“Yes, of course, Mrs. Skotos. Um, no luggage we can help you with?” He’s clearly testing me.
I eye him suggestively. “Well, it’s not the kind of visit that requires much clothing, dear.”
Freckles’ face turns as red as his hair as he looks down to tap on his computer. “Mr. Skotos is in the Lakeside building, ma’am.” He gives me the room number and begins to spout off directions and I thank him for his assistance.
I begin the trek to the neighboring building, nervously aware that it is pitch black and deathly quiet out, though the path is sufficiently lit with lamp posts and garden lights. I jump at every creak and pull Morgan’s jacket tightly around me. Suddenly I’m freezing and begin to walk briskly despite my five inch heels to the Lakeside building to safety. A friendly doorman opens the glass doors, welcoming me into the warmth. I thank him before stuffing the empty gift bags into a nearby trashcan then saunter into the elevator.
Ok, this is it. I can’t leave now; I have to know. Either Dorian is up there alone or he’s with Aurora. Or maybe someone else? Oh God, what if he’s sound asleep and is upset that I’ve woken him? What if he isn’t even there and simply lied at the party to escape? He didn’t invite me over so he obviously didn’t want me here. I really didn’t think this through. Damn me and my impulsiveness! Damn that liquid courage! I can’t call Morgan to come back and I don’t have enough cash on me to call a cab. Shit!
The Ding! from the elevator breaks me from my agonized reverie and the doors slide open, indicating that just a few steps and a set of double doors separate me from the truth about Dorian. I walk tentatively towards the doors that signify his suite, holding my breath every step of the way. I exhale noisily as I reach my destination, feeling dizzy from the lack of oxygen mixed with champagne. Time to face my fears. I will my shaky hand to make a fist and raise it to the door. Here goes nothing. I quickly rap three times and take a precautionary step back. Soft footsteps pad towards the door seconds later, and then a rustling sound follows. Maybe a belt buckle? Oh no, this isn’t good.
Dorian opens the door, shirtless, his abs a rippling stone path towards the unbuttoned dress slacks that hang from the severely sexy V of his hip muscles. They’re draped so low that it’s evident that he isn’t wearing any underwear. I take in a sharp breath at the sight of him nearly naked. He’s even more gorgeous than I could have ever dreamed. I then take in his disheveled, half-dressed appearance, the look on his face a combination of shock and alarm. I’ve caught him off guard and it doesn’t look like my unexpected appearance is a welcomed surprise. His icy irises glare at me, freezing me where I stand.
I can’t turn back now.
Chapter Twelve
Before I can say a word, Dorian grabs my arm and yanks me into his suite as if I'm weightless. He pushes me up against the wall and buries his tongue inside my mouth with great ferocity. My coat falls from my shoulders, allowing his hands to roam my body, exploring the dips and rises of my delicate curves. Reaching to my backside, he palms its roundness and slowly massages, matching the rhythm of our intertwined tongues. I feel the hardness of his middle, grinding into my belly button and I gasp against his lips.
Dorian’s hands slowly move up my bare back, over my shoulders and down to my aching breasts. I am ever so grateful when his fingers begin to flick and fondle my nipples through the tight fabric of my dress. I let a moan escape through our fused mouths and Dorian devours it, muffling my cry of pleasure. He lets a hand travel south, easing between my thighs, searching for my heat. I’m on fire- a white hot flame of scorching ecstasy. The gap between my legs is humid with expectation. Dorian pushes my damp lace panties aside and slides a finger across my clitoris with slow, relentless torment. My knees buckle at the contact, and he continues his torture- back and forth, back and forth- until my muffled moans can no longer be contained. Just when I think his assault has ended, he slides the finger inside of me, feeling my walls throb and contract around him. A chorus of whimpers and expletives quickly follows.
Dorian takes his other hand and wraps it around my lower back, lifting me off my feet effortlessly. I reflexively wrap my legs around him, kicking my heels off and letting them tumble to the ground. Astonishingly, his long, agile finger is still nestled inside of me and we are still engaged in our feverish lip-lock. My fingers are tangled in his tousled hair, elbows resting on his shoulders to support the slow grind against his finger. He inserts another, and I cry out a garbled plea, begging him not to stop.
Dorian easily carries me to what I assume is a bedroom. He sets me on the edge of the bed, and I whimper as his lips and fingers abandon me. He slowly places them in his mouth one by one, sucking away my sweetness while watching me intently. I stare back at him in awe; Holy fuck, I want him.