Chambers of Desire: Opus 1 (16 page)

He extended his hand, and I put mine in its palm. The contrast between my petite fingers and his powerful fist as it curled around them was stark, but he was gentle as he leaned his face in to brush my hand over his cheek in a slow caress. His skin felt warm. He inhaled, and I realized he was smelling me. Self-consciousness welled in my chest, but I refused to pull away. Instead, I watched him, and that anxious energy turned smoothly into arousal. I felt like prey sized up by a sleek predator and, disturbing as the image was, I found myself excited by it.

“I like hands…,” he said.

I was puzzled and then the light clicked on.

“Oh… like you like feet?” I asked.
Maybe Du Cheval had more than just helping out my overall look when he chose those shoes.
I wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or offended if he’d been putting my feet on display for Calvin’s fetish.

He nodded. “And everything in between,” he continued with a smile.
“But hands and feet are very… exciting.”

Okay, Sabs, if you like this guy, say something.

“How does that… work?” I said.  I pressed on, “I mean, most men… er, people, are more excited by… you know…” I stopped, not sure of what words to use for genitalia. Brandon and I had never talked about anything like this. I hadn’t thought of myself as a prude, not really, but I didn’t have much practice discussing these things in conversation. Thankfully, Calvin got the drift and saved me from digging a deeper hole.

He smiled. “I’m glad you asked, that you’re curious,” he said. “I think about them when I’m aroused; I think of touching, of being touched. I like the feeling of them on my skin, trailing over me.” The way his voice rumbled, the way he had my fingertips sliding over his cheek—well, I started to get the picture. “And your hands and your feet are exquisite.. Your skin is so soft. Just pressing it to my face like this, I…”

My lips pursed. I wanted to tell him to go ahead; he could have me touch his face all he wanted. He could have my hands, my feet, whatever part of me he liked as long as he’d
have
me. We were alone, and we were both so charged with that irrepressible energy you get right before something amazing is about to happen. I could feel desire coming off him in waves, and he’d have to have been blind not to notice that every muscle in my body was on the highest alert. I tried to meet his eyes, but he was elsewhere—if only he looked at me, if only he pulled me closer.

He took a deep breath and let my hand go. “That’s enough of that for now,” he said, with a mischevious look. 
Oh, god. Do I say okay, that’s enough? Should I press for more? I want to keep touching him….

“The more I look at your legs, at your toes, holding your hand and all that… well, it makes it difficult to control myself. I don’t want to overwhelm you,” he said. I almost laughed aloud from the absurdity of it.
You overwhelm me just by breathing,
I thought, but kept myself from blurting out.  “How about we change the subject a bit? I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

In the end, I decided
not
to keep my mouth shut. “I don’t think we should change the subject, Calvin,” I said, and his brow rose. “And while we’re
on
the subject of things you like, how about we talk about the contract?” I said, and the plane began to roll backward off the tarmac.

“The contract? What about it?” he asked.

“Well, maybe we could talk about…” I wanted to find a way to say it without sounding like a complete ditz and decided on, “Well, about what some of these things even are.” Which, really, didn’t come out as mature and informed as it had sounded in my head. He took it in stride, though, and I pointed at one of the lines.

“Like ‘foot worship.’ I’m agnostic, so I’m pretty open to the possibilities, but ‘foot’ definitely isn’t one.”

“Worship might be an extreme term,” he said with that easy smile, “but it catches the gist of it pretty well. It’s what I was getting at earlier. I want to touch your feet, to kiss them, to suck on your toes. Some men love to have a woman rub her feet against, well…” He trailed off.

That’s weird,
I thought. But then I realized… I didn’t care. Sure, it was unusual… but, god, I just wanted to turn him on. If my feet touching his cock made him crazy… Hey, I could learn. 

“
Some
men. Some men like you?”

“I suppose you’ll find out once you’ve signed that piece of paper. I’d think most of the rest is self-explanatory. I am in charge when we have sex. Oh, and just as I love feet, I love feet in shoes. I’m the only guy you’ll ever find who loves shopping for your shoes more than you do. ”

“I wouldn’t put money on that, Calvin. Either way, there’s one more thing on here,” I noted. His smile faded.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t get into that. It’s not something many people find arousing,” he said. “As I’ve made clear, nothing will happen without your consent, and that might be a little too extreme for you.”

“Please?” The paper had the words “erotic asphyxiation” written at the bottom of the list. Most terms seemed technical, as though they were from some sex dictionary I’d never heard of, but at least they sounded remotely sexual.  I knew what the word erotic meant, and I knew what the word asphyxiation meant… but I wanted to know what it meant to
Calvin.

“Well,” Calvin said, clearly choosing his words carefully, “it’s a method of pleasure where one… cuts off their blood flow to the brain at the time of orgasm.”

“What?!” I squeaked. I wasn’t disgusted, nor was I offended; I was shocked.  I mean, like choking or playing rough, obviously I had heard of those things, but actually
strangling…
cutting off blood flow, not just… pretending.  “Like till you pass out?!” My eyes must have been dinner plate sized. 

“Not quite… but almost,” he said. . He had a smile on his face, like he was holding in a chuckle.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—would you want to do that with me? Or, uh, have me do it to you?”  The image of me trying to choke Calvin as he was about to come flashed through my head and seemed inexplicably funny. My nerves were getting to me. I coughed, rather than laugh.

“Let’s just take things one step at a time,” he said with a smile. “Not if you say no to it, of course.”

“What else do you like to do?”

“A few other things, nothing as sensational as asphyxiation, I promise. What about you, Sabrina? What are your fantasies?” he asked. The plane began to rise off the ground, and we scrambled to strap our seat belts on. I used the time to think, because while I was comfortable fantasizing, I hadn’t really ever fantasized about anything… atypical, I guess.  “I’m not very imaginative. My tastes are pretty standard. But I liked some of your ideas,” I said and slowly, deliberately, crossed my legs. I let my foot, in its black satin stiletto, dance in front of him. I let my toes sway left and right and watched with delight as his eyes followed.

“Naughty girl,” he said softly. “Are you trying to tempt me?”

“I don’t know
what
you’re talking about, Calvin.” I could see him starting to lean forward, “
Ah-ah-ah
!” I chided. “No standing until the green light,” I said, pointing to the ceiling and the red seat-belt sign on it. The conflicted look on his face was gorgeous—part furious, part horny, but all excited.

“You don’t want to do this,” he warned. “I won’t— I can’t— you
really
don’t want to do this.”

I only smiled. For the next few minutes, we sat—he breathing slow, heavy breaths and I letting my foot sway back and forth. I knew when the green light was coming; I felt the turbulence fade, and the plane stabilize. Even still, I couldn’t have possibly responded faster than Calvin did as soon as the light switched.

Just like that, we were kissing. My knee was against my chest, and his hands were removing my stiletto. I moaned in shock, but I let my arms fall over his shoulders, nonetheless. I could feel all the pent-up power behind his lips, the way he quivered as though he had half a mind to throw me to the ground and take me right there.

I can’t say I would have minded. His fingers stroked up and down my calf, under the sole of my foot, and up between my toes. It tickled, and I shifted uncomfortably under him, but in truth, it was so much more erotic than I could have ever imagined. Having a man’s tongue dominating the inside of my mouth while his hands explored every curve of my toes made me giddy. I
felt
worshipped. Just as soon as I got comfortable, he pulled away.

“No,” he said. “No.  This is not the time, Sabrina. You’re not ready…” I held on to him, tried to pull him closer again.

“Calvin…” I said. 

“You have a lot of things to work out… Brandon… your feelings about your family…”

“Brandon!” I spat.  For some reason hearing his name, now, here, was all wrong. “Don’t you bring him up. Who are you, my father?! You wanted me for you, didn’t you? Brandon is probably fucking someone else right now anyway! He’s a slut. He has no self control.”

Calvin sat back and wiped his face with one hand.

“And how will you feel, Sabrina, losing
your
self control with me?” he asked seriously.  “Don’t get me wrong… I
want
that. But you have a lot going on emotionally.  I don’t want you demonizing yourself over this. I want this to be exciting,” he said as he took my hand, “delicious,” he continued, kissing my fingertips, “and unforgettable. But I do not want to be the focus for some sort of… meltdown.”

I chewed my lip.

“Well… I’ll feel like a slut, too, I guess….” I said. I paused. “But…” I smiled, slowly. “I kind of like the idea of being a slut, for once… for
you.
It’s the first thing I’m doing for me.”

He stared at me for a long, slow moment. Then, it was as though I’d hit a switch. His arms curled around my legs, and he stood, setting me back on the couch. He began to kiss his way up my legs, nibbling on the
on my calves. His hot breath caressed my skin, and his lips and tongue danced all over my feet. He licked my soles, sending me into fits of laughter; he sucked on each of my toes in turn, and I felt wet warmth grow between my legs with each twist of his tongue. I began to wonder whether there was really anything to this foot worship, or whether Calvin just had some sort of sex magic that made his every touch orgasmic.

He kissed his way up the top of my foot, rubbed his face on it, sliding his nose between my toes and, occasionally, pausing to nip at my tenderest spots. My toes weren’t the only thing soaked. I wondered if he’d caught a glimpse up my skirt and seen my panties…

“I’m going to tell you what to do now,” he whispered. “And I know you’re insecure about sex so we’re going to take it slow. But, remember, Sabrina, there’s nothing wrong with this, what we’re doing is completely natural, and it is what we both want. Understand?” I nodded, unable to speak.

“Stand,” he ordered. I didn’t even think to disobey.

His hands slipped under my dress straps and flicked them over my shoulders. Underneath, I wore the laciest, sexiest underwear I could find, and he seemed to appreciate it. His hands snaked under my armpits and curled over my breasts, peeling the bra away to expose my nipples to the black, starry sky. My hands reached behind me and grabbed at the fabric of his suit as he kneaded and caressed me. I felt something hard against my ass, and I rubbed against it. The hands pinched, and I gasped.

“Bend over,
” he said, the breath of his voice hot in my ear.

His hand slipped between my legs before I could put my palms down on the couch. I twitched at his touch. Far away, I heard the sound of my moaning, consumed as I was by the rough rubbing of his fingers against my panties. He knew exactly where to touch, as always, and I found myself standing on my toes within moments, moving my hips to help him rub harder and faster.

I wanted him to slide those fingers inside me, to feel how wet I was for him, to part my lips and violate me with his hand. My arms began to shake as he began to pick up speed. I felt my muscles tense, and I began to whimper. Just as I felt the first wave of a nearing orgasm, his hand vanished.
I took a shuddering breath and nearly collapsed.

His hand clasped the back of my neck as a man might grab a dog, and he maneuvered me down with him as he sat, resting my ass on the thick bulge of his straining cock. I knew what he wanted without his asking and spread my fingers over the lapels of his jacket. His hungry look subsided as I began to grind against his trapped manhood. I couldn’t hide how amazing it felt, nor did I want to. I let my face reflect my desire… I was starving for him.   I stared into his eyes, and he back in mine, as I gave him his lap dance. I kissed his neck, breathing against his skin, drowning in him.

“Unbutton my shirt,” he ordered, and I fumbled with his buttons as my hips continued to rock.  God, he was gorgeous.  Watching the muscles in his chest ripple under his skin, I couldn’t keep my hands off of him.  Sliding my fingertips down his broad shoulders, over his peaked nipples, down to his narrow waist made me shiver with delight.  I dipped my head to kiss his chest and lick his nipples, and to my delight, I even elicited a little gasp of pleasure from him as my teeth trailed over one. I pulled his arms up and removed his coat and shirt, leaving his godlike body exposed to the cabin. I wanted to put my hands all over him, and he didn’t stop me when I tried. My fingers spread and trailed over his skin. He was so warm, and every bit of him was sculpted, beautiful.. Hard muscles, golden skin… he was a fantasy.