“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 are 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.”
Crap. So I have offended him. I engross myself in the menu to avoid eye contact. Let’s hope I’m able to eat anything seeing as I keep putting my foot in my mouth.
Dorian and I spend a few quiet minutes scanning the menu though I am mentally cursing myself the entire time. Maybe he’ll see I really am too crass and immature to deal with and he’ll dump me before I embarrass him further. The thought causes a clenching ache in my chest and I stifle an uneasy gasp. By the time our waiter arrives for our drink orders, I’m unprepared and stammering.
“Oh hi, uh…I’ll, um…,” I begin.
Luckily Dorian swoops in and saves me, ordering bottles of wine and sparkling water before I really make a fool of myself. I am red-faced and mortified once the waiter leaves to retrieve our beverages.
“Thanks,” I mutter. Shit. I’ve got to get it together. I’m not used to caring this much about what someone, especially a guy, thinks of me. It makes me feel weak, and I don’t like it one bit.
“This place has excellent steak and seafood. Would you like me to order for you?” Dorian asks, a reassuring smile lighting his gentle eyes. He knows he’s totally unraveled me and now he pities me. Ha!
“Please,” is all I can seem to choke out.
When our server returns with the wine and water, Dorian turns to him and orders our entrees. I’m so preoccupied with my own conflicted feelings that I can hardly make out what he’s saying, not that I have much of an appetite anymore.
“Something wrong?” Dorian asks after a few strained moments of silence.
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” So am I being honest with him? Yes. What else do I have to lose? “I just don’t like feeling so self-conscious. You make me so…uneasy.” I take a hearty sip of wine to reduce my anxiety.
“I do?” He sounds surprised.
“Not intentionally, at least I don’t think so,” I shrug. “I, uh, care too much. About what you think of me.” There. The cards are on the table. He knows that my affections go beyond just mind-numbing sex. I care. The exact thing I swore I wouldn't- I couldn't- do. I can't afford to.
“So because you care, it makes you uneasy?” I can see the makings of a smirk creeping onto his lips. Great, he finds me amusing.
“More or less.” I sigh and shake my head.
“Why does that bother you?” Dorian looks at me inquiringly as if I am some rare breed of girl.
“Because it’s not a feeling I’m used to. Feeling so...vulnerable,” I cringe.
"And that's a bad thing?" He folds his hands in front of him and rests his chin on them, gazing at me intently.
"Yes," I nod. "Especially when you don't have much experience with....feeling."
“How is that possible? Surely you’ve opened up with boyfriends in the past,” he says incredulously.
“You’d think so, but no. There were a few but nothing serious.”
The reality that I’ve never had a serious relationship or whirlwind romance hits me and I have to swallow my forlorn thoughts before they consume me.
“So you’ve never been in love?” Dorian looks a bit sad for me, the exact reaction I was trying to avoid.
The question is a complicated one for me. I have been in love. With Jared. At least I think I was. But so much as changed since meeting Dorian and finding out that I am some Dark-Light crossbreed. Am I still in love with Jared?
“Let’s just say I was never in love with someone who was in love with me.” I try to tack on a bit of buoyancy at the end but I know Dorian sees right through me. Oh great, he surely thinks I’m pathetic now!
Before we can delve deeper into my lack of relationship experience, our waiter returns with a large bowl of clams and mussels in a tomato sauce and Shrimp Cocktail with possibly the largest shrimp I have ever seen.
Dorian looks at me sheepishly. “I didn’t know what you would want.” I smile and put a little of each on my plate.
The clams and mussels are amazing, though I prefer them in the white wine sauce like we had at the bistro. The shrimp is plump and juicy and I dip it generously in Remoulade sauce. Obviously my appetite has returned.
“So how about you? Any past great love affairs?” I ask after I’ve had my fill.
Dorian takes a lengthy sip of wine to mull over my question. “Great love affairs? No. I haven’t really had time. Just casual relationships here and there. No-frills, no strings attached arrangements that fit…both our needs.”
I bite the bullet, and swallow my pride with a laborious gulp. “So, I’m assuming that I would be considered one of those arrangements.” Geez, I don’t know how this evening took such a serious turn but I guess it’s best to get this conversation over with.
“Do you want to be?” Dorian asks smoothly. He refills each of our wine glasses then takes a sip of his own. I follow suit.
“I don’t know. Honestly, I thought that's exactly what I wanted. But like I said, something shifted the day I met you. Believe whatever you want, but it's true. I honestly have never met anyone like you. And I have a feeling that it was meant to happen...that we were destined to cross paths.
“You make me frustrated. Not with you, but with myself. When I’m not with you, I have all these questions, these doubts. But when we’re together, I feel oddly at ease. The doubt, the apprehension disappears. And I can’t even remember why they even inhabited my mind. Does that make sense?” The wine has obviously taken its effect and I can’t seem to shut up. I reach for my glass of water and down half of it.
I really hope he can decipher what I’m trying to say to him, though I’m not entirely sure what I’m trying to convey. Before Dorian can respond to my jumbled rant, our server arrives with our entrees; New York Strip steaks, steamed broccolini, and loaded baked potatoes.
“Oh my God, Dorian, you’re going to make me fat!” I exclaim with wide eyes.
“I’m sure that’s the least of your worries. Besides, you only live once, right?” he says with a devilish grin. He’s right. Even if you can live forever.
The steak melts in my mouth like butter and is accompanied with some kind of peppercorn sauce. The combination is perfection and the meat is cooked just how I like it. It’s as if Dorian already knows me inside and out. No one has ever been so in tuned to my likes and dislikes, especially considering we hardly know each other.
“I hope you like everything. I wasn’t sure what you’d want. Would you rather have something else?” Dorian seems oddly tentative, and I can’t help but blame my previous rant for the awkwardness.
“Everything is great, Dorian.” I look at him with question in my eyes. “How about you?”
Dorian gently chews his bottom lip, contemplating my question. He knows I’m not asking him about his food. He looks up at me intensely through his long dark lashes, and I have a feeling he’s trying to distract me. A familiar tingle slowly crawls up my thighs, meeting my heated apex. His tactics are working and I instinctively squeeze my thighs together and shake my head. He will not divert me until he tells me how he feels.
“Seriously, Dorian. I told you how I felt, and as confusing as that may have been to understand, I need to know that we’re on the same page.” I’ve never felt so much like an annoying, nagging girl in my life. This conversation is just as tedious for me as it is for him but I need to know if I'm alone in this.
Dorian sighs heavily, and I know he’s grown tired with the questioning. He looks as if he’s aged in the past 5 minutes. “Gabriella, you can be whatever you want to be to me. If you want to be with me, be with me. If you want to keep this light and casual, we can do that. If you want me to just keep fucking you senseless every chance I get, I’ll be more than happy to oblige.” His words are so vulgar and provocative. I feel heat flood my cheeks and my already moistened sex.
“Now I’ve had about enough of this food and this conversation. I want dessert.” Dorian stands and pushes his chair in. He gazes down at me sternly and my heart stops. He’s so cold, so menacing. I know I should be frightened but instead all I can think about is how he had that same look as he took me from behind while choking me just a couple hours earlier. That thought carries a wave of shame but I ignore it. Dammit, I like this side of Dorian and I won’t apologize for it.
Dorian extends his arm, inviting me to intertwine mine with his. I slowly stand on shaky legs and do as he wishes, letting him lead me out of the restaurant. Dorian has had the last word, and though I would never take this from any other guy, I willingly let Dorian have full control in this moment. He’s already fully controlled my body, it’s only fitting that my mind follow suit. We walk in silence until we reach his suite and I hold my breath in expectation as the door clicks behind us.
Dorian shrugs out of his pale grey suit jacket and drapes it over the arm of the couch. The recollection of clutching that very same armrest causes my breathing to shallow as the heat between my legs becomes damp and humid. It’s amazing how just a memory can cause such a reaction. Dorian notices the change in my once composed stance and gracefully strolls over to me, closing the distance between us in three easy strides. Without hesitation, he takes my hand and pulls me towards the bedroom. Words still have not passed between us yet communication is seamless. He wants me. And I want him too.
Before I can take in the black and gold room, Dorian bends down to grab the hem of my dress, relieving me of it in one swift movement. I stand before him, stripped and vulnerable, as his baby blues molest my scantily clad frame. He reaches to touch my see-through bra. His touch is so gentle as if I am made of delicate porcelain. His expression is…torn. It’s as if the contact physically hurts him yet he can’t help himself. He relishes the anguish. He’s teetering on the line between pleasure and pain, and I want to nudge him into my pleasure. Yet, part of me yearns for that pain. The notion is maddening, sickening even. How can I expect Dorian to define his feelings for me if I can’t even admit what I really want in all this? Our tryst on the couch has brought it all to the surface for me.
I just need Dorian to fuck me good enough to make me forget.
As if reading my mind, Dorian covers my mouth with his, letting his hands palm the soft flesh peeking out the back of my ruffled panties. He grips my ass and lifts me high enough for me to wrap my legs around his waist. He’s already begun to harden and I welcome it by squeezing my legs even tighter. Dorian breaks our kiss to look at me. His eyes are earnestly searching for something, seeking understanding in all the confusion that I’ve inspired this evening. I say that I have feelings for him but on the other hand I don't want to care. Just another layer to the indecisive complexity that is me.
Before I let myself overthink this moment, Dorian carries me over to the bed, gently laying me down. I hurriedly kick off my boots and scoot myself up onto my elbows as I watch him undress before me. One by one, Dorian undoes each of the buttons on his crisp white shirt, locking his eyes onto mine. The anticipation is torture. He reaches for the zipper on his pants but hesitates, instead kneeling at the foot of the bed and taking hold of my hips. He pulls me to the edge of the bed until he’s eye level with my sex. It’s still silent except for the sounds of my labored breathing. I can’t quite see Dorian and the mystery of the unknown is killing me.
Before I give into my curiosity and push myself onto my elbows, I feel the warm softness of Dorian’s lips on the inside of my thigh. I shudder at the unexpected contact and my back arches a bit. The way my body reacts to his touch instantaneously is uncanny. I’ve never been with someone so in tuned to my every desire. It’s as if our bodies were designed especially for each other.
Dorian leaves a trail of soft kisses on each of my thighs, anticipation and wanting building with each caress. His hands find the waist of my panties and he eases them down easily, letting them drop to the floor. I’m on the verge of begging him to continue down this path of my destruction when Dorian’s tongue finds the wetness between my legs. It teases and twirls as the sounds of my agonized moans fill the silence. I’m surprised at my brazen display, letting Dorian have his way with my body as I twist and writhe under the torment of his tongue. As much I want to pull away and cover myself, this unimaginable pleasure holds me captive.
Dorian pauses long enough to insert a finger inside me before continuing to lick my softness with deliberate control. He thrusts it in and out, going a bit deeper each time, my cries matching the intensity. He speeds up, adding a second finger and sucking me hungrily. I know that the end is near; it has to be. It is impossible to endure much more. I want to feel him; I want him inside of me. Though the feeling of his tongue is indescribable, I need to be one with him right now. My hands reach out for him but he is out of my grasp. I pull at the comforter in desperation, begging him in my harsh whimpers. He ignores my pleas and continues to thrust and lick determinedly.
I know what he’s doing. He’s giving me exactly what I need, not what I think I want. He knows I could never fully give myself to him, and he’s making it known that he doesn’t even care. My body is enough. I can give him that entirely and withhold the part of me that guards centuries of secrets, lies, and deceit. My Dark side.
As if realizing that my thoughts have wandered into unknown territory, Dorian sucks my flesh hard. I yelp from the pleasurable sting and come back to him. I can let go with Dorian, and right on cue, I do. I give him all of me in the waves of my severe orgasm as I hoarsely cry out his name. My back arches off the bed and my legs quiver uncontrollably, causing them to collapse awkwardly. My eyes are closed tightly but I can feel Dorian rise and lie next to me on the bed. I’m reluctant to open them and face him so I focus on controlling my ragged breathing. I can only imagine what he’s thinking right now, after seeing me so exposed and vulnerable but I can’t hide from him. It's too late.
“Sorry,” I mumble quietly, opening my eyes after a minute or two. Dorian is propped up on his elbow, watching me intently. He looks amused at my chaotic climax.
“For what?” he smiles.
“For…that. Being so dramatic, I guess.” I gaze into the light blue depths of Dorian’s sparkling eyes. He’s so strikingly gorgeous; it literally causes all intelligent thought to abandon me.
“Don’t be. I like it.” Whoa.
“You do? Why?”
“You’re uninhibited. You’re raw. You’re always so guarded, Gabriella, it’s hard to get you that vulnerable. It really is beautiful. You should let people see that side of you more often.” Dorian twirls a lock of my hair between his fingers and then brings it to his lips, kissing it gently. “Minus the orgasm, that is,” he chuckles. Dorian’s laughter is infectious, and I join him.
“You think I’m guarded?” I ask.
“Very." He focuses on the task of running his fingers through my hair from root to tip. I've noticed that he plays with it often. Could the elusive Dorian Skotos have a thing for hair?
“So many secrets, little girl,” he mumbles barely above a whisper. His voice sounds so old, almost ancient, and there’s a hint of an accent. It’s so alarming that I can’t find the words to question him about it.
Suddenly, Dorian’s eyes are on my subtly shocked expression. He gives me a quick half smile to mask the mystery that lies in his words. I want to ask him what he means; what does he know of my secrets? I’ve been as open and honest with Dorian as I could be, more so than with any other guy, outside of Jared. How can he make that assessment?
“Turn over,” Dorian commands. I roll over onto my stomach hesitantly and look back at him. “I’m going to massage you. I don’t want your neck to be sore.” Dorian shuffles off of the bed and goes into the bedroom’s adjoining bathroom. He emerges seconds later with a small bottle of scented oil. “I’m going to straddle your back.”
“No,” I say abruptly as Dorian kneels on the bed. He instantly looks perplexed and stands up straight. I can see a storm brewing behind his crystal blues. “Not unless you get undressed,” I add with a sly smile.
Dorian exhales lightly and nods, visibly unwound. He unzips his slacks and lets them drop to the floor, standing before me in black boxer briefs. I take in the magnificent sight of his chiseled, cut body. His olive complexion glimmers under the dim light flooding from the bathroom vanity. I lick my lips wickedly. “Now the rest.”
Dorian eases down his boxer briefs and then removes his dress socks. My eyes widen with appreciation at his soft yet substantial member hanging between his legs. Slowly he advances to the bed, straddling the backs of my thighs. I can feel him lightly pulsating on my ass and I know our skin to skin contact is causing him to swell. Dorian undoes my bra and eases the straps off of my shoulders. He then picks up the small bottle and squeezes a bit in his hands, rubbing them together before gently grasping my shoulders. I instantly relax under his touch and lay my head flat onto the comforter to allow him to knead and caress. It feels heavenly, and I catch myself before letting a soft moan escape.
“Ooooh, Dorian, your fingers are magical,” I murmur into the comforter.
Dorian chuckles a bit. “You have no idea,” he says slyly, no doubt a smile on his lips.
“You think I have secrets,” I say as Dorian lets his fingers rub the soreness from my neck and shoulders. It’s not a question.
“Oh, I know you do.”
“I could say the same about you.” Dorian knows more about me than I do about him. Who’s really the one with secrets here?
“I am an open book, Gabriella. If you want to know something, all you have to do is ask.” Dorian gently gathers my hair into one thick handful and lays it to one side to allow access to my entire bare back. Such a contrast to the tight grip he had on it just hours ago.
“Ok,” I respond reflectively. “Your relationship with Aurora… how far does it go? Don’t tell me there’s nothing to it because it is obvious that you two share history.”
Dorian sighs, I’m sure expecting the question sooner or later. “Our families have been involved in business together for many years. We’ve known each other for a long time. Though Aurora has tried, I was just never interested in a long term, serious relationship with her or anyone else for that matter. When I moved away, she tracked me down, thought she could help me rebuild. She’s the one who actually brought the Luxe opportunity to me.”
Ok, that makes sense. It doesn’t ease my anxiety about her advances and also tells me that Aurora won’t back off, but it makes sense. Aurora has staked her claim and I am an intruder in her grand scheme to be Dorian’s angel in his time of need.
“So you are both from the same place. And that is?” I have no idea where he is from. Good going, Gabs.
“Originally we’re from Greece.”
Ok, had I let Morgan do a background check on Dorian like she offered, I would have known that. Explains the exotic good looks, the hint of an accent, and his last name.
“Hmmm, that makes sense. So your family is wealthy? You’ve mentioned the family business. Politics, right?”
“That amongst other things. Nothing that is of great interest.” Dorian moves down to the base of my shoulder blades. A low groan leaves my lips.
“But you want to gain your family’s approval. That’s why you came here, right? What is it that you hope to achieve in this little town?” A salon is great but I’m pretty sure his family is not in the cosmetology market. And Colorado Springs is not exactly a mecca of industrialism.
Dorian takes a moment to ponder my question before answering. “I must acquire something that could prove very valuable to my people. It’s here. We would amass a great deal of power.”
“Sounds really important. And they trust you with such a crucial task; they must have a lot of faith in you. Especially to be so young.”
“I am only young to you. I’ve experienced enough for a dozen lifetimes.” The weary, ancient tone to Dorian’s voice has returned. It is so full of sadness and turmoil. I turn my head a fraction to gauge his reaction but he begins to knead the sides of my neck.
Something within me sympathizes with Dorian and his predicament. All he wants is his family’s approval and love. I want the same, but I want it from Dorian, though I would never, ever admit it. As much as I want to keep this as superficial as possible, the more I get to know about him, the more I want him. And not just his body. I want his heart as well. I’m no better than Aurora; I want to be his savior too. Dorian is far from helpless yet I sense sadness within him that I just want to ease. There’s a piece of him still hiding in the shadows, the part that never fully recovered from being disowned by his own family. Can I be what he needs? Will he be able to bare his soul to me though I could never bare mine entirely to him?
There is something that I can do for Dorian that Aurora can’t. I can soothe him the only way I know how to. I reach my hand back and find his hardening penis resting on the middle of my backside. I stroke it gently, awakening it immediately. I can hear Dorian’s breathing turn ragged and he kneads my shoulders a bit deeper. I guide his stiff rod towards my wetness and Dorian shifts to eagerly meet it. I spread my legs a bit, inviting him into my heat, and he thrusts forward, plunging deep within my warm comfort. We gasp simultaneously, appreciating the depth this new position brings. Dorian continues to massage my neck and shoulders, while thrusting into me slowly. I praise him with soft whimpers and sighs.
“So no more questions?” Dorian breathes raggedly, filling and stretching me to my limits.
“No, Dorian,” I murmur between gasps of air. He feels so good here. This is where he belongs. This is where I belong.
Dorian lowers himself onto my back, his lips finding my ear and he continues his measured strokes. Grabbing each of my hands, he pins them down above my head, using the leverage to push himself even deeper. He gently takes my earlobe between his teeth to nibble and suck. Feeling his labored breath on the back of my neck, the heat of his body melding into mine, sends me over the edge. My moans intensify with every stroke, and Dorian feeds my hunger by delivering them faster and harder.
He begins to mutter something in my ear, so low I can’t even make out what he’s saying over the noise of my own harsh breaths. It’s foreign, and I assume he’s saying something in Greek. Oh my God! It’s incredibly erotic. He continues the chant in my ear, now rapidly pounding into me. One hand finds my hair, and he pulls, causing my head to bend back to him. His murmurs grow louder and harsher, as if he is urgently trying to convey something to me, and I know his own orgasm is on its way. I feel the familiar building inside of me, and I know this one will do me in for sure.
Dorian delivers one hard, deep thrust and then holds himself stiffly inside of me. He’s touching every pleasure point, pushing every one of my buttons. I can’t hold it any longer; I let myself explode and contract around him, crying out my intense satisfaction. Dorian pushes deeper still, emptying the contents of his lust into me, colliding with mine.
“SHIT!” I EXCLAIM, still lying flat on my stomach. Dorian has eased off of me and is resting beside me, trying to find his breath.
“What’s wrong?” he breathes, sounding a bit alarmed though his voice is sluggish and sated.
“Dorian, we really need to use protection.” I am cursing myself for being so stupid yet again.
“I can’t impregnate you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he says simply.
“I’m not. But there’s other stuff, you know.” I can’t even bring myself to say STDs. And what does Dorian mean he can’t impregnate me? Is he sterile?
“Top drawer of the nightstand to the right. There’s a piece of paper with a recent blood test. I knew I wanted to be with you without worry or barriers. I had it done last week. It’s yours.” Wow, he really thinks of everything. Not to mention, extremely confident in his methods of seduction.
“And what about me?”
“I’m not worried about you. I trust you. But if you want to have a test done as well, I can arrange it.”
“Thanks, but I can manage that myself.” I make a mental note to go to the clinic as soon as I get out of class tomorrow afternoon.
“How do you know you can trust me?” I say with a smirk. Oh, if Dorian only knew how untrustworthy I really am. I’m endangering his life every second I am here with him. Why can’t I just walk away and save us both the inevitable heartache and regret?
“Good judge of character,” Dorian says with a sexy half smile. It’s the last thing I see before I succumb to the sudden heaviness plaguing my tired eyelids.
I JERK AWAKE in pitch dark, my eyes darting around fiercely, looking for any sign of familiarity. Dorian’s bedroom. I’m alone and the room is completely silent and still. I sit up and feel around for my clothes. My foot hits a pile of crumpled linen. Dorian’s shirt. I slide it on and wrap it around my naked breasts before heading out of the room in search of my missing lover.
Dorian is standing at the grandiose glass doors that lead out to the large balcony. He’s wearing only his slacks, no underwear. I can tell they’re not fastened by the way his pants hang around the cut of his hips and the slope leading to his tight, hard backside. He’s holding a crystal glass containing a light brown liquid. He takes a sip and then leans his forearm against the pane of glass, looking out into the dark stillness of the night. I hold my breath, and tiptoe silently towards him. I don’t want to disturb him during his private moment but I am curious as to what has called him from the warmth of the bed and my arms.
“You should be asleep,” Dorian says aloud. Shit. I was sure to be quiet. I give up on tiptoeing and walk towards him.
“So should you,” I reply quietly, standing beside him.
I look up at Dorian’s weary, guarded eyes. Even in the dark, they sparkle. He gives me a rueful grin, unsuccessfully trying to mask whatever troubles him tonight. I want to reach out to him and comfort him but something is telling me not to.
“What do you see?” Dorian asks, nodding towards the window. He takes another swig of his drink and then offers me the glass. I take it in my hands and take a small sip. The strong liquid burns my throat, generating heat as it makes its way down. I hand it back to Dorian and he smirks arrogantly.
I look out into the night, and see the faint glistening of the lake and the shapes of tall swaying trees. “Nothing. Darkness,” I respond just above a whisper.
“You think darkness is nothing? So much, more than you could ever imagine, is shrouded in darkness. As we stand here, looking out into nothingness, as you say, we are witnessing life.
“A man is secretly meeting with a woman whom is not his wife. He tells her that he will leave his wife but he truly has no intention of doing so.
“Two young men, workers at the hotel, disappear into the woods, engaging in sexual intercourse. No one knows of their relationship or their sexuality. Or the fact that they have HIV. They both have girlfriends.
“A night guard has been stealing the valuables of hotel guests when they stay out late. He’s carrying the jewels and money to a secret place in the pool house so he can pick them up after his shift.
“A woman is on her balcony, whispering into her cell phone as her husband is asleep in bed. He believes they are here on vacation but she is plotting to empty out their accounts and run away with her lover.
“A businessman is stumbling back to his hotel room with a prostitute. Little does he know that his guest for the evening is not a woman. He won’t care either way. It won’t be the first time.”
I look up at Dorian, slightly bewildered. “So many secrets and deceit in the darkness, it seems,” I remark quietly. How does he know all this? Or are his ramblings a result of the potent alcohol?
“You would think so. The world thinks that darkness is synonymous for deception. Evil. But look again.” Dorian nods his head towards the night once again.
“An elderly man and his wife stroll along the lake, hand in hand. It’s their 50th anniversary and they’ve just come from a grand celebration in one of the resort’s banquet halls, thrown by their 5 children and their families and friends.
“A young man is proposing to his longtime girlfriend over by the bridge. He’s shipping off to basic training soon and he wants to marry her when he returns. They’ve been dating since high school.
“A new dad is frantically calling the airlines after finding out his baby has been born unexpectedly. He’s here on a business trip with very important clients but he is sacrificing it all to be with his family.
“Another night guard has been suspecting his coworker and friend has been stealing to help his family during hard times. He is looking for him in hopes to talk him into returning the items and is willing to help him get back on his feet.”
Dorian looks down at me to gauge my dumbfounded expression. He gives me a reassuring grin and strokes my cheek with his hand. “You see, Gabriella. Darkness is not always what it seems. It can appear frightening at first but there is truly nothing to fear. Sometimes the light can blind us from the truth.”
Ok, now he’s officially freaked me out. Does he even know what he’s saying? The thought that Dorian could possibly know about me passes through my mind. But that’s impossible. And if he did, he would not be so comfortable standing here with me now. Either that or I would be dead.
Dorian bends forward and plants a deep, tender kiss on my lips, erasing the feelings of unease and disbelief. He tastes and smells of the sweet, strong liquor.
“Come on, we both need to get some sleep.”
Dorian downs the last of his drink and then takes my hand, leading me to the bedroom. He turns down the comforter before I climb in. After he steps out of his pants, he climbs in behind me completely naked. He pushes his white shirt off my shoulders and I awkwardly maneuver my body so he can remove it completely. Then he pulls my head down to his hard, smooth chest and I nestle into him comfortably, intertwining my leg between his. This feels so good, yet I know it will only cause confusion in the future.
“You’re not, Gabriella,” Dorian says suddenly.
“Huh?”
“You’re not just one of those casual arrangements. I felt it too.”
I don’t know what to say to that. Part of me is elated at the revelation because I, too, see Dorian as so much more than just a fling. But another part of me, the logical, shrewd part, is cringing at his admission. Because nothing good can come of this. I can’t give him any more of me than I already have, and it’s not fair to sell him the illusion of an ordinary, carefree young woman. Less than a year stands between us and my ascension. And then what? What if I don’t even make it until then? He could be hurt in the crossfire.
Instead of responding to Dorian’s declaration, I plant a soft kiss on his chest, and try my hardest to fall asleep to the rhythm of his beating heart. I will give him this moment. I will let myself enjoy his warmth and security. It may be the last bit of bliss I get to experience.