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The Dark Prince(The Dark Light Series #2)(7)

By:S.L. Jennings



I swear I hear a growl erupt from his chest as Dorian meets my lips with his. My mouth opens reflexively, eager to take him in, tasting the depth of his hunger for me. It mirrors my own and I moan at the feeling of his tongue exploring the soft wetness of mine. With one hand grasping the junction of my thigh and backside and the other cradling the back of my neck, Dorian devours each muffled whimper and whine. His passion is alarming and I find myself pulling at his soft, tousled hair and the collar of his shirt, wanting more and more.

Everything about this kiss screams desperation and desire. The thought that I could have lost Dorian, that he could have actually turned out to be some revolting monster that didn't give a damn about me, truly terrified me. Not the Dark or my unknown stalker or even death itself. Losing Dorian is what I feared above anything else. And as we lay here, tongues and limbs wholly intertwined, we still can't get enough. Even if we survive this, an eternity of loving Dorian would never be enough for me.

Dorian pulls away, touching his forehead to mine. Both of our breaths are ragged and anxious to meet again. "I want you to understand something, little girl," he breathes. "What I am about to do to you will be unlike anything you have ever experienced. I want to totally consume you in a way that I was unable to before."

"What are you talking about?" I gasp. Shit, why are we even talking at all?

"Trust me, ok. Just don't be afraid of me."

I gently push against Dorian's chest so I can assess his fiery blue gaze. "Dorian, I could never be afraid of you. Ever. Of course I trust you."

Dorian makes a pained groan as if the notion of love and acceptance physically hurts him. Then his mouth finds mine as he lifts me up effortlessly. I wrap my legs tightly around his waist, indulging in the strong softness of his skilled tongue. I don't realize that we are even moving until he lays me on the bed seconds later. Dorian abandons me to stand at the foot of the bed, eyeing my violet satin-clad body writhing with expectation.

"You are so beautiful, Gabriella. I want to love you from the inside out. Will you let me?" he murmurs in his velvety soft voice.

I nod, panting feverishly. God, I'm on fire.

"Undress," he whispers.

I feel like I am on display, completely exposed for Dorian's viewing pleasure as I slip the thin spaghetti straps from my shoulders one by one. He's watching me intently, the top row of his teeth pressed into his bottom lip, the pink of his tongue barely visible. His narrowed eyes take in the sight of my bare flesh as I sit up to let the gown fall to my waist, revealing full, aching breasts. Dorian gasps in response, letting his tongue slide out between his teeth. I take his reaction as a compliment and lift my ass up to slide the flimsy garment down further, kicking it off the bed with my foot. I'm completely naked, vulnerable, and his. All his.

"Mmmm," Dorian moans. "I need to feel you on my tongue."

Holy shit! Did he just say that?

Dorian laboriously unfastens his white shirt, locking his eyes on mine. I can feel myself getting wetter and hotter with every button. He's making a game of this; he knows what he does to me. He can feel it. By the time he lets it slide off his shoulders, my fingers have already found my soaking wet sex. I didn't even realize I had let my hand slip down between my legs.

Dorian smirks devilishly, noting my confused expression. "Don't be shy on my account. Pleasure yourself."

"I'd rather you do that," I reply coyly.

Another growl escapes. "Gladly."

Dorian kneels at the foot of the bed, grabbing me by my hips and swiftly pulling me to the very edge. He spreads my thighs and places them on his shoulders, drinking in the sight of my glistening flesh. Soft, wet kisses decorate my inner thighs, driving me mad with expectation. He runs his teeth along the inside of one thigh then bites down right before reaching my swollen clit, causing me to yelp in surprise. The yelp develops into a moan as I savor the tingles that follow along the path of Dorian's touch. He repeats the ritual on the other leg and this time I groan in ecstasy. Every kiss, every bite leaves a new depth of sensation. Pain evolves into a pulsation; pleasure erupts into prickles. And as quickly as they began, they spread, alighting every nerve with a singeing heat that causes me to cry out, my back arching off the bed.

"Just feel, Gabriella. Just feel what I can do to you with just a kiss."

Dorian laves my throbbing folds with his tongue and I completely lose it. Just one touch with his mouth and I crumble into a mewling mess of whimpers and pants. It's as if I've never been touched before, like my body is raw and utterly open to him. I'm barely able to control my erratic breaths when Dorian covers me with his mouth, sucking and licking me until I am practically choking on my own sobs.

"Oh God!" I cry. "Dorian, please!" My body shudders again, my thighs twitching uncontrollably on his shoulders.

"What, little girl?" he says against my swollen clit, sending vibrations to the already hypersensitive flesh.

"I … I … can't," I stammer.

"You can't what?" Dorian juts his tongue inside me, lapping up my warm nectar. "Mmmmm."

"Ugh!" I nearly scream, unable to come up with anything intelligible. It feels so good but too good. Unnatural. Yet, our insane chemistry just comes naturally.

Dorian buries his face between my legs and consumes me enthusiastically, expressing his satisfaction with my flavor with a stream of deep groans. It's like he can't get enough, and I continually feed him with wave after wave of fresh, silken honey.

"Stop! Please! I can't take anymore!" I beg hoarsely. Tears stream down the sides of my face, my skin flush and burning. "It's too much. It's too fucking much."

Dorian finally pulls away, leaving twin bites on the inside of each thigh before standing. He licks his glistening lips, unwilling to let a drop go to waste. His eyes flicker as he observes my trembling frame amusingly.

"I'm not done with you yet, Gabriella. I still want you." He takes a step forward and rests a knee on the bed, right between my legs. "Don't be afraid."

Dorian holds up his palm and it is suddenly enraptured with a bright blue haze. But before I can even wrap my head around it or question it, he pushes it forward a bit. And somehow, in a way that I can't even begin to explain, my entire body moves to the middle of the bed involuntarily like I am a naked, quivering marionette and he is my puppet-master.

I scream with shock and confusion. "What the hell, Dorian? What are you doing me? Your hand … " I can't even begin to rationalize what I'm seeing, what I'm experiencing.

"Don't be afraid," Dorian repeats, taking a few steps back. "Trust me. I won't hurt you." He spreads his fingers apart, and again my body complies, splaying my limbs out flat against the satin comforter. "Look at me."

His hand makes a beckoning gesture and my head elevates from the bed, slightly bending forward so I am forced to meet his eyes. I can't move, my body completely manipulated by the simple movements of Dorian's single hand. And then I see it; I see him. His darkness creeps onto his face, masking his once beautiful, exotic features. The creature before me is not my Dorian. He is threatening, sinister, and so insanely sexy. And as confusing and frustrating as it is to admit, I am scorching hot for him.

His fingers begin to dance as if they are stroking the keys to an imaginary piano. His movements incite the tiny tingles, inflaming every nerve ending, from my fingertips through my swollen breasts to the apex of my thighs. I gasp loudly, my eyes fixed on Dorian's as he continues to tickle the invisible ivories. His strokes increase, and so do the pleasurable prickles, igniting from a spark to a wildfire, quickly spreading to every inch of my body. I want to scream, writhe, thrash. He is torturing me from the inside out and I am slowly dying a hundred delicious deaths.

Dorian finally steps forward, continuing to pleasure me with his magic fingers, though he has yet to touch me. He steps towards me and kneels on the bed, still keeping his eyes on mine, still keeping a safe distance from my panting, tormented frame. He gracefully brings up his other hand, and I nearly choke on my garbled cries. I don't know if I can take any more. This feeling is already so overwhelmingly good; it's as if he is bathing me with a million tiny tongues. After already enduring multiple mind-numbing orgasms, I don't see how I could possibly endure any more stimulation.

Still conducting the symphony of my body with his right hand, Dorian takes the index finger of his left and slowly moves it up and down. I feel it instantly; it's as if he is raking it against my already raw heat. I can feel him there, yet he isn't even touching me. Holy shit! I will surely go mad. I am not equipped to even wrap my head around this. I feel myself losing control, fighting against the treacherous waves of my violent climax.

"No," he rasps, an animalistic sound rumbling from his throat. "I need to be inside you."

Dorian lets his right hand fall, yet continues to touch and tease me with his left. His eyes are bright, burning blue flames and I can tell that the words are for his benefit as well. If he can feel what I feel than he must also be battling his own orgasm. He bites his bottom lip, concentrating furiously on his measured strokes. I whimper and whine, wanting to grind against him though I know he is not there. He grins sinfully, painfully drawing out every touch and tease.

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