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Dark Light (The Dark Light Series)(49)

By:S.L. Jennings


“Now that you’ve come all this way to see me, what will you do with me?” he asks in a low, raspy voice. It’s the first words he’s uttered since my arrival yet we have already said so much. I know the taste of my pleasure has affected him. He wants this just as bad as I do.

I look directly in front of me at his unbuttoned slacks dangling off the cut of his hip muscles. Slowly, I pull the zipper down, holding my breath in anticipation as his pants fall around his ankles, liberating his generous erection. I am nearly floored at the size of him, a mixture of apprehension and excitement overcoming me. I lick my lips reflexively while gazing up at him through my dark eyelashes. He gasps in surprise at my boldness. I turn my attention back to his splendor wondering for a split second if I can really do this; I’ve never given oral before but I want to so bad in this moment. I shake the doubt from my mind and submit to my carnal urges, taking the swollen head of him in my mouth.

I gently swirl the tip with my tongue, savoring the trickles of sweetness that escape as a result. His flavor is delectable, and with eagerness I try to take all of him in my mouth. Dorian’s head rolls back and a barrage of deep, hoarse moans escape him. I continue to bathe him with my tongue, sucking slowly and tightly up and down. I let my tongue explore every inch of his ridged shaft, tracing each vein, swirling it from base to head. He’s losing control; I can feel his legs quiver. He grows longer, thicker in my mouth and I know the end is near for him. I pick up the pace, craving to taste him once more when he pulls away, leaving my wanting mouth.

“No, not yet,” Dorian smiles down at me, still panting.

He leans down to pull my dress down over my shoulders, slowly stripping it from my body until it is on the floor. I sit before him, bare-nippled, wearing only a lacey black thong. I want to wrap my arms around myself to shield my breasts but the look of admiration in his eyes urges me not to. He advances inch by inch, placing his knee between my legs to scoot me up farther on the bed. When my entire body is flat on the adorned satin comforter, he gently peels my panties off, admiring the view once again.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, his fingertips grazing the skin over my ribcage ever so gently.

Dorian hovers over me, locking his penetrating azure gaze on me. Our bodies do not touch yet I feel a powerful sensation run through me. Prickly yet pleasurable, just like the feeling I got the first night that Dorian’s lips brushed my hand. The feeling grows stronger, turning from a prickle to a pulsation, coursing in my veins, kissing every nerve ending in my body. I’m gasping, unable to hold on anymore. The satin comforter rumples and stretches under my desperate grip. Dorian’s eyes never leave mine, and I am unable to blink and break his hypnotic stare. I want to scream, want to thrash from this sweet agony but I am totally paralyzed in his captivity. And just as I feel as if I can take no more, the pulsing centralizes, leaving my limbs, crawling to a path leading to my sex. It is so overwhelming, so intense, and I call out to God, the Divine Power, and Dorian. He still doesn’t touch me, still doesn’t save me as I drown in a pool of pleasure.

Before I can catch my breath and slow my pounding heart, Dorian spreads my legs wider, exposing the waterfall of my release. And in one swift movement, he thrusts himself inside of me, filling me to capacity. We gasp in unison. The feeling is so… perfect. So right. I’m in disbelief at how good he feels inside my warmth. Dorian begins to slowly grind, stirring himself within my walls. I can feel every inch of him, and from the look on his strained face, he can feel all of me. His torture is unhurried, deliberate. He wants to make this last and I never want it to end.

“Shit, you feel good,” he breathes into the base of my neck. His teeth graze my throat and I shudder from his touch.

Soft moans leave my lips, joining Dorian’s low sighs in a harmonious song of hedonism. The tempo increases with each stroke, and soon it is a tune of sharp cries and deep, throaty groans. I feel it growing inside of me, and my whimpers evolve into agonized yelps with his increasing length. It’s painful yet oh so pleasurable and the combination brings me to my brink. My flame is now a wildfire and only he can extinguish it. I feel it; feel it building inside me, climbing higher and higher. Dorian’s expression is a mixture of strain and defeat. He can’t stop himself. He needs this too; he needs to surrender himself to our carnality.

In one deep thrust, he relinquishes his resolve, his fingers digging into the sides of my backside as he pushes himself deeper still. The feeling of his eruption causes me to submit to mine as well, and I cry out his name as our rivers unite into a deep, endless ocean.