The Dark Prince (The Dark Light Series)(66)

Wow. Dorian flustered? Now there’s a first!

I casually pull the passenger side mirror down and fluff my hair, scooping it all to one side to hang over my shoulder before looking over at my disoriented lover.

“I’m sorry but you’ll just have to wait until later. Sucks, doesn’t it?” Pun definitely intended. “Here, let me help you with that.”

I gently maneuver his still stiffened manhood into his pants with the very tips of my fingers, making it painfully clear that playtime is over. Carefully tucking in his shirt and refastening his pants, I flash him a naughty smile, catching a wicked look of his own.

“Oh little girl, you’re going to regret that,” Dorian mutters, pulling into the crowded parking lot.

I finish applying my shimmery nude lipgloss before smacking my pouty lips together and gazing back at him. “Bring it on.”

Aria is a multi-level warehouse turned nightclub boasting raucous fun for the young and beautiful of all walks of life. It’s not as posh and upscale as Shade, Dorian’s restaurant and lounge in Breckenridge, but with its white couches, polished stainless steel tables, and pastel colored strobe lights, it definitely gives off a euphoric, almost angelic vibe. The DJ in the main room is spinning all the latest dance hits and the dance floor is already packed with girls showing too much skin in too high heels. Carlos has reserved a VIP section with a large white sectional and a long table packed with spirits, gifts and even a cake.

We approach the party hand in hand, a first for me in such a public place, and receive a barrage of surprised looks and smiles. How could people not react? Dorian looks even more drop dead sexy tonight, and knowing what has just transpired in the car ride just minutes before makes him that much more irresistible.

“Gabs! You guys came!” Carlos beams. He is in full diva mode with fire engine red tight leather pants, a matching leather vest adorned with small silver spikes, and heeled black boots. Even his red faux hawk seems to sparkle, going perfectly with the glittery black and silver makeup covering his eyelids. Carlos looks like some type of rock star superhero, and he is stunning.

“Of course! Happy birthday, Carlos!” I say giving him a hug and handing him a gift bag. It’s a gold bottle of champagne that I’m sure rivals my monthly salary- courtesy of Dorian, of course- and a gift certificate to Cashmere. Though it’s a women’s clothing store, Carlos could and would work those threads better than most women.

“You are one lucky bitch!” Carlos whispers in my ear as we embrace. I laugh nervously as I look over his shoulder at Dorian who rolls his eyes playfully. Of course he heard; he hears everything.

We settle in with glasses of champagne, greeting our friends and mingling with party guests. Morgan looks ravishing in a metallic champagne colored halter dress, showing off her fabulous cleavage and long, gorgeous legs. She and Miguel are dancing intimately when she spots me and strolls over.

“What took you guys so long?” she shouts over the thumping bass-lines.

“Ugh, traffic totally blew,” I say with a smile. I look over at Dorian and give him a wink. Let him hear that!

Everyone is having a great time drinking and dancing, even Aurora, who is oddly pleasant and not as annoyingly shrill. When Carlos and Jackson- who is rockin’ the hell out of a tight tank and even tighter pants- pull all the girls on the dance floor for Beyonce’s “Single Ladies,” we all giggle and dance like best friends. The combination of champagne, positive vibes, and having Dorian gazing at me in admiration has got me on cloud 9. And for a moment, I pretend that we’re just two normal people hanging out with friends and having fun. The thought brings an involuntary smile to my face. This is how life should be. I strut back over to him, eager to be back in his arms.

“Hmmm, this is fitting,” Dorian murmurs, handing me a fresh glass of champagne just as Rihanna’s “S&M” comes on, spinning a salacious tale of bad girls who like it rough.

“How so?” I ask, downing half my drink.

Dorian places his hand on the small of my back, letting his fingers slide up to meet my bare skin. I instantly feel the titillating tingles accompanied by his touch coursing through my body. “Because you like it. You like pain with your pleasure.”

He’s right, but I still play coy, hoping to prolong our little game. “And how would you know that?”

Answering my question, Dorian lets his hand travel farther north to the nape of my neck, right above the beginning of my healing tattoo. With a sudden jerk, he knots his hand in my hair, brusquely pulling me towards him so his mouth is on mine. I gasp in shock and at the sharp pain ripping through my scalp, giving his forceful tongue the leeway it needs to command my mouth. To an outsider, it looks like we are just two lovers sharing a tender kiss. However, the tight grip Dorian has on my hair, causing my head to snap back violently, actually hurts, feeling like tiny daggers attacking my strained hair follicles. His other hand flies up to my exposed throat, cradling it tightly. He gives it a firm squeeze, and I moan into his mouth.