Dark Light (The Dark Light Series) (27 page)

I bite my lip in an attempt to stifle a snicker. That man is not leaving his wife. He’s scum, and I fight the urge to turn around and tell him and his mistress so. The memory of Dorian’s late night narrative enters my mind. He did say that there’s a man and woman here having an affair and that he would never leave his wife.
Lucky guess, Dorian. 

I stow away the information I’ve gained on the heated elevator ride, and step off eagerly when I reach the top floor. Only a few yards separate me from him at this point. Finally I’ll be free from this hell I’ve been experiencing for the past few days. I know that he is the cure. All I need is right behind that door.

I finger comb my long, dark hair, take a deep breath and undo the waist tie of my long coat before knocking. Seconds tick by and there is no answer. No sound from the other side of the door.
Shit
. I knock again, this time a bit harder. Still no activity or noise.
Shit!
I begin to panic, my chest rising and falling dramatically with my rapid breaths. I lift my fist to knock one last time before retreating back to my car humiliated and frustrated when the door suddenly opens, startling me.

Dorian stands before me wearing a stoic expression, his bare arms glistening with tiny droplets of water. He’s wearing only a low-hanging pair of grey sweatpants, a white tank top, and nothing else. It’s amazing how such pedestrian attire can look so damn good draped on his luscious body. His dark hair is damp, reminding me of slick black oil. I am momentarily stunned by his disheveled yet sumptuous appearance and nearly forget my own plan of action. I tear my eyes away long enough to open my long trench coat, exposing the see-through chemise and thong. I’m wearing my spangled platform heels accompanied by silk black thigh-high stockings and soft ringlets cascade down my back and shoulders. I’ve applied more eye liner and mascara than I’m used to wearing and my lips are perfectly glossed and pouty. I place my hands on my hips for added effect and take in Dorian’s hungry, appreciative expression.

“Get in here.
Now
,” Dorian growls between gritted teeth before grabbing me by the arm and pulling me inside his suite. 

He slams the door behind him. For a second I think he’s angry at my brazen display until his firm, eager lips find mine. His kiss is deep and desperate, like he has just sought nourishment after days of famine. He’s missed me. Just like I’ve missed him. 

Dorian reluctantly breaks our impassioned lip-lock and leads me to the living room. He leaves me in front of the couch and goes over to the bar, pouring amber liquor into two crystal glasses. He takes a sip from one of the glasses and then walks over and hands it to me. I take a small sip and let the silky liquid make its way down my parched throat. It doesn’t burn as bad this time and I welcome its warmth after being outside nearly naked. Dorian picks up a small remote and presses a button. Racy, provocative music resounds through an unseen sound system, filling the dimly lit room with hypnotic melodies. I instantly raise my eyebrows in recognizance.

“Interesting choice in music. I never would have pegged you as a Prince fan,” I remark.

Dorian smirks. “You know of him,” he observes. “I’m surprised. A bit before your time.”

“Morgan is obsessed with him. She’s made me watch Purple Rain with her at least twenty times.” I take a sip of my liquor and stifle a gasp at the burn sliding down my chest. Then I turn to Dorian with a questioning narrow of my hazel eyes. “Uh, before your time, too.”

Dorian nearly snorts with amusement then shakes his head. “I told you, Gabriella. I listen to whatever moves me. And it is very fitting for what I have planned for you.”

I place a hand on my curvy, lace-covered hip. “And that is?”

Dorian takes a seat in the middle of the very same sofa that he violently sexed me on. The memory is harsh, vulgar. It instantly makes me wet with anticipation.

“Dance,” he commands.

I look at him incredulously as if he’s just instructed me to bark like a dog. “Dance? I don’t dance.” At least not the kind of dancing Dorian has in mind. I’m tempted to wrap my coat around me and hightail it out of there.

“If you can fuck, you can dance. Drink.” 

I do as he commands like a good little girl and am instantly repulsed by my submissiveness. 

Dorian takes a sip of his own poison. “You’ve come all this way dressed like that. I want to enjoy you, savor you. Imagine what I see right now. How sexy you are. I want you to be as aroused by your body as I am.” Dorian takes the small remote and turns it up a bit and then walks over to me, standing at my backside. He places his hands on my hips and presses himself against my ass. Slowly he sways my hips side to side in rhythm with the music, grinding against me with the stiffened bulge constricted in grey cotton. I stifle a low groan at its pulsing hardness.

Never in my life have I had a guy make me want to abandon all my morals and boundaries. Here I am, standing in lingerie, a trench coat and heels in the middle of a man’s hotel room, seriously considering doing a striptease for him.
And why shouldn’t I?
He wants me; he thinks I’m sexy. Why can’t I be as confident and uninhibited as Morgan, who can nab any man she pleases? I should own my sex appeal, and flaunt it heartily in front of Dorian. This gorgeous, drop-dead sexy man wants me. I arouse him and he only wants to take me to new heights. I’ve never backed down from a challenge and I shouldn’t start now.

“Sit,” I demand, taking Dorian’s hands and gently pulling him back toward the couch. He smirks and licks his lips, taking his front row seat. 

The song ends and another sexually-charged tune takes its place. I take a gulp of the burning liquid courage and set the glass down, ready to show Dorian that he isn’t the only one with methods of seduction.
Here goes.

From right to left I sway my hips, riding the beat of the music, running my hands over the soft lace of my lingerie. I keep my hooded eyes locked on Dorian’s fervent expression, biting my bottom lip a little. I decide to switch it up a little and start to roll my hips, definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol. It makes me feel free and sexy. The move is not lost on Dorian and he responds with a lick of his succulent lips. I begin to slowly slide the coat off my shoulders, never breaking eye contact or halting my sinful dance. The sight of my bare, creamy skin causes Dorian to gasp. The gesture is appreciated and motivates me to continue. The trench coat is only covering the lower half of my arms. Instead of letting it drop to the floor, I use it to entice Dorian, letting it slide down inch by inch until it hangs around my waist. Dorian’s mouth is partially opened and I can tell his breathing is deep and labored.
Time to go in for the kill.

I let the coat drop to the floor, exposing my curvy frame draped in see-through mesh and lace. I saunter over to Dorian with catlike grace, putting a little extra
oomph
into each sway of my hips. When I am standing directly in front of him, I nestle between his parted legs, inviting him to touch me. His eyes are aflame with blue fire, burning pure lust and desire. I up the ante by propping my stiletto-heeled foot beside him on the couch, giving Dorian a full view of my shapely thighs and lace covered sex. His breathing is ragged and shallow. He swallows loudly and looks like a thirsty man at a well. He’s affected, and I mentally relish in my victory. I’ve done it; I’ve won. Dorian isn’t the only one who can play this game. 

With a tentative hand, Dorian finally reaches out to caress my extended leg. His fingertips dance over the sheer stocking, making its way up to my thigh. I think he’s about to take it off but instead he runs his hand up towards my bare backside. He slides it up under the flimsy material and gently grasps my cheek. A low moan makes its way from my lips as Dorian continues up my other leg, again clutching my behind. He leans forward and grazes my now damp panties with his nose. It teases the swell behind the skimpy fabric and I can’t contain my raspy sighs. My knees are beginning to shake and I’m in fear of losing control. No. This is my show.

“Sit back,” I command. 

Dorian looks up at me quizzically and does as he’s told, leaning back on the couch. I place my foot back on the floor and take an admiring glance at the bulge under Dorian’s sweatpants. I lean forward and place a single finger under his waistband, grazing his firm, defined abdominal muscles.
Geez, he must work out like a madman
. I pull the waistband a bit and bite my lip hungrily at the sight of the trail of fine, dark hair leading to his generous erection. I want it.
Right now
. I yank down his sweats, allowing his hardness to spring to freedom. I kneel down on the plush carpeting and let my carnal instincts take the driver’s seat as I greedily take Dorian deep into my mouth. He sucks in a large gulp of air in surprise, followed by a chorus of deep groans, harmonizing with the slow, seductive music, as I feed the Dark beast raging within me.

“I’ve created a monster,” Dorian says between rapid breaths. 

He’s completely naked, still sitting upright on the couch with me straddled on his lap, resting my head wearily on his bare shoulder. My sheer nighty is still intact except for my scanty thong that Dorian eagerly ripped right off of me so I could mount him with haste.

“Have you?” I breathe. I feel lightheaded, almost intoxicated, though I know I’m only slightly buzzed from the alcohol. 

“That was… incredible.” Dorian sounds bewildered, as if he can’t understand how someone like me could unravel him. “Sure you don’t have some salacious past I don’t know about?”

“Hey!” I say, playfully slapping his shoulder. “I guess we all have our talents. Some are just a bit more depraved than others,” I giggle. I groggily lift my head to look in his glossy, drowsy eyes. “Honestly, I’ve never been like this with anyone else. I know you don’t want to hear that or you don’t believe it, but there’s something about you. When I’m with you…,” I explain. I can’t find the words though they’re right on the tip of my tongue. I search Dorian’s crystal blues for understanding. 

“I know,” is all he says in response. What does
that
mean? He knows how I feel because he feels the same way? Or he gets what I’m trying to convey? “Looks like I owe you a pair of panties,” Dorian chuckles, changing the subject.

“I’ve got another pair in my car. No worries.”

“And how do you expect to go out and get them? Dressed like that?” Dorian’s lips turn up into an amused smirk. My mouth forms into an ‘O,’ causing him to look even more tickled. He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.” 

Dorian gently tries to lift me off of him and I reluctantly dismount him. He grabs his rumpled sweats from off the floor and pulls them on, while I watch him from the couch. My legs are still shaky from the overwhelming orgasm I suffered minutes ago. 

Dorian makes his way to a phone and punches in a number. He’s calling room service. He orders a variety of dishes, and even loads up on desserts. I shake my head at him when he hangs up and looks my way.

“What?” he asks with shrugged shoulders. He looks so young right now, and I remember that he actually
is
young. He’s still a kid in most people’s eyes.

“Think you ordered enough? Geez, how much do you think I eat?” I giggle. I mentally scold myself. I’m always extra giggly around Dorian.
So
not me.

“I need to ensure you’re replenished. I highly doubt you ate before you came here. Besides, I’m famished. Haven’t been eating much these past few days.” His expression is troubled as if he’s recalling an unpleasant memory. 

“You too?” I say quietly. 

Dorian’s head snaps up and his eyes meet mine. He knows what I mean. He’s been as tormented as I have since Monday evening. He caused the turmoil yet he’s had to suffer through it as well. No further explanation is needed. We both feel the inexplicable need for each other. 

I shakily make my way to my feet and retreat to the bathroom in the bedroom. Hanging on the hook is one of Dorian’s white dress shirts, probably the one he wore today. I slip it on over my lucent slip and button it halfway up. It smells like him, like pure sin and heaven.
What a combination
. I let his scent envelop me, trying to record it to memory. I want it all over me. 

When I step back into the living room area, Dorian is looking out through the glass doors again. Into the darkness. The music has changed and I recognize it as the band he introduced me to that evening in his car. I downloaded their album soon after he played it for me. I take a deep breath and walk up behind him, wrapping my arms around the front of his waist. It’s a risky move, something I would never do. But it feels so good, holding him. Dorian pulls me tighter around him, obviously appreciative of the contact. I exhale in relief.

“What do you see tonight, Dorian?” I murmur, eyes closed, resting my head against his bare broad back.

“The usual. Depravity, pain, lust, deceit,” he answers matter-of-factly.

“No happiness and love?” I take a deep whiff of his warm skin.
Ahhhh.

“Oh, there is.” He turns to face me, still holding my arms around him. His expression is so content, so tender. I can’t bear to tear my eyes from his. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him so vulnerable.

Three quick raps on the door interrupt our intense moment. We both look towards the door defensively with stern expressions. When a voice on the other side of the door announces the arrival of room service, we both relax our tense stances. Dorian walks over to the door to let in the concierge with our feast on his wheeled cart. Once he’s gone, Dorian leads me to the dining table where a huge spread of Italian antipasti, oysters on a half-shell, stuffed mushrooms, and fresh fruit await us. He’s also taken the liberty of ordering more decadent desserts than appropriate. 

“I like dessert,” he shrugs, smiling. His smile makes me smile, seeing him so carefree and unburdened. His positivity is infectious, and all the worries of my world are a distant memory. 

“Well then,” I say picking up a slice of cheesecake with some type of fresh berry compote on top, “we should start there.”