Dark Light (The Dark Light Series)(62)

“Here, this should be good,” he says handing her the papers in his hand.

Aurora’s mouth is hanging wide open with utter disbelief. She grabs the paperwork weakly and tries to shake off her staggered expression.

“Are you sure this is all? I should go over this with you first because I’d hate for there to be a mistake and have to come back. Again.” What the hell was the point in her adding ‘Again’? Was she implying that she comes here often? I feel my blood start to boil, and not in a hot and steamy kind of way.

“That’s all, Aurora,” Dorian states dismissively.

Aurora picks up her broken ego and pulls her shoulders back with a pretentious air. She walks over to the dining table to retrieve her purse and briefcase. Little does she know that just a day ago, my wetness covered that very same table as Dorian greedily consumed me. I try to stifle a laugh at the irony causing Dorian to peer down at me with a smirk. He licks his lips instinctively. Yes, he must be thinking about it too.

As soon as the door clicks behind a humiliated and fuming Aurora, Dorian shrugs out of his jacket, exposing a crisp white shirt. He then turns to me and pulls me to him by my hips. He places a gentle kiss on my lips, one full of peace and contentment. He’s relaxed dramatically since Aurora’s exit and I chalk it up to their having an uncomfortable past that Dorian doesn’t want me to know about.

“She doesn’t care for me much, does she?” I remark, looking towards the door.

Dorian releases my hips and takes a seat on the couch, patting the seat for me to join him. He extends his arm around me, though it feels the movement is strained for him. It’s as if he’s a 13 year old boy, putting his arm around his young date at the movies. I remain still rather than snuggling against him. It’s odd; he’s been so sure of himself and confident since the day I met him.

“Aurora doesn’t like most girls that aren’t her,” he says nonchalantly with a shrug of his shoulders.

So he knows her well. How well? I suppress the urge to ask more about her. It’s not my place to question him; I’m not his girlfriend. Besides, he made it blatantly clear that he preferred my company over hers.

I give Dorian a playful smile. “So do you always bring your work home with you?”

“That all depends. I brought you home, didn’t I?” He replies with a sly smile.

I feign shock and offense. “First of all, you didn’t bring me home. I came on my own accord. And secondly, I highly doubt sex was a matter of business!”

Dorian pulls his head down towards mine, his lips brushing my earlobe. I gasp at the contact. He begins to leave soft, delicate kisses on the sensitive skin of my neck.

“Au contraire, Gabriella. That's where you're wrong. It is business. Very hard,"-kiss-"back-breaking,"-kiss-"labor intensive,"-kiss-"business.”

Before I can even form a response, Dorian hurriedly eases me down on my back, positioning himself between my legs with ease. Our mouths and tongues unite hungrily while I grab ahold of his soft hair. His hands roam my bare thighs as my knee length dress bunches at my hips, exposing my see-through ruffled panties. I can feel the growing bulge in his slacks against the ultrathin fabric. He begins a slow grind, circulating his hardness at a torturous pace. I breathe heavily against his lips, trying to conceal my mounting moans. I lift my hips to meet his stiff middle and the encouragement causes him to speed up the tempo. We are both nearly breathless when his hands move upwards to relinquish me of my panties, breaking us from our impassioned lip-lock. My pelvis is already so elevated that he is able to slide them off easily. Dorian then rapidly unfastens his slacks as I look on in awe. He unleashes his hard length, taking in my fascinated expression. He knows what he’s doing to me. He knows how much he affects me. He’s making a game of this; he wants to toy with me. And I am more than willing to let him.

I expect him to lie back down on top of me, yet Dorian easily flips me over onto my stomach. He scoots me forward, his hands guiding me to take hold of the arm of the couch. He begins to knead my backside, firmly massaging while propping it upward. I brace myself for his entry when I feel his erection lightly slapping the insides of my thighs. Dorian is feeling my wetness, stroking my heat with his long agile fingers. I hear sounds of his smacking lips and know he has sampled me. The eroticism brings on a fresh wave of dampness as I imagine him savoring my nectar. Inside, I’m begging for him to put it in to relieve me of my yearning but he prolongs it, electing to tease me instead. My whimpers grow stronger and with a hard thrust, Dorian puts me out of my misery. I cry out in sweet agony.