Chambers of Desire: Opus 1

by Sophie Moreau

  My hurt ebbed, shame swelling as I thought of Calvin waiting outside the police station, seeing my matted hair, my red-rimmed eyes… my hysteria, my meltdown. Yes, he was a liar, but I was a mental case. Strangely, the realization was comforting, soothing almost, as if suddenly, I didn’t have to fake it anymore—not to myself, not to Calvin. No more pretending.

  I looked around the room, gathering my bearings. Clearly, Calvin hadn’t spent the night next to me; the sheets were untouched, the other side of the bed still made, no discarded pants in the corner.

  “Calvin?” I called hesitantly, just to make sure I was alone. Sure enough, I was met with silence. I was sure he’d already gone into work, too disturbed by my scene yesterday even to attempt to deal with me. How could I blame him? And did I even want to see him? I was grateful he’d bailed me out… but grateful didn’t make up for what I knew about his lies, either.

  Flinging the comforter back, I swung my bare legs over the side of the bed, wondering where Calvin had put my clothes. Just what I needed, a walk of shame back to the hotel, wearing nothing, but some cotton panties. But just as my foot landed on the cool wood floor, the bedroom door creaked open, and Calvin appeared in the doorframe with a tray full of breakfast. As always, my heart skipped a beat at the sight of him—mussed hair, dark shading of stubble, cobalt eyes.

  Quickly, I withdrew my legs, tucking them back under the blankets, face burning with embarrassment. Last night’s fury had dissipated, and I found it difficult to look Calvin in the eye, when I was half-dressed, no less.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked softly, placing the tray in front of me on the bed before taking a seat near the foot of the bed.

  “No, thanks, I—” A loud rumbling erupted from my stomach, interrupting my refusal. Our eyes caught, and I bit down on my lip to keep from laughing. I looked longingly at the decadent breakfast. The truth was that yesterday’s tirade left me famished.

  “Eat something,” he said firmly. He wouldn’t look away, refusing to break eye contact.

  “OK,” I relented. A little should be OK, I told myself. A mouth-watering aroma drifted from a stack of blueberry pancakes, and a porcelain bowl overflowed with fresh cut fruit, juicy and succulent. His signature gardenia floated in a tiny vase, and I marveled at its simple beauty, how a tiny bloom could make me feel so moved. I popped a piece of watermelon in my mouth, its sweet nectar filling my mouth. After the first bite, I ate ravenously, filling my emptiness with the comforting breakfast. Not bingeing… I realized how hungry I was.

  Calvin watched me quietly, perched on the edge of the bed. When I finally put down my fork, he picked up the tray and moved it to the bedside table. “Better?”

  I nodded self-consciously. “I was hungrier than I thought.”

  “You wore yourself out yesterday.” He said it with concern, no judgment, but I looked away, cheeks ablaze.

  Calvin reached out, turning my face back to his. “Sabrina,” he said, sitting back down on the bed. “I need to apologize.”

  I sighed, looking into his eyes’ blue abyss. He looked wounded. He had hurt me, yes, but I had hurt him too.

  “No, I’m sorry. I guess I do believe that something that started as a favor to your business partner grew into something bigger. I should have been more mature. I can’t believe I responded that way—like a child, an out-of-control child.” I looked down at my hands. “I— I have problems.”

  “You were upset.”

  “That’s no excuse,” I said, choking up without warning. “This wasn’t the first time, only the first time I was caught.”

  “How long has it been going on?” he asked.

  “Since I was eleven or twelve, maybe. I know it’s crazy. I… can’t help it. That’s not true; I can, but sometimes… I’m overwhelmed… God, I’m sorry. OK? I’m terribly sorry. It’s embarrassing.” I hid my face in my hands.

  Calvin gently touched my knee, urging me to continue.

  “I know I told you how critical my mom was, but it never stopped. Do better; try harder. It was all I ever heard. I spent so much time trying to be perfect, forcing myself to conform to what they wanted. All I wanted was for them to look at me as they looked at my sister, but the harder I tried, the more I seemed to disappoint them.

  “I didn’t want to let them know how much it hurt when they criticized or ignored me, so I pretended the feelings didn’t exist. I shoved them deep down and slapped a smile on my face, but eventually, once in a while, they’d bubble up, and I’d lose it.”

  “What do you mean?” Calvin asked.

  “Well, at first, it was just minor shoplifting—a headband or scarf—but for some reason, it made me feel sane, in control. Ironic, I know. The first time was an accident, actually. I tried on a necklace, nothing fancy or expensive, and walked out with it on. When I realized, instead of feeling guilty, I felt proud, as if I had gotten away with something. And for someone who didn’t have many moments of feeling proud, let me tell you, it was powerful.

  “And I had a secret—something I also didn’t have many of… thanks to my mom keeping such a tight leash on me. So, from then on, whenever I felt bad about what was going on at home, I’d sneak out and pocket something. Then, I found out quickly how easy it was. So easy. And without the risk, it didn’t give me the same feeling. So I went a little bigger. A step further. And so on and so on. It’s no excuse, but I just didn’t know how to handle what I was going through, so I coped the only way I knew how.”

  I stopped, looking up at him. “Are you disgusted with me?”

  “No,” he said without hesitating. “I suspected you were dealing with some things. Du Cheval mentioned an incident at the steakhouse last week, and I put two and two together. He was worried about you.”

  I blushed. “I just… I didn’t have many outlets my parents approved. Like, anything at all was grounds for criticism. And these things were my secret way to fight back, to take control of myself away from them. And I’m a lot better… You probably don’t believe that, but it’s true. I’ve worked hard to get better. But when really big things become overwhelming, sometimes… sometimes, I don’t know what to do other than to turn back to those old habits,” I said in a rush. “And then, I hate myself,” I added softly.

  “It couldn’t have been easy growing up like that.” His voice was gentle.

  “I shouldn’t blame my parents. They didn’t force me to steal; I did that all on my own.”

  “Did your parents ever find out?”

  “My mom found my scarf collection once. She flipped out. I was too young to have the money… and they were too expensive to explain. Immediately put me into therapy; told me that I was an embarrassment. As if therapy was a punishment, you know? Instead of meant to help me. Said I needed to grow up. She didn’t understand. Didn’t even try to understand.”

  “And your dad?”

  I hated reliving it, hated remembering the look in his eyes when my mom sat him down, showed him the handful of stolen scarves.

  “He knows, but I don’t really want to talk about it,” I said. “Is that OK?”

  Calvin nodded, no more questions.

  “Du Cheval… you mentioned he disagreement with you about me. I hope you won’t hold it against him?” I asked.

  He remained silent for a second. “No. No. He’s the only man in the company to say it like it is. And I think he did the right thing by standing up to me. I’m sorry, Sabrina.”

  I lay back against the pillows, drained, but relieved he finally knew, relieved he hadn’t run as fast as he could in the opposite direction. The room was quiet for a few minutes, and I studied the branches outside the window, big red leaves blooming, tiny apples drooping, weighing down the tree’s skinny arms. I wondered what Calvin did with all the apples once they ripened. Did someone pick them, peel them, and turn them into an apple pie?

  “Sabrina,” Calvin started, pulling my eyes back to him. “I want to explain the arrangement I had with your father. I want you to understand.”

/>   I stayed quiet, ready to hear what he had to say—not necessarily ready to understand, but too tired to fight. And I owed him that much—to listen—at least.

  “I hate that you think I lied. It wasn’t intentionally; it was supposed to be a simple favor. I didn’t know anything about you, only that your father said he was concerned about you. He made it look as if I was helping him out, and he offered a good rate of return for what seemed like no work at all. But the deal was that I had to make you reconsider and decide to go home.”

  “So that’s the reason for all this testing and encouraging me to leave initially?” He nodded. “You had no intention of sleeping with me?”

  “Not at first, no. But I didn’t lie to you; I only agreed to bid on you after seeing your picture. You seemed so innocent, so fragile. Special. I wanted to protect you, wanted what your dad wanted, to make sure no scumbag ever touched you. Well, wanted what I thought your dad wanted. It’s hard to really know someone as a father when you only know him through business. His motivations seemed sincere at the time.”

  “When did it change?”

  “When I finally met you in person. I couldn’t ignore the attraction. Instantly, I knew that if you signed that contract, I was going to have trouble keeping my hands off you. When I realized you felt the same chemistry, in my mind, I’d already torn up the deal with your father. My loyalties were with you from the moment I saw your picture. When I realized you might want what I wanted, that’s all that mattered—not some deal with a colleague.”

  “So why didn’t you tell me then?” I asked. “Why let it go so far?”

  He looked pained, beautiful face darkened in grimace. “I wanted to, but you were so hurt after the night at the company party. I couldn’t risk seeing that look on your face again. That’s why I contacted your dad, so I could tell him that things had become personal between us. I did tell you that things would be honest from that point forward. I know that doesn’t make it OK, Sabrina, but… at that moment, it seemed as if you’d be less hurt if you didn’t know your father had tried to sabotage you. After all, he wasn’t going to succeed.”

  I couldn’t help smiling at the thought of my father hearing that things had become personal between Calvin and me—hear my mom shrieking about his blood pressure, his red mottled face.

  “Needless to say, it didn’t go very well,” Calvin said, suppressing his amused smile. “But the point is that I’m sorry. You trusted me; I told you that you could, and I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to find out as you did. If I could go back and change it, I would. All along… Sabrina, I’ve been charmed by you, attracted to you, but I made a mistake. I really didn’t give you enough credit. I should have just explained everything from the start.”

  I looked into his strong, chiseled face and felt a sad longing. So what if he had lied? That was before he knew me for who I was. I’d been fooling myself to think that he’d want anything to do with someone like me—a fucked-up thief.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said, saying what I was thinking aloud. “Now, you know what a mess I am. You know about the stealing, and you’ve figured out by now I have an eating disorder. There’s no reason to waste any more time with me. You could have anyone you want. Look at you.”

  “You think I want to walk away?” he asked, voice low.

  “Why would you want to stay? I’m more trouble than you bargained for. I was arrested for shoplifting. My dad’s threatening to sue you, for God’s sake!”

  Calvin laughed, a deep, genuine laugh that warmed my heart. “If you think your dad scares me, then you really don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

  “You should get out, Calvin. End this while it’s easy,” I said. I couldn’t fathom why he’d want a girl he had to bail out of prison.

  “I’m not scared of you, either,” Calvin continued. “I’m not scared of an eating disorder or how many scarves you steal. Now, you aren’t giving me enough credit. Don’t underestimate me, Sabrina. That’s both advice and a warning. I’m too far in to even think about letting you go.” He ran his hand up my arm. “You should know that by now.”

  A tiny spark of hope danced in my heart. “But—”

  “No,” he interrupted. “This is real, Sabrina. If it wasn’t, I’d have been gone a long time ago. There’s nothing that you can tell me about yourself that could change that. Understand?”

  I nodded, feeling yesterday’s pain slowly begin to evaporate. “Say you understand.” Calvin’s eyes pierced mine, and I knew he’d rather die than hurt me again.

  “I understand,” I whispered.

  “Come here,” he said. His tone was warm, but there was an undertone of steel, the power he commanded in the bedroom. Yes, sir, I thought.

  I pulled my legs from under the comforter and sat up, waiting for him to make the next move. His arms reached out, swiftly pulling me on to his lap, pressing me tightly to his strong chest. I inhaled his spicy scent and let out a long sigh, burrowing deeper into his neck.

  “I’ve missed you, baby,” he murmured, squeezing me into him. His neck was warm against my lips, smooth and supple, and I grazed my fingers through his thick hair.

  “Me, too,” I exhaled.

  “I haven’t stopped thinking about your body, how you taste,” he continued. “I need you again. It’s been too long.” With those simple words, my stomach tightened, and I became aware of his hard thighs beneath mine, the thin T-shirt I wore. My nipples puckered and poked through the light fabric, alerting him to my arousal.

  “Way too long.” My lips met his, timidly at first, then hungrily, drinking them in like an icy glass of water on a sweltering day. When our tongues touched, I groaned, instantly craving his hands on my skin, begging him not to stop. Never to stop.

  Chapter 16

  To my surprise, we didn’t return to the room with the fireplace and the rough-hewn walls. Instead, he led me through another door or, more accurately, a trap door. Hidden under a rug in his bathroom was a staircase that descended into a second basement. It was unlit by any fireplace or lightbulb. What light flooded in through the bathroom was swallowed by what seemed a massive chamber. I could only see to the bottom of the stairs, so I followed Calvin closely as he descended.

  He seemed to pay no mind to the darkness as it swallowed us, instead, walking us to the center (at least, I thought it was the center) of the room and commanding me to stay still. I obeyed, but I felt a bit of a chill run down my spine as I did. I could see the silhouettes of tables and chairs and other things I couldn’t identify, such as the giant black X-shaped device in the corner near the stairs. Bits of light glinted off metal loops and chains that hung from each of its extremities, though I had no idea what they were for.

  “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” he asked me. “It’s been an emotional few days.”

  “I need it,” I whispered. “To get away from everything. I need it, master.”

  “Sabrina,” Calvin said, “face me.” He was back with some piece of leather that looked like a very lean bag with laces threaded up one side.

  “This is an arm binder,” he explained. I didn’t have to ask what it did. He let it fall to the floor, though, and stepped over to me. He kissed me, and I felt oddly warm from it. There was a tenderness he didn’t usually convey in his touch, a gentle caress of my cheeks with his fingertips. He wasn’t forcing himself on me like his usual aggressive self. It felt nice, but in a way I was very unused to.

  “Wow…,” I whispered to myself after. He stepped back and looked me in the eyes. Half covered in shadows, he looked exactly as diabolic and sensual as he was. When he spoke again, it was again with all the tremendous power he possessed.

  “Undress.”

  I stripped for him, sliding my hands over my skin seductively as he watched. I let my fingers roll over my breasts as I pulled off my bra, and I bent over to give him a full view of myself when I was taking off my panties. He didn’t move, yet I could feel his growing arousal even with my back turned. When I was
naked, he darted toward me, sending his hands exploring over my flesh.

  Where I had let my hands glide teasingly, he grabbed, squeezed, rubbed, and massaged until I was warm all over my body and wet between my legs. He pulled on my nipples until they ached and throbbed. He slid his finger between my ass cheeks and rubbed me until I squirmed. I moaned lovingly for him when he slipped a finger inside me. He kissed up my neck to my ear, grinding it gently between his teeth and sucking until the entire side of my face felt flushed and hot.

  “Master,” I whispered; there was no doubt he’d earned that name. “Please, don’t tease me,” I begged.

  “What do you want, slave?” he whispered dangerously. It wasn’t often I spoke up for what I wanted. He was testing me, seeing if I was going to be greedy or good.

  “You, master. Please?” I answered. I felt his cock press against my ass, thick through his pants. I knew how badly he wanted to let it free, to thrust it inside me. He must have. I wanted so badly to know I was pleasing him. I felt empty without him inside me.

  He picked up the arm binder and pulled my arms behind my back. The device was like a long, stiff sock that trapped my arms together. It was uncomfortable, but not painful. I liked how helpless it made me. When he grabbed me by the crown of my head with his strong hand and forced me to my knees, I felt all the wild pleasure of submission. I was going to make him feel good. I was going to be used for his pleasure.

  My skin felt that nervous tingle one must feel before lightning strikes. Calvin loosened his pants and let his thick manhood free. I opened my mouth, and he guided my face onto the head of his cock. As soon as I touched it, I felt a thin trickle run down my leg. The power he held over me was immeasurable.

  I refused to let him guide me slowly onto him. In my little way, I rebelled against him by forcing him down my throat immediately. I knew he wanted me to. I could feel it in his skin, in the way his hands gripped my face, with that telltale restraint he had—almost like a shiver under his skin. He was a rough, sexual tyrant. Given his way, he would slam his cock down my throat repeatedly until I was red-faced and choking. He held himself back for me. I wouldn’t let his generosity go unrewarded.