Chapter 23 #2
“Don’t worry, I don’t smoke often, and I won’t do it around our kids.” He gives me a cocky wink.
The thought of having children with him makes my body heat. Again. “Oh. Good.” I stumble over what to say but am glad that I sound composed.
Something flickers in his gaze, darkening his eyes to a stormy blue, then he cocks his head and studies me. “What’s your obsession with England?”
Another thing to catch me off guard.
It’s not the first time someone has asked me that. But I’m thrown off kilter because he sounds like he really wants to know. It’s the first time he’s shown interest in me beyond the trouble I had with Marcus.
“I’ve always been like that,” I begin, setting the fork down. “At first, I found my love for it through books and authors who made the land sound like a magical place. Everything else came after. It’s crazy I haven’t been there yet.” God, I’m rambling.
His gaze drops to my lips, lingers there, then lifts back to my eyes, but his expression is unreadable. I don’t even know if he heard what I said.
“I’m sure you’ll get there some day.” I’m sure he said something similar when we spoke at the coffeehouse.
He returns to the island and finally cuts himself a slice of cake, then reaches for one of the small spice bottles at the side. It’s a dark red powder, but I’m not entirely sure what it is. Lightly, he dusts it over the top.
The cake has such a unique taste, I can’t imagine wanting to taint it with anything else.
He sets the cigar on a tray and starts eating, and I can’t help but watch him as he quietly enjoys it. It’s so rare to see any kind of emotion on Dorian’s face that the moment feels almost cinematic—like something I should capture and keep.
“What did you put on there?” I ask, eyeing the bottle, still trying to figure it out.
Dorian glances up at me and shakes his head. “It’s a secret.”
“A secret?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Then I have to try it, too,” I tease.
He smirks. “Not sure you’re ready for this, Lamb.”
I laugh. “It’s cake and spices. What’s there to be ready for?”
“The next-level taste.”
I straighten. “Try me.”
His eyes settle on me, slow and intent, like he’s intrigued and trying to decide what to do with that interest. “Alright… but I’ll give it to you.”
He looks me over once more, slower this time, before he reaches for his fork. He cuts off a small piece, then extends the fork toward me.
I stiffen, suddenly realizing a second too late what he intends to do.
I go still.
“You’re going to feed me?” The words tumble out before I can stop them.
His attention dips to my mouth, something deeper shifting in his expression. “Open your mouth.”
The command in his voice sends unexpected heat curling low in my body, awakening something in me I’m not ready for.
I open my mouth and lean closer. He places the cake in my mouth, and for a second, it’s all sweet and indulgent, like the slice I’d been eating.
But then a subtle heat blooms at the back of my tongue, warm and completely unexpected.
It spreads steadily until it settles into a delicious lingering burn.
Chili.
The spice was chili, and holy hell, mixed with the sweetness of everything else, it has a sensual, exotic flavor.
I close my eyes, and a mindless moan slips from me. The cake was already fantastic, but this…
It’s mind-blowing.
I open my eyes to tell him exactly that, but my heart stumbles when I meet his heated gaze.
He’s fixed on my mouth, watching my reaction, like he wants to see exactly what it does to me.
His eyes move back to mine, sharper now, his attention locking on me.
“What?” I mutter, my voice just above a whisper.
“Nothing. I just like the sounds you make.”
The words settle in my body, and suddenly, I’m very aware of how close he is.
“I didn’t mean to…” I stutter, blinking.
His gaze doesn’t waver. “Maybe I want to hear it again.”
My lungs lock, and I stare back at him stunned. Part of me wonders if I heard him right. But I know I did. And for my own sanity, it might be best if I end things here. Leave before I have more to worry about than what kissing him does to me.
“That… might not be a good idea,” I breathe, but I don’t move away.
The corner of his mouth lifts, faint and knowing. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not asking.”
I’m vaguely aware of his fork clattering onto the counter, then, with the grace of a jungle cat, he walks around the counter, gazing down at me with a sinful smile.
He stops a breath away. Too close. Far too close.
His eyes rivet to mine, locking me there, and damn it, even if I wanted to, I can’t look away.
For a second, neither of us moves. I don’t know if I could move.
His hand lifts, and he presses his fingers against my chin, tilting it up. The unsteady breath I manage to inhale is too thin, and a wave of dizziness washes over me.
God, I should step back. Pull away. Do something more than just sit here, relishing his fingers on my skin.
“Dorian, I should—"
“Come here.” Oh God, his voice, and that commanding tone again.
I’m a lost cause, and before I can think to try and save myself, he closes the distance.
His mouth finds mine, and everything stills. Time, the world, my body.
Then desire takes over, and I’m kissing him back before I can think better of it.
He catches my throat, pulling me closer, then he kisses me like he’s been waiting for this moment and has no intention of wasting it.
A soft moan escapes me, and the heat from earlier flares all over again.
Dorian pulls back just enough to look at me with that captivated spark in his eyes. It was the moan.
His grip tightens. Not enough to hurt, just enough to blur the lines between us and tell me he’s the one in charge of what happens next.
But we’re not supposed to be real. The contract. The arrangement. The show for those who need to see what he wants them to see. But there’s no one in here besides us.
The thought snaps me, pulling a trace of my sanity back.
“There are no cameras,” I whisper, my voice so quiet I might as well stay silent. “No reporters.” I speak a notch louder.
A menacing smile inches across his lips. “I don’t need them to give me a reason to kiss you.” His voice drops, and I feel it more than I hear it.
My heart speeds then trips over the erratic beat as I gaze back at him, trying to process what he’s saying to me.
“Don’t you?” I rasp.
His gaze doesn’t soften. “No, Lamb. And they don’t get to see what I do to you behind closed doors.”
The declaration twists low in my stomach, and I’m right back at that shameless point where my body betrays me.
“What are you going to do to me?” The words slip out, roughened by desire I can no longer hold back.
“Right now, I’m real interested to find out what you taste like.”
“Taste…” I can hardly get the word out.
“Come here.” His voice is rough and daring.
Like a mindless puppet, I move toward him, obeying. I’ve lost my mind. It has to be that. I am lost to whatever stroke of insanity has taken me.
And now it has claimed my body and soul. His mouth meets mine, and the contract takes the rest of my resolve, silencing the voice in my head pleading with me to slow down and remember this is Dorian Vale. But I don’t listen. I don’t want to.
I curve into him, crushing my chest against his muscular planes, while he cups the back of my head to deepen the kiss.
Then he picks me up, slipping his arm around my waist, and is moving with me until suddenly, my back crashes against the wall.
I don’t even know what wall. All I’m aware of is his lips on mine.
And that they feel incredible.
He kisses me like he’s been starving and whatever restraint he’d erected between us has now dissolved.
That part of me that used to have feelings for him melts against him, and a bolt of shock spirals through my mind as I realize with certainty that I’m still that girl.
God, there is no used to be or even that part of me. The emotion never left. It just lay dormant. Until now.
Dorian’s grip grows tighter, as though he can hear my thoughts, and he plunges his tongue deeper into my mouth, probing every corner with every sweep.
Thick fingers dig into my hips, and the scent of him washes over me, undoing me from the inside out.
This is a kiss that rivals all kisses, even the ones we’ve previously shared. It’s the mindfuck on crack.
I’m thrown deeper into the mindless pleasure when his cock pushes into my belly, hard and massive. My breath catches. God, he’s aroused. For me.
Rough stubble grazes my cheeks as he shifts his kisses to my neck and devours the skin there.
His fingers glide over my sides, finding the zipper of my dress and pulling it down. The dress drifts down my body, and I gasp when he brushes over my bare skin.
The dress has a built-in bra, so the instant the fabric falls away, my breasts are exposed to him.
Before I can take my next breath, his hands are on them, squeezing, kneading, caressing. Then his thumbs roll over my nipples, making the already tight peaks almost painful to touch.
“Fuck, Elodie,” he groans. “Look at these.” He squeezes harder, and I moan, my lips parting for air. “They’re begging for my tongue.”
He leans down further, flicking his tongue across the tops of my breasts, then his mouth closes over my right nipple.
And damn me, I find myself pushing into him so he can give me more. He does, answering the overpowering craving with his possessive suckle.
Around and around, he strokes my nipple, sending streaks of scorching pleasure cascading through my body. It’s so intense I press my head back into the wall and moan out loud.
Pleasure pulses down into my core, and I imagine him tasting me everywhere.
He moves to my other breast, and my knees buckle. Quickly, he holds me in place, pressing a steady hand to my hip, then he molds his lips against it and sucks more of the flesh into his mouth.
I’m so lost in what he’s doing to me, I hardly notice him pushing my dress down my hips. It falls the rest of the way, pooling at my feet.
My senses creep back in when he kisses his way down my body and tugs on my panties with his teeth. That wicked smile returns. He looks up at me for a beat, watching me unravel in his arms. Then he rolls my panties down my legs.
He crouches lower, slips them off my feet, and it suddenly hits—I’m naked.
Naked and bare before him in nothing but my heels.
But the look he gives me…
It’s so raw and feral a shudder of anticipation ripples through me and all I can think of what he’s going to do to me next.
“Perfect. Just fucking perfect. You’re even better than what I imagined.” He groans.
I barely register what he said—that he imagined me—before he moves closer to rub his face between my thighs.
“You’re so wet for me. Jesus,” he husks, his voice thick with desire.
Again, I’m speechless.
Spreading my thighs, he pushes his tongue into my entrance and licks over my pussy.
One stroke, two, three, and I’m moaning again.
My orgasm builds fast. It pushes up from my groin into my stomach like the steam from a pressure cooker.
“More. I fucking need more,” he rumbles, then he grabs my ass and lifts me into the air again.
In two long strides, we’re at the breakfast table. He moves everything out of our way with one sweep of his arm. The mats, ornaments, and the salt and pepper shakers go flying, crashing to the floor, before he sets me on top.
“Spread your legs for me, Little Lamb.” His words ignite more fire in me. “Let me see your pretty pussy.”
Bracing myself on my elbows, I spread my legs.
His eyes go straight to my pussy, then he kneels and dives right back in, to the place I crave his touch most.
He sucks hard on my clit and circles it with his tongue into me, then he’s sucking and feasting, pushing me closer to the edge of madness.
Dorian fucks me with his tongue, and my body can’t withstand the onslaught of pleasure that hisses through my nerves.
I squirm against his mouth as another wave of fire rushes through my blood, then I feel it.
My orgasm rises to its peak and releases in a vicious flush that consumes my body.
“Oh God!” I cry out, throwing my head back.
Hot waves of pleasure pulse in time with his tongue and my galloping heart. My arousal rushes out of me and into his mouth. He drinks me, leaving me numb to everything but this glorious sensation in my mind, body, heart, and soul.
For a moment, I’m glad we’re alone in the house. Everyone would hear me if we weren’t. And I don’t think I would care.
I’d still want him to do everything he’s doing to me. And never stop.
He licks me clean, then he stills, resting his head against my inner thigh. Warm breath fans against my skin, arousing me all over again.
More. I want more. God, I want him so badly it aches.
I’m ready for more, but my hopes flatline when he rests his hand on my thigh and his touch feels different. It’s colder. How can it suddenly feel cold when seconds ago, there was so much fire between us?
I lift my head and find him watching me. His eyes are fixed on my stomach, then move up and up to meet my gaze. Something has changed in him. The look in his eyes… it’s like someone marched into his head and switched off the lights.
Something has changed, and I already know that whatever this was, it’s over.
“I, um… This is a bad idea. We need to stop.” When his voice takes on that cold edge I’m used to, something inside me cracks open, leaving a hollow space.
He doesn’t waste any more time. Tearing his eyes away from me, he walks away. Leaving me there. Naked on the table with my dignity in scraps.