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.”
I take a fork and scoop up a bit, walking over to Dorian and offering it to him. He keeps his eyes on mine as he opens his mouth and receives the smooth, creamy bite. Then in a swift movement, he picks me up with ease, setting me down on the edge of the table where I once was his dessert. He grabs another dessert plate, I’m guessing Crème Brulee, and sits in the chair facing me. He scoots himself forward so that he is right between my thigh-high clad legs, obtaining a full view of my naked sex.
“Open up,” he says, and for a moment I think he means my legs. I open my mouth instead and welcome the sweet, sugary custard.
We continue like this for a while, sampling each dessert, laughing, flirting. Once we’ve each satisfied our sweet tooth, I scoot off the table and sit beside him at the table.
“Can I ask you a question?” I say reaching for a raw oyster. I suck down the slippery shellfish and wipe my hands and lips on a napkin.
“Shoot.” Dorian says, going for an oyster as well.
“What do you think about this Icepick Murderer?” Dorian seems to know a bit about everything, and while I have my secret suspicions, I really do feel more comfortable talking to him.
Dorian takes a moment as he swallows his oyster. He takes a long sip of the wine he’s poured for us, mulling over my question. “I think it’s someone who is desperate, unaware, and ignorant of the consequences he faces for such savagery.”
Dorian’s words catch me off guard. I expected him to describe the killer as ruthless and vile, but yet he’s somewhat explaining the reasons behind his actions. Unbelievable!
“Do you have an idea of who it might be?” I have to ask. Dorian is talking about this person, this Dark murderer, as if he knows him. Does he?
“Why would you think I’d know something like that?” Dorian asks, quizzically. He isn’t upset. He’s curious. I shrug my shoulders and go back to eating silently. Now is not the time to let my imagination run away with my rationality.
After a few quiet moments, I open up the conversation to something a bit more light and casual. “So have you thought about Morgan working at your salon?” The question has been gnawing at me and I didn’t want to bring it up right away in fear that he’d feel I was owed a favor after sleeping with him.
“I have actually. I think you were right; she’d offer a fresh, young perspective to our more mature, youth-seeking clientele. As soon as she’s licensed, she will have a job at Luxe, if that is what she desires.”
I flash Dorian a bright smile and don’t stop myself from jumping up and planting a quick peck on his lips. Morgan will be thrilled.
“Thank you, Dorian,” I say sitting back down and collecting myself. “She will be so excited. We’re hoping to get a nice place together with the extra money I’m sure she’ll get from those big tippers.”
“About that… What kind of place are you two looking to rent?” Dorian says with a raised eyebrow.
“Just something nice enough, a couple of bedrooms, bathrooms. Oh, and pet-friendly. Morgan has her little rat, Dolce,” I chuckle. Dorian looks bemused. “Oh, not a real rat. A Chihuahua. Morgan is crazy about that thing. She dresses him up and everything. That dog has a better wardrobe than most people.”
“I see. Not an animal lover, Gabriella?”
“I guess I like animals alright. Not overly crazy about them, especially pretentious little lapdogs.”
Dorian looks oddly interested in the news. Maybe he pegged me for some zealous tree-hugger since I told him I like being outdoors. Oh God, I hope he doesn’t think I like camping or stuff like that. Sunshine, I like. Bugs, rodents, and no indoor plumbing? Not so much.
“Well, if you’re interested, I happen to own an apartment complex. Have you heard of Paralia?” My wide eyes and dropped jaw answer his question. “If you would like to live there, I can offer you and Morgan a place that should suit your needs.”
“Geez, Dorian! You own that place? Since when?” The questions roll out a bit more excitedly than I intend.
“A little while now. An investment that fell into my lap unexpectedly.” Dorian shrugs as if it’s no big deal to own a luxury apartment complex.
“If you own Paralia, why do you live here?”
Again, he shrugs. “Convenience.” He looks back down at his food. “Think about it and let me know.”
“Dorian, I really appreciate it, I do. But I don’t think we could afford to live there. But thank you for the offer. I know the waiting list must be really long.” I give him a warm smile.
“Gabriella, are you trying to insult me?” Dorian’s expression is dark and serious. Shit.
“No, of course not!” I say fervently, shaking my head. But Dorian’s face is frozen with ire. “With me working at the mall part-time and no real plan after graduation, I wouldn’t be able to carry my weight. I can’t expect Morgan to foot the bill.”
“There would be no bill, Gabriella. Don’t you understand that?” Dorian’s icy expression thaws a bit but he is still obviously annoyed.
“No. How could I?” I’m floored by Dorian’s offer. Even a bit offended that he would assume I’d expect that. Now it’s my turn to look irritated. “You know I would never accept that. That’s ridiculous.”
“How so?” He’s genuinely curious.
“For starters, we are still getting to know each other. What if you decide I’m really not worth your time? Morgan and I would be out on the street. And secondly, Morgan wouldn’t feel comfortable working for you and living in your apartment. And lastly, I’m not that kind of girl. I don’t know what kind of women you’ve dealt with in the past, but I can assure you, I’m not like them. I don’t look at you and see dollar signs. That’s not what I’m about.” I am fuming; Dorian really pushed the wrong button.
“Calm down, Gabriella. I wasn’t trying to offend you. Honestly. All of my full-time employees have the opportunity to live at Paralia. It’s part of the package.” He looks like he is on the verge of laughter, only making me more angry and humiliated.
“Oh,” is all I can choke out. My face is red with embarrassment.
“And for the record, there’s absolutely no chance I would ever think you weren’
t worth my time. You are of great importance to me, Gabriella. You will see that soon enough. The closer you are to me, the better.”
“Seriously?” He’s always catching me off guard with these grand declarations. It’s hard to determine if he’s for real or just blowing smoke up my ass.
“I never lie. Ever. That is the one thing you must remember about me. I will always tell you the truth.” Dorian looks deep into my eyes, letting his words sink in.
I think about each encounter I’ve had with Dorian since I’ve met him. I think about the difficult questions I’ve asked him about Aurora, the Icepick Killer, his feelings for me. He’s always given me a logical answer, even if he simply answered with a question of his own. No, I don’t think Dorian has ever lied to me. He’s always been painstakingly honest. But can I be honest enough about my own suspicions about Dorian and work up the courage to ask him? He would tell me. I know he would.
Just do it, Gabs. Put on your big girl panties and ask him already.
“Something you want to know, Gabriella?” I look up to meet his eyes, unaware that I’ve been looking down at my hands.
I could ask him. I could ask what he was. I could ask if he knows who and what I am. I could ask him why someone is out to kill me. And he would answer every one of my questions. But then what? This would all end. Dorian would no longer be mine. Though he’s far from being mine now. Shit. How did we even get to this?
“Yes,” I say, confidently. Dorian’s expression darkens and he gazes at me through dark, full lashes. “What does your tattoo say?” I give him a sly smile. No, I’m not ready to let go of this beautiful illusion.
Dorian lifts his right arm, exposing the foreign characters inked on the side of his torso. I had gotten a glimpse of it before but we were always too ‘occupied’ for me to ask. Now that I see it in the light, I realize that it is a series of what I’m assuming is Greek lettering.
“Skotos,” Dorian answers flatly. He looks puzzled. This must be the most perplexing dinner in history. “You can see it.” It’s not a question, but not necessarily an astute observation either.
“Uh, yeah. It’s right there on your right side. Were you trying to hide it?” I say cynically.
“Most don’t see it. Special ink, you could say.” Dorian gives me a smug crooked smirk.
“Don’t know how special it is. Looks like every tattoo I’ve ever seen. I actually love tattoos, so I don’t understand why there’s any reason you’d want to hide it.”
The look that Dorian is giving me can only be best described as incredulous. It’s as if I’m not getting the punch line to a very obvious joke and he can’t believe how dim I am. Am I missing something? Maybe tattoos are frowned upon in his culture and he doesn’t understand how I can be so casual about them. Hell, I’d have a few myself if Donna hadn’t been so against them. Getting some body art is one of the first things I plan to achieve once I move out.
“You really have no idea, do you?” Dorian mutters, shaking his head.
Ok, time to quit with all the serious talk. It’s becoming exhausting and life is too short to worry about trivial things. At least mine is.
“Well, how about you enlighten me, old wise one.”
And with that, I scoop a bit of whipped cream from one of the partially eaten desserts and lean over to place the small dollop on Dorian’s perfect nose. I suck the remaining cream off my finger and burst into a fit of hysterics. Dorian looks bewildered, and for a split second, I think he’s angry. But before I can think too much into it, he scoops me into his arms playfully and swings me over his shoulder, exposing my bare ass.
“Oh you think that’s funny, do you?” he chuckles.
Dorian carries me to the bedroom and flops me down onto the bed. He still has the whipped cream on his nose and begins to rub it all over my face. I am squealing and laughing like a child as he continues to spread the white froth then launches into tickling me.
“Dorian! Ahhh! Stop!” I squeal.
He’s absolutely thrilled making me surrender to him in such an innocent way. I try to fight back and begin to tickle his ribs. He is wildly ticklish and soon, I gain the upper hand. He falls flat on the bed while I straddle him, continuing to playfully torture him with my fingers.
“Ok, ok, ok! I give up! I surrender!” Dorian hoots.
He’s trying unsuccessfully to buck me off of him. I put my hands up, indicating that I acknowledge his white flag, and we both take a moment to catch our breaths.
“I win again,” I say proudly. “Who knew that the elusive, powerful, intimidating Dorian Skotos is ticklish?” I chuckle looking down at his dazzling face.
“What do you mean, ‘You win again’?” Dorian asks with a raised eyebrow. He extends his finger up to my cheek, scooping up a smidgen of whipped cream before putting it in his mouth.
“You know what I mean. You thought I would come crawling back here after your little eye-fuck stunt at Starbucks. Like I said, nice try.”
“I underestimated you. Seems as if you have a few tricks up your sleeve.” Dorian licks his lips in the sexy way that I like. I feel a stir between my legs.
I bite my bottom lip. “Stick around. You might learn something,” I say with bold seduction.
I take it a step farther and begin to grind my naked flesh onto the growing bulge under me. Dorian pulls his knees up, giving me a better feel of every inch of his stiffness. He starts to unbutton the white dress shirt I’m wearing as I continue my slow dance on his lap. Once the shirt is completely unfastened, he pushes it off my shoulders, exposing my sheer chemise.
“Take this shit off,” Dorian mutters between gritted teeth.
He grabs it by the bottom hem and pulls it over my head in a swift movement. Then he yanks at my stockings, indicating that he wants them off as well. I happily oblige. He’s eager; our flirtatious game has aroused him.
I’m naked, and Dorian is eyeing my body enthusiastically. He caresses my skin as if I am a rare gem, admiring each line and curve. His fingertips brush the roundness of my breasts, the dip of my hips, the hollow of my navel. It’s like he’s never touched a woman before, and I feel cherished.
“You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. I never could have imagined this,” he whispers.
I want to freeze this very moment. I want to be trapped in time just like this. With Dorian. I know that we will never be; we could never have a real future together. But for the time being I can pretend that he is mine, and I am his.
I lean forward and place my wanting lips on his, letting our tongues unite while our hands roam each other’s bodies. Being here with him is the only thing that matters. I’m not what I am. I’m not Light, I’m not Dark. I’m his. And the honest part of me wants to truly be his forever. This goes so far beyond sex and passion. Dorian has penetrated my heart.
As if reading my mind and hearing my secret admission, Dorian gently pulls my face from his, breaking our kiss. His blue eyes are a gleaming pool of crystal and his expression is tormented, yet wistful. But the most shocking discovery is the sheer layer of dense pink fog that surrounds him. I see him. I try to ignore it, not wanting to spoil this moment with my bizarre omissions. Right on cue, Dorian’s lips curl into a sexy half-smile. He’s telling me to let go; feel what I want to feel. I don’t have to be afraid of what my heart wants, no matter the ominous consequences.
“It’s ok,” Dorian whispers. “It’s ok.” He pulls my lips back down to his and we greedily devour each other.
Maybe it’s admitting my true feelings for Dorian to myself or his reassurance, but I have never felt so free and so comfortable in my own skin. As our kiss grows with fervor, my hands move down to his sweatpants to liberate the rest of his beautiful body. He maneuvers himself so I can pull them down without letting his lips leave mine. Slowly, I mount him, letting him fill me inch by glorious inch. We both gasp in unison with amazement. How can something we both know will only amount to pain feel so good?
For a moment I am still, savoring
the feeling of Dorian inside of me, stretching me, filling me to capacity. I look down at him, the most gorgeous man I have ever seen. All I want to do is please him. And I do. Rocking back and forth, slowly at first, Dorian lightly moans my praises. I roll my hips, let him feel me contract around him, squeezing him. I’m careful to keep an even pace, not wanting this to end too soon. Dorian bites his bottom lip, concentrating on my languid movements. I can feel him building inside me, can feel him pulsing within my walls. He’s on the edge, just like me.
For some unknown reason, I am compelled to lean forward and let my hazel eyes burn into his blue, just he has done with me. I channel all the passion, ecstasy and bliss he gives to me and pour it all back into him. Dorian’s pupils dilate and his face reflects utter contentment when I pull away. He is high- intoxicated from the pleasure I give him. The exchange is euphoric and our moans increase with ardor. I can’t hold on much longer. The edge is so close, and I want to let myself fall. I want to fall with Dorian.
My movements grow with intensity, and Dorian grips my behind to level the rise and fall of my hips. We both know that we can’t hold on forever; we have to let go. I begin to quiver, feeling the force tugging at me, beckoning me to give into this pleasure. Dorian feels it as well and the strained look on his face is telling me that he, too, must submit. I gyrate my hips forward and feel his unbelievable growth, telling me that it’s time for our sweet surrender. And with a final cry of passion, we fall, hand in hand into our own piece of paradise.
Chapter Twenty One
“Forget about it, Dorian!”
We are at a boutique in downtown Colorado Springs after Dorian insisted he replace my torn panties. I tried to assure him that it wasn’t necessary, especially after waking up this morning and finding that my overnight bag had somehow ended up in his suite. Dorian wouldn’t take no for an answer, plus he thought it’d be a good idea to get out and explore the charming little shops together. I was happy with spending the entire day in bed, especially with these dark, cloudy skies indicating imminent rainfall.