I reached out and touched his cheek, horrified. “Oh my god,” I said. “He hit you?”
Calvin’s face was calm. “If I was lucky, with just his hands. But sometimes it was worse. A belt. A bat, once. Whatever was handy. Only when he was drunk… but that was almost all the time.” “Did he hurt your mother too?”
A flash of pain distorted his face. “She had it worse than I did. At least the scars he left me were physical. I know I told you she killed herself, but I didn’t tell you the circumstances.”
Squeezing his hand, I braced myself for the worst.
“One night, she came home to find me hiding in a closet, sick with pain. My arm was broken. I’d broken a window, throwing a ball around the house. My father snapped. When she finally pieced together what had happened, she lost it. She’d always given in to him before, but finding me that way did something to her. She grabbed me, got in the car, and we ran. I don’t remember it that well, I was in so much pain. Well, my father called the cops. Gave them some story about her hurting me, that she’d lost her mind, and so on. I was too terrified of him to contradict it, when they tracked us down. She ended up in a psych unit for observation before a trial; she managed to hang herself with the sheets from her bed before it was ever resolved.”
I covered my mouth, eyes wide. “God, Calvin. I don’t know what to say.” I squeezed his hand.
He closed his eyes. “I don’t usually tell people about it…”
I knew it was his way of thanking me for sharing my pain with him. “I understand. I’m glad you told me.”
My finger grazed the long scar on his knuckle. “Did your dad do this to you?”
He pulled his hand away, holding it up to examine it. “Not exactly,” he said. “Just an old battle wound.” Sighing, he buckled his seat belt. “I’ll let you get some rest. I’ll call you in the morning. I had a great time tonight, Sabrina.”
“Me, too,” I said, gathering my purse. “Thank you for everything.” I opened the door and took another long look at his handsome face.
“Good night,” he said quietly.
“Good night, Calvin,” I said, closing the door of the Mercedes. As soon as the door shut, alone on that sidewalk, I knew I didn’t want to spend the night without him. I needed to spend it with him. I wanted to share myself with him, as he had shared himself with me.
As the engine started, his car slowly lurched forward, and I bolted after it, knocking on the back window. “Wait!” I said, hoping he could hear me.
The car stopped moving, and Calvin rolled down the passenger window, face confused. I ignored the open window and yanked on the door, sitting back down next to him.
“I want to be with you tonight,” I said, searching his eyes intently, breathing heavily.
“What do you mean?” he asked, voice throaty.
I felt warmth spread through my chest. “I want you to make me yours tonight.”
Calvin exhaled slowly. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been so sure of anything.”
“You know that once your virginity is gone, the contract says you can leave; you can go back to Dallas. You’ll no longer have any obligation to me.”
“I know,” I said. I’d thought about all that, and none of it mattered.
“And if I make you mine, you can’t take it back.”
“I won’t want to take it back. And, Calvin, I don’t care about the contract. I don’t care about anything but spending the night with you.” I wanted to feel his hands all over me, his mouth on mine.
He didn’t answer me, instead, looking out the window.
“Do you not want to?” I asked, suddenly seized by the possibility that he had no interest in sleeping with me.
Quickly, he turned toward me, eyes burning into mine. He reached out, thumb moving over my lips. “I want to. I’ve wanted to since I laid eyes on you.”
“Then, take me home.” Just looking at him with his loosened tie, faint shadow of stubble coloring his jaw, made the flutter in my stomach spread, deepen, tightening the muscles of my inner thighs. I wanted to be close to him.
Calvin answered by putting the car in gear and stepping on the gas, tearing toward the highway. His hand found mine, slipping in and out of each of my fingers, slowly stroking the sensitive skin on my palm. With each gentle touch, the desire welling up in me grew. It felt like we couldn’t get to his house fast enough. With his eyes still on the road, Calvin traced his finger up my thigh, reaching the hem of my dress. He caressed the soft skin and moved his hands between my legs, forcing them apart. Within seconds, my flimsy thong was soaked. I leaned my head back, heart pounding, as his finger brushed against the thin fabric. At a small gasp from me, he moved his hand, but allowed it to keep wandering, brushing the back of his hand against my stomach and breasts. I felt my nipples harden as it continued upward, stroking the nape of my neck, my cheeks, my lips…
I opened my mouth and took his finger inside, sucking, teasing him. I glanced over to see him adjust in his seat, cock straining in his pants, and suddenly, I wanted to taste it, wanted to excite him as he excited me.
“We didn’t have dessert,” I said, half shy and have mischievous. . “Now, I want some.”
I twisted in my seat and unbuttoned the first few buttons on my shirt, letting him see my cleavage before reaching over and finding his belt buckle. His breathing grew heavy as I pulled on his belt, loosening it and toying with his zipper.
No underwear, I noticed, easily finding his hardness. It was just as overwhelming as the last time, thick, silky smooth, irresistible.. He inhaled sharply as my hand closed around it, caressing him, imagining it between my thighs.
I slackened my seat belt and bent over. The car smelled of musky cologne and sweat as my lips slid over the soft skin of his manhood. I could hear him struggle to breathe regularly above me and I saw, out of the corner of my eye, his hands tighten around the leather on the steering wheel. I let my tongue slide up his velvet shaft and part from it, leaving a loving kiss to tickle its thick head. I heard and felt him heave a sigh, and I looked up. He looked as though he’d just woken from a dream.
“I hope I’m not distracting you.” I teased, leaning in to tickle his neck with my nose. He shuddered when I planted a kiss on his collarbone. I let my hand slide between his legs. I could feel him tense each time my fingers brushed over his wet manhood, and when I wrapped my fingers gently around it, squeezing ever so slightly at first, and then more firmly as I slid them up and down, his jaw clenched, and something like a small moan escaped. I explored, touched, and teased him all the way home.
At night, the marble columned mansion was still a looming testament to the power of the man who owned it. Perhaps more so, with the discreet, but powerful spotlights illuminating it, making it visible from a distance. As soon as he shifted into park, Calvin slid his hand around the base of my neck, his fingers tangled in my hair. He had me, had me completely. He guided my lips to his. My hand on his cock quickened its pace, almost involuntarily, and he moaned into my mouth. I enjoyed the little taste of control I had over him, fully aware how briefly it would last. Without distractions, I was his again. He peeled my hand from himself and zipped before parting from my kiss and striding toward his front door. He didn’t as much as look back at me. He didn’t have to. I would follow.
“I’m going to ask you one more time,” he said, as we walked through the high-roofed rooms, “If you have any doubts, that’s fine, but speak them now. I don’t like to be toyed with either, Sabrina.”
“I don’t,” I said, catching up to him and wrapping my arms around his bicep.
“Good,” was all he said, but I could hear something… a smile… relief… in his voice.
His four-poster bed was unmade, but his room was otherwise immaculate. A dark wood dressing table with a tall rectangular mirror presided over a small army of cologne and vitamins, with small scissors and a collection of folding knives keeping the right flank. To my left was an unlit walk-in closet peeking t
hrough a pair of folding doors. It was filled with suits and button-down shirts in orderly rows. To my right was a bathroom. Before I could take any more in, I became acutely aware that Calvin was staring at me.
“Turn around,” he commanded. That tone, that two-word command, made my legs go weak. I spun, quick to obey. I felt his breath on the back of my shoulders before I felt his hands brush my hair aside and pull down my dress’s zipper. His fingers threaded under my panties and dropped them next before deftly sending my bra to the ground next to them. I held my breath.
For a long moment, nothing happened. I imagined his looking at me, staring at my ass, angling his approach. When I heard the sound of his comforter brushing against itself, I turned around in confusion. He was making his bed.
Suddenly, it hit me how unprepared for this I was. Watching his strong figure gently tuck and preen his sheets, so focused on the presentation, so heedless of my naked body, sent doubts cascading through my head. This was his domain. He was comfortable, masculine, strong here. What was I?
“Lie down,” he said in a low and commanding rumble. Now I felt like the one dreaming. His bed seemed enormous. Walking to it I felt… like what? Like a queen about to take her throne, or like a slave about to bow to the whip? Maybe both. I felt feverish, disoriented. I glanced from the bed to Calvin. . His face was intent. He seemed to analyze, memorize each of my steps. Again, he struck me as a predator in a man’s skin. I couldn’t break eye contact. I was hypnotized. I slipped forward, one step after another, cautious but helpless, like a doe advancing on a wolf. I shut my eyes as I reached the bed and lay down, feeling exposed in a way I’d never experienced before.
Only with the comfort of the covers and the firmness of the bed behind me did I chance to look at him again. He leaned in toward me, and I felt my eyes widen, adrenaline coursing through me. . We kissed again, more slowly this time. I could feel his movement, knew he was undressing, but his lips kept me too distracted to watch. Our mouths opened, our tongues danced, and by the time we parted, he was all but naked. With a strong pull, his shirt was over his head and floating to the floor.
“Roll over,” he said, and I complied. His strong hands grabbed me by the shoulders as he mounted me. I felt his bottom rest on the back of my thighs, and his warm manhood on my ass. As he leaned forward to massage my shoulders, he rubbed his thickness very slowly up and down, gratifying himself as his thumbs sank into my muscles.
“Oh, God,” I moaned. I hadn’t expected this. Nor had I expected the oil he spread over my back. I felt out of the world under his touch, aroused and relaxed, as he pushed a soft rhythm into the muscles around my spine. Every few seconds, he inched lower until his hands were firmly cupping my cheeks, his thumbs diving between them with each soft clench. My hips fidgeted as his fingers tickled lower still. I sighed into a pillow, and I heard his low, domineering chuckle.
He didn’t stop, though. Soon, his hands were working my upper thighs. Though that warmth between my cheeks disappeared, he made up for it plenty by kneading into my legs, relieving soreness I never realized I had. Down my calves he went, massaging my Achilles tendon, the ball of my foot, even each toe on its own. I suspected he might have enjoyed that almost as much as I did. When his lips slid over my big toe, though, I gasped in delight.
“What did I do right to get this?” I asked in a disbelieving whisper.
“Call me ‘master’”.
“Master?”
“No questions. Just obey.”
“What did I do right to get this, master?”
“You obeyed.” His body rose from me, and I felt fingertips crawl up my leg, sneaking lightly toward my wetness. He allowed a single finger to stroke me, a single finger that did more than most men’s entire bodies could. I shuddered, my eyes closed tight, my hips arched back begging for more.
“I might be your master, but that doesn’t mean I’m mindlessly cruel,” he said, pushing his finger inside me. I grunted and squeezed the bedsheets. “Although I am capable of cruelty,” he said huskily and slid deeper. His hand worked back and forth into me, and once I got used to the rhythm, I began to buck into it.
“Is this too much for you, my pet?” he asked, saccharine sweet. He was teasing me, I knew. I bucked harder, defiantly.
“Is this enough for you, master?” I snapped lustily. He quickened his pace, a delicious reprimand for my cheek. His free hand ran through my hair, curling his grip around my scalp and holding me down while his finger pushed into me. I could feel him spreading my wetness over the sheets, over my inner thighs, over his hand. His one finger turned to two, and I forced myself to work harder into his thrusts. What mild pain I felt disappeared the more he fingered me. Once he seemed satisfied with my progress, he pulled out from me and dried himself on the edge of his covers.
“On your back,” he said, and when I obeyed, he threw my legs over his shoulders and dropped to his knees. His strong arms curled as his hands grabbed my ass and pulled my pussy to his mouth. He bit at my thighs, sending soft pain through my skin. I threw my arms down on the bed, as though I might go hurling off the side at any moment. I knew that as soon as his tongue slid over my lips, my world would start spinning. I wasn’t disappointed.
Never had I considered going down on a woman to be masculine, fierce, or dominant. But other men didn’t kiss like him or lick like him. Every surge of pleasure from his mouth to my pussy nearly broke me. I wanted to scream, beg him to stop and go harder at the same time. Whether it was his tight grip on my ass or the way he swirled his tongue around my clit, I was entirely at his mercy.
“Please!” was all I could cry out. Please what? I had no idea. I just wanted more of him; I just wanted him to keep working whatever godless magic he was weaving over my senses. I twisted my hips, bucked, clawed at the sheets, and cried into the bedroom air. He held me firm, as the lion holds its prey. Finally, in a tremendous surge of pleasure and under his furious pace, my back arched, my toes spread and curled, and I came, shivering and shaking long after he put me down on the sheets.
“Calvin…,” I said, once I’d caught my breath.
“What am I?” he asked.
“I mean, Master…sir. Thank you.” I could see his excitement build when I addressed him this way. Bondage, I thought, remembering the contract. I’d had some hesitation when thinking about it before… but having the power to turn him on like this melted my reservations completely.
“That’s one,” he said, standing over me, his strong hand stroking his thick manhood. “You get three.”
The power in his voice, his sureness—I could have taken my second right there. Instead, I spread my legs, and he walked to the end of the bed to throw his imperious gaze between them. He threw one muscle-corded leg up on the bed and rose to kneel between my thighs. I felt the tip of his cock brush against my wet lips. He held my leg in one hand and leaned over me. Suddenly, I was clawing at his skin. A storm of pleasure and pain raged in my body. I wanted to push him off me. I wanted to swallow all of him inside me. I wanted to kiss him, hurt him—
I cried out. He ignored me. I dug my nails into his back. He thrust in. I felt sensation—whether pain or pleasure, I couldn’t decide—surging up my spine. Muscles inside me stretched and strained. Thickness filled me, strong and rigid. I squeezed, unfamiliar with the pressure, and he pushed back. When he slid out, I gasped. I shook in his arms. His lips were a thin line, his eyes narrowed, his brow angled. I cried again as he entered me, and he dropped his lips on to mine. I kissed him, passionately and desperately. His hips rolled his manhood in and out of me. Each time felt a bit better than the last, but God, he was huge.
What I could have never imagined was his warmth. His cock was as a fire lit in me I had never felt. When it reached inside, pushed against all the resistance my body could offer, and broke through, I felt an unimaginable heat rush under my skin. Tendrils of flame crawled through my veins, poisoning my mind that had been so against every part of this. Soon, I couldn’t resist. Soon, my body embraced
this.
Rapidly, I came to love every stroke of his manhood in me. Lust as I had never felt took over my limbs. I wrapped my legs around his hips, pulling us closer; my arms stopped their wild clawing and curled around his neck, holding him down so I could slide my tongue between his lips. I had an incessant need to be close to him, to be one with him more, harder. I wanted our skin to touch everywhere it could. I wanted to drown the world away and fill it with only him—his tremendous muscles, his burning skin, his intense stare.
He leaned, still deep inside me, and wrapped his arms around my back. All my muscles tightened in fear. I held him by the neck for dear life, and when I found myself sitting on his lap, his hands guiding my ass up and down, I smiled, despite myself. The new position excited me. The new angle sent that fire in a wildly different way. I bounced myself on his lap, doing my best to do most of the work. My legs burned from the workout, but it was worth it.
“You’re working hard,” Calvin whispered. I almost didn’t hear him; my world had become entirely focused on the pleasure between my legs.
“Thank you— sir,” I gasped, not stopping myself for a moment. In answer to this, his fingers again snaked through my hair and, with a sudden pull, wrenched my head back. His teeth trailed over my neck, and he pulled me down, forcing me to sit still with the fullness of his manhood deep inside me. His teeth wrapped around my skin, pinching and pulling. I whimpered and closed my eyes.
“It wasn’t a compliment,” he growled. “You don’t work unless I tell you to. Unless I decide I want you to. The one who makes the decisions owns the night. And you don’t own this, Sabrina. I do. .” He pressed his hips up, pushing the head of his cock deep enough in me to make me try to raise my hips. His hands clapped over my thighs and pulled me back down. My lips parted in a silent cry. My breath shuddered halfway down my throat. That burn again, straight up my spine.
He pulled me off him and casually tossed me on the bed behind him as he stood. “I tell you this for your own good. You are high on some sense of control. But it’s an illusion, Sabrina. You have no idea the things I have planned for you, Sabrina. You have no idea. When I’m done with you, you won’t be fooling yourself anymore. And you’ll be glad to give me every shred of control you ever imagined you had.”
Chambers of Desire: Opus 1 Page 16
