“Yes. To an extent.”
I suck my teeth and roll my eyes. “And that’s all she said? She didn’t mention someone being in my room later that night?” Something tells me Aurora at least knows about it, if not orchestrated it.
Dorian’s head unnaturally snaps around to face me, his eyes igniting with molten blue flames. He sneers menacingly, the dim light glinting off his teeth. “What?”
I gulp, instantly regretting telling him about it. But me and thinking things through have never really gone hand in hand. “I mean, I saw someone in the shadows and then they just disappeared. I wasn’t hurt.”
“And where was she?” he demands.
“Oh, um, she was…busy. With Jared.”
Dorian grounds his teeth and a low hiss escapes. Crap. Hope Aurora is a fast runner. Or the Dark have an excellent health insurance plan.
Dorian takes the wine glass from my trembling hand and places it on the coffee table before cupping my face in his grasp. “I apologize for that. Please forgive me. Aurora will be dealt with.”
I perk up into a reassuring smile before leaning forward to press my lips against his. There’s so much more I need to know and I need to restore Dorian’s casual disposition to sift those answers from him. In return, Dorian eases into a half-smile, his eyes returning to their glittering hue.
“There’s something I need to show you,” I say, pulling his hands from my face. I spy my purse crumpled a few feet away and go to grab it. After a few seconds of rummaging, I place the photo in his hands, awaiting his reaction.
Dorian strokes the picture with his thumb, his initially surprised expression growing warm and nostalgic. “Where did you get this?” he asks without looking up.
“I can’t be sure. I found it in my room. My mother, Natalia, she left a journal for me. You know, I never knew who I was or where I came from. On my birthday, my parents- um, I mean, Chris and Donna- gave it to me. Twenty years of complete and utter confusion, and then all of a sudden, I’m bombarded with all this shit,” I say with a wave of my hand.
Dorian looks up at me with a furrowed brow. “So all this time, you really didn’t know what I was? I think I made it pretty obvious.”
I take a deep breath and shrug my shoulders. “Part of me always knew. A big part, actually. I just didn’t want to believe that the first guy I was really, really into wasn’t a guy at all,” I chuckle nervously. “Then there’s the whole crazed-killer-out-for-my-blood thing. I figured that if you really were Dark, I’d be dead.”
“Right,” he responds dryly.
“What do you mean, you made it obvious? Isn’t that against the rules or something?” I ask, my eyes narrowed with question.
Dorian nods, setting the photo down on the coffee table before grabbing his own glass of wine for a hearty sip. “I thought if you knew- if I showed you what I was- it’d make it easier. I was constantly trying to motivate myself to do it. To kill you. I thought if you knew, I’d have no choice but to follow through.”
“Oh yeah? And how’s that working out for you?”
“Not so great,” he laughs, leaning back beside me. His laughter is infectious and I join him. Given our impending doom, there’s not much else we can do.
“So what do we do now? Where do we go from here?” I ask once our chuckles have ceased.
“I try like hell to keep you alive, being the fragile little thing that you are for now. And then once you turn 21, the choice is yours.”
Twenty-one. I was simply looking forward to buying booze and getting into nightclubs without flashing my fake ID. Now knowing that my ascension will save my life, and potentially Dorian’s, it all has new meaning. I just need to make it to twenty one.
I look to the Greek god sitting next to me, making the conscious decision to do whatever it takes to save both our lives.
“So I take it you’re not twenty five.”
Dorian shakes his head. “Our physical forms stop aging when our power reaches its full potential. Using ages us but we can replenish in…various ways. My body stopped changing after 25 years.” His mouth twists with mischief, making him look young and ridiculously adorable.
He turns to me, his eyes flickering with nostalgia. “Gabriella, I have lived for two and a half centuries.”
What the…? “Holy shit! You’re 250 years old?!”
Dorian gives me a wink of his beautiful eye in response. “Surprised?”
“Um, hell yeah! Ok, that’s pretty much disgusting, Chester the Molester. I’ve been screwing an ancient artifact!”
Before I can even break into a giggle, I am pinned flat against the far end of the couch, unable to move or even comprehend how I got here. My arms are pinioned above my head and Dorian is hovering over me, his lips fixed into a menacing sneer.
“Make no mistake, little girl,” he mutters just inches from my face. “I am anything but ancient. And you haven’t seen screwing. Not yet.”
“Is that a threat?” I pant, my heaving chest making my hardened nipples that much more noticeable.
“I don’t do threats. That’s another thing that’s not my style.” Dorian licks his lips and I have to fight the urge to lift my mouth to his and suck his tongue into my mouth.
I squirm under his sinful gaze. “A promise?”
Answering my question, Dorian lowers his mouth to mine yet doesn’t touch me. His cool breath kisses my skin, leaving icy tingles in its wake.
“Is that what you want?” he asks. I nod, completely mesmerized by his closeness and the feel of his body against mine. Dorian then grazes my jaw with a single finger, teasing me like only he can. “I want you to say it. Tell me you want me. Tell me you want me to make you feel good. Tell me you want me to fill you, live deep inside you. Tell me, little girl.”
“I want you, Dorian,” I nearly sob, taken aback by his intensity. Not to mention my overwhelming need for him in every way imaginable. “So fucking bad it hurts.”
I swear I hear a growl erupt from his chest as Dorian meets my lips with his. My mouth opens reflexively, eager to take him in, tasting the depth of his hunger for me. It mirrors my own and I moan at the feeling of his tongue exploring the soft wetness of mine. With one hand grasping the junction of my thigh and backside and the other cradling the back of my neck, Dorian devours each muffled whimper and whine. His passion is alarming and I find myself pulling at his soft, tousled hair and the collar of his shirt, wanting more and more.
Everything about this kiss screams desperation and desire. The thought that I could have lost Dorian, that he could have actually turned out to be some revolting monster that didn’t give a damn about me, truly terrified me. Not the Dark or my unknown stalker or even death itself. Losing Dorian is what I feared above anything else. And as we lay here, tongues and limbs wholly intertwined, we still can’t get enough. Even if we survive this, an eternity of loving Dorian would never be enough for me.
Dorian pulls away, touching his forehead to mine. Both of our breaths are ragged and anxious to meet again. “I want you to understand something, little girl,” he breathes. “What I am about to do to you will be unlike anything you have ever experienced. I want to totally consume you in a way that I was unable to before.”
“What are you talking about?” I gasp. Shit, why are we even talking at all?
“Trust me, ok. Just don’t be afraid of me.”
I gently push against Dorian’s chest so I can assess his fiery blue gaze. “Dorian, I could never be afraid of you. Ever. Of course I trust you.”
Dorian makes a pained groan as if the notion of love and acceptance physically hurts him. Then his mouth finds mine as he lifts me up effortlessly. I wrap my legs tightly around his waist, indulging in the strong softness of his skilled tongue. I don’t realize that we are even moving until he lays me on the bed seconds later. Dorian abandons me to stand at the foot of the bed, eyeing my violet satin-clad body writhing with expectation.
“You are so beautiful, Gabriella. I want to love you from the inside out. W
ill you let me?” he murmurs in his velvety soft voice.
I nod, panting feverishly. God, I’m on fire.
“Undress,” he whispers.
I feel like I am on display, completely exposed for Dorian’s viewing pleasure as I slip the thin spaghetti straps from my shoulders one by one. He’s watching me intently, the top row of his teeth pressed into his bottom lip, the pink of his tongue barely visible. His narrowed eyes take in the sight of my bare flesh as I sit up to let the gown fall to my waist, revealing full, aching breasts. Dorian gasps in response, letting his tongue slide out between his teeth. I take his reaction as a compliment and lift my ass up to slide the flimsy garment down further, kicking it off the bed with my foot. I’m completely naked, vulnerable, and his. All his.
“Mmmm,” Dorian moans. “I need to feel you on my tongue.”
Holy shit! Did he just say that?
Dorian laboriously unfastens his white shirt, locking his eyes on mine. I can feel myself getting wetter and hotter with every button. He’s making a game of this; he knows what he does to me. He can feel it. By the time he lets it slide off his shoulders, my fingers have already found my soaking wet sex. I didn’t even realize I had let my hand slip down between my legs.
Dorian smirks devilishly, noting my confused expression. “Don’t be shy on my account. Pleasure yourself.”
“I’d rather you do that,” I reply coyly.
Another growl escapes. “Gladly.”
Dorian kneels at the foot of the bed, grabbing me by my hips and swiftly pulling me to the very edge. He spreads my thighs and places them on his shoulders, drinking in the sight of my glistening flesh. Soft, wet kisses decorate my inner thighs, driving me mad with expectation. He runs his teeth along the inside of one thigh then bites down right before reaching my swollen clit, causing me to yelp in surprise. The yelp develops into a moan as I savor the tingles that follow along the path of Dorian’s touch. He repeats the ritual on the other leg and this time I groan in ecstasy. Every kiss, every bite leaves a new depth of sensation. Pain evolves into a pulsation; pleasure erupts into prickles. And as quickly as they began, they spread, alighting every nerve with a singeing heat that causes me to cry out, my back arching off the bed.
“Just feel, Gabriella. Just feel what I can do to you with just a kiss.”
Dorian laves my throbbing folds with his tongue and I completely lose it. Just one touch with his mouth and I crumble into a mewling mess of whimpers and pants. It’s as if I’ve never been touched before, like my body is raw and utterly open to him. I’m barely able to control my erratic breaths when Dorian covers me with his mouth, sucking and licking me until I am practically choking on my own sobs.
“Oh God!” I cry. “Dorian, please!” My body shudders again, my thighs twitching uncontrollably on his shoulders.
“What, little girl?” he says against my swollen clit, sending vibrations to the already hypersensitive flesh.
“I…I…can’t,” I stammer.
“You can’t what?” Dorian juts his tongue inside me, lapping up my warm nectar. “Mmmmm.”
“Ugh!” I nearly scream, unable to come up with anything intelligible. It feels so good but too good. Unnatural. Yet, our insane chemistry just comes naturally.
Dorian buries his face between my legs and consumes me enthusiastically, expressing his satisfaction with my flavor with a stream of deep groans. It’s like he can’t get enough, and I continually feed him with wave after wave of fresh, silken honey.
“Stop! Please! I can’t take anymore!” I beg hoarsely. Tears stream down the sides of my face, my skin flush and burning. “It’s too much. It’s too fucking much.”
Dorian finally pulls away, leaving twin bites on the inside of each thigh before standing. He licks his glistening lips, unwilling to let a drop go to waste. His eyes flicker as he observes my trembling frame amusingly.
“I’m not done with you yet, Gabriella. I still want you.” He takes a step forward and rests a knee on the bed, right between my legs. “Don’t be afraid.”
Dorian holds up his palm and it is suddenly enraptured with a bright blue haze. But before I can even wrap my head around it or question it, he pushes it forward a bit. And somehow, in a way that I can’t even begin to explain, my entire body moves to the middle of the bed involuntarily like I am a naked, quivering marionette and he is my puppet-master.
I scream with shock and confusion. “What the hell, Dorian? What are you doing me? Your hand…” I can’t even begin to rationalize what I’m seeing, what I’m experiencing.
“Don’t be afraid,” Dorian repeats, taking a few steps back. “Trust me. I won’t hurt you.” He spreads his fingers apart, and again my body complies, splaying my limbs out flat against the satin comforter. “Look at me.”
His hand makes a beckoning gesture and my head elevates from the bed, slightly bending forward so I am forced to meet his eyes. I can’t move, my body completely manipulated by the simple movements of Dorian’s single hand. And then I see it; I see him. His darkness creeps onto his face, masking his once beautiful, exotic features. The creature before me is not my Dorian. He is threatening, sinister, and so insanely sexy. And as confusing and frustrating as it is to admit, I am scorching hot for him.
His fingers begin to dance as if they are stroking the keys to an imaginary piano. His movements incite the tiny tingles, inflaming every nerve ending, from my fingertips through my swollen breasts to the apex of my thighs. I gasp loudly, my eyes fixed on Dorian’s as he continues to tickle the invisible ivories. His strokes increase, and so do the pleasurable prickles, igniting from a spark to a wildfire, quickly spreading to every inch of my body. I want to scream, writhe, thrash. He is torturing me from the inside out and I am slowly dying a hundred delicious deaths.
Dorian finally steps forward, continuing to pleasure me with his magic fingers, though he has yet to touch me. He steps towards me and kneels on the bed, still keeping his eyes on mine, still keeping a safe distance from my panting, tormented frame. He gracefully brings up his other hand, and I nearly choke on my garbled cries. I don’t know if I can take any more. This feeling is already so overwhelmingly good; it’s as if he is bathing me with a million tiny tongues. After already enduring multiple mind-numbing orgasms, I don’t see how I could possibly endure any more stimulation.
Still conducting the symphony of my body with his right hand, Dorian takes the index finger of his left and slowly moves it up and down. I feel it instantly; it’s as if he is raking it against my already raw heat. I can feel him there, yet he isn’t even touching me. Holy shit! I will surely go mad. I am not equipped to even wrap my head around this. I feel myself losing control, fighting against the treacherous waves of my violent climax.
“No,” he rasps, an animalistic sound rumbling from his throat. “I need to be inside you.”
Dorian lets his right hand fall, yet continues to touch and tease me with his left. His eyes are bright, burning blue flames and I can tell that the words are for his benefit as well. If he can feel what I feel than he must also be battling his own orgasm. He bites his bottom lip, concentrating furiously on his measured strokes. I whimper and whine, wanting to grind against him though I know he is not there. He grins sinfully, painfully drawing out every touch and tease.
Finally Dorian closes his eyes, breaking his hold on my body and restoring his gorgeous face. The darkness has fallen away, his conventional human beauty taking its place. I am a panting, whimpering wreck, yet he is so coldly controlled. I gaze at him admiringly as he undoes his slacks. He steps out of them then comes to me, holding his body over mine. I don’t know what to make of this. How could I possibly take anymore? But I want to feel him. I want his body on top of mine. I want to kiss him, taste him, feel his warmth living inside of me.
With a tentative hand, I reach up to stroke his chiseled jaw. He nestles into the contact, letting his eyes close and draws in the scent of my palm. Breathing me. When his eyes reopen, they are bright and sparkling, like the moo
n’s reflection on dark water. I let my hands roam his shoulders and back, pulling his face down to mine. My tongue tastes his sweet flavor mixed with my own, my hands knotting in his hair.
Dorian lifts his head and stares down at me with cautious, searching eyes. This is not the Dark One who manipulated my body with just a brush of his fingertips. This is not the calculated, controlled killer. This is a man seeking acceptance. He needs to know that I’m okay with all this, okay with his darkness. Okay with him.
I look into his baby blues earnestly. “I love you, Dorian. No matter what you are, I love you.”
Relief and affection wash over him and Dorian lowers himself to reunite our lips. His hands find mine and he conjoins them over my head, our fingers intertwined in their own embrace. I could taste his lips forever, and I want to. I never want to kiss another man ever again. No other man even exists.
Dorian pulls a hand from mine to guide himself into my warm, soft flesh and enters me slowly, our unified gasps echoing throughout the dim bedroom. He fills me, satisfies my craving for him. Each stroke is measured and deliberate. He finds my hands again and joins our palms as he passionately digs deeper into my middle. I moan and sigh as he bathes my neck and shoulders with kisses before moving back to my mouth to consume my most erotic sounds.
For what seems like hours, Dorian makes good on his promise to love me from the inside out. He fills every part of me in ways that I could never fathom in my wildest fantasies. And for the first time since learning what I am and all it entails, bullshit and denial aside, I undoubtedly believe in magic.
Chapter Four
“Are you sure you can’t come?” I whine, poking my lip out like a spoiled brat.
It’s Saturday afternoon, and I begrudgingly have to go home soon to get ready for Morgan’s celebratory barbeque. I love my girl, but I’m not ready to leave Dorian or his arms. There’s so much more I need to know. And if we have any chance at surviving this, knowledge is power.
The Dark Prince (The Dark Light Series) Page 4