Chapter 1 – I Want Him To Want Me
I can't believe these girls. Not one of them can appreciate how good we have it here. Why would anyone want to leave this place? The Chamber is perfect. Sex is just sex. I mean, I have told them all this fact at least a million times. They need to seize this moment because we will not have these bodies forever. Not one of them thinks like me, but one day they will.
I am the only one who treated each day at The Chamber like an answered prayer, like I hit the lottery. And because I am too much of a chickenshit to tell Mason that I want to stay, I am being shipped home this morning with the rest of my weak sisters. Don't get me wrong—after a year of being in their presence, they have all grown on me. I can really call them sisters now. Still, to say we have much in common would be telling a lie. I am an island. The only person I ever met who I have anything in common with is Mason. Oh, and Ivory.
It's my own fault. There is no one else to blame but me. It's not like I have any excuses. During the past year I had nothing but time and opportunity to tell Mason that I wanted to stay, especially when he sent for me so many times during my year of welcomed captivity. In my defense, I thought we were getting serious enough that he would want to keep me. I believed that what we shared was the start of something. My pride got in the way, because I obviously got it in my head that what was developing between us also meant something to him. I wanted Mason to want me to stay—I wanted him to want me. My desire was for him to show me that he felt the time we shared together was special.
Guess what? I'm heading home.
The other reason I think I held back is the fact that he's married to Ivory. I mean, he's married to her. How can I mean anything to him when he already has a wife? My first night here he commented that I could be his next wife. But what does that mean really? Men talk, right? Especially since his cock was down my throat when he said it. Thing is, if I was only special enough to him to be an addition to his harem, then what we shared wasn't as important to him as I thought. Damn. Out of all of the men on the planet to fall in love with, I pick the most damaged—someone incapable of love.
A man like Mason lives by one code: life is about fucking.
Sure, that is my code too, but only to an extent. No one can live like that forever. Even I expect to settle down at some point.
I will never forget the night I was taken and brought here. I was visiting my relatives in Sao Paulo, Brazil. My sister Gabriella and I went as often as we could in order to reconnect with our roots. The summer in Sao Paulo is amazing. Some of the world's sexiest people gather there and it is a nonstop party.
Gabriella and I were at the world's tiniest nightclub, right on the beach. It was so small that if I counted, I'm sure no more than fifty people were squeezed inside, and that was including staff. This sexy guy asked me to dance. Of course I said yes—he was fucking fine as hell. Tall, muscular, and sweaty, with the kind of humid sheen that coats your body on a steamy beach, in a cramped club. We dirty-danced for an hour straight. He could move too. That slow grind that turns me on. When a man moves like that, you know the sex is going to be mind-blowing. I knew we were going to fuck, and I couldn't wait. When he asked me to step outside with him and take a walk on the beach, I didn't hesitate. I was going to get what I wanted.
I'm not a fan of beach sex. The idea of it is hot. The moonlight, the sand, the waves, and the beach air. But the reality is no amount of illusion is worth a week of sand in all the crevices of your body. And I mean all of them. I was hoping that he had something less romantic in mind, like the back of a pickup truck. Hell, I'd even take the backseat of a car. I'm not picky.
It was on my way with the sexy guy that everything changed. It started out innocent enough. He was holding my hand, and I was fake giggling to a joke that I only half understood, because my Portuguese is rusty. All I was thinking about was him burying his cock deep inside me. I knew he was endowed, because I could feel him against me when we were dancing, and I couldn't wait. Little did I know the seconds that followed would change a lot for me.
Some would call it the moment that life as they knew it ended, and at the time I thought the exact same thing. Suddenly, the beauty of the moonlit ocean and the multicolored lights strung along the entrance of the club no longer held the same effect of hope and promise, but were now the last images of my life. Or so I thought.
A van pulled in front of us, and just like a scene from a movie where the stupid girl follows a stranger out of the crowded club into the dark night, I was shoved inside it. The only difference is that I did this shit all the time. What can I say? I'm a slut. I guess my number was finally up. I attempted to protest, but there were three large guys inside, and I knew that I was never going to see my sister again. The sexy guy pulled out a white cloth, something straight out of a horror movie, and when I woke up I was at The Chamber.
I was bound and a heavy hood covered my head. I wanted to do nothing but fight. Fight for my life. Fight for my freedom. Until the hood was removed. Another emotion took over—fear.
