morning, the room was filled with sunlight, and Calvin’s side of the bed was empty. Stretching, I sat up in bed, wondering whether he’d already left for the day. The smell of bacon wafted into the room, and I realized the scent was what woke me, a grumbling filling my belly.

On the kitchen counter sat a plate of freshly cooked scrambled eggs, bacon, and buttered toast. A folded piece of paper with Calvin’s handwriting was next to the plate.

Sabrina—I had to head to the office. Didn’t want to wake you. A car will be by this afternoon to pick you up. Meet me at my office, and I’ll take you to see the city. —C

I smiled, thinking of him getting up early and seeing to my breakfast. A single white gardenia floated in a teacup next to the plate, and I picked it up, bringing it to my nose to inhale its sweet perfume.

After scraping the butter off, I nibbled on a piece of toast, eyeing the rest of the food warily.  My anxious bingeing was still fresh in my mind. I didn’t want to trigger another binge, and I also didn’t want to gain any weight from my mishap.  You
never
get it all out, I reminded myself.  No, I needed to be careful, needed to prove to myself that I wouldn’t let my –
disgusting, fat, gross… Stop it, Sabrina—
appetites control me.

And then there was the matter of several thousand dollars worth of beautiful new clothes that needed to not only fit but look fantastic. 

I cut the white away from the eggs, and left the yolks, and then hurriedly scraped the yolks, the rest of the toast, and the bacon into the suite’s garbage disposal so I wouldn’t have second thoughts. 
Coffee,
I thought.
I need coffee.
Coffee could be a dancer’s best friend, when a performance was coming up.

My phone rang, and I I rustled through my bag,.
Unknown number
. Probably Calvin calling from his Chicago office, letting me know what time to be ready.

“Good morning,” I answered, voice sultry, eager to thank him for the beautiful flower, and the breakfast.
Well, the
thought
of the breakfast, at least.

“Sabrina?” It wasn’t Calvin. “Sabrina—don’t hang up! It’s Brandon.” The sound of his voice hit like a  ton of bricks.

For the first time, I didn’t slam down the phone, instead, choosing to sit on the bed, pulling my knees to my chest. “Hi.” I was still angry—
livid
, even—but hearing his voice reminded me of home, and I wasn’t ready to hang up yet.

“How are you, Sabs?” His voice was gentle and concerned, and I nestled against the pillows, covering my legs with a blanket.

“I’m good,” I answered carefully. “How are you?” I kept my tone even and cool, afraid I would suddenly burst into tears.

“Honestly? I’m going a little nuts without you, babe,” he laughed, a small, sad sound. “I meant what I said in my e-mails. I feel like the world’s biggest asshole. Sleeping with…” He trailed off, clearing his throat before starting. “Look, it was a
terrible, terrible mistake. And I’m so sorry,” he added softly.

I was quiet. I wasn’t ready to forgive him, but it felt satisfying to hear him admit it, and I felt a little of the weight lifted off my heart.

“Seriously, Sabs, I wish I could take it all back.”

“I wish you could, too,” I said, tears filling my eyes. I looked up at the ceiling, shaking my head. Was that what I really wanted? If none of this had happened, I’d be back in Dallas, a few days away from saying
I do.
Sadness, mixed with relief, overwhelmed me, and I shoved the heel of my hand into my eyes to stop myself from crying.

“Where are you?” Brandon asked. “When are you coming home?”

“I went to New York,” I said, “for the auction.”

“You had us all so worried. You were all over the news, babe. But then, nothing. No one knew what happened. What
did
happen?”

“The winner lives in New York. So, I flew to meet him,” I said. “And here I am.” I didn’t think it was necessary to add that I’d flown to Chicago, especially given what happened on the flight
to
Chicago. He didn’t need to know any more than I’d already told him.