As the door swings open I am met with a pair of familiar blue eyes shrouded in glossy dark hair. A devilish smirk displayed on perfect full lips slowly evolves into a look of shock and disdain. The gorgeous face, evidently not pleased to see me, causes my heart to sink into the plush carpeting, though I plaster on a cold, dismissive guise. Animosity and friction heats the small space between us. This is not the welcome I so wistfully imagined and now I am relieved that I scrapped my trench coat plan. However, the person staring back at me with contempt is not Dorian this time.
It’s Aurora.
Chapter Sixteen
“Oh, Gabriella, right?” Aurora recovers, quickly replacing her scowl with a fake smile. “This is a surprise. We weren’t expecting anybody.”
We? “Really? Dorian invited me,” I say with a twinge of viciousness, bathing every syllable of Dorian’s name with my tongue.
“Is that right?” she remarks doubtfully. She openly analyzes my appearance with a sweep of her eyes. “Oh well, please come in,” she says holding the door open. I step in, my chin high, ready to get to the bottom of this. “Dorian is in the bedroom. He should be out shortly.” Bedroom? Oh, hell no!
Aurora and I stand silently looking at each other for several long seconds. Thankfully, before either one of us has to exchange any more false pleasantries, Dorian emerges, his expression initially surprised then contented. He’s wearing a light grey suit and no tie, the top couple buttons of his shirt undone. He looks so handsome and refined in his work attire and it causes my heat below to stir. He strolls over to me without hesitance and places a soft kiss on my forehead before turning to Aurora.
“Here, this should be good,” he says handing her the papers in his hand.
Aurora’s mouth is hanging wide open with utter disbelief. She grabs the paperwork weakly and tries to shake off her staggered expression.
“Are you sure this is all? I should go over this with you first because I’d hate for there to be a mistake and have to come back. Again.” What the hell was the point in her adding ‘Again’? Was she implying that she comes here often? I feel my blood start to boil, and not in a hot and steamy kind of way.
“That’s all, Aurora,” Dorian states dismissively.
Aurora picks up her broken ego and pulls her shoulders back with a pretentious air. She walks over to the dining table to retrieve her purse and briefcase. Little does she know that just a day ago, my wetness covered that very same table as Dorian greedily consumed me. I try to stifle a laugh at the irony causing Dorian to peer down at me with a smirk. He licks his lips instinctively. Yes, he must be thinking about it too.
As soon as the door clicks behind a humiliated and fuming Aurora, Dorian shrugs out of his jacket, exposing a crisp white shirt. He then turns to me and pulls me to him by my hips. He places a gentle kiss on my lips, one full of peace and contentment. He’s relaxed dramatically since Aurora’s exit and I chalk it up to their having an uncomfortable past that Dorian doesn’t want me to know about.
“She doesn’t care for me much, does she?” I remark, looking towards the door.
Dorian releases my hips and takes a seat on the couch, patting the seat for me to join him. He extends his arm around me, though it feels the movement is strained for him. It’s as if he’s a 13 year old boy, putting his arm around his young date at the movies. I remain still rather than snuggling against him. It’s odd; he’s been so sure of himself and confident since the day I met him.
“Aurora doesn’t like most girls that aren’t her,” he says nonchalantly with a shrug of his shoulders.
So he knows her well. How well? I suppress the urge to ask more about her. It’s not my place to question him; I’m not his girlfriend. Besides, he made it blatantly clear that he preferred my company over hers.
I give Dorian a playful smile. “So do you always bring your work home with you?”
“That all depends. I brought you home, didn’t I?” He replies with a sly smile.
I feign shock and offense. “First of all, you didn’t bring me home. I came on my own accord. And secondly, I highly doubt sex was a matter of business!”
Dorian pulls his head down towards mine, his lips brushing my earlobe. I gasp at the contact. He begins to leave soft, delicate kisses on the sensitive skin of my neck.
“Au contraire, Gabriella. That's where you're wrong. It is business. Very hard,"-kiss-"back-breaking,"-kiss-"labor intensive,"-kiss-"business.”
Before I can even form a response, Dorian hurriedly eases me down on my back, positioning himself between my legs with ease. Our mouths and tongues unite hungrily while I grab ahold of his soft hair. His hands roam my bare thighs as my knee length dress bunches at my hips, exposing my see-through ruffled panties. I can feel the growing bulge in his slacks against the ultrathin fabric. He begins a slow grind, circulating his hardness at a torturous pace. I breathe heavily against his lips, trying to conceal my mounting moans. I lift my hips to meet his stiff middle and the encouragement causes him to speed up the tempo. We are both nearly breathless when his hands move upwards to relinquish me of my panties, breaking us from our impassioned lip-lock. My pelvis is already so elevated that he is able to slide them off easily. Dorian then rapidly unfastens his slacks as I look on in awe. He unleashes his hard length, taking in my fascinated expression. He knows what he’s doing to me. He knows how much he affects me. He’s making a game of this; he wants to toy with me. And I am more than willing to let him.
I expect him to lie back down on top of me, yet Dorian easily flips me over onto my stomach. He scoots me forward, his hands guiding me to take hold of the arm of the couch. He begins to knead my backside, firmly massaging while propping it upward. I brace myself for his entry when I feel his erection lightly slapping the insides of my thighs. Dorian is feeling my wetness, stroking my heat with his long agile fingers. I hear sounds of his smacking lips and know he has sampled me. The eroticism brings on a fresh wave of dampness as I imagine him savoring my nectar. Inside, I’m begging for him to put it in to relieve me of my yearning but he prolongs it, electing to tease me instead. My whimpers grow stronger and with a hard thrust, Dorian puts me out of my misery. I cry out in sweet agony.
Dorian buries himself deep inside of me. So very deep. He pulls out inch by inch until I fear he will leave me, but then slams back into me. The pain is so amazingly pleasurable. A series of throaty groans escapes Dorian’s mouth with each thrust, harmonizing with my shrill carnal cries. His fingers dig into my ass with desperation as he plunges himself in and out of my dripping wetness in an unhurried pace. I can’t believe how good this feels. He is filling me up, stretching my walls, losing himself in my secret place. No one has gone here before, not this deep. Yet Dorian is at home inside of me, and I want him to stay forever.
Just as I feel myself climbing higher, reaching for release, Dorian grabs the base of my neck, pulling me up fiercely. The sweet, tender Dorian is gone and the animal inside him takes the reins. He is still pumping furiously inside me when his mouth finds my shoulder, his hand still tightly gripping my throat. Oh God. His sudden change is frightening me and the physical strain is bringing a new element of pain. Yet his aggression arouses me even more, my moans becoming louder, harsh vulgarities spilling from my lips.
Dorian’s hand moves from my neck just so he can take a handful of my long tresses. He pulls down on my hair hard forcing my head backwards and leaving my entire throat open and exposed. Shit. He could slit my neck right now and I would die in sweet ecstasy. He keeps his grasp on my hair, using it to level himself as he continues to punish me viciously. His other hand frees my ass and finds its way to my neck. He holds on tightly and I feel his lips on my ear.
“IS. THIS. WHAT. YOU. WANT?!” he grunts through clenched teeth. When I don’t answer he pulls my hair harder, pushing himself even deeper. I didn’t think it was possible.
“YES!” I scream.
He lets his hand leave my throat and rewards me by finding his way up my dress and to my breast
s. He begins to fondle my erect nipples through the thin mesh fabric.
“IS. THIS. WHAT. YOU. WANT?!” His voice is so severe, almost menacing. There’s a dark element to it. I do not dare to hesitate this time.
“YES!”
Again he rewards me, this time by moving south to my clit, stirring its swell. He releases my hair from its captivity and moves back to my throat, this time gripping it tightly. The sensation is… pleasurable, and it scares me.
My senses are on overdrive. The room is spinning and I feel dizzy from my rapid breathing. My neck is strained so rigidly, I can barely make a sound. The intense tingle from my hypersensitive clit, the throbbing penetration that Dorian delivers, his firm hold on my neck- it is too much for me to endure. I can’t hold on any longer. The feeling is drowning me, taking me under. I have to climb higher. I have to escape this delicious misery and find release.
Dorian’s breathing is rougher; he is searching for freedom of this torment as well, though he is the vicious tormenter. I feel him swell inside of me as he slows his pace and tightens his grip around my neck. I try to cry out but only a hoarse garbled stream of praise escapes. His growth is my defeat and I violently release a flood of intense passion, shuddering wildly. He loosens his grip and wraps his arms tightly around me, steadying himself in anticipation of his undoing. I am nearly limp in his arms when he finds his own sweet surrender, drawing me into him and gently leaving a trail of kisses on my neck and shoulders.
Chapter Seventeen
“How do you feel?” Dorian asks me after several minutes of listening to the sounds of our own ragged breaths. We’ve collapsed on the couch and he’s still positioned behind me.
I think about my answer for a beat then smile. “Ruined.” I can feel Dorian’s lips spread slightly at my ear. “And hot!” I still have on my sweaterdress and boots and the fabric is beginning to itch against my dampened skin. Dorian reaches down and pulls my dress up over my head, and I instantly feel cooler. He strokes my scanty bra.
“Mmmm, nice,” he murmurs at the romantic detailing. He kisses where my bra strap meets my shoulder then slides it to the side, leaving another kiss on the indention left behind on my skin. It’s sweet, tender. A total 180 from the Dorian that just choked me while pounding me hard from behind. He really is an enigma.
“Tell me something about yourself,” I say after a long minute passes. I really know very little about him and if we’re going to make this a regular thing, I should probably confirm that he isn’t an ax murderer.
“What do you want to know?” Dorian replies, playing with a tendril of my hair.
I take a deep breath. Ok, here goes. “About your family. What are they like?”
Dorian instantly goes rigid and releases my lock of hair coiled around his finger. I hear him take in a sharp breath and know that I’ve hit a sore spot. “What about them?” he says flatly.
I’m torn. On one hand, I want to press for information now that I know the subject affects him so much. On the other, I want to forget I ever asked him about his family and laugh it off in an attempt to keep this light and casual. I go with my gut. And my heart.
“Are you close with them?” I ask timidly. I stow my brazen nature for his sake and pray that my reticence puts him at ease.
Dorian takes a thoughtful moment to ponder his response. “I used to be,” Dorian mutters.
I hear a hint of emotion in his voice. He abruptly clears his throat as if reading my thoughts. “My parents had high hopes for me. I was bright and strong-willed,” he laughs stiffly. “But I was stubborn. I rebelled and chose not to follow the path they had chosen for me. Didn't want to enter the family business, so to speak. Being the eldest son, that was a huge scandal.” He recalls the memory as if it were decades ago, the nostalgia in his voice resonating through his words. This recollection is real.
“So I take it they’re very old fashioned. What was the family business?” I am genuinely interested.
“Politics.” Dorian says amusingly. I’m intrigued as to why that would be humorous. Must be a family inside joke.
“So you rebelled, and they what? Disowned you?”
“More or less. I was sent away for some years, cut off from everyone and everything I knew,” Dorian replies. “Hence the career change. We take tradition very seriously. In order for me to reclaim my place as their son, I have to become what they want me to be.” His voice is filled with pain, though I know he is trying to make light of the conversation.
A piece of me hurts for Dorian. No child, no matter what path they may have chosen, should be abandoned by the people who should love them the most. When two people come together and make the conscious decision to create a life, they have an obligation to protect and love that child until death. Like Alexander and Natalia did for me. Tradition or not, there is nothing that Dorian could have done to be undeserving of the love and support of his parents. In an attempt to soothe his forlorn thoughts, I turn around to face him, letting his light blue eyes meld into mine. I just want to be his comfort in this moment. I just want to take away his pain. I only wish I knew how to.
I let my hand stroke Dorian’s cheek. It’s smooth with the prickly threat of stubble, leaving tiny tickles on my fingertips. Dorian closes his eyes and nuzzles his face into the touch as if it is his source of sustenance. He inhales the scent of my skin and lets out a serene sigh. He automatically unwinds and looks back up at me with grateful eyes. It’s odd, how I can bring him peace with such a modest gesture. I don’t question it though. I know he needs this; he needs this contact.
“If you could, would you have done things differently?” I ask, unable to come up with anything better. I just want to keep him talking.
Dorian’s mouth twists as if he is thinking. The gesture is adorable and makes him seem youthful and playful. “Yes. No. I can’t say.” He then looks at me, all humor gone from his eyes. “If I did things differently, you would not be here now.”
“Why do you say that?” I whisper. Something about the coldness in his tone stops me up short.
Dorian closes his eyes and shakes his head lightly. When he reopens them, his eyes are no longer icy and grim. “I wouldn’t have come here. We would not have met,” he states simply with a shrug of his shoulders. The man is seriously complex. In the span of this short conversation, he has probably had 10 different mood swings. It’s hard to keep up.
“You never know. It’s a small world,” I say optimistically. I have to believe that everything happens for a reason. If Dorian and I were meant to be here, to share this moment, our paths would have crossed sooner or later.
“Not as small as you think,” he mutters. “Enough. I need you to put your dress back on,” Dorian says sitting up. He reaches for his pants and begins to slide them on.
The fuck? Is he really kicking me out like some cheap hooker? My face heats with rising fury. I sit up straight and snatch my sweaterdress from off of the floor and put it over my head in a huff, visibly annoyed. When I look back up, Dorian is smirking at me as if he is on the verge of laughing.
“What?” I snap coldly, standing up to face him.
“Just wondering what got into you. Besides me of course,” he chuckles though I don’t return his amusement. “Seriously, you have something against dinner?”
Shit. Me and my quick temper. I smooth my dress over my hips, taking extra time to avoid eye contact and try to appear impassive. Here I was, thinking Dorian was dismissing me after sex, and all he wanted to do was take me to dinner. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
“For what?” Dorian asks quizzically, a ghost of a smile on his lips. He knows why I am apologizing yet he wants to hear me say it. He wants me to admit my weakness.
“I thought…,” I begin timidly. I clear my cracking voice and pull my shoulders back, looking Dorian straight in the eye. “I thought you wanted me to leave. I was just having a girl moment,” I say shaking my head, as if to reject the notion.
“Well you a
re a girl, correct?” Dorian looks amused at my guffaw and my carnal instinct is telling me to smack that smug look right off his beautiful face. I opt to tease him instead.
“Oh, that and so much more,” I say seductively, with hooded eyes, channeling my inner sex kitten. Dorian instinctively licks his lips. I expect him to push me back down on the couch but instead he grabs my hand, leading me out of his suite and to the elevator.
The sounds of live music lure us to the Tavern and we are instantly greeted by a friendly hostess. She greets Dorian by his first name casually, even asking him a few questions about the opening of the salon as she leads us to our cozy, intimate table. Hmmmm. So Dorian has been friendly with her. How friendly, is the question. I quickly dismiss the thought, reminding myself that I, in fact, am not his girlfriend and have no right to ask him. Once we’re seated, the hostess, who Dorian calls Tiffany, hands us our menus and leaves us with a warm smile.
“How very informal of you...seems like you're pretty casual with the staff here,” I smirk. Dorian raises a curious eyebrow at me and I realize that my comment has come out much more snarky than I intended. He looks a bit offended. I perk up into a smile and decide to change my tactics. “So you must eat here often. Is the food as good as the music?” A band is playing the smooth sounds of a jazz piece, emitting a sultry, sexy vibe.
“Eating in the suite gets old, so when I do get a chance to enjoy a meal, I like to come here. Much more informal than some of the other restaurants.”
Dark Light (The Dark Light Series) Page 17