Chambers of Desire: Opus 1 (22 page)

“Wait a minute…” I said. “Pretend? Keep something like that bottled up?” My brow furrowed. I didn’t like this. It tasted like the sort of manipulating I hated. Even if it was my keeping the secret, my lying by omission. I chewed my lip. “I can understand how you feel about it… or at least, that you
do
feel that way about
yourself
falling in love. But I can’t change the fact that
I
can fall in love and lying about it seems … wrong.”

“I understand,” he said. “You don’t have to. But, if you stay, that’s my only condition.”

I exhaled slowly.
It’s just words,
I told myself.
I can
show
him. He just doesn’t want to hear the words. Surely, that’s not the same as lying. It’s a quirk. It’ll be fine.
It didn’t erase my doubts, though.”

“All I can do is try,” I said. “But I accept in advance that… you don’t want to hear that, that it’s a deal-breaker.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, and my heart skipped a beat. I loved how that sounded,
his girl
.

He pulled me back toward him, slowly lowering his lips to mine. Instead of ending the kiss after a moment, he opened his mouth, gently moving his tongue inside. I felt arousal work its way through me, like a warm wave, tightening my thighs, pushing me closer, guiding my hands to explore his back. He tangled his fingers in my hair, taking gentle control, taking my breath away.

We kissed and kissed.
This is what lips were made for,
I thought.
For sending these delicious shivers through two people when they touch.
Finally, we came up for air, but Calvin wasn’t done yet.

“On your knees,” he whispered, after parting our lips. I dropped without hesitation. Down his hard chest I went, past the rippling muscles of his abdomen and down between his legs to that thick outline marked in his pants. I let my fingertips brush underneath teasingly before undoing the button. I pulled the zipper down with my teeth, eager to please him, and kissed his manhood as it strained to curl out of his boxer briefs. I looked up at his eyes. Voracious.

His sharp intake of breath, when I slid him into my mouth, sent a shockwave through me, and I moaned in response.
This time, he will come for me,
I thought to myself. I knew he enjoyed my touch—he demanded it often enough—but he hadn’t come for me. Did it seem like giving up too much control? Maybe. But this time felt different. He had fucked me until I was a puddle of numb skin on the bedsheets, but he paced himself just well enough to never orgasm, in me or
anywhere
.

But this time… I knew he would give in. He was pent up. Whether from stress or libido, I didn’t care. I wanted him. I wanted him to let go. His manhood flew down my throat, helped by his little, involuntary thrusts. I focused. Remembered the things he seemed to love. Listened to his breathing, felt for his muscles tensing and relaxing. I slid my tongue up his shaft just the way he liked, kneaded his balls in my hand, and moaned delicious vibrations into his cock.

Suddenly, I felt it leap. I felt him try to back off, but I gently resisted. His handsome backside hit the desk, and I pressed forward still more, sliding him deeper and harder down than I ever had. My stomach jolted, and I ignored it.
Just be calm and breathe, Sabs.
Above me, he hissed again, but this time it wasn’t in pleasure—more like an irritated, but smug, sound. All the little signs of pleasure were gone, except for his cock staying hard. I looked up at him, defeated again, but the look on his face shocked me. He wore a vicious smile of… pride? It was the first smile of his that I didn’t find attractive. If anything it seemed… mean. Spiteful.

“Up,” he commanded with a hard edge to the word that didn’t come from desire. I obeyed and found myself quickly bent over the huge, mahogany desk. Papers spilled over the sides, knickknacks and paperweights toppled to the hardwood floor, and his hand threaded through my hair.

He didn’t need to tease me to make me wet, but he did anyway. His hands worked that magic over my skin, that half-caressing, half-massaging way he had of touching me as though my body were a computer he knew exactly how to program. I was moaning long before his fingers ripped my clothes off, so when he slid his thick cock inside me, all I had to do was turn up the volume. I think he liked me loud, though he hadn’t said anything about it. As much as I pleased him, I knew pleasing me was the source of his pride. I loved to let him know what I thought of his work.

“Trying to seduce me in my own office,” he whispered, lowering his chest to my back. I felt engulfed, overpowered, as he wrapped his arms around me. But with his manhood sliding slowly in and out of me, I was too turned on to mind. I embraced the feeling. “Very bad. You’ll have to be punished.”

“I’m sorry, master.” I moaned.

“You will be.” It was a master’s answer—curt, bold, and commanding. I rolled my hips back into him, more aroused than I could vocalize.

He pounded into me like a piece of meat. Punishment had never felt so good. He made submitting such a raw pleasure. His body was the body of a man who deserved respect and obedience. Everything about him radiated perfection. He could hit places inside me I had no idea existed. Each thrust completed me; each withdrawal only made me long for the next thrust.

When he finally let go of my hair, it was only to pin my arms behind my back and pound me harder. I grunted mindlessly into the wood as he took his fill of me, pushing harder and harder against him as he fucked me faster and faster. Heat built between my legs so quickly, too quickly, and I felt my spine arching before I knew it.

“That’s it,” he urged. “Give in. We both know how badly you want to.”

I tried to resist, but he was right. He could feel my orgasm coming almost as quickly as I could. He punished me all the harder for knowing how close I was. My joints twitched as he sunk his manhood in, hard and deep, and held it there. I clenched around him, feeling all his warmth. All it took was a single extra push by him and the fire, so tenuously contained, exploded through my body. I writhed on his desk, grasping at something to hold—moaning, shaking, surging with passion.

As I recovered, he pulled out.

“Stop!” I whispered, exhausted. I turned around to look at him.

“What?”

“You didn’t. You have to…” I started, pausing to catch my breath. My eyes stared directly between his legs at his slick, hard manhood. He pulled his clothing back on and shook his head.

“Come sit,” he ordered, falling casually back on the couch across the room. I wanted to be stubborn. I stepped into my panties and pulled them up. They were soaked; I was soaked. It barely made sense to bother with them at all. How could I argue with a man who had just done
this
to me?

“Yes, sir,” I said and snuggled into his warm embrace to watch the sun set over the city.

Chapter 12

“Before I tell you,” Calvin continued. “I want you to meet my aunt.”

I propped myself back up onto my elbow to study the serious expression on his face. “Your aunt? What does she have to do with all this?”

“Nothing. Everything.” Calvin ran his finger up my arm thoughtfully. “After my mother died, it became clear that my father was the abuser and he was thrown in jail. My aunt stepped in before I could become a ward of the state.”

“How long did you live with her?”

“Until I went away to college,” he said. “She was like a mother to me. I owe everything to her, I’d probably be on the streets if it wasn’t for her.”

“And you’re still close to her?” I asked.

“Yeah, very. We talk twice, three times a week. She lives
alone so I check in on her regularly.” I pictured an aging old woman, wrinkly and grey-haired, crocheted blanket covering her frail legs, eyes lighting up when Calvin called.

“So sweet.” I said
. “I’d love to meet her. When were you thinking we go?”

Calvin sat up, looking at his watch. “What about this afternoon?”

“Today?” I said. “Okay. Should I be nervous?” I couldn’t believe that Calvin was ready to introduce me to his aunt, to the only family he had. But I was definitely going to be nervous, no matter his response. 
Just be yourself, Sabrina,
I said.
That’s the best you can do. 

He laughed, “Relax! No, there’s nothing to be worried about. She’s in Long Island, only forty-five minutes out of the city, so it’ll be a quick trip. I’ll give her a call on our way up, let her know we’re coming.”

“Um,” I said, “We can go by the hotel first, right? I don’t think that—“ I pointed at the rumpled dinner ensemble decorating the floor of his office “—will work. And I’d like to shower also,” I finished, not including the fact that I needed a change of panties.

“You look great in that skirt,” Calvin said. “And out of that skirt.” He winked and I blushed, swatting him away. “But if you want, we can swing by your hotel, pick up a few things. How does that sound?”

“Like a plan,” I said. “So what’s your aunt’s name?”

“Donna,” he answered, stepping into his pants. “Donna
Wharton.”

*

I ran into the hotel, quickly depositing my outfit into a pile on the floor. I wanted to look nice, but didn’t want to overdress, giving away my need to impress. A five minute shower and a fresh pair of panties later, I traded my black skirt for a longer, looser blush-colored skirt, and paired it with a thin cashmere sweater and simple ballet flats. With my hair gathered into a low ponytail, a light blush on my cheeks, I decided I was ready to meet the mystery aunt. Ready as I’d ever be, anyway.

“She’s happy to have us,” Calvin said as I got back into the car. “I called Donna and she said to come by any time this afternoon.”

“Great,” I said, smiling timidly. I knew it was important for her to like me. Despite Calvin’s reassurances, I was a nervous wreck.

Calvin wrapped his fingers in my ponytail, tugging lightly. “Hey,” he said, sensing my worry. “She’s going to think you’re amazing.”

I took a deep breath. “Okay, then. Let’s do it!”

The drive into Long Island flew by and within thirty minutes, the bustling city and tall skyscrapers faded into the background, replaced by two story houses with decks and lawn gnomes. We maneuvered our way through tree-lined streets and into a small neighborhood that was modest and well-kept. The houses were average-sized, nothing like the mansions that lined the road to Calvin’s estate, and a few clusters of kids pedaled furiously on their bikes down the side of the road.

We parked in front of a single story home with a one-car garage, blue shutters and a garden of tulips. A mailbox leaned crookedly at the start of the walkway, its small red arrow pointed skyward.
Wharton
was painted on the side in stylish block letters. I could tell the house had been freshly painted and the grass was frequently watered. I tried to imagine Calvin as a small kid playing in the front yard, but couldn’t.

“Home sweet home,” Calvin said, a small smile on his lips.

We strolled up the walkway and before we could climb the stairs, the screen door swung open and a small ball of fur hurdled toward us, yapping loudly, tail wagging.

“Bitsy!” Donna chastised, appearing on the porch. Her voice was low, deep for a woman, but melodious and warm. “Get back in here this instant.”

Calvin had already picked up the Pomeranian, letting her cover his face in sloppy kisses. “Hey, little maniac,” he said with a smile.

“You spoil her, Cal,” Donna said, shaking her head in defeat, hands on her hips.

“I’ve missed her,” Calvin said, climbing the stairs to kiss Donna on the cheek. “And you.”

I stood back slightly, smiling at the familial exchange. “And who is this?” Donna asked, smiling broadly at me.

She wasn’t at all what I was expecting. If I hadn’t known better, I would have assumed she was his mother. They shared the same shock of dark black hair, so black it was almost blue. Donna kept her hair short, in a styled bob against her jaw line. She was younger than I expected, probably in her early fifties, rather than seventies like I’d been expecting and there wasn’t anything frail about her. She was a handsome woman, skin like ivory, wrinkle free and smooth, making her eyes appear even bluer. But where Calvin’s eyes were a deep midnight, Donna’s were a bright rushing river. When she smiled, they lit up, changing colors almost, the way a river does when tumbling over a cluster of rocks.

Calvin stepped back down the stairs, taking my hand in his. “Aunt Donna, this is Sabrina Clarke. Sabrina, this is my aunt. And Bitsy, her beloved guard dog.”

“Bitsy’s more like a mental patient,” she said smiling. “But it’s a pleasure, Sabrina. Come in, please.” Donna took my hand and shook it firmly, guiding me into the house.

“Thank you for having us,” I said, offering her a warm smile.

“I’m always thrilled when Calvin decides to stop by and especially thrilled when he brings a guest. Please, sit down.”

I took a seat on the beige sofa, leaning against a brightly colored throw pillow. She’d decorated beautifully, with bright colors and interesting photographs on the wall. An antique birdcage hung from the ceiling, bursting with pink, purple and white petunias and a baby grand piano sat in the corner, a music book open on the ledge as if someone had paused in the middle of a song.

Donna sat next to me and filled a glass from a pitcher of lemonade. “Scone?” she said, holding up a plate.

“Thanks,” I said, moving a pastry to my plate as Calvin took a seat in the armchair across from me.

“Calvin’s never brought a woman here,” Donna said, squeezing my arm. “He’s so private. I was beginning to wonder about his sexuality. I’m glad to see he’s at least dating
someone
.”

I raised an eyebrow at Calvin. She laughed, and Calvin looked uncomfortable. I was starting to like Donna. I got the feeling she and I would be the only women Calvin would let talk about him like this. I was also happy to know I wasn’t one of many girlfriends Calvin had brought here.  “So you’ve really never brought a girl here?
” I asked him.

He smiled innocently, shrugging his shoulders. “I told you, I’m not much of a relationship guy.”

“I stopped trying to set him up a long time ago,” Donna said, rolling her eyes fondly. “Calvin is something of a late bloomer, so I figured it would just happen sooner or later. And now it has.”

Calvin was blushing now. It was fun to see such a different side of him.

I suppressed a smile. “The lemonade’s delicious, Donna.”

“I’m glad you like it. So tell me, how long have you two known each other?” Donna asked, voice full of genuine curiosity.

I cleared my throat awkwardly, looking to Calvin. He settled against the back of the chair, eyes amused, indicating that I was on my own with this one.

“Honestly?” I said. “Not very long, maybe a few weeks. But it feels like forever.” I knew my cheeks were pink, giving away my discomfort.

She smiled, and I saw that there was something mischievous about her. I began to understand the relationship between aunt and son a little better--they were very alike, in some ways. “I understand completely. He’s a bit exhausting, isn’t he?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “And where did you meet?”

Even though I’d been wishing she wouldn’t ask, I was relieved that she didn’t already know, hadn’t seen the tabloids publicly announcing my virginity auction.

Calvin remained quiet, enjoying watching me squirm. I’d had a giggle at his expense, so I was getting no help from that quarter. “Well, umm. I – we, ahh, we were introduced during a business transaction and it became, well, personal.”

Donna accepted that with a wink and a knowing glance, not pressing any further. Instead, she changed the subject, choosing to ask where I grew up, what I liked to do, what my family was like. She was a delightful conversation partner. She kept surprising me with her sharp insight and humor.

“What are you studying at SMU?” she asked, when I told her I was nearing the end of my second year.

“Dance. I’ve been a dancer since I was little. I’d cry every time my mom
came to pick me up from class.”

“That’s how Calvin was in high school about economics. Can you imagine? I’d have to bribe him to take a break from studying to join me for dinner. As soon as the dishes were washed, he’d disappear back into his room. His light would still be on when I woke up in the middle of the night to let Bitsy out.”

“Who says I was studying?” Calvin said. His eyes sparkled. “Maybe I was smoking pot and looking at Playboy.”

Donna laughed. “Don’t think I didn’t go snooping. But who are you kidding?“ She laughed. “It—almost—would have been a relief, but I couldn’t have paid you to look twice at a girl.”

“I told Calvin my parents would have killed for me to have spent that much time studying,” I said smiling. “I bet you were really proud.”

Donna looked at Calvin. The mischievousness in her smile was replaced with tenderness now. “I was. I am.” She turned toward me and rested her hand on my arm. “I was just glad he found something he loved. If dance was what you loved – what you
love
– then I think that’s all a parent can hope for.”

I was touched by her kindness and somehow knew that despite what had happened in his past, in this house, Calvin was loved and adored.

A loud ringing caught all of our attention. Calvin pulled his phone from his front pocket. “Sorry,” he apologized, looking at the screen. “But I have to take this. Half-hour at most, I promise.” 

“Calvin Chambers
,” he answered, shooting a contrite look our way before disappearing into the back room.

“He’s so busy,” Donna commented. “I worry he works too hard. But now we get to talk behind his back,” she said clinking her lemonade glass to mine.

“Sounds good to me,” I said. “And I get to hear the
really
embarrassing stories about Calvin as a teenager.”

“Yes,” she laughed. “I’ll give you the inside scoop. How about we go for a walk?” Donna asked, scooping Bitsy into her arms. “If this little brat doesn’t get out soon, she’ll be bouncing off the walls.” Bitsy yipped in agreement, wriggling her way back to the floor, bounding toward the front door.

“Sure,” I said. “A walk sounds really nice.”

Donna clipped the frenzied Bitsy into a leash and slipped into a down jacket. “Need a coat, Sabrina? It gets a little chilly here late in the afternoon.”

“Actually, yeah, thank you,” I said, taking the warm flannel coat she held out for me. “That would be great.” The large coat swallowed me, its soft lining rubbing against my skin. It smelled homey, like chamomile and lavender.

“What brought you to New York?” she asked as we set off on our walk. “The business transaction you mentioned earlier?”

“Yes and no,” I answered. “The short answer is yes, the long answer is I was running away. Toward what, I’m not really sure.”

“What do you mean?” Donna said gently.

I breathed in the brisk afternoon air, turning my face toward the sun. “Everything? I don’t know, Donna. Before, I was...I was engaged. A few weeks before the wedding, I found out my fiancé had cheated on me.” I set my jaw in a tight line. “And then all of a sudden, I wasn’t engaged anymore!” I laughed uncomfortably. The wounds were still fresh enough to sting when I talked about it.

“Easy!” Donna scolded Bitsy, who was pulling crazily on the leash. “Sabrina, I’m sorry. On the bright side, it sounds like you dodged a bullet with that one.”

Looking up, I met Donna’s sympathetic eyes. “You’re right. I did. The worst part, though, was that my parents expected me to go through with the wedding. Can you believe that? You’ll get over it, they said.”

“No!” Donna looked horrified. “They wanted you to marry that cheating bastard?” I smiled inwardly. Donna wasn’t one to mince words, it seemed.

“Yep. They said if I didn’t, they’d empty my college fund.” The anger bubbled up again, thinking about it. “Although, that’s our relationship in a nutshell. They tell me what to do or else.”