Turkish Delights Series (14 page)

“A bonus for you if we’re home in fifteen minutes!” The older man grinned into the rear view mirror at the pair in the back and floored the accelerator.

Chapter Three

It was late. Technically, she needed to be at the Kempeski Palace Hotel in twenty minutes. Having lived in Istanbul for the past seven years, Elle knew damn good and well she’d never make it in time, not on a Friday night.

For the hundredth time she read the heavy embossed card that Caleb had dropped on her desk that morning.

The Pleasure of Your Company is Requested

Kempeski Palace Hotel Turkish Bath

Couples Massage

Private Dinner

With a Tall, Dark, Handsome Stranger

What in the hell had she been thinking? She’d indeed requested a tall, dark, handsome, stranger. To think, it could be ordered up and delivered to her, for the right price. Jesus. Images of Emre would not leave her brain.

Her phone buzzed. Caleb. She rolled her eyes and ignored it. He called again. Knowing he’d never give up, she answered. “Hello.”

“What the hell are you doing answering your phone? You should be checking into your exotic massage room.”

“If you knew that, why the hell are you calling me?”

“Because my spidey sense was tingling, telling me you were about to wimp out.”

Elle stayed quiet.

“It’s what makes me such a damn good assistant, the spidey sense thing.”

“Whatever. Look, I…can’t do this.”

“Why ever not?”

Her robe fell open to reveal legs she’d shaved and the pussy she kept waxed, as if anyone ever wanted to see it, much less touch it.

“Because, you moron. It’s lame. I should not have to pay for a date. I should…you know, just be able to meet a man, have a normal life, go out some, get married, breed, I don’t know...shit.”

“You are not a normal woman, boss. You have done things most men or women will never do in their entire lives. You’ve sacrificed, been a huge success, and now it’s time to pay yourself back. Get off your ass, put on a sexy dress and high heels and get the hell over there.”

“No.”

“God help me, you are the most fucking stubborn….” Caleb trailed off. Strange shuffling noises matched sounds coming from the foyer of her luxury flat. He walked in, phone to his ear and stood, staring at her. She snatched the edges of her robe together. “You are gorgeous. Now, let’s get you together and over to your date. Don’t make me go medieval on you.”

Elle smiled, and let him pull her back inside.

***

Emre’s every nerve endings felt exposed and jangling in the lightly-scented air blowing through the private massage rooms along one side of the hotel. He leaned on the luxurious massage table and looked at his watch. She was supposed to be there already. He ran a hand through his hair. He was dressed, if one could call it that, in simple silk boxers and nothing else. Having barely made it home, showered, shaved and back to the hotel, her absence started to irritate him. He grabbed his phone from behind a stack of thick cotton towels and punched in a text.

Hey, what did Caleb say?

He found her having second thoughts, freaked out and sitting on her balcony, his brother sent back.

Emre groaned. This wasn’t going to work after all, no matter all his efforts to stay on top of Madame Eve’s incoming date requests. Tarkan had planted the idea with Caleb months ago, but it had taken Elle forever to fill out the forms. He’d lost hope until today, when he found the invitation from the Kempeski and Madame Eve’s 1Night Stand dating service. He’d used every single connection he could muster to get her to tell him when Elle’s request came through. Emre hated to waste good contacts. And he thought this just might work. He lay back on the soft table and stared at the ancient paintings on the ceiling above him. When his phone buzzed at his elbow, he toyed with flinging it across the room, and decided to ignore it instead.

He put a hand on his annoyingly hard cock, absently rubbing as he replayed the last few months in his mind. He’d never, ever worked so hard to get to know a woman before. Fuck first, questions later had been his motto with women for years, including several very fun ones at university in America. He’d been schooled by some lovely teachers, and was drawn to older women in general, but he’d bestowed a lot of his experience on some younger, willing co-eds as well.

The day he’d looked up from counting endless rug inventories at his father’s store and come face to face with her, he’d been smitten. There was no other word for it. Seemingly fragile, yet strong as nails, brilliant, facile, with a dry sense of humor like his—Emre groaned as he pictured her bright green eyes, and the way her ass swayed in the high heels she always wore. Touring her around the city had been better than he’d imagined, talking about history, observing local customs and stealing the occasional brush of a hand against her back or waist as he would guide her to a table, or inside a museum.

His palms itched to touch her flesh, his lips burned with unclaimed kisses. Throwing one arm over his eyes, he rubbed harder, imagining her lips on his, her soft hand around his cock, his hands buried in her hair, his mouth devouring her pussy. He tilted his hips, felt the warmth spreading around his lower spine. Pre-cum leaked down his hand as his rhythm increased.

When the door sprang open, he leapt off the table, tucked his aching cock back into the ridiculous shorts and stood, chest heaving, staring at the sight of Caleb, his brother’s lover, at the door, a smile pulling at the blond man’s lips.

“Ah, hang on....” Caleb called behind him, his eyes never leaving Emre’s. He leaned back in and whispered. “She’d coming, lover boy.” The smile widened. “Damn you do look alike. Jesus, I gotta get out of here.”

He ducked behind the screen that hinted at her “date’s” massage table on the other side. But all that the elaborate divider hid was Emre, who was panting in mild panic, as Caleb coaxed Elle into the room, helped her undress and practically tossed her up on the massage table before exiting.

Taking a deep breath, Emre pressed a button on the floor with his bare foot, and a couple of women dressed in harem pants and not much else appeared, lighting candles, turning up the soft, arabesque music and cooing in accented English to the woman he assumed now lay on the table just beyond his reach. Inches from his destiny, he squared his shoulders, and feet silent on the cool, ancient marble floor, walked around the barrier.

Chapter Four

Elle was pissed. She hated feeling manipulated and the whole silly one-night stand date set up was one, big manipulation from the get-go. If she didn’t know better, she’d guess Caleb was getting some sort of kickback from it. He’d goaded her into applying, laughing along with her as she filled out her “preferences” and “dream date” sheets. But ever since he’d been obsessed about the actual event—reminding her constantly, and tonight, convincing her to actually go through with the whole thing. Maddening.

She sighed and adjusted her face on the soft ring, taking deep breaths of the flower floating in a bowl of some sort of oil beneath her. Her whole body was tense. Maybe the massage was a good idea. Frowning, face down, her skin prickling from a sudden mysterious puff of cold air from somewhere, she reminded herself exactly who she was. Future CEO of the second largest pharmaceutical company in the world. Brilliant mind behind both Troverta, the first FDA approved male performance enhancing drug and Nodoma, a proven hair loss preventative, she was the queen of the goddamned drug universe; hard dicks and full heads of hair—that was how she’d risen in the company. And she worked hard to keep her place in a cutthroat industry. Shifting a little on the comfortably padded table, she made every attempt to relax, but couldn't. This is ridiculous.

She flinched when warm hands grasped her feet. But as the hands kneaded each toe and knuckles bore into the arch of each foot, groans of pleasure escaped her lips. Tension in her legs and lower back released with each increase of pressure against her soles. She let her hands drop to the props below her shoulders, blowing out the breath she’d been holding in one, long sigh.

The hands moved up her calves as the silk sheet covering her nudity shifted, like a whisper against her skin. The masseuse concentrated on one leg at a time, traveling up her calf, reaching her thigh then back down, again and again. With each stroke, she was aware of fingers very near her bare pussy.

She raised her head, shocked but embarrassed by the way her nipples had hardened. It had been a solid year since she’d had sex with anything other than the toy Caleb had given her for her birthday the year before. After Marcus broke off their engagement, she’d jumped into an affair with some guy in finance, had a few close encounters with a man she met at a bar, but lost interest as her job responsibilities ramped up, or so she told herself. Convinced she was unable to sustain anything resembling a normal human relationship, she dove into work, pouring everything she had into it, including her libido.

“Relax,” a soft male voice advised. “It’s okay.” She put her face back against the rest, giving in and taking his advice. His voice comforted her, and her battered psyche needed soothing. Something struck her as odd, though. She thought this was to be a couple’s massage. The fancy cloth covered screen to her right indicated there was another table, and another massage, on the other side. She had assumed the massage would be without barriers. But she’d paid Madame Eve to come up with her ideal date. Maybe this was all part of a plan. Besides her masseur was deliciously distracting. She closed her eyes and let the man’s hands reach up her legs again, and this time when he brushed his fingers against her pussy she didn’t flinch, but nearly purred, thoughts of some tall, dark, handsome stranger on the other side of the fabric divide gone.

The silky cover slid to the floor, leaving Elle fully exposed but something about it was suddenly, completely right. The hands reached her ass, caressed, worked her hips one at a time, before skipping up to her lower back. Just when she got used to that, the hands returned to her ass. She tilted her hips slightly. Her swollen clit needed contact. She moaned softly when one hand thrust against the small of her back while the other gripped the inside of one thigh, pressing into both spots, fingertips grazing the edges of her pussy. When he touched her outer lips, his hand still held tight against her thigh, she gasped. Dear God I am gonna…. The orgasm surprised her in both its presence and intensity. Her body spasmed. Fluid gushed and coated her legs and his hands. Elle moaned, in ecstasy and embarrassment.

***

It took every ounce of Emre’s willpower not to jump up on the table, yank the woman’s luscious hips up and bury his cock inside her. She moved against the table, in time with his hands, and he could smell her, the desire oozing from her body so strong it overpowered all his senses. When he used the tension relieving method learned from the woman he’d lived with his last year of college, he was shocked and delighted when she climaxed.

Emre bent over her body, needing to taste her, wanting her so badly, his tightly-gripped self control slipped. He brought his hand up, licked the essence of Elle from his fingers as he watched her sweet ass writhing and her skin prickling in the aftermath of a knee jerk orgasm. He put both hands on her back then walked up to her head. Leaning over, using his elbows against her shoulders, he took the opportunity to lick her skin, enough to make her shiver. His cock could cut diamonds, but he kept it separate from her, wanting to give her everything she asked for first.

He ran his hands up her sides, from her waist to her shoulders and her neck, rubbing out the last of the tension he knew she still held. He did it again, and felt her give, and one last time, she let out a huge sigh as he used both hands on her skull, lacing his fingers in her silky hair, caressing and soothing her scalp.

He traced his fingertips from her shoulders, her back, ass, thighs, calves and feet, slowly, teasing, making her skin pebble, satisfied by the way her body moved, her ass arching up slightly. He licked his lips, grabbed the cover that had slid to the floor and held it up, hiding his face.

“Turn over,” he ordered, lust making his voice low, growly, unrecognizable.

She did, lying back and accepting the lilac-infused warm cloth over her eyes. Emre looked down, tried to will his cock softer so he could concentrate. It didn’t work.

***

Elle’s entire body was limp, but light as air. Vanilla scented air wafted over her exposed lips and nose. Her eyes remained covered, keeping her from seeing the face of the man with the amazing hands. She hoped he couldn’t hear her heart pounding, sounding like a timpani to her own ears. The dampness still slicking the tops of her thighs and the hard buds of her nipples could be embarrassing. But she no longer cared. This particular massage was headed in the right direction as far as she was concerned. All thoughts of shame about “hiring a date” were out the window. Madame Eve claimed to be able to “read between the lines” of her clientele’s requests. She’d certainly done that with her. Elle gasped when magical hands rotated her foot at the ankle then made her bend her right knee.

She groaned as her hip released long-held tension. He straightened it, pulling slightly then bent it up, closer to her chest this time. When a hand brushed her pussy, she shifted and bit her lower lip. Once more, and the hand was there, like a ghostly presence, fingertips dancing over her lower lips. He repeated the process with her left leg. Teasing at the end then pulling the soft sheet down to cover her lower body, using his hands at her waist. Elle was self-conscious about what she considered excess forty-year-old flesh there. As if reading her mind, the man leaned down and whispered in hear ear.

“You are so beautiful. Just relax. Let me touch you. I want to make you come again.”

“Hmmm….” She reached up to remove the eye covering. But his hand stopped her.