Dark Light (The Dark Light Series) (40 page)

“Dorian, I can’t eat this!” I say, my eyes taking in the individual dessert platters of several miniature confections. His love for sweets makes him seem so young and incredibly cute, and I think about the time we had a tickling war with whipped cream. Then my mind wanders to when
I
was his dessert and heat quickly floods my cheeks and the apex of my thighs.

Dorian gives me a wicked smile as if he’s recalling the same memory, and licks his lips. He scoops up a tiny bit of his chocolate mousse and holds it out to my lips. I roll my eyes playfully and take it into my mouth slowly, making sure to flick my tongue out onto the spoon first. He likes this; something about feeding me clearly arouses him. I don’t deny trying to make a show of it either. 

After we are all sated and clearly a bit tipsy from the wine, Brian leads us to an upstairs area, equally chic and alluring. Something about its dark walls and furniture accented with just a hint of metallic color gives it a sultry, sexy feel. A DJ is spinning all the latest hits and sharply dressed men and women are on the dance floor. Again, we walk to a special section reserved for us, and Dorian does not fail to impress. Leather sofas, oversized plush pillows, teakwood accent tables, luminous candles and many bottles of chilled champagne and spirits await us. Now this is a VIP section!

I barely have a chance to sip my glass of bubbly before Morgan grabs my hand, leading me to the dance floor with Aurora in tow. We’re all feeling good, and I am even being friendly with Aurora as if we’re old girlfriends. We giggle and dance to several songs as the men look on and chat idly. I can see they’re all getting along, Dorian and Jared included. This is how it should be. I should be able to have all my friends together, having a great time, doing what normal young adults do. Last month, I couldn’t stand being so normal. As the saying goes, be careful what you wish for. 

By 2 A.M. my feet are aching, I’m beyond tipsy, Morgan is flat out drunk and stumbling and James has made a new friend. After collecting our coats, we head back to the limo, conveniently waiting on the curb in the front. James invites his new Ms. Right Now back to the house and she joins us on our ride home, clearly awestruck. I secretly hope she’s not feigning interest in James because she thinks he’s wealthy judging by tonight’s overflow of champagne and the limo. She will be sadly disappointed when she realizes he’s a broke, soon-to-be recent college grad. But it’ll serve her right if she sleeps with him with hopes of monetary gain. 

When we get home, Miguel helps a giggling Morgan to her room and shuts the door behind them. Looks like James won’t be the only one getting lucky. Aurora and Jared had been making out the entire ride home and they continue their uncomfortable display all the way to their room. Which leaves Dorian and me. 

“Zip me down?” I say innocently once we’re in the confines of our room.
Our
room- I like the sound of that.

Dorian licks his lips and coolly walks towards me. He positions himself behind me and zips down my dress slowly, leaving soft kisses on my shoulders and back once they’re exposed. I shiver at the feel of his caress.

“How about a dip?” he whispers in my ear. 

I turn my head to eye him suspiciously. “Did you bring your swim trunks?”

Dorian gives me his devilish grin and bites his bottom lip. “No.”

“Then absolutely.”

We strip out of our clothing excitedly, cackling like naughty teenagers. Once we’ve wrapped ourselves in towels and Dorian has grabbed a chilled bottle from the fridge along with two glasses, we race to the hot tub outside. This is risqué behavior for me; I’ve never been one to be outwardly affectionate or sexual with anybody. But I can’t deny that I’m aroused at the prospect of getting caught skinny-dipping.

Dorian sets down the bottle of champagne and glasses then lets his towel drop to the ground, exposing his beautifully chiseled body. I gawk in amazement at how comfortable he is stark naked, especially outdoors in the freezing cold. He climbs into the Jacuzzi gracefully then turns to face me with a beckoning hand. I stand nervously clutching my towel around me, suddenly feeling shy. 

“Come on, you’ll warm up as soon as you get in the water,” Dorian says soothingly. Reluctantly, I let my towel fall and take his hand, letting him pull me in. God, I hope none of my friends are looking out the window! They’d get a glimpse of more than just one full moon.

The water feels great, and the bubbly jets cause my sensitive areas to tingle out of control. Dorian fills our champagne glasses, and I gladly sip mine to ease my apprehension. After playful banter and flirting, Dorian takes the glass from my hand and sets it down with his. He positions my body onto one of the powerful jets and the water shoots up fiercely, making me squirm. I gasp at the sensation as Dorian looks on with hooded eyes. He stands between my open thighs, massaging them slowly. His hands find their way to my slippery wetness, causing a jolt of electricity to shoot through my body. His eyes stay on mine, like always, burning deep with desire. He’s lips are moving as if he’s murmuring something, but I can’t hear it over the rapidly bubbling water and the sounds of my own pleasure. 

Then it begins- the prickling little shockwaves coursing through every inch of my body. It’s as if Dorian has a hundred magical fingers and they are stimulating me all at once. I try to hold my breath in fear that my moans will alert our occupied friends but I can’t help myself. I’m moaning wildly, panting, writhing. I can’t stop it, I have to let go. Yet when I do, ecstasy continues to overcome me in intense, violent waves. A never-ending orgasm. Only when I squeeze my eyes shut and let my head roll back do the sensations finally cease.

Once coherent thought has returned to me, I lift my head up and look at a smirking Dorian. He seems satisfied with himself, cocky even. I think to say something smart to him but before I can, he spreads my legs wider and enters me with a swift thrust. I cry out his praises as he begins his slow assault. The combination of the hot water and the streaming jets adds a new level of pleasure. I link my ankles together around his waist to pull him deeper into me, and he groans his approval. My hands clutch his back and shoulders ferociously as Dorian’s measured deep strokes grow faster and harder. Water sloshes all around us, causing my wet tresses to stick to my face and neck. I’m bucking against him, pulling his hair, moaning, savoring his tongue on my neck and shoulders. I feel his fingers dig into my flesh as he pumps himself in and out of me and the sting only heightens my arousal. I like the pain; I need it. This pain that Dorian gives me makes me feel so alive, so vital. 

As if reading my thoughts, Dorian digs himself deeper into me, and I can feel the strain in his body as he tries to fight against his own orgasm. He doesn’t want to stop but it’s pulling him under. He bites down onto my shoulder, his teeth leaving little indentions in my skin. It’s so intensely erotic, I don’t even try to stifle my carnal cries. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I know that they make it harder for him to resist; my arousal provokes him more than anything else. Seeing him so undone does the same for me, and I will myself to slow down. But it’s too late. The telltale sign of his climax, the substantial swelling inside of me, pushes me over the edge, and we both plunge into dangerously thrashing dark waters. 

I gasp Dorian’s name, followed by a series of hoarse expletives, resting my head on his hard shoulder. His face is buried in my neck, trying to regain his own breath through gritted teeth. I secretly relish his vulnerability in this moment, and the pinkish haze of our combined auras makes this scene so serene. I’ve tried to ignore them, and honestly, it freaked me out when I first saw it. But now it’s simply become another nuisance of my new life. The upside of it is that I can read people’s moods and proceed with them accordingly. Almost like reading their minds. I wonder if Dorian has the same ability, being that he always seems to know my thoughts. I store the question away for later, not wanting to spoil the tender moment.

“Will it always be like this?” I murmur, still cradled in his arms.

“Like what?” Dorian replies. I feel his cool breath on my throat and get a little chill, despite the hot water and our vigorous activity. Dorian holds me tighter.

“This…good?” I sigh. “Does it ever get bad with you? Or even mediocre? Will you always make me feel so amazing?” I chuckle at my ridiculous questions.

Dorian lifts his head and looks at me quizzically. “Is it that good to you?” He’s being coy; he knows exactly what he does to my body.

“Crazy good,” I say, lifting my eyebrows for dramatic effect. Dorian looks down for a beat, and when he returns his gaze to me, it’s thoughtful and serious.
Oh no, did I say something wrong?

“It’s good for me too, you know. Inexplicable.” He swallows to give himself a moment to align his thoughts with his words. “No one has ever moved me like you. Ever. The feeling you give me is insane. It’s unnatural. You intoxicate me.”

Whoa. That was unexpected. I look at Dorian in awe, totally beguiled by his sudden intimate confession. So maybe he feels it too- the incredible need that draws me to him. Maybe he feels the tiny prickles that flow through my body whenever we touch. Maybe, just maybe, his feelings for me could go deeper than the physical. Maybe he could love me too.

“Have you ever been with someone…like me?” I ask meekly. He knows what I mean but we haven’t gone into that territory yet. We are both stuck somewhere between denial and obscurity.

Dorian shakes his head a bit. “No. No one like you.”

I lay my head back down on his shoulder, exhaustion washing over me from the intense orgasms, alcohol, and late hour. I close my eyes just for a moment, and inhale deeply, breathing in Dorian’s fresh, cool aroma. He always smells so crisp and clean, reminding me of the scent of fresh linen or island air, though I’ve never seen him wear cologne. Yet another mystery that makes Dorian so damn irresistible.

“Come, little girl. Let’s get you to bed.”

Dorian lifts me up, cradling me so my cheek rests on his chest. My eyes are still closed but I feel him maneuver easily out of the hot tub and then feel the softness of a towel draped over me. I can tell he’s walking into the house, and I should really tell him to put me down so I can walk the rest of the way, but my eyelids are so heavy. And his arms feel so good wrapped around me, the soothing rhythm of his heart my own personal lullaby. Through the tiny slits of my eyes, I see that we’ve entered the bedroom. Dorian sets me down gently on the bed and puts the comforter over me before walking to the other side to climb in. We lie facing each other, naked under the thick blanket. It’s dark but I can still see his eyes twinkling brightly.

“I’ve never been with someone like you either,” I whisper.

“I know,” Dorian replies. “And you never will be.” Then sleep envelops me, filling my head with vivid images of Dorian, Aurora, and piercing blue eyes.

The next morning, I awaken to the soft thudding of Dorian’s beating heart. My head rests on his smooth, bare chest and his arms are wrapped tightly around me. This feels so good, so right. I want to pretend to still be asleep but judging by the sounds resonating from the kitchen, everyone is already up and at ‘em. Plus the bathroom is calling my name. I try to ease out from under his embrace when he begins to stir.

“
No. No. I’m sorry
,” he murmurs. 

I look up, expecting to see him peering at me but his eyes are still shut tightly, his brow furrowed with angst. Again, he mutters something but it’s in Greek, I believe. However, the anguish in his voice tells me that he is urgently pleading. The tone of his voice changes, and so does the language. It is the unnamed language from last night, the one he spoke with Aurora. I can pick up a few words but they are so random that they don’t make much sense to me. 

“No…Mine…Don’t…Please.”

I reach out to stroke his cheek to comfort him, and he jerks awake. His eyes are wild, searching, disoriented. He then crushes my body to his, holding me tightly in his arms for several silent seconds. I don’t dare utter a word; who knows what has caused him such distress. When he finally loosens his grip, I look up to give to him a reassuring, yet weak, smile before retreating to the bathroom, leaving him confused and disheveled. 

As I brush my teeth, I can’t help but wonder if I handled the situation correctly. Did he expect me to say something to soothe him? Should I have stayed and asked him what he was dreaming about? No. If he wanted to tell me, he would have. I could never reveal the content of my nightmares; why should I expect him to?

After we’re all dressed and packed, we begrudgingly say goodbye to our vacation home. We pile into the van and head into town to have brunch before hitting the road. Dorian didn’t drive his car here so I assume he hired a car service to bring him. I don’t question him, just like I don’t question the heated glances between him and Aurora over waffles, bacon, and eggs. They are not passionate or longing stares. They are...odd, to say the least. Their expressions reflect those of an intense, serious conversation, yet neither one of them says a word.

“So Miguel, what are your sister’s plans after high school? She graduates in a few weeks, right?” I ask, trying to distract my overactive imagination.

“Yeah, she does, but I have no idea what her plans could be. Carmen is adamant about not going to a traditional university. She’s really into fashion design and wants to attend some fashion and art institute. The problem is my parents just can’t afford it. I wouldn’t have been able to go to college if it weren’t for my scholarship. So she’s looking for a job to help her get into that industry. And we all know the Springs isn’t that cutting edge when it comes to stuff like that.”

“What? Not into Mountain Chic?” Morgan chuckles. She gives Miguel a flirtatious smile and I notice him stroking her back. They definitely hooked up last night.

“Well, let me know if she doesn’t find anything she really likes. I might be able to help her,” I say.

I look over at Dorian, who has returned his attention to me, and give him a wink. I told him I’d accept his job offer only if I could do the hiring. And firing. Meaning Little Miss Allison will have to flaunt her perky breasts elsewhere. Not being that fashion savvy myself, Carmen could be just what I need to help me run Cashmere. Plus, I know she’s trustworthy and hardworking. I’d be helping out a friend and helping myself as well.