Dorian is sitting at a small table when I arrive, looking every bit as strikingly gorgeous and sexy as I remember. He looks up at me with hunger in his eyes and I nearly freeze where I stand. Thankfully, he’s dressed in jeans and a thin, form-fitting charcoal sweater so I don’t feel underdressed. The sweater hugs his physique in a way that should be outlawed; it should be a crime to look that damn good.
“Gabriella. I’ve missed you,” he breathes when I approach. His eyes scan the length of my body, flashing with approval with a hint of desire. I start to sit but he rises before I can. He extends his hand and I slowly take it, confused as to why we’re here. “Come,” he says, leading me out the glass doors.
“So I’m assuming we’re not here for juice,” I snicker. Ok, maybe I am a little hurt that he didn’t want to come to my house, but I know that it’s premature for such a step. I’m just having an irrational ‘girl' moment.
“No, we don’t need any juice. I have everything we need,” he states casually, choosing to ignore my snide tongue. He opens the passenger car door for me and I climb in as gracefully as I can.
“So where are we going?” I smile, showing him that I’m in good spirits, despite our greeting.
He pulls the Mercedes out of the parking lot and into the flow of traffic. "You'll see."
I instantly recognize Memorial Park as we approach and a wide smile spreads across my face. It’s one of my favorite places to hang out in the summer, and this sunny day has brought out a crowd of families, pets, and skateboarders, though there’s still a chill in the air.
“I thought we could have a picnic,” Dorian says. He opens his car door, and goes to the back to retrieve something from the trunk. Before I can collect my purse and sweater, he’s already at my door, holding it open so I may step out. Such a gentleman. He’s holding a large wicker basket and a blanket. I feel like I’m in a corny chick flick but my heart swells at the sentiment.
We walk down to a secluded grassy area, away from the prying eyes of teenagers and senior citizens. Dorian spreads the blanket out on the grass in one swift flail. After we sit, he begins to remove a feast from the basket. He’s thought of everything! Piles of delicate Italian meats, cheeses, a warm sliced baguette, fresh strawberries and grapes, stuffed olives, and wine. Everything looks mouthwatering and I’m thankful once again that Dorian has thought of food. He must know the way to my heart.
I distribute a bit of each delicacy onto small paper plates while Dorian pours the wine. It feels…nice. Normal. Like what real couples do. I smile at the romantic prospect, as ridiculous as it may seem.
“What?” Dorian asks, handing me my disposable glass.
I smile and shake my head. “It’s nothing, really.”
Dorian gives me a knowing look, challenging me to speak my mind. I never back down from a challenge. “I was just thinking how nice this is. Like something you’d see in a movie. It feels good.” I know the blush on my cheeks could rival the red, juicy strawberry I bite into.
“Yes, it does feel good,” he says thoughtfully. It sounds more like a question though. “You’ve never come here for a picnic before?”
“No, not quite like this,” I respond then break into a tirade of chuckles. “Honestly, most guys I’ve dated would consider a soggy hot dog from the cart and a warm Coke a picnic!”
Dorian laughs along with me. He gives me a long scan of his eyes and I squirm under his sensual gaze. “Your hair. You changed it.”
“Just straightened it. Why, you don’t like it?”
“It’s nice. But I like the other way too. Any way you wear it is beautiful, Gabriella. You’re beautiful.” I blush my gratitude and return my attention to my drink, taking a hearty sip.
We enjoy the sounds of nature and distant children’s laughter with our lunch. It’s all delicious and we nearly finish it all between flirty chatter. When we have had our fill, we lay side by side on the blanket, soaking in the sun’s warm rays.
“Dorian, how did you know I was out last Saturday?” I had almost forgotten to ask him being how I’m so easily distracted in his presence. It seems like all thoughts not pertaining to my carnal urges for him escape me whenever we’re together.
“I wasn’t sure. But it was St. Patrick’s Day, and you are a college student. I remember when I was a wild college kid.”
“Well, that wasn’t that long ago.” You’d think he was 60 years old, the way he’s recalling the memory. “Where did you go to college anyway?”
“Overseas.” He offers no more information and I figure it’s because he knows I wouldn’t know where it is anyway. Oddly, I am pacified by his vagueness. Where did my usual skepticism go?
Dorian rolls over onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow, gazing down at me with lust dripping from his angelic blue eyes. I turn my head towards him, revealing the fiery desire I also emanate. This is it. What I’ve been waiting for this entire week. As if reading my wicked thoughts, he bends down to place a soft kiss on my wanting lips. It’s enough to flood my body with a barrage of tingles, and when he pulls his face away from mine, I can’t hide my disappointment. I want more. So much more.
“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” I utter, between gasps. I’ve lost all sense of censorship and modesty. I just want him and I couldn’t care less how it makes me look.
“Then tell me,” he breathes. His breath is cool and sweet, and I want to taste it once again.
“I’d rather show you.”
And with that, I grab a soft handful of his black, silky locks, and pull his lips down to mine. God, my body needs this. The feel of his mouth breathes life back into me after such an emotional few days. I invite his nimble tongue into my mouth and savor the wine and strawberries all over again. It tastes even better mixed with his luscious flavor. I let my hands explore his soft hair, the back of his neck, the solid ripples of his shoulders. But before I can let my hands wander south, Dorian rolls his body on top of mine, totally imprisoning my frame with his. My excitement rises as I feel his hardening length against my thigh, and I gasp. The darkened look on his face tells me that he’s taking back control, and I gladly relinquish it.
Dorian exhales noisily into the base of my neck. “Mmmm. You have no idea what I want to do to you.” His soft lips brush a trail from my collarbone to my chin. “And I’ve got you out here all alone. Undisturbed. To do with you as I please,” he whispers into my throat.
I’m on fire. With the length of his rock hard body pressed against mine, I know he can feel the intensely rapid pace of my heart. His hip is inserted between my legs, my own thigh pinned beneath the impressive makings of his erection. Impulsively, I flex my hips upward to welcome him into my heat.
“Then do it,” I breathe, panting desperately. The dramatic rise and fall of my chest makes my erect nipples that much more noticeable through the thin fabric of my shirt and I’m thankful when Dorian takes notice. He smiles wickedly and licks his delicious lips, and my body begs to feel the dampness of his tongue on my flesh.
“Oh, I fully intend to. But not here. Not now.”
He places a gentle kiss on my right nipple then slowly nuzzles his nose against it, causing it to ache under the restriction of my bra and top. He then moves to my left breast and repeats his delightful torment. An involuntary moan escapes my lips and his hand finds my mouth, as if he’s encouraging me to succumb to my carnal responses. He caresses each lip with the soft tips of his fingers. I want them in my mouth. I want him in my mouth.
“I want to take my time with you. Torture you slowly. I’m going to savor every second of your undoing,” he coos, kissing and sucking his way back up to my mouth.
Oh. My. God! How do I even begin to respond to that? I mutter a mixture of moans and unintelligible babble before Dorian swallows them in a deep, fervent kiss. His soft tongue mingles with mine in a slow, deliberate dance, his lips locking onto mine, fitting so perfectly like two missing pieces of a puzzle. I surrender to his sensual assault and my arms fall back into t
he grass, unable to grab hold of anything, especially my willpower. I feel him all over me. His hand is knotted in my hair, cradling my head and guiding me to his rhythm. His other cups the backside of my thigh, just right where it meets the base of my ass. He palms its softness and squeezes, kneading it as he lifts me higher into the hard thickness imprisoned in his jeans. His entire body envelopes and consumes me, yet I yearn to be closer still. I’m slowly dying, and only he can put me out of my misery.
Dorian sucks then nibbles my bottom lip just before breaking the kiss all too soon to my dissatisfaction. He reads the disappointment on my face, and appears seemingly amused at my eagerness. “Soon,” he promises before lifting himself off of me and standing. He is unruffled and back to his meticulous, controlled self. I, on the other hand, must look every bit as hot and bothered on the outside as I am on the inside. He extends his hand to help me up and I am on my feet in one swift, effortless movement. I smooth my rumpled clothing while Dorian picks a leaf out of my hair. Somehow we had shimmied right off of the blanket.
I want to ask him when he plans to ease my sexual frustration being that he is the source of my body’s unease, but he extends his hand to me, indicating that he wants me to place mine in his. I do so, and relish the tender gesture, something I’ve always shied away from, especially in public. He smiles sweetly and it’s hard to believe that this is the same man who spoke of slowly torturing me with his sex just minutes ago. The same man who I all but begged to fuck me deaf, dumb and blind in a public park in the middle of the day. And now we’re walking, holding hands, smiling like lunatics, engaging in trivial chitchat, like normal couples do. And I like it, because I like Dorian. Really, really like him. But would Dorian return those feelings if he knew who and what I am? Could anyone? Will I ever be able to have a normal relationship? Lead a normal life?
The corruption of my thoughts stops me up short and Dorian turns to read my troubled gaze. “What?” he asks puzzled.
I shake the inner ramblings from my head and resume strolling, plastering a fake grin on my face to save our lighthearted exchange. “Oh, nothing. Just wondering what you’re going to do about the basket and blanket,” I lie.
Dorian knows I’m withholding my true feelings. His baby blues scan my own eyes, searching for the truth. He frowns for a fraction of a second and gives my hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
Before I can dwell on his charming gesture, a startling discovery grabs my attention. A light blue, cloudlike haze surrounds Dorian’s entire frame. It’s ethereal, angelic.
“Holy shit! Ok, the sky must be ridiculously blue or I’m seeing things! What the-” The rushed words are out of my mouth before I can even stop myself and from the wide-eyed, shocked expression on Dorian’s face, I know I sound like a total nut-job. Dammit, my eyes are playing tricks on me again!
Dorian quickly drops my hand, no doubt recoiling from my odd outburst, and then the blue puff abruptly dissipates. He gazes at me with a perplexed yet sexy eyebrow and I silently curse myself, Natalia, Alexander, and all things unexplainable and paranormal.
“Wow, I think the air is really thin today. And then the wine...I’m probably just a little dizzy,” I explain, solemnly, hanging my head in embarrassment. Why the hell did I have to ruin this moment?
Dorian lifts my chin to meet his eyes with a single finger, causing me to forget my momentary misstep and I lose myself in his hypnotizing stare. It instantly warms me from the inside out and I’m at ease. All is forgotten and forgiven in his deep pools of gleaming azure. He grabs my hand again, intertwining our fingers like old lovers, and we set back off on our walk. But I can tell he’s a bit more rigid, more guarded, because of my strange conduct and I painfully receive my answer.
No. I absolutely cannot have a normal relationship.
“I have to get you home,” Dorian mumbles as we stroll back towards the blanket. I want to ask him why but I am too embarrassed to question him. Though my body often gives me away, I am careful not to seem too eager. I give him a quizzical look. He continues, “I have an engagement this evening. Hence the reason we are not back at my hotel room right now.” He gives me a wicked wink.
Dorian knows I want him badly and I know I should be more modest about it but what’s the use? We are both adults and I honestly can’t say if I’ll make it from one day to the next. Live in the moment, I think to myself. And even if I wanted to resist my innate attraction to him, could I? Whenever he is near, whenever he touches me, all apprehension and doubt simply melts away. It’s like Dorian is purposely keeping me out of my own head, making it so I can’t question my body’s craving for him. But why? And most importantly, how?
“I want you to hear this,” Dorian says as we ride back towards Woodmen Commons where my car is parked. He presses an unseen button and a drum beat interludes the sounds of electric guitar and a soft, mellow male voice. The music gradually grows, becoming hauntingly beautiful, enchanting even. I listen to the words; listen to the man’s melodic struggle. Empathy washes over me. It’s a tortured plea of honesty, lust, pain and deceit.
“Who is this?” I ask turning to face Dorian.
“The Foreign Exchange. The song is called ‘Authenticity.’ Do you like it?” He turns his head to gauge my reaction.
“I do. Very much.”
There’s a message in the evocative melody- something that Dorian is trying to convey to me. He’s on the cusp of disclosure, still teetering between admission and obscurity. Though I feel his mystery contributes to the allure, I can’t help but wonder what it is Dorian is hiding from me. And do I truly have a right to press him further? Everything is still so new, yet even if it weren’t, I would never, ever tell him who I really am. What I really am. I could never fit the mold of a vibrant, carefree young woman. I could never truly give him all of me. And for that simple fact, I cannot demand all of him, no matter what my heart aches for.
Chapter Ten
“So an engagement, huh? Business, pleasure, or both?” I jibe, though the honest part of me is genuinely curious. We sit in his car in the Jamba Juice parking lot, neither of us ready to say goodbye just yet.
“Oh, definitely business. The only pleasure I’m interested in is yours,” he smirks. I blush instantly though I’m a bit skeptical. It’s Friday evening; what kind of business would he need to tend to? Dinner with a client? He did say he was looking to change careers.
“Well, sorry to disappoint you but I have plans as well.” There. Let him try that on for size.
Dorian responds with a raised eyebrow and a sexy smirk. “Oh, do you? Business, pleasure, or both?”
“Ummm, pleasure. Definitely pleasure,” I quip.
Dorian moves in to quickly close the space between us. His eyes are dancing with fury and passion. He looks pissed. Really pissed. I begin to recoil when he grabs the back of my head feverishly, harshly gripping my tresses and plants his lips on mine with such intensity it frightens me. My first instinct is to fight him and I forcefully shove my fisted palms against his hard chest. But as he pries open my mouth with his tongue and it begins to massage mine, sucking me hard into his mouth, I relax and accept his brutal tongue lashing. I’ve been naughty and I want to be punished. Just as I begin to reciprocate and my hands find his face, he pulls back hastily, leaving me breathless and wanting more. So. Much. More.
“Well, I do hope you’ll think of me when you are engaged in your pleasure.” He flashes a devilish grin. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me! Cocky ass.
I try to escape the car with what’s left of my dignity and bid him goodnight. Dorian waits until I’m safely in my vehicle before speeding off hastily. The temperature has dropped dramatically so I shrug into my worn leather jacket and flip on the heat. My body heat mixed with my labored breathing causes the windows to obscure with fog, and I hit the defrost button. But before it has the chance to clear the condensation, I notice that someone has taken their finger and written something on my windshield. Surly, just some punk kids playing around; it probably
says ‘Wash me,’ which would be an appropriate request. But at a second glance, I realize that this is no juvenile prank and the message is meant specifically for me.
Align with the Dark or Die
Oh. My. God. I look frantically around me. This can’t be happening. Someone is out there watching me! They know who I am! I shakily lock my doors and check behind my seat. All clear. Though the Defrost has begun to work and the words are dissipating, I hurriedly wipe it with my sleeve to erase it from my sight.
It wipes away clean.
Fear knots my stomach and I feel as if the wind has been knocked right out of me. If someone had marked this on the outside of my car, it would not have simply disappeared. This was written on the inside of my windshield. Someone was in my car. The Dark was here, waiting for me. I can’t breathe; I can’t move. My head is shouting for me to go, get the hell out of there, but it’s as if I’ve been placed in cement. Snap out of it, Gabs! This is not the time to break! the voice inside me screams, shaking me from my trance. I’ve got to get home, where I’m safe from whatever evil awaits me tonight. With a renewed tenacity, I put the car in Drive and race home to safety.
“Morgan, I don’t know if I can make it tonight,” I say over the phone, once in the shelter of my bedroom.
“Oh hell no, you are not backing out now! This could really be my big break! I need you, Gabs!” she whispers into the receiver. She is still at work.
“But…I…uh,” I stammer. Crap, I should’ve come up with a story before I called. My nerves are still too shot.
“Seriously, you can’t back out. I’ll owe you big, I promise,” she pleads.
I sigh heavily. “Ok, I’ll go,” I reply exasperated. There’s no other way to get around it. It’s not like I can tell her the truth.
“Great!” she squeals. “Remember, dress to impress!” And again, she hangs up.
I still have a couple hours to burn before I have to get ready so I pull out Natalia’s journal and flip towards the end, realizing I only have a few more pages to read. I’m just not motivated enough to deal with whatever new tidbits about my enchanted life she has yet to share. I place it back on my nightstand.
Dark Light (The Dark Light Series) Page 11