Dorian sighs heavily, and I know he’s grown tired with the questioning. He looks as if he’s aged in the past 5 minutes. “Gabriella, you can be whatever you want to be to me. If you want to be with me, be with me. If you want to keep this light and casual, we can do that. If you want me to just keep fucking you senseless every chance I get, I’ll be more than happy to oblige.” His words are so vulgar and provocative. I feel heat flood my cheeks and my already moistened sex.
“Now I’ve had about enough of this food and this conversation. I want dessert.” Dorian stands and pushes his chair in. He gazes down at me sternly and my heart stops. He’s so cold, so menacing. I know I should be frightened but instead all I can think about is how he had that same look as he took me from behind while choking me just a couple hours earlier. That thought carries a wave of shame but I ignore it. Dammit, I like this side of Dorian and I won’t apologize for it.
Dorian extends his arm, inviting me to intertwine mine with his. I slowly stand on shaky legs and do as he wishes, letting him lead me out of the restaurant. Dorian has had the last word, and though I would never take this from any other guy, I willingly let Dorian have full control in this moment. He’s already fully controlled my body, it’s only fitting that my mind follow suit. We walk in silence until we reach his suite and I hold my breath in expectation as the door clicks behind us.
Dorian shrugs out of his pale grey suit jacket and drapes it over the arm of the couch. The recollection of clutching that very same armrest causes my breathing to shallow as the heat between my legs becomes damp and humid. It’s amazing how just a memory can cause such a reaction. Dorian notices the change in my once composed stance and gracefully strolls over to me, closing the distance between us in three easy strides. Without hesitation, he takes my hand and pulls me towards the bedroom. Words still have not passed between us yet communication is seamless. He wants me. And I want him too.
Before I can take in the black and gold room, Dorian bends down to grab the hem of my dress, relieving me of it in one swift movement. I stand before him, stripped and vulnerable, as his baby blues molest my scantily clad frame. He reaches to touch my see-through bra. His touch is so gentle as if I am made of delicate porcelain. His expression is…torn. It’s as if the contact physically hurts him yet he can’t help himself. He relishes the anguish. He’s teetering on the line between pleasure and pain, and I want to nudge him into my pleasure. Yet, part of me yearns for that pain. The notion is maddening, sickening even. How can I expect Dorian to define his feelings for me if I can’t even admit what I really want in all this? Our tryst on the couch has brought it all to the surface for me.
I just need Dorian to fuck me good enough to make me forget.
As if reading my mind, Dorian covers my mouth with his, letting his hands palm the soft flesh peeking out the back of my ruffled panties. He grips my ass and lifts me high enough for me to wrap my legs around his waist. He’s already begun to harden and I welcome it by squeezing my legs even tighter. Dorian breaks our kiss to look at me. His eyes are earnestly searching for something, seeking understanding in all the confusion that I’ve inspired this evening. I say that I have feelings for him but on the other hand I don't want to care. Just another layer to the indecisive complexity that is me.
Before I let myself overthink this moment, Dorian carries me over to the bed, gently laying me down. I hurriedly kick off my boots and scoot myself up onto my elbows as I watch him undress before me. One by one, Dorian undoes each of the buttons on his crisp white shirt, locking his eyes onto mine. The anticipation is torture. He reaches for the zipper on his pants but hesitates, instead kneeling at the foot of the bed and taking hold of my hips. He pulls me to the edge of the bed until he’s eye level with my sex. It’s still silent except for the sounds of my labored breathing. I can’t quite see Dorian and the mystery of the unknown is killing me.
Before I give into my curiosity and push myself onto my elbows, I feel the warm softness of Dorian’s lips on the inside of my thigh. I shudder at the unexpected contact and my back arches a bit. The way my body reacts to his touch instantaneously is uncanny. I’ve never been with someone so in tuned to my every desire. It’s as if our bodies were designed especially for each other.
Dorian leaves a trail of soft kisses on each of my thighs, anticipation and wanting building with each caress. His hands find the waist of my panties and he eases them down easily, letting them drop to the floor. I’m on the verge of begging him to continue down this path of my destruction when Dorian’s tongue finds the wetness between my legs. It teases and twirls as the sounds of my agonized moans fill the silence. I’m surprised at my brazen display, letting Dorian have his way with my body as I twist and writhe under the torment of his tongue. As much I want to pull away and cover myself, this unimaginable pleasure holds me captive.