BEFORE I CAN say a word, Dorian grabs my arm and yanks me into his suite as if I'm weightless. He pushes me up against the wall and buries his tongue inside my mouth with great ferocity. My coat falls from my shoulders, allowing his hands to roam my body, exploring the dips and rises of my delicate curves. Reaching to my backside, he palms its roundness and slowly massages, matching the rhythm of our intertwined tongues. I feel the hardness of his middle, grinding into my belly button and I gasp against his lips.
Dorian’s hands slowly move up my bare back, over my shoulders and down to my aching breasts. I am ever so grateful when his fingers begin to flick and fondle my nipples through the tight fabric of my dress. I let a moan escape through our fused mouths and Dorian devours it, muffling my cry of pleasure. He lets a hand travel south, easing between my thighs, searching for my heat. I’m on fire- a white hot flame of scorching ecstasy. The gap between my legs is humid with expectation. Dorian pushes my damp lace panties aside and slides a finger across my clitoris with slow, relentless torment. My knees buckle at the contact, and he continues his torture- back and forth, back and forth- until my muffled moans can no longer be contained. Just when I think his assault has ended, he slides the finger inside of me, feeling my walls throb and contract around him. A chorus of whimpers and expletives quickly follows.
Dorian takes his other hand and wraps it around my lower back, lifting me off my feet effortlessly. I reflexively wrap my legs around him, kicking my heels off and letting them tumble to the ground. Astonishingly, his long, agile finger is still nestled inside of me and we are still engaged in our feverish lip-lock. My fingers are tangled in his tousled hair, elbows resting on his shoulders to support the slow grind against his finger. He inserts another, and I cry out a garbled plea, begging him not to stop.
Dorian easily carries me to what I assume is a bedroom. He sets me on the edge of the bed, and I whimper as his lips and fingers abandon me. He slowly places them in his mouth one by one, sucking away my sweetness while watching me intently. I stare back at him in awe; Holy fuck, I want him.
“Now that you’ve come all this way to see me, what will you do with me?” he asks in a low, raspy voice. It’s the first words he’s uttered since my arrival yet we have already said so much. I know the taste of my pleasure has affected him. He wants this just as bad as I do.
I look directly in front of me at his unbuttoned slacks dangling off the cut of his hip muscles. Slowly, I pull the zipper down, holding my breath in anticipation as his pants fall around his ankles, liberating his generous erection. I am nearly floored at the size of him, a mixture of apprehension and excitement overcoming me. I lick my lips reflexively while gazing up at him through my dark eyelashes. He gasps in surprise at my boldness. I turn my attention back to his splendor wondering for a split second if I can really do this; I’ve never given oral before but I want to so bad in this moment. I shake the doubt from my mind and submit to my carnal urges, taking the swollen head of him in my mouth.
I gently swirl the tip with my tongue, savoring the trickles of sweetness that escape as a result. His flavor is delectable, and with eagerness I try to take all of him in my mouth. Dorian’s head rolls back and a barrage of deep, hoarse moans escape him. I continue to bathe him with my tongue, sucking slowly and tightly up and down. I let my tongue explore every inch of his ridged shaft, tracing each vein, swirling it from base to head. He’s losing control; I can feel his legs quiver. He grows longer, thicker in my mouth and I know the end is near for him. I pick up the pace, craving to taste him once more when he pulls away, leaving my wanting mouth.
“No, not yet,” Dorian smiles down at me, still panting.
He leans down to pull my dress down over my shoulders, slowly stripping it from my body until it is on the floor. I sit before him, bare-nippled, wearing only a lacey black thong. I want to wrap my arms around myself to shield my breasts but the look of admiration in his eyes urges me not to. He advances inch by inch, placing his knee between my legs to scoot me up farther on the bed. When my entire body is flat on the adorned satin comforter, he gently peels my panties off, admiring the view once again.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs, his fingertips grazing the skin over my ribcage ever so gently.
Dorian hovers over me, locking his penetrating azure gaze on me. Our bodies do not touch yet I feel a powerful sensation run through me. Prickly yet pleasurable, just like the feeling I got the first night that Dorian’s lips brushed my hand. The feeling grows stronger, turning from a prickle to a pulsation, coursing in my veins, kissing every nerve ending in my body. I’m gasping, unable to hold on anymore. The satin comforter rumples and stretches under my desperate grip. Dorian’s eyes never leave mine, and I am unable to blink and break his hypnotic stare. I want to scream, want to thrash from this sweet agony but I am totally paralyzed in his captivity. And just as I feel as if I can take no more, the pulsing centralizes, leaving my limbs, crawling to a path leading to my sex. It is so overwhelming, so intense, and I call out to God, the Divine Power, and Dorian. He still doesn’t touch me, still doesn’t save me as I drown in a pool of pleasure.
Before I can catch my breath and slow my pounding heart, Dorian spreads my legs wider, exposing the waterfall of my release. And in one swift movement, he thrusts himself inside of me, filling me to capacity. We gasp in unison. The feeling is so… perfect. So right. I’m in disbelief at how good he feels inside my warmth. Dorian begins to slowly grind, stirring himself within my walls. I can feel every inch of him, and from the look on his strained face, he can feel all of me. His torture is unhurried, deliberate. He wants to make this last and I never want it to end.
“Shit, you feel good,” he breathes into the base of my neck. His teeth graze my throat and I shudder from his touch.
Soft moans leave my lips, joining Dorian’s low sighs in a harmonious song of hedonism. The tempo increases with each stroke, and soon it is a tune of sharp cries and deep, throaty groans. I feel it growing inside of me, and my whimpers evolve into agonized yelps with his increasing length. It’s painful yet oh so pleasurable and the combination brings me to my brink. My flame is now a wildfire and only he can extinguish it. I feel it; feel it building inside me, climbing higher and higher. Dorian’s expression is a mixture of strain and defeat. He can’t stop himself. He needs this too; he needs to surrender himself to our carnality.
In one deep thrust, he relinquishes his resolve, his fingers digging into the sides of my backside as he pushes himself deeper still. The feeling of his eruption causes me to submit to mine as well, and I cry out his name as our rivers unite into a deep, endless ocean.
“YOU LOOKED UPSET,” I reflect. We are both lying on top of the comforter, finding our breaths, covered in a glistening sheen of sweat.
“I was shocked. Didn’t expect you to come here,” Dorian says, lightly panting. We stare at the ceiling, both gloriously spent.
“Neither did I.”
I exhale and allow myself to look at him. He looks scrumptious; even with disheveled hair and sweat on his brow, he’s still the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. I know he can feel my eyes on him but he doesn’t turn towards me. He looks thoughtful. Oh no, I hope he doesn’t regret what just transpired between us. I know I don’t.
“You wield powerful magic,” he says, barely above a whisper.
The fuck? Does he…? No. He can’t possibly know. I laugh off his remark nervously. I can’t even wrap my head around it. I know it’s just a figure of speech but it hits too close to home.
“I could say the same thing about you.”
Dorian abruptly turns his head and looks at me with a hint of alarm. I smile to ease the rising tension and he returns my grin. He eases up on his elbow and plants a tender kiss on my lips. Just the gentle contact stirs something within me. I want this. I don’t want to be some Enchantress. I don’t want to be the Light’s savior from the Dark. I just want this. This man in front of me, naked and utterly gorgeous, I want him.
“I’m glad you came,” he says.
“I didn’t know what I was doing until I was already here. And I wasn't sure what I would find. At the party, seeing you with Aurora…I had to know what was between you two.” My words are strained but I’m being honest. Our intimate exchange has made me vulnerable, something I don’t make a habit of showing.
“So you thought you’d show up here and find out for yourself? What’d you think; that you’d catch us in the act?” He’s smiling but there’s an edge to his voice. And I’m painfully aware that he hasn’t denied that they have something going on.
Don’t ruin this, I tell myself. Live in the moment.
“Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted to see you. Either way, I don’t regret coming,” I say. I take my finger and twirl it in a loose lock of hair on his forehead. It’s so soft and still damp with sweat.
“No regrets,” he remarks. “You never know when your days are numbered.”
“You can say that again.” Once again, he is right on point.
“Enough talking.” And before I can utter an objection, Dorian leans down to conjoin his mouth with mine, his hand hungrily cupping my breast, and I forget that Aurora even exists.