Dark Light (The Dark Light Series) (31 page)

I jump in surprise, clutching my chest. “Geez, Dorian, you scared me!” 

“Did I?” he smirks. He enjoys seeing me ruffled. He looks like his old self again- magnificently beautiful and composed.

I close the few feet between us and run my hands up his hard chest. “Here, let me.” 

I grab the bottom hem of his long sleeve shirt and pull it up. Dorian lifts his arms to aid my efforts. His chest is splendid- hard, defined cuts of muscle under smooth tan skin. The only mark is the tattoo on his side. I lean forward and place a gentle kiss on his chest. He feels so warm under my lips. I continue with a trail from his soft nipples to the ink etched into his flesh. He gasps in surprise and I look up to meet his stunned eyes then give him a sly smile. I let my hands roam the taut mounds of his shoulders and down his arms. I intertwine my fingers with his and search his face for a sign of acceptance. Holding his hand- such a simple gesture that holds so much weight. Dorian lightly squeezes my fingers between his own in response.

Reluctantly, I pull my hands from his to turn the water off before it overflows. I return to Dorian eagerly, reaching for the fly of his jeans. Once they’re undone, they crumple to the ground, exposing his black fitted boxer briefs. I see the large swell in the front of them and caress it with the feather-light tips of my fingernails. I can feel it pulsing subtly with vigor and strength. Dorian’s breathing is shallow and ragged. The gentle touches are arousing him, and when I push down his underwear, his manhood springs to life. Dorian takes the liberty of stepping out of his jeans and removing his socks while I admire his impressive length.

“Like what you see?” Dorian smirks.

I smile and shake my head. “You are so crass, you know that?”

Dorian chuckles and runs his hand through his damp, tousled hair. “Guess you’re rubbing off on me.” He reaches for the hem of my shirt and gently yanks it over my head. “My turn,” he teases.

Dorian’s eyes dance with excitement at the sight of my modest white lace bra. It’s such a contrast from the black see-through chemise I donned just last night. Instead of unfastening it, his hands move down to the button of my jeans, which he slides down with ease. I stand before him, clad in my angelic white panties and bra letting Dorian absorb the sight.

He swallows hard. “You look so…pure. And
good
. So beautiful,” he mutters caressing the soft lace of the bodice.

“Don’t like the racy black number?” I ask with a raised eyebrow. 

“Oh, I like it. Very much. But I like this too. Reminds me of the good girl I wanted to ruin when I first saw you.” Dorian licks his lips at the memory.

“What makes you think I was a good girl?” I run my hands up and down his bare chest. His hardness rubs against my stomach.

“Well, you aren’t a bad one.” His hands cup the full roundness of my breasts. My nipples throb with delight.

“Can’t I be a little of both?” I say sweetly. I bite my bottom lip, my eyes the color of hot liquid amber.

Dorian’s ice blue eyes meet mine. There’s wonder and anxiety behind them. He blinks it away quickly, breaking eye contact and reaching around to undo the clasp of my bra. Once my breasts are free from their lacey imprisonment, he bends down to bathe them with his tongue. I moan gratefully. He flicks one nipple with the tip of his tongue before moving to the other to do the same. My nerve endings sing with sheer glee.

“If you’re not careful, our water will get cold,” I say breathlessly. Dorian brings his head up reluctantly and then reaches down to relinquish me of my panties. I step out of them and grab his hand, leading him into the grand bathtub.

We sit facing each other, suds enrapturing us in white froth. So many unspoken words between us, yet neither of us can articulate what is on our minds. The questions are rhetorical; we know the answers in our hearts. But this dream, where we are just an ordinary couple in an ordinary world is so much better than our reality. We’re not ready to wake up. Though we know this dream will eventually manifest into a nightmare.

“You don’t look 25,” I say thoughtfully.

“Oh? How old do I look?” Dorian is humoring me, a willing participant in my dangerous game.

“Maybe 28. No older than 30. You’re too mature, too certain of yourself for 25.”

“Is that right?” Dorian takes a handful of warm water and lets it trickle down onto my shoulder.

“And you’re way too successful. Do you even know any 25 year olds? Most of them don’t own salons and luxury apartment complexes.”

“But 28 year olds do?” Dorian says with a sexy half-smile.

“I don’t know,” I shrug. Keep him talking, I think to myself. I bite the bullet and formulate my next question. “The eye thing… What is that? Hypnotism?”

Dorian strokes my erect nipples with his thumbs. I sigh at the contact. He leans forward and kisses the base of my throat. “Something like that,” he murmurs into my neck.

“And you can do that to me whenever you want?” I close my eyes and enjoy the sensation of his lips and fingers.

“As long as you’re open to me. Which can be difficult when you’re being so guarded.” Dorian’s lips travel to my jaw. He pulls me towards him, sloshing water onto the bathroom floor. I place my legs around his hips.

“Must be pretty tricky stuff. How could one learn something like that? Is there an online class? A manual? Eye-fuckery for Dummies?” I chuckle. I lean forward and let my lips taste his chest once again. His skin smells fresh and exotic. Like crystal clear waters off a tropical island.

“Nothing to learn. You’re already a natural.” Dorian pulls me closer into him, grasping my ass and scooting me to meet his hardness. I wrap my legs around his waist. 

“How do you know that?” I ask nuzzling his neck. My submerged lower half begins a slow grind. 

“Because you’ve done it to me. Last night,” Dorian states plainly as if we’re discussing the weather. He gently sucks my earlobe, gripping my behind and following my rhythm. 

“I did?” I ask, shock resonating in my voice but not halting my carnal dance. It feels too good.

“Yes. It was the most intense pleasure I’ve ever experienced. But as much as I enjoyed it, you shouldn’t do it again.” Dorian’s own hips rise and fall, causing incredible friction. “You’re not ready. It takes too much out of you. Hence, your breakdown earlier.”

“But you fixed me.” 

I tangle my fingers in his hair, pulling a bit. Dorian gasps as I tug his disheveled locks. “I did. But not without consequence. You drain me.” He nibbles my neck, letting his teeth graze it. Then he gently bites down.

“
Mmmm
, Dorian,” I breathe. “Let me make you better then.”

“You do, baby. Just touching you. Smelling you. Kissing you.” 

Dorian then lifts me and eases me onto his hard thickness. I gasp at the feeling of absolute, perfect fullness. “Feeling you,” he breathes.

For the next thirty minutes, Dorian and I fix each other. All the shattered pieces of our charades scattered on the bathroom floor, creating a mosaic of pain, lust, deceit, passion, fear. And love. Piece by piece we pick up the shards, trying to recover just a fragment of who we once were. But what is broken can never be as it was; it will never be the same. So we create a new portrait of ourselves and let our secrets become the glue that holds us together. Because if we admit the depths of our depravity, we can never turn back. We won’t be able to pretend anymore. He will know me, and I will know him. And that’s just a risk neither of us are willing to take.

“So you’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?” 

We’re riding in Dorian’s lavish Mercedes, windows down, music blasting from the speakers. It’s a gorgeous day- a total 180 from yesterday’s depressing dreariness. We were even able to enjoy our breakfast of waffles topped with fresh berries out on the balcony, letting the sunshine kiss the tops of our heads. 

“Nope,” Dorian says from the driver’s seat. His dark shades and black V-neck tee make him look every bit like the sexy bad boy I imagined him to be. All that’s missing is a Harley. “You’ll have to wait and see.” He smirks, obviously pleased with himself for making me squirm with excitement.

“Oh, come on! I’m curious!” I giggle. I’m in high spirits today. How can I not be? After our little game in the bathtub followed by mind-blowing water sex, I got to wake up to the most fascinating, gorgeous man alive. I'd be a fool to take that for granted.

“Careful, little girl. Curiosity killed the cat.” Dorian looks over and flashes his devilish grin.

“Oh, it’ll take a whole lot more to kill me,” I say darkly, biting my bottom lip. 

Dorian smiles and shakes his head, returning his eyes to the road. “Is that a challenge?”

“Nope. It’s a fact,” I say simply.

“Well in that case, I better hurry up and get you to our destination.” 

With that, Dorian hits the gas, causing the car to lurch forward. He weaves in and out of traffic with incredible ease with no regard for speed limits or fear of traffic cops. Every light turns green as we approach and I look on with astonished wide eyes. I know I should be afraid but the speed is absolutely exhilarating. Before I know it, we are whipping into the parking lot of Palmer Park, already crowded with cars and people.

“Palmer Park?” I say looking at Dorian questioningly.

“There’s a music festival going on. Thought you might like it.” 

Dorian pulls into a parking spot and turns to take in my somber expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing. Just surprised.” I try to shake the creeping anxiety from my head and plaster on a smile. “I heard about this.”

Dorian leans over to plant a soft kiss on my forehead before exiting the car and coming over to open my door. Always the perfect gentleman. He grabs my hand and leads me into the park, and for a moment I feel like we are just a normal couple, doing what normal couples do. We stroll along the park grounds for the better part of the day, listening to the various live bands, eating junk food and drinking beer. I’ve brought my little digital camera, and we take turns snapping candid shots, even taking a few silly ones of ourselves. It’s nice. I feel safe and carefree with Dorian, and it seems he has let himself unwind and relax too. 

“Gabs?” a familiar voice calls out to me as Dorian and I are making our way back to his car hand in hand. Shit.

I quickly drop Dorian’s hand and turn around to face my dearest friend. “Jared. Hey. Um, what’s up?” I stammer.

“Looks like you didn’t have to work after all,” Jared remarks stiffly. He looks to Dorian and gives him a nod. “Hey, man. Jared,” he says extending his hand.

Dorian receives Jared’s outstretched palm and shakes. I feel my stomach tie itself into a thousand knots. “Nice to meet you. Dorian.”

“So this,” Jared says gesturing between Dorian and me, “is a thing? You didn’t tell me you were dating somebody.”

“Hey, baby, I’m going to get the car. You two catch up,” Dorian murmurs to me. “Jared. Good to meet you.” Then he leaves me alone to face my friend and former love interest.

“Wow, Gabs. You work fast. And here I thought things were too complicated in your life for you to get involved with anybody. Must’ve gotten them straightened out,” Jared smirks. 

“Look, Jared, it’s not like that,” I try to explain.

“Really? Because it sure as hell looks like that.” Jared shakes his head and grits his teeth with contempt. “The creepy guy from the club, Gabs?
Really?
So how long has this been going on? For the past few weeks? And you let me play myself like a fucking fool?”

“Calm down. Like I said, it’s not even like that. And he’s not creepy. We’re just hanging out, that’s all.” I know if I explained everything to Jared, he’d understand. But this situation has totally caught me off guard. I can’t get my thoughts together and seeing Jared so angry at me doesn’t make it any better.

“It’s cool, Gabs. Whatever. Do what you have to do. I guess that night in my car didn’t mean shit to you. That the past 6 years didn’t mean enough for you to be honest with me.” 

Jared looks away, trying to reel in his anger, his jaw tight with ire. “But just tell me, did you ever really care for me? Or was I just convenient at the time?” A mixture of pain and rejection washes over his face and my heart aches for him. I reach my hand out for him but he instantly recoils, taking a step back. “Just answer my fucking question!”

“Yes, Jared. I did. I do. But it’s complicated.”
Shit!
This would be so much easier if I could just be honest with him!

“Complicated.” Jared again looks away then brings his green eyes back to me. “Do you love him?” he asks quietly.

“What?” I try to swallow down the regret and remorse clutching my chest. I need to be honest with him. I need to be honest with myself. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“So I guess it’s not too complicated, then, huh? You know what, it’s fine, Gabs. You go be happy with him. Let him pick up the pieces the next time you fall apart. It’s fine. I don’t need you.” 

Jared turns and stalks away angrily. Only then do I notice Miguel, James, and few other guys watching the scene a few yards away. I can’t bring myself to chase after or even call out to him. Humiliation has consumed me. I simply turn and seek the refuge of Dorian’s waiting Mercedes.

“Are you ok?” Dorian finally asks after several minutes of silence. We’re on our way back to the Broadmoor, the sun setting on the horizon, casting gorgeous pinks and oranges across the sky. Unfortunately, I’m too rattled to enjoy it.

“I will be. Just a bad situation. Something I’ll have to get used to.” I look out the window, too ashamed to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” Dorian mutters. 

I whip my head around to look at Dorian incredulously. What could he possibly be sorry about?  “Are you?”

Dorian slowly nods. “I am.”

“Does it get any easier?” I whisper softly, though I know Dorian will hear me.

His hands tighten on the steering wheel, as if his own painful memory has come to haunt him. “No,” he replies, tight-lipped. I don’t dare to ask him anymore. I don’t want to hear any more truths. 

Once we are in the comfort of Dorian’s luxurious suite, I head straight to the bar. I take two crystal glasses and fill them halfway with the brown liquor in the decanter. I’m guessing it’s scotch but at this point, I’m not picky. I take a sip from one of the glasses and then hand it to Dorian, as he did with me before my little striptease.