Chambers of Desire: Opus 1 (21 page)

This time, his hand stuffed my face in a pillow and slapped my ass until I rolled over on my stomach. The pain was so little; it was almost entirely pleasure. The rough feeling of being tossed about, being used and moved for him, was exhilarating. My hips rose without my volition, offering him my ass, offering him myself.  I felt the head of his cock press against my pussy. I was glad to give him the obedience he deserved. I was being good. My reward was his length pushing inside me, and I accepted it gladly.

Being fucked from behind was an entirely different experience. Just as being on his lap, he penetrated me in an entirely new way. I felt that flash of pain, but it was gone in a few quick thrusts. Again, the lust overcame my senses; his hands on my hips spread that wild fervor through my body that sent me to squeezing the sheets. I went limp in his palms. He held me up and fucked me until I could hardly feel.

My breath grew so rapid, my fingertips so numb, that I thought I might faint. He took no notice. He pounded in repeatedly, each thrust quicker and harder than the last. I groaned, woozy with pleasure. Soon, I felt the warmth in me rise again. He grew faster; I grew hotter. My insides began to tighten. I wanted him to spread his seed in me so badly, but I had no idea whether he would. All I knew was that I was close, so close.

“Harder…,” I whispered, “please.”

Wordlessly, he obliged. My body rocked from the rougher pace. My ass bounced off his groin. My shoulders slammed into the bed. My pussy dripped with delight, his cock punishing it in and out, as he savagely broke me in. I wanted him to shape me to his size, so I could pleasure him just as much as he was pleasuring me. I wanted him to make me his perfect fit, ruin me so no other man, but him, could ever enjoy me. I didn’t ever want another man to compete with him and his massive cock.

Before I knew it, I was shaking again. “T-thank you, sir,” I said, as the orgasm took me. A second time, he slid out of me and let my legs drop unceremoniously to the bedsheets. I could feel them soaked with my juices.

“Two. Catch your breath,” he said and walked into the attached bathroom. It was easier said than done. Soon, though, the blood came back to my head, and I stopped feeling so dizzy. I realized I really hadn’t been prepared for what he could do. Worse still, I could tell he still held back. If he had really laid in to me, wouldn’t he have orgasmed too? Then, again, what did I know? Two orgasms ago, I had been a virgin.

I pushed myself up to sit. My arms felt weak. All the grabbing at sheets and clinging to Calvin had robbed my none-too-strong muscles of their energy. When he came back, I’d be even more powerless to stop him than I usually was. That excited me. I wanted to be his woman, his slave, more and more, the more he used me.

He was the sort of man I’d wished for so many nights with my hand between my legs, the one who didn’t need me, who could hold me in his palm. I liked giving him control, and I liked how much enjoyment he seemed to take in robbing me of it. For all his apparent cruelty, I knew he was really just trying to pleasure me with the force I so desperately craved. In a way, it was sweet.

I heard a faucet turn on in the bathroom. I wondered how often he had done this with others. He seemed so practiced, so precise. The way he had made his bed, the way he cleaned up after himself. He set goals—three orgasms—and single-mindedly pursued them. This wasn’t the conduct of a horny player; he had to have some serious experience. I knew that this was technically a game, this master and slave thing, but he played it so seriously. It was part of the reason I was so madly obsessed with him—his intensity was so addictive.

At the same time, I couldn’t help wondering where it came from. Was he always like this? Did he watch sports with such a regimented state of mind? Did he overwhelm and dominate a table of casual poker players on weekends the same way he dominated me? Did I want to know? In the end, maybe part of his appeal was his mystique. To me, he was all sex and sexuality. His life, as far as I knew it, was power and aggression in a business suit. The jet wasn’t just to impress me, though. No doubt, he had a life outside blowing my mind.

“You look far away,” he said, and I jumped with surprise. His brow rose.

“I was just thinking,” I managed. He nodded. It was telling that he didn’t ask about what. It struck me as quintessentially masculine. Did he value my privacy? Did he just not care? That he had me tripping up trying to figure him out was no doubt exactly what he wanted.

“Come here,” he commanded, standing beside the edge of the bed with his cock aimed forward. “Suck.”

I crawled toward him and wrapped my hand around the base of his shaft. I knew how to please him here. A virgin I might have been, but I knew how to make a man orgasm with my tongue. I licked the tip of his cock before sliding it in my mouth. I let my saliva coat his shaft as far down as I could take it. Back and forth, I bobbed my head, letting my stray hand curl around his balls and massage them. He liked that; I could tell by the jump in his manhood.

I popped the head from between my lips and slid my tongue down the underside, pushing it up so my tongue could tickle his balls more. His legs went rigid. I smiled and pulled the soft skin into my mouth. My hand pumped his cock while I teased his sack, and just as his hand twitched, no doubt to grab me and set me right, I leaped back to his thick head and sucked. I gave him an innocent glance upward. He looked down with a scowl.

I could grab his cock with both hands, one above the other, and still have ample room to suck. That wasn’t what he wanted, though. He wanted me to impress him, and I could. I relaxed my throat and took as much of him inside as I possibly could. My lips dove down the length of him, just nearly brushing the trimmed hair of his groin. My throat squeezed his thickness, milked his cock just begging him to release inside me. He didn’t, of course, and I wrenched my head back, nearly gagging on him as his long cock slipped out between my lips.

Despite how focused I had been on not losing control, I could tell he was enjoying it. I deep throated him repeatedly. Reveling in my little victory each time, I saw his thick thigh muscles constrict. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I was getting close to making him cum. I wanted to so badly. I felt his balls jump in my hand; I knew I could do it with one more try. Yet, before I could send him hurtling down my throat that last time, his powerful hand grabbed my hair and pulled me off him. I fell back on the bed.

Like lightning, he was on top of me. His cock penetrated me so quickly I didn’t even have time to gasp. In me, it dove, deep and hard, with no sign of the slow buildup he had given me earlier. I had turned him on, and this was my punishment. His face was a study in controlled passion, his nostrils flared as he fucked me harder and harder. I gripped his shoulders and threw my legs around him, feeling like an old hat at this already. I didn’t care whether he liked it; I pulled myself over him every time he pushed himself into me. I wanted to feel his force; I wanted him to try his hardest. I was glad I’d broken his inhibitions.

His teeth flashed a moment before he bit me, and at that, I really did scream. His teeth sank into the meat of my shoulder, and I nearly panicked. It took me a few moments to realize how amazing it felt before I stopped reeling. His hands pushed my hips into him, but all I could feel were the red-hot lances of pressure and pain from his mouth. It turned me on more than I could describe. All my fantasies of being preyed on by a strong man broke free from my mind. The animalistic need to be taken, torn apart, and used as a scrap of meat was overwhelming. I gave in to it, and we bucked in to each other all the harder for it.

I screamed all sorts of things as he took me. I begged him to fuck me, hurt me. I cried to God, I begged for mercy, I whined and I whimpered, and I gasped all in a blur of red passion. If this was what it felt like to be truly fucked, then I never wanted that stale thing they called sex.
This
was living;
this
was experiencing. What I did after this, between this and the next time, would be just a distraction.

He was silent. Perhaps he occasionally grunted here and there, but he didn’t talk dirty while he fucked me. I did enough of that for us both. He worked. His huge member plunged in and out at a terrifying rhythm, pumping into me, filling me with his fire until I couldn’t see straight.

His teeth gnawed at my flesh as he sent the nerves in my pussy reeling from overstimulation. Again, I began to grow numb in the extremities. He was so big; it was all so overwhelming and fast. I didn’t want to pass out, but I didn’t want him to slow, either. I struggled to keep focus, yet when the wave of orgasmic pleasure washed over me, it was all I could do to even look in one direction at a time. I wanted so badly to make him orgasm, too, yet everything began to fade around me. All I could feel was the fire blasting through my skin. It was so powerful, so overwhelming, that I slipped away.

It didn’t last for long. I came to and noticed groggily that Calvin sat at the end of the bed. His skin still gleamed from the layer of sweat he’d worked up. It made his body look even more attractive than it had before, which I hadn’t realized was even possible.

“Did I…?” I asked, barely able to move. Maybe, just maybe I might have given him at least a single bit of release.

“Did you orgasm?” he asked, smirking, “Well, you’re just regaining
consciousness
, so you tell me.”

I didn’t have the energy to explain myself. He took a deep breath and crawled up next to me.

“That makes three. I take it you enjoyed yourself,” he asked, as though there were any chance I hadn’t. I smiled weakly and kissed his face as it came near.

“What
are
you?” I whispered. He seemed to like that. His strong arms wrapped me and held me close. He was still so warm. Nothing in the world could have felt more right than being in Calvin’s arms at that moment.

“What are you going to do next?” I asked after a sweet moment of quiet.

“You’ll find out. I had to make sure you could take this first. Technically, you couldn’t. But I’ll give you a pass for effort.”

I might have said something in response to that, but if so, the recollection of it went to that part of my mind that remembers all the things I think just before I fall asleep, but never tells me. Warm in Calvin’s arms, I had no choice but to surrender to the exhaustion he had inflicted on me. I’d never slept so well in my life.

Chapter 11

Rolling over, I pulled the feather pillow over my face, trying to block the morning light too bright for however early it was. When I realized that going back to sleep was a lost cause, I stretched my arms over my head, then reached over to curl around Calvin, except… no Calvin. His side of the bed was empty, cool already, as if he’d been up for hours. I reached for my phone on the nightstand, hoping for a text, voicemail, anything. No message from Calvin, but beside my phone sat another blooming gardenia, floating in a tiny teacup.
Where is he getting these things?
I thought.
Maybe he has them delivered, one at a time.
The thought made me smile. So did the sweet, light, intoxicating scent of the flower. I inhaled deeply.

I resisted the urge to snoop through his immaculate bedroom, though more for practical reasons than moral—he could walk right in. Maybe he was working in his home office, I hoped, or swimming laps in his pool. Well, I could wander the halls looking for him, which would be almost as satisfying as snooping. Especially if he was, as I hoped, still nearby. I slipped into his collared shirt strewn across the corner armchair, buttoning it and inhaling his woodsy cologne.

Padding down the stairs, I held my breath as I tiptoed past Princess’ dog bed, praying I wouldn’t wake the bloodthirsty beast. As soon as I made it into the hall, I sprinted into Calvin’s office, quietly shutting the door behind me in case she smelled my fear. When I turned around, I saw that the office was empty. No Calvin. I pressed my ear to the door, listening for sounds of growling, but there was only silence. For a moment, I was offended that even the dog had ignored my morning presence. I didn’t like that I felt so alone in the house. My fingers were crossed, hoping to find Calvin’s long body gliding through the pool. Creeping down the long hall, I managed to make a wrong turn and ended up in the laundry room. Definitely not where I’d find Calvin.

Racks of freshly ironed collared shirts lined the walls and at least two dozen white undershirts lay folded on the washer. At least, I now knew where to bring my suitcase of wrinkled clothes, I thought, pushing back through the door into the hallway.

“Miss Clarke?” Calvin’s timid attendant chirped, coming around a corner. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” I laughed. “I’m so lost. I was trying to get to the pool. I’m trying to find Calvin. Have you seen him this morning?”

A puzzled look crossed her face. “Mr. Chambers went to the office, Ms. Clarke. Very early this morning. Six-thirty, I think.”

“Oh.” That would explain the cool sheets. I wish I could have said I wasn’t disappointed, but I was hoping he’d planned to spend the morning in bed, limbs entangled in mine.

“May I make you some breakfast?” she offered, her expression anxious. She was eager to appease me, and if she couldn’t offer a Calvin, a breakfast would have to do, I guess. I started to say no, but the rumbling in my stomach nearly echoed through the empty hallway. Apparently, sex worked up quite an appetite. “Actually, I’d love something to eat,” I said gratefully. “I’m starving.”

With a polite smile, she motioned for me to follow her into the kitchen where she proceeded to whip up the best French toast I’d ever had, refilling my coffee mug three times.

“Is there a phone I may use down here?” I asked when I was done. “I’m going to try Calvin at the office.”

“Of course,” she answered, handing me a sleek cordless. “Mr. Chambers’ office is speed dial three.”

The call went straight to voicemail, and when I redialed, it rang and rang until I finally hung up. “Thanks,” I said, handing her the phone. “I’ll try again later.”
Why had he disappeared so early this morning?

I trudged back into the bedroom, deciding to treat myself to a long steamy shower. Maybe he’d be home by the time I was done. His marble bathroom was the size of my hotel room, in a modern style, dominated by gold-swirled granite countertops. Stuck to the mirror was a small note in Calvin’s handwriting, all caps, tightly spaced. It was a rush just to see his handwriting, and I pulled the note down and read it hungrily.

Sabrina—thank you for last night. I enjoyed spending the evening with you—getting to know you both in and out of the bedroom. It wasn’t an experience I’ll soon forget.

I’ll speak with Carmichael to let him know that the terms of the agreement have been fulfilled. Stop by my office on the way to your hotel; I have something for you. —C

The note stirred a vague uneasiness in my tummy.
Calm down.
I thought.
Of course, he’d be telling Carmichael, that was part of the original deal… I wouldn’t be paid until the terms were satisfied.

I spent close to an hour in the shower until I was thoroughly wrinkled, repeating the lines of his note in my head.
I have something for you. I have something for you.
I told myself repeatedly that there wasn’t anything weird about it…

But it didn’t work.
It sounds too goddamned formal. Too cold and polite.

My leg wouldn’t stop shaking during the ride to Calvin’s office. When I arrived at Chambers Funds, the receptionist waved me through with a dismissive, “He’s ready for you.” This time, I would have almost preferred to be forced to wait in the lobby, forced to delay whatever was coming.

Tap, tap, tap.
Cracking my knuckles nervously, I knocked lightly on his office door. The moment before I saw Calvin always gave me butterflies.

“Come in,” he called, and the sound of his voice gave me a little thrill. But it didn’t soothe my worries any.

“Hey, you,” I said, walking in. “You left early this morning.”

“Busy day,” Calvin said absently. “I needed to get a head start on some e-mails.” His eyes hadn’t left his computer monitor since I’d walked in.

“Oh,” I said, the smile fading from my lips.
Why was he acting so standoffish?
Awkwardly, I sat across from him in a chair on the other side of his desk.

Putting down his pen, Calvin cleared his throat. “So, I put an offer in on the painting we saw last night. Remember
Salem’s Frenzy?
”

I leaned forward excitedly. “The one with the stake? And the ravens?”

Calvin nodded, smiling. “You liked that one, right?”

“I
told
you it was my favorite. I knew you had good taste, Mr. Chambers,” I said coyly. “Where are you planning to hang it?”

“What do you think about the bedroom?” he asked.

“I like it. I think it’ll be a great contrast to the ivory walls.” I closed my eyes, thinking of the painting, embers burning around the base of a rusted stake. Ravens cawing in a bluish sky. “It would look good anywhere, really.”
Well, this is good…
I thought, feeling better. Surely, he wouldn’t ask my opinion about this if he was…
don’t,
I told myself.
Don’t go there.

For the second time, Calvin cleared his throat. “I had a good time last night.” His words were sweet, but he sounded stiff, guarded. Not at all like the Calvin I’d seen at dinner… or in the bedroom.

“Me, too,” I said cautiously.

“I haven’t talked about either of my parents in a long time,” he said, eyes clouding over. “Thank you for listening. I think I needed that.”

“You can always talk to me,” I said. He felt so distant suddenly.
What had changed?
“I’m glad you were willing to listen to me rant about mine. It felt good talking about them without hearing someone say, ‘They just want the best for you, Sabrina.’ Someone who didn’t judge.”

He nodded a curt
you’re welcome
. “And I’ve really enjoyed having you in New York, getting to know you. That day on the boat was fun,” he said, staring out his window.

Thinking of the afternoon in the sun on his yacht brought a smile to my face. “That was fun. Really, you’ve been incredibly generous, Calvin. I can’t think of a better introduction to the city.”

“Good luck in Boston, Sabrina. I know you’re going to impress the hell out of them,” he said, his eyes finally meeting mine. I couldn’t deny it to myself anymore. He was saying good-bye.

I’d always thought
heartbreak
was just a metaphor. Mine wasn’t quite broken, but the sudden sharp pain was like a fracture. Like instead of saying good-bye, he’d caused an emotional earthquake.
Stay calm, Sabs,
I pleaded with myself.

I studied his face, not wanting to believe it. “So this is it?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice even.

“I have your check.” Calvin opened a desk drawer and pulled out a thin envelope, handing it across the table.

Numbly, I reached out, taking the check from his hand. “Tha
nks,” I mumbled. The contract was over. I tried to make sense of it, tried to accept that this is what we agreed, but I was overcome with sadness.

His face didn’t seem sad, but it did seem closed. Pensive.
Because this is what he wants? Or because it’s
not
what he wants?
I couldn’t tell. Clenching his jaw, he swallowed. “Bye, Sabrina.”

My pride wanted me to return the good-bye, turn around, and walk out those double doors, but my feet wouldn’t move. Something began to seep from the crack in my fractured heart, and in an instant, it became a flood. I couldn’t breathe. The envelope slipped from my fingers, and tears pricked my eyes. I felt panicked, as if I were drowning.

“What’s wrong?” Calvin asked.

I met his eyes frantically, searching his questioning eyes.
Be honest
, they seemed to urge,
tell me.

“I can’t leave,” I blurted. The moment the words left my lips, a deep flush settled on my cheeks. I glanced back at the floor before ordering myself to raise my eyes, see his response, forcing myself to exhale. His face was expressionless, lips slightly parted.

“What do you mean?” he asked softly. “The contract is over; the money’s yours. You have no obligation to stay here. There’s enough in that envelope for you to go wherever you want,
do
whatever you want. You can go to Boston, apply to the dance program.”

“I know,” I said, voice cracking. “But I don’t want to leave you, not like this. I want to stay in New York with you. I’ve never felt so… so
connected
to anyone. The way I feel when I’m around you… I don’t want to leave,” I repeated. A tear snaked down the side of my face, and I brushed it away impatiently. I didn’t care about the tears. I cared about him.

The unexpected rush of emotions caught me off guard. I was a bit embarrassed, but mostly, I was confused by the intensity of it. By my shaking voice. By the
words coming out of my mouth
for that matter. I wasn’t sure what was happening between us, but I couldn’t take the risk of leaving before I found out.

Calvin made his way around his desk and tilted my head up toward his, looking into my tearful eyes. When our eyes met, I could see the darkness softening. He took my face in his hands, drying my cheeks tenderly.

He wrapped me in his, and I burrowed into his strong embrace, holding on to him tightly.

“You don’t have to go,” Calvin whispered, mouth to my ear. “Of course, you can stay.”

A rush of relief washed over me, and I nodded into his neck. “Good,” I breathed. “I was afraid you wanted me to leave.”

Gently, he pulled back, arms on my shoulders, to look me in the eye. “I want you here, but I didn’t know if you’d want to stay once your contract was fulfilled. You had to be the one to voice that first, Sabrina. You understand why, right?”

I still felt shaken by the emotional rollercoaster. But his words made sense. The only gentlemanly thing to do would be to assume politely I’d leave once conditions were met. And, until a few days ago, I would have said it was the right assumption.

“I had no idea I’d feel this way,” I said. “Believe me.”

A hint of amusement flashed in his eyes before vanishing quickly. Leaning back, he perched on the edge of his desk, folding his arms over his chest. “But there’s something you should know about me, Sabrina. And it might change your mind.”

“What?” My voice sounded small.
Please, God, don’t let him be married!

“I don’t do relationships. I haven’t had a real one in years, not ever maybe, depending on your definition. I’m not cut out for them. What I said last night, I meant. I’m not interested in love; I may not even be capable of it.”

His mouth was set in a determined line, as if he’d given this speech before. “I understand,” I said slowly.
Well, I understand the words,
I thought. But the meaning behind them seemed ridiculous to me.
Obviously, Calvin can love.
I’d seen his vulnerability, his sensitivity, his passion… someone like that just couldn’t… be unable to love. “I want you to stay, but I need you to know that you can’t fall in love with me.”

“Falling in love isn’t a choice, Calvin,” I whispered.

“But giving into it is. If you think you’re in love with me, don’t say it. Pretend it isn’t real. I don’t want to know about it. The second you say it, this will be over. Can you promise me that?”