I pant expectantly once Dorian stands before me gloriously naked yet he makes no move to climb inside of me. Instead he makes a movement with his finger, causing my legs to spread farther apart and bend at the knees. He licks his lips before kneeling onto the bed, eyeing my scorching, wet sex like a hungry lion. Oh no. No! There's no way I could maintain any sense of composure if he does that. I struggle to move without prevail. I can't relinquish this kind of control to him. Temporarily paralyzed, spread eagle and completely naked, I lay exposed for Dorian's enjoyment. Yet, if he tastes my wetness, I will surely surrender to him in every way possible. I would do anything he wanted.
"No, Dorian, no!" I urge. "Please don't."
Dorian gives me a sexy half-smile. "What is it that you don't want me to do? This?" And with that, he lowers his mouth down into my blazing heat and takes a slow, laborious lick. I cry out with pleasure and Dorian brings his head back up to gloat.
"Yes!" I pant. "That. Please. Don't."
Dorian cocks his head to one side and looks at me quizzically. "But what about this?" Again he brings his head down and lets his tongue explore my fleshy folds. His mouth gently sucks and teases while I squirm and sing his praises.
"Oh. My. God. Dorian," I say between gasps. "Don't. No."
"See, Gabriella, you're saying one thing but I know for a fact that you feel differently. Don't you want it?"
"Yes! Of course I do, I just … I … I can't lose control. I won't," I stammer.
Again, Dorian smiles devilishly. He licks his lips, tasting the remnants of my juices. Everything about him is so erotic, so hot. I want him here, between my thighs, sampling my pleasure. But I want to be able to rub his shoulders, grab fistfuls of his hair in my state of euphoria. I'm completely helpless tied up, and that's exactly how Dorian wants me.
"I'm sorry, little girl. But you've already lost control. You never had it."
Dorian buries his face in the apex of my thighs, and I instantly cry his name. His slick tongue dives into every crevice and swell. He's ravenous; it's as if he hasn't eaten in days the way he consumes me. Every time I think he has devoured every ounce of my wetness, a fresh wave greets his hungry lips. It's so carnal, so salacious and it arouses me to no end. Though his deep, throaty groans are masked by my shrill cries, I know he's affected too. His hands fly up to finger my nipples, never straying from the rhythm of his firm, wet tongue. The sensation is … magical. Pure pleasure personified. It brings me to my brink, pushing me over the edge and I release a flash flood of sweetness.
After Dorian has consumed every drop, he sits straight up on his knees. My lust is still glistening on his full lips, and surprisingly, I urge to taste them. Again, hearing my thoughts in the uncanny way that he does, he leans forward and kisses me, letting me sample my own sex. The act is so ridiculously kinky, something I would have never dreamed of doing, yet I relish my flavor. Dorian leans back onto his knees again, his hard erection tapping me on my inner thighs. My eyes widen at the sight of it; it's beautiful, generous, and perfect in every way.
"What should I do now, Gabriella? Do you want to feel me?" Dorian says, biting his bottom lip. His eyes are aflame with concentrated sex and desire. He looks every bit like the Greek god that he is.
"Yes. Hell yes, Dorian!" I groan. I want him so bad. I don't think I've ever wanted anything more.
Dorian shakes his head playfully. "No, no, I don't think you do. Make me believe it. I need to hear you say it."
Why is he doing this to me? I'm lightheaded from panting so much and my skin is sizzling. Can't he see how hot I am for him? Can't he feel it?
"Yes, Dorian, I want you!"
"I don't believe you, baby. Scream it." Dorian's eyes are suddenly glowing, ablaze with an inferno of hedonism. They illuminate in the dimming sunlight streaming through the cracks of the curtains, revealing the savage Dark One.
"I want you! Please! I want you inside me!" shouts a desperate, agonized voice that I don't even recognize.
With a carnal growl, Dorian rocks into me, filling my depths with his long, probing sex. A garbled cry escapes me, utterly shocked at the jolting impact. His hips rise and fall, thrusting fervently as he grips the sides of my ass, elevating me off the bed. I can feel his fingers digging into my soft flesh, pulling me into him to meet his hard, measured strokes. Farther and farther he delves, each thrust proving to be deeper than the last. They meet every pleasure point, every secret dwelling that provokes my pivotal downfall. My cries are a harsh, expletive, shrill song of praise; his, a chant of torturous restraint and control. Just when I think I cannot take anymore, Dorian's hand travels down to my swollen clit, and he begins to gently massage, aligning it with the rhythm of his thrusts and the provocative music.
"Oh God, you feel so good," I moan. And he does; so good I want to cry.
"Yeah? Has anyone ever felt this good to you?"
I shake my head furiously. "No, baby. Never."
"I am going to own every part of you. Only me," he grits. "Tell me no one else will have you. Tell me I own this." He stirs my sex, pinching my swell. It's enough to make me erupt violently, and all coherent thought and speech escape me.
Dorian digs into my core harder, pressing my button, rubbing my own slickness into the delicate bud. "Tell me I fucking own it!" he growls.
"Yes- oh God- yes, Dorian! You own it," I sputter. "All of it. It's yours."
As if hearing my admission flipped some internal switch, Dorian increases the pace and ferocity of his strokes. Every time he slams into me, the Earth shifts a bit. The air around us shimmers and glows. This isn't natural; this isn't how sex is supposed to be for ordinary people. But we are anything but ordinary, and even if I were, I wouldn't want anything other than the sheer animalistic bliss that Dorian delivers. He is all-consuming; I feel him stimulating every part of me all at once. Owning me.
Dorian squeezes my ass tighter, his fingernails breaking the skin and I feel him begin to quiver his demise. With a strangled groan, he submits into me, and we drift out into the dark waters together. Just my Dorian and me lost at sea, and the monsters within us that feed off our carnality.
Chapter Eight
My eyes flutter open only to be met with complete darkness. Where am I? I feel around frantically for any sign of familiarity, realizing that I'm alone in my new bed. I'm disoriented and naked. Shit. What time is it? Where is Dorian? I don't even remember falling asleep.
The lights flicker on and I raise my hand to shield my adjusting eyes. I look around me frantically to find the source of light and see Dorian sitting on the chaise lounge. He's slouching, his elbows resting lazily on his knees, a drastic change from his usual poised stance.
"Dorian? Is everything ok? Are you alright?" I ask sitting straight up. I think to climb out of bed and go to him but my muscles are still stiff with exhaustion.
Dorian doesn't budge. He still has not raised his head to meet my gaze or even acknowledge my presence, though I'm certain he is the one who turned on the lights as soon as he realized I was awake.
"What's going on? Dorian, please talk to me!" I shout with urgency. I'm afraid; has he been hurt?
Dorian lifts his head and reveals the reason why he was reluctant to show himself to me. His eyes are dark and menacing. Cold. Yet there is pain and remorse in them. Something has surely transpired while I was asleep and I automatically begin to think the worst.
"What happened? You can tell me," I say just above a whisper.
Dorian's expression is desolate and unreadable, giving nothing away. His mouth opens just a fraction before closing shut. He wants to tell me, he needs to, but he's … frightened? No. He could never be scared of anything. I couldn't imagine a force more powerful or terrifying than he. However, something has surely shaken him and I am writhing in the unknown.
"I apologize, my love," he finally whispers.
What? Oh no. Has he gone to see Aurora? Did he breathe her? Shit!
Dorian shakes his head a bit, dispelling my trivial worries. "I was unsuccessful."
"What are you talking about?"
"It didn't work. I couldn't … I didn't," he stammers. He takes a deep breath then lets his ice blue eyes meet mine, emanating hurt and regret. "I couldn't fix her, Gabriella."
I take in a sharp breath, trying to digest what he's telling me. "What does that mean?"
Suddenly, Dorian is next to me, wisps of charcoal smoke surrounding him before quickly dissipating. He turns to me urgently, seething with contempt and rage, his eyes burning deadly blue fire. His hands fly up to cup my face, bringing it up to meet his intense gaze.
"It means she is stuck, a pile of nothingness. Just. Like. Me. Forever petrified, frozen like a fucking corpse until we can find another way. Or until I kill the fucker who did this."
"Dorian, please calm down," I whisper, reaching a tentative hand up to stroke his face. He instantly recoils, scooting away to put space between us.
"Calm down? Ha! What world do you live in, Gabriella? Because that's where I wanna go. Where everything is just fucking ponies and gumdrops," he spews angrily.