Dark Light (The Dark Light Series) (18 page)

I think back to Luxe salon. He definitely put his stamp on that place, even if he is just an investor. Then there’s me. I could say that I’m understated, in a way. I’m no model but I can hold my own. I’m curvy and soft yet toned. Not really glamorous, but I can clean up nicely when I want to. I’m ordinary, just like Natalia intended.

“I pegged you for the penthouse,” I remark. It’s obvious he can afford it.

“Why? All that space just for me? I’m not here much anyway. Plus imagine
that
magnitude of grandeur,” he snickers, making a gagging gesture. I giggle at his playfulness, completely content in this moment. 

Fifteen minutes later, we are sitting down at the extensive dining table with our elegant meal of burgers, fries and soda. We both chuckle at the irony before we dig in. I am ravenous, and barely come up for air until I’m halfway finished.

“Worked up quite an appetite, huh?” Dorian says observing my nearly empty plate. I finish chewing my bite of burger and grab my soda to wash it down before responding.

“Have to replenish after that workout you gave me last night. And this morning.” My eyes narrow suggestively and I flash him a naughty smile. I slowly lick the tip of my straw before placing it back into my mouth. Dorian’s eyes flash with blue fire.

“Looks like I should be thanking the editor at Cosmopolitan magazine,” he says licking his lips. 

Huh?
Ok, what does Cosmo have to do with anything? Confusion is etched on my face. 

“The magazine you were reading the first day I saw you at Starbucks. ‘Top 12 Oral Tricks That Will Make Your Man Melt’ was the title, I believe.” Dorian chuckles and picks up a fry, placing it in his gorgeous mouth.

I feel my cheeks heat and cover my face with my hands. “Oh God! No, that wasn’t mine! I swear, I didn’t read it!”
Dammit!
Why did I have to pick up that freakin’ magazine?

“Oh? You must have mastered the art all on your own,” he replies, still smirking.

“Well actually…no.” I look down at my plate awkwardly. “I’ve never done that before last night. Before you.” I look back up to read his stunned expression.

“Never? So I was your first?” He looks amused. Maybe a little sentimental. “Wow. Well, thank you,” he stammers. Not quite the response I was expecting. My revelation has caught him off guard.

“No need to thank me. I wanted to. I liked it,” I say, looking him in the eye boldly. “With you, that is.” I don’t want him to think I’ve become some head-giving Jezebel.

Dorian furrows his brow in confusion. “But why…
me
?”

“I don’t know,” I shrug. “It just felt right, I guess.”

“
Right
,” Dorian repeats, testing the word out on his tongue. He licks his lips and then gazes at me through dark lashes. “Hmmm, well I think it’s time for dessert.” 

Dorian quickly grabs our plates and glasses and sets them on the buffet. He then sits back down in his chair, beckoning me to come to him with his finger. I do as he wishes and stand in front him. He slides his firm hands up the back of my thighs, massaging the base of my ass before suddenly lifting me up and setting me down on the edge of the table.

“Lie back,” he commands, and I do as I’m told, trembling with anticipation. 

Dorian spreads my legs apart and begins massaging my heated sex through the thin fabric of my panties. He reaches for its dainty waistband and begins to pull them downward. I flex my bottom up to aid him in his efforts and he lets them fall to the floor. He looks at my scorching heat like a hungry man in front of a feast. His breathing quickens and I can feel the cool air that escapes between his partially open lips. I give myself a mental pat on the back for grooming myself the morning before. Never did I expect Dorian to be this up close and personal and I’m nervous as hell. He can see everything, all of me. The look on his face as he studies every swell and crevice is of appreciation and wonder. My body screams for his touch, yet he tortures me under his gaze.
Damn, this is so kinky!

Dorian takes a single index finger and gentle strokes my clit. I gasp at his touch, already throbbing and wet for him. He then moistens the tip of the same finger with his mouth and repeats, strumming a sweet song of pleasure. When I begin to arch my back and surrender to his teasing, he slips the finger inside of me and holds it still. My walls contract and grip the digit, holding it captive. He begins to inch it in and out, curving it upwards to meet my most sensitive spot.
Oh no, not yet!
The pressure is so intense, so blissfully exhilarating that I am in fear of losing myself already. Dorian can feel my quivering and responds by joining his index finger with his middle. I cry out and pulsate viciously against them both.

I look down at a stern faced Dorian. He’s concentrating on the lustful task, biting his bottom lip. He looks so damn sexy; I just want to pull him on top of me. Dorian catches me eyeing him and locks his glistening baby blues on my blissfully tortured face. Slowly, he leans forward and licks my swollen clit with the tip of his tongue, still penetrating me with his long, searching fingers. He licks again, applying more pressure, letting his saliva meld with my essence. He continues his oral assault, licking, sucking, nibbling my delicate flesh until my moans and cries beg him to stop. I can’t take anymore; the feeling is too strong, too good. I am at risk of completely losing control, something I’m struggling like hell to avoid. 

Noticing my trembling knees, Dorian slides them onto his shoulders, pushing his tongue deeper into the soft, wet folds. He lets his fingers drop and replaces them with his tongue, greedily devouring me as if I am his last meal, hoarsely groaning his gratification. I am a mess of garbled screams, vulgarities and praise, unable to form an intelligible thought. In this moment, all I know is pleasure. And Dorian is giving me more than I can possibly take.

After another mind-numbing orgasm, I lie on the table breathless, squeezing my thighs together in an attempt to tame the endless ripples and rolls. Dorian reclines in his chair, watching the show as I writhe and convulse violently. He’s an amused spectator, watching the poor, wrecked girl in front of him. I feel so exposed, so vulnerable, but I can’t help it. He’s done this to me. He’s made me this jumbled mess of tangled tresses, piercing moans, and drenching wet sex. My body is his captive, his to torture and tease whenever he pleases.

“So is this what you meant when you said you wanted to ruin me?” I ask Dorian after I’ve found my breath after several minutes. 

I sit up and smooth my dress over my legs. My panties lie rumpled on the floor yet I’m too embarrassed to reach down to retrieve them. Dorian follows my gaze and leans down to pick them up. He slowly pulls them over my bare feet, up my legs and to my thighs. I want to lift my butt up but I’m too spent, my muscles still quivering. 

“That depends. Do you feel ruined?” he smiles, letting his hands rest on top of my thighs.

“Well, sorta. I don’t know. I kinda feel the opposite.” I give him a contemplative look, cocking my head to one side. “Spoiled, maybe.”

“Spoiled?” he asks with a raised brow.

“Yes, spoiled. You’ve given me so much…,” I can’t find the words to describe how incredible he just made me feel,
is
making me feel. Just the thought makes me giddy and I giggle involuntarily.

“What?” he asks, licking his lips. He leans his head down to nuzzle the entrance of my thighs.
Oh God, not again! 

I chew my bottom lip, urging myself to step up to the plate and tell Dorian how I really feel. “I feel like you’re…doing something to me. Changing me, in a way. The day I met you, it’s like, the earth shifted. Every bit of doubt and reluctance instantly dissolves whenever you’re around me. Things make sense that ordinarily wouldn’t. I don’t fully understand it so it’s incredibly difficult for me to even try to explain it to you. But I know something happened. I know what I felt.”

Dorian’s eyes darken a fraction, the makings of a dark storm brewing behind crystal blue. “You’re overthinking it.”

“Am I? Or am I not thinking about it enough?”

For several heated moments, we stare at each other, both our expressions guarded and defensive. He has secrets, just like I do. But while we may be hell bent on safeguarding the most secluded spaces of our psyches, the devastatingly strong attraction between us keeps penetrating the rouse. In our most intimate moments, he can’t hide from me and I can’t hide from him. And I don’t want to, though I know it’s extremely stupid of me to feel that way. 

But looking at him now, seeing how distant and cold he has turned towards me makes me realize that I am just kidding myself. He’s content with obscurity and omissions. He’s content with not caring. 

“Come on. Let’s get you home,” Dorian mutters. 

Dorian stands and places his hands under my arms, lifting me off the table and onto my feet. I plaster on a fake smile and try to appear lighthearted. And just like that, my wall is back up. I’m back to impassive glares and pursed, tight lips- defensive tactics to protect my already fragile heart. The beautiful man in front of me doesn’t truly want me, and as much as it pains me to my core, I know it’s better this way. It has to be. And hopefully, if I keep telling myself just that, I could actually start to believe it.

“Let’s pull over here,” Dorian says, stopping a few houses down from my house. It’s been a quiet, tense ride and I’m guessing he wants to clear the air before we say goodbye. 

Goodbye
. My heart constricts at the very word.

He turns the car off and we sit in silence for a beat. “Look, I’m not good with this.” I know what he means- feelings, relationships…love.

“Neither am I,” I say quietly. It’s the truth. My longest relationship was two months and it only lasted that long because I was too lazy to break it off.

“I don’t know what you expect of me. I don’t want to sell you this dream then you realize it’s really a nightmare. That
I’m
a nightmare.” He exhales loudly and looks at me for a reaction. I give him nothing, my face stoic and unreadable. “You’ve made me… happy. I didn’t expect you to, but you did.” His brow furrows at his words and he shakes his head as if to dispel the possibility of true happiness.

Whoa. That was an odd turn. I turn my head abruptly to read his face. I don’t know what to say; I can’t find the words to tell him that I feel exactly the same way. 

“I’m not sure what I should do with that,” he continues. “I don’t know what I
can
do with that.” His expression is so pained. I just want to reach out to him and let him know that it’s ok; he’s not alone in this. But pride keeps my hands twisted in a knot in my lap.

“Don’t do anything,” I urge. “Let it happen naturally. What will be, will be.” 

Dorian looks so tortured in this moment. Part of him wanting to give into something he can’t control, part of him wanting to reject it because it’s all foreign to him. And just like that, the strange blue mist slowly enraptures him. He’s covered by the dense fog and I see it. I see
him
. I know my eyes are not playing tricks on me.

I tentatively reach my hand towards him into the mist, stroking his cheek. He nuzzles against the contact, taking a deep breath and gently kissing my palm. I give him a smile of reassurance. We can take this journey together. We can write our own story.

Dorian leans over and plants a tender kiss on my lips. Within it holds possibility, fear, joy. Neither of us knows what the future holds but we choose to live for this moment. It’s the only one that matters.

After a goodbye kiss that almost developed into something unsuitable for the wholesome Briargate community, I walk the few houses to my house. Dorian is still watching me until I make it inside, then he pulls off in haste. 

“Gabriella? Is that you?” my mom calls from the kitchen. 

“Yeah Mom, it’s me,” I call out. I scramble to my room to throw on some sweats and a tank top and stow the t-shirtdress and flip flops in the back of my closet. She never comes in here but better safe than sorry. Then I retreat to the bathroom to try to wash the ‘
Just Properly Fucked
’ glow off my face. I skip down the hall to the kitchen to see Donna.
Yeah, dammit, I skipped
. Crap, what’s gotten into me?
Dorian.

“There you are!” my mom says, breaking me from my inner ramblings. 

“Here I am,” I respond.

“Did you have fun with Morgan?” She’s rushing to whip up my smoothie since I missed it earlier this morning. I’ve got to make more of an effort to remember them now that I know their purpose.

“Sure did,” is all I can say. 

I let my mind drift to the night before. Showing up at Dorian’s suite, letting him push me up against the wall to thrust his tongue into my mouth, tasting him, feeling him pulsate deep inside of me…

Donna clears her throat loudly, causing me to blink wildly and meet her eyes. 

“Huh?” I say, a bit dazed from the memory of Dorian’s tongue kneading the tenderness between my thighs.

“Um, honey, you know I don’t like to pry, but I have to ask. Are you seeing someone?” Donna is beet red and clearly uncomfortable. I’m shocked that she would ask; there hasn’t been any indication of me dating anyone.

“No,” I say slowly, though it sounds more like a question. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, your aura is light red, almost pink,” she states.

“And that means?” I should really do some research. Especially if I’m going to have to keep my emotions at bay.

“Well, um…passion. Romance. Love,” she beams. Love?
Oh hell no
.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Mom, but I’m still pathetically single.” 

It’s true. Dorian and I never defined our relationship and it was, in fact, just one night/morning of mind-blowing, uninhibited, scorching hot sex. Sure, it’d be nice to be able to get a repeat performance without the fear of appearing like a whore, but Dorian just isn’t there yet. And I don’t know if I can ever get there at all.

“But there is someone. It’s more than just physical attraction too. Jared, maybe?” Geez, since when did my mom get psychic abilities?
Invasive much?