The Dark Prince(The Dark Light Series #2)(32)

"Yes. It is rumored that they are responsible for the corruption of the Dark." Dorian runs his hand through his sexy disheveled hair. "I'm not entirely sure how humans got ahold of this information, but I'm not surprised. Myths can easily reflect truth. I've been … out of the loop, so to speak, for the last twenty years. Apparently, changes have been made."

Right. Dorian's petrification was only reversed so he could hunt and kill me. Who knows what he awoke to find. "What do you think this means?"

Dorian shrugs. "I can't say. There's been a breach, that's for sure. Whether or not it was intentional is the question." I can see the subject has aged him, his brow furrowed in deliberation. I smile at him brightly and plant a kiss on his soft lips, hoping to restore his pleasant mood. It works. "Get dressed. I'm going to take you to work then I have some business to attend to. I'll be back in time to take you to lunch."

Business at Cashmere is steady, and I happily jump into helping customers and rearranging displays, a welcomed change from my melancholy demeanor in the past days. Once it slows a bit, I take a moment to peruse the racks for something hot to wear for Carlos's birthday party later tonight. I had totally forgotten about it until Morgan mentioned it over coffee this morning. She, too, seemed oddly chipper, indicating that her date the evening before was successful. I wanted to ask her who the mystery man was but didn't want to put her on the spot in front of Dorian. Before I can think too much about it or complete my search for a dress, Carmen asks me to sign for a delivery.

"It's addressed to you," she says, observing the black jacquard box adorned with an elaborate red bow.

I shrug my shoulders and take the small package back to my office to inspect. Probably a few sample pieces from a new designer who wants a little extra credit for flair. After I've successfully unraveled the bow and open the box, I find something else entirely. An all-white jeweled string bikini sits amidst a sea of black tissue paper. It's absolutely gorgeous, yet I already knew that it would be. I've worn this bikini before. In my dream. The dream the Dark King gave me.

Resting on top of the sexy swimwear is a white note card. I take a deep breath and turn it over to read.

The lotus flower- a symbol of sacred beauty through adversity. Purity. Rebirth.

Congratulations on embracing the true goddess within you.

-Stavros

"How very convenient," a voice mutters from behind me.

I spin around, clutching my chest, the note still gripped tightly in my hand. "Dorian!" I shriek. "When did you get here?" He obviously didn't come through the door.

He holds his hand out, requesting the notecard and ignoring my question. I look back down at it, contemplating scrapping it to save us the drama but reluctantly hand it over. Dorian studies it with an unreadable expression, showing no signs of discontent or irritation. The momentary flash of his crystal blue eyes is the only sign of reaction at all. He sets the card on the desk then mutters something in Greek, ‘Stavros' being the only word I'm able to decipher in his heavy accent. Even in this heated moment, it arouses me fiercely.

"Your father?" I finally mumble after a few tense moments of silence. Dorian's eyes meet mine, and I receive the answer to my question, his irises icy and cold with ire. Crap. Can we go one day without him losing his shit about something?

I force a stiff smile of reassurance. "I'll get rid of it. Not my style anyway."

"No. It was a gift," he mutters. "You should keep it. It would look incredible on you." His cool hand strokes my cheek delicately. He's trying desperately to reel in his anger.

"Thanks, but no thanks. I do feel like I should send him a thank you note though. Do you know where I could send it?"

Dorian's brow furrows a bit, unable to mask his surprise and confusion. Then something else reads across his beautiful face. Resignation. He nods in defeat.

"Good!" I beam. I pull out a sheet of stationary and begin to fashion my letter of gratitude to Dorian's persistently vile father.

Stavros,

Thank you for the swimsuit; it is beautiful. However, I can't and won't accept gifts from you or anyone else. I am pretty crazy in love with your son, Dorian. Him and only him. And there is nothing that you could ever give me that I don't already have in him. So please, don't waste your money or your time.

Sincerely,

Gabriella

I fold the piece of paper in half and place it in the box followed by the elaborate box top. "Please be sure he gets this," I say handing it over to Dorian, who looks somewhat bemused.

"You don't have to do that. I'm serious," he insists. "I'm sure this will make him very angry. Probably provoke him to do something rash."

"And would that bother you?"

Dorian takes a beat to think about it before giving me a sexy half-smile. "Not in the least."                       
       
           



       Chapter Thirteen




By 10 pm, I am dressed and ready to head out to Carlos's birthday celebration at Aria. I'm literally running on fumes, having worked a full day from opening to close at Cashmere, not to mention extremely sexually frustrated. Dorian still has not put out the flame burning deep between my thighs, and I'm starting to think he's still punishing me for our fight earlier in the week. I can't think like that; the immense guilt may creep back in, causing me to tumble back into a state of depression. And I have so much to be thankful for right now.

Dorian shows up at my apartment, eyes alight with the same carnal craving that's eating me alive. He looks devilishly dashing in charcoal grey designer jeans, a white dress shirt with sleeves rolled to his elbows, skinny silk tie and a black vest, all tailored to accentuate his remarkable build. He is by far the best dressed man I have ever seen, looking more male model than ruthless assassin. His perfectly chaotic black locks and the bit of rugged stubble scream bad boy meets business, making my ache for him even more unbearable. I want him now, and won't hesitate to pull up my strapless silver and black foil shirred dress for easier access.

"You look incredible, baby," he coos in my ear, placing a soft kiss just below my earlobe. It's enough to drive me absolutely mad.

"You too. Is it a coincidence that we match?" I ask with a raised eyebrow. Sheesh, who knew we would be one of those couples?

Dorian gives me a wink of his smoldering eye, and bites his bottom lip. Yes, he must be just as affected. The prospect of actually making it to this birthday party is looking slimmer by the second.

"Either you're going to take me back in that bedroom and give me a proper ruining or we need to leave," I say with a hand perched on my curvy hip. I would skip the affair altogether had I not promised Morgan I would be there before she left with Miguel.

Dorian grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers, and leads me out to his gleaming black Mercedes. As we cruise east towards Powers Boulevard, the sensual sounds of Usher radiating from the speakers, the pulsing down below becomes amplified in the confined space. I need him like I need air. Just something to ease the intense yearning for him.

"I know, baby," he breathes.

That's it. I can't take this anymore. With lustful fervor, I undo my seatbelt then lean over to anxiously unfasten his belt buckle, causing Dorian to nearly yelp in surprise at my spontaneity. I hurriedly undo the fly if his jeans, feeling the heat radiating from the hardened bulge begging to be relinquished. My eyes grow wide with excitement as I unleash his rock hard erection, feeling it pulse in my hands. I'm so hungry for him, I can't wait any longer. I take him in my mouth, hearing a grateful sigh at the feeling of my wet tongue. I pull back, sucking, swirling it with my tongue before sliding back down to the back of my throat. I wish I could savor every luscious inch of him, yet his substantial size makes it impossible. Over and over, I suckle and lick, letting my hands stroke the sensitive parts of him that my mouth can't reach. He moans approvingly, his fingers gently massaging my scalp. They slide down to my breasts, slipping inside of my dress, flicking and tugging my aching nipples. I moan against his flesh in my mouth, vibrating his swell, adding an extra element of pleasure.

"Ah, shit, baby, you're gonna make me … " Dorian breathes. He's panting, struggling to keep his eyes on the road, though his driving hasn't faltered in the least.

"No, don't," I command, coming up for air for just a second before resuming my relentless tongue-lashing and savoring the tiny trickles of sweet sap collecting at the tip.

"You're gonna make …  Fuck, I'm gonna come, baby," he rasps, his breathing wild with sweet agony. His fingers continue to strum my hard nipples and I moan again, letting the vibrations shudder through him. I slow my pace, to avoid his unraveling, refusing to bring him to the brink that he so desperately needs, just like me.

Pleasing him only intensifies the burning inside me, the throb evolving into an uncontrollable quake. I squeeze my thighs together, fighting the urge to touch myself while I pleasure my impassioned lover. This is about him. This is my redemption.

Dorian swells and pulsates in my mouth, warning me that release is near. Reluctantly, I pull away, and sit up, leaving his burning hot, distended member standing upright in his lap. Dorian looks over at me incredulously, completely taken aback at what has transpired. Not only did I completely catch him off guard, which is not an easy feat by any means, I've left him hard as a rock and ready to explode. He's speechless, unable to articulate a single word now that every ounce of blood has traveled south of the border.