“Do it,” I urge, panting wildly.
I look up at Dorian’s smoldering expression. His eyes burn blue fire, full of darkness, rage, and desire. He moves his fingers to the front clasp, brushing it gently. Then in one quick movement, faster than I can see, he pops it, yanking it off me fiercely.
“You want me to hurt you?” he hisses between gritted teeth.
“Yes,” I beg, my chest heaving wildly with labored breaths. I want this. I need this.
Dorian grips my ankle and suddenly flips me over onto my stomach. I hear the familiar sounds of his zipper and the crumpling of his pants. Then a sharp pain rips through my scalp. I cry out in surprise. Dorian has gripped my hair and is pulling my head back, causing me to get on my knees to ease the strain. He positions my ass so it’s aligned with his rock hard erection, giving it another hard smack. I cry out once more, this time letting it develop into a throaty groan. There is pleasure in this pain.
Dorian yanks my hair again, and my head bucks back, exposing my throat. I can’t move my head; his hold is so tight. Before I can dwell on it any further, he plunges into me without warning. He’s buried himself all the way in, not even giving me a chance to adjust to the fullness. My garbled cry is futile; he begins to relentlessly pound into me without an ounce of mercy. I yelp with every hard thrust, unable to move my neck to look back at him. I try to reach my hands back for him, but he quickly stops my pursuit with another stinging slap on my behind.
Over and over he slams himself into me viciously. There is nothing tender or remorseful in him. The darkness in Dorian has returned and he is giving me just what I asked for. He is giving me pain. I hear a low groan escape his lips, almost like a growl. I know he is close, and he will have to take pity on me and end his assault. Somehow I feel it too- the familiar surge building inside me. My cries are not of agony. They are of pure ecstasy. I can’t stop it; I can’t not enjoy this. And before I can stop or even fight it, I give into it and let it drown me in deep, dark waters.
The intensity of my downfall is enough to unravel Dorian. He deeply thrusts into me once more, and an angered, frustrated groan seeps between gritted teeth. He is pouring all the hurt and regret deep-seated within him into me. He is giving me all his pain. He is as tortured and fucked up as I am; he’s just mastered the art of disguising it.
Dorian collapses on top of me, releasing my hair and allowing my knees to buckle under me. Our heavy labored breaths are the only sounds in the entire suite. Even the music has ended.
Here we lay, two people so full of anger and grief that we are somehow anchored to one another. We need each other just so we can feel somewhat normal in a world that is not meant for us. Whether or not we can coexist is the question plaguing my foggy mind. I know I can ask him. I know I should ask him. But I also know that he’ll tell me the truth; he’ll tell me exactly who and what he is. He’ll no longer be the mystery I can’t solve. He’ll no longer be my Dorian. And now that Jared is out of my life, I need Dorian more than ever. And a part of me- the honest, vulnerable part that was once reserved only for Jared- is desperately hoping that Dorian needs me too. At least enough to ignore the growing suspicions, double entendres, and questioning glances.
Sleep envelops me, halting the seeds of doubt and insecurity from growing in my inebriated mind. I dream in high definition. I’m tied between two sides. On one side is all that I love in this world: my parents, Morgan and Jared. They are the people that mean the most to me, the people I would gladly die for. I feel like all they do is give and give and all I do in return is disappoint them. Being tied to someone like me is not fair to them. I owe them everything- my love, devotion and protection. I just want to give them forever.
The other side is shrouded in darkness. The cold vacant space is filled with a dense eerie fog. It’s difficult to see any sign of life in the icy mist. Yet, obscured within the shadows, I can make out familiar shapes. There is life lurking in the darkness. I don’t know what but I know it’s there. And then I see them.
Eyes.
Cold, desolate ice blue eyes. I only see one pair at first, but then there’s another. And another. Until it appears that dozens of menacing blue eyes are staring back at me, floating within the fog. Yet I am not afraid; I am intrigued.
I see the makings of a tall masculine figure. He is surrounded by the ominous eyes, drowning in a sea of azure. Dorian. I want to call out to him. I want to save him from this dark isolation. But I cannot find my voice. I open my mouth to scream his name but no sound escapes me. So I go towards him slowly. I am unsure of this foreign territory but I must go to him. I must save him. His arms are outstretched; he needs me. I need him too. But my arms cannot reach him. The farther I go into the darkness, the farther he is from me. Soon I am consumed by it. I can no longer see my loved ones on the other side; can no longer hear their pleas to return to them. But I can’t turn back now; I need to get to Dorian. I must save him from this dark place.