Turkish Delights Series (34 page)

Champagne flute in hand, she sipped and continued to regret agreeing to Andreas’s insistence that they fly to LA to meet her brother’s family. She could have stayed ensconced in his house in suburban Las Vegas for the rest of her known life, never facing any member of her family again. It had been, in a word, perfect. She put a hand on Andreas’s suit trouser-clad thigh, relished the muscles bunched there, as her face heated up with memory at just what his body had shown hers for the past twenty or so days. He’d promised and delivered on any number of physical and emotional levels. While physically sore from his attentions and revelations about how much fun that playroom could be, her soul was completely sated. Something she’d not felt ever in her life.

“What the fuck, man, we cannot let this continue! I don’t care what the regents say, I’m firing him. Today.” Andreas’s outburst sliced into her reminiscing like a knife. She frowned at him. He met her gaze. “Hang on a minute.” He touched the mute button and turned to her, his face a turbulent storm, his lovely arresting green eyes troubled. He leaned in to brush her lips with his and whispered. “Go to the back. There’s a private room. In fifteen minutes I want you naked, wet, and ready for me on the couch. Bring the present I gave you.” He nodded the bag at her feet that he’d handed her on the way up the plane’s steps. She smiled as heat flooded every inch of her skin and made the little ball she had pierced into her clit thrum in anticipation.

The nervous, twitchy excess energy she’d been experiencing since entering the airport dissipated. When he’d promised that he could anticipate her every need and fulfill them if she let him, the man had not been kidding. Once she let go of the compulsion to keep secrets from him, to default into reflexive anger and mistrust because he was a man, her life had opened up in ways she had never imagined. But seriously? Here? Her face must have betrayed her. He could already read her like a book.

“Since when have I ever kidded you, Lale, hmm?” He tilted her chin up and slanted his mouth over hers. She glanced over his broad shoulder at the raw jealousy in the eyes of the slut pouring champagne. Then returned the kiss in earnest, gripping his thick hair with one hand. He broke their contact with a smile on his gorgeous face that nearly made her cry. How had this happened to her? She lived with the fear every single day of the last twenty that she was dreaming and would wake up to the same old shit with a trip back to Istanbul to boot.

She fluffed her hair, grabbed the bag, and excused herself. The proprietary hand he kept on her ass the entire time she maneuvered over to the aisle would have, at one time, pissed her off to no end. Now, it made her smile and brought more heat to her already flushed skin. “Don’t open the bag until I get there.” His last command rang in her ears as she walked down the wide aisle.

“Excuse me.” She had to do it. “See that man over there?” The skanky flight bitch stared at her then over at Andreas whose long legs were stretched out into the aisle as he continued to yell into his phone. “Yeah. That one. Tall, dark…and mine?” The woman frowned at her. “Go near him while I’m gone and you will regret the day you laid eyes on me.” She turned and made her way to the back, to a door marked “PRIVATE: VIPs” and pushed it open allowing herself one glance back at the woman’s open-mouthed stare. Lale knew a predator when she saw one. She winked at the hapless flight attendant then slipped into the room.

She leaned against the closed door and took in the small yet beautifully appointed space. A leather couch, glass table, full bathroom, and large TV screen took up the majority of the space. A small twinge at how Andreas knew about this place nibbled the back of her brain. But she shook it off. One thing she’d learned so far with him was that all she had to do was ask. He held nothing back about his life. And encouraged the same from her. It was something she still struggled with, but he said he would be patient as long as she never, ever lied to him. If she wasn’t ready to answer something, she had to say that, plain and simple, and he would back off.

She sighed, set the mysterious small bag on the table just as her phone buzzed. The sight of her brother Emre’s name on an incoming text made her heart pound. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that this would all work out somehow. He, or at least his wife, had sent her on this damn 1Night Stand excursion after all. They couldn’t exactly blame her, or be mad, that she’d fallen head over high heels for the Greek man she’d been matched with.

Oh Christ
. Her knees buckled. She was bringing home a Greek. She’d be disowned. Did she care? Well, yeah, a little. She missed her little niece, Ayla, so much already. She hated the thought of never seeing her again. Elle, her American CEO sister-in-law, could pull all the female power bullshit plays she wanted. This was not going to fly. Not with her
very
Turkish brother and father.

The plane lurched. She sat down hard on the floor and ignored the buzzing phone again. She couldn’t face it. Not now. This whole thing was ridiculous really. She was going to march in and introduce Andreas to everyone as her Greek… “Dom” … boyfriend? Her head pounded. She stumbled into the bathroom and splashed water onto her face. For some reason, she was extraordinarily thirsty. She downed two bottles of spring water before glancing at her watch to discover she’d wasted ten of her allotted fifteen minutes of prep time stressing out. She squared her shoulders, picked up the phone, and read her brother’s message.

Sending Elle to pick you up. Aslan is sick so we won’t bring him to the airport
.

She wiped her forehead as she kicked off her high heels and peeled off her skirt. Okay. Just logistics. Nothing to hint that he knew he was about to get hit with a real doozy. That his only sister was dating a Greek man. Turks and Greeks were among the oldest known enemies. Lale would admit to her own prejudice the second she heard him speak. Her poor grandmother would drop dead at the sight of him. No reason to think otherwise.

Lale tried not to hyperventilate as she slipped out of her blouse and bra, leaving on the sleek, sexy garter belt she’d bought yesterday as a surprise for Andreas and a treat for herself. At the last minute, she put her shoes back on. Andreas loved her in these shoes. And she loved making him happy. A fairly new goal for her, frankly, one she was thrilled with and terrified by at the same time.

She sat, leg jiggling nervously, feeling about as far from sexy as one could get in a pair of sky high Jimmy Choos and the most expensive garter belt money could buy from Victoria’s Secret. She stared at the plain brown bag. Reached out to feel it before moving her hand back. It was very likely a toy. The man knew his shit when it came to expert female stimulation, either via the various talented parts of his amazing body or from expensive battery-operated devices.

As she was simultaneously chilled and burning up with fear, anticipation, and worry the door flew open, and there he stood. Andreas Michos, former NFL star turned University of Nevada Las Vegas Athletic Director, six foot seven and nearly two hundred and ninety pounds of sheer masculinity. She took a breath and her stress melted away at the sight of him. But a frown still creased his lovely, bronzed face. She propped one high heeled shoe on the table, exposing herself to him as he slowly shut the door. Her skin tingled. She thrummed with anticipation. Was this love? Lust? Dependence? All of the above? Lale suddenly did not care as long as he was there, with her, holding her, for the rest of her life. She exhaled as he made his slow way to her, shucking his suit jacket to the floor, his gaze never leaving hers.

“Lovely. Just lovely.” He muttered as he sat on the table, pulling her foot into his lap, running his large hands up her silk clad leg. Lale stretched her arms up, let his touch work its magic on her nerve endings. When he reached her moist center, he touched the piercing then retreated, back down her leg. “Truly, a sight for sore eyes. You are the most beautiful woman on the planet, my tulip princess, but you know that right?” He crouched in front of her and brought his lips to her pussy, blew on it, flicked the gold ball with this tongue as he gripped her ass. “But I believe I said ‘naked’ earlier, did I not?” Lale opened her eyes and glared at him. His mouth twisted in an ironic grin, his eyes dark with lust.

“Yes, my darling, you did. So what are you going to do about it, hmm?” She pulled his face to hers, nipped at his irresistible lower lip, sucked it into her mouth, and pressed her bare breasts against the crisp cotton of his dress shirt. He answered her kiss, lazily, without much effort. Then reached back and with one yank ripped the expensive lace next-to-nothing belt that held up her one hundred percent silk stockings into two pieces before flipping the shoes off and against the near wall of the cramped room.

“Hey!” She shrieked before he put a hand over her protesting lips. He pressed her back onto the couch, shoved his tongue into her mouth and unzipped his pants with one hand. She felt the extreme heat of his magnificent cock against her, as he loomed over her, propped on his strong arms.

“Dear God woman, you are going to be the death of me,” he whispered, after releasing her lips and running them down her neck, making her arch up into his strength and wrap her legs around his waist.

“Huh, funny I was thinking the same damn thing about you. You know, when I introduce you to my brother and he kills me for bringing a Greek into his house—one that’s had his cock inside my…oh, my God!” The sensation of her man entering her body brought pure joy. His girth spread her, his length reached high inside, and he moved his hips with the perfect rhythm, bringing her to edge of orgasm nearly immediately. He pressed in, and her body opened to take him, making her gasp as he bent to her aching nipples sucking them into his mouth, biting down, reminding of the nipple clamp play he’d introduced her to just a couple of days ago. “Oh Andreas….” She sighed and rose to meet his thrusts.

“My love.” He moaned into her breasts, before capturing her lips once more, kissing her so hard her head spun and her body clenched in pre-climactic bliss. He bent one of her legs against his broad chest, giving him an even deeper, more intense angle. Her entire world coalesced around this man, this huge Greek Dom who promised her the world, in exchange for the small token of her trust. Her skin flushed with heat and light as he stared into her eyes. “I love you, Lale.” His words shocked her, but were somehow perfect at thirty five thousand feet.

Her brain registered that he had figured out how nervous she was about flying and introducing him to her family so he’d gone to the trouble of booking this jet. Taking her here, now, distracting her in a most pleasant fashion as she came, in a burst of erotic energy. He thrust once more and grunted, bit his lip, and stared at her as he climaxed, filling her body and soul. She yanked his face down to hers, wanting to taste him as he released inside her. She realized about twenty seconds too late this was likely the worst time of the month to go bareback.

They’d forgone condoms after three days together. She revealed her health record—had herself tested a month before coming to the States. A lifetime ago now, the “before Andreas” state she’d existed in, angry, rebellious, willing to do anything to escape her parents and the agony of living in a world without her beloved brother Tarkan. And he showed her his clean slate from his recent checkup. But she used nothing else, and the extreme mood swings she’d had in the last couple of days did make her lie back and cradle his dark head to her breasts and count backward, in the way women had been doing for centuries, to her last period. Oh hell. Whatever. She felt so perfectly content. She’d face whatever happened now, with him. Protective, nationalistic brother and father be damned.

He looked up at her and placed a small, light turquoise box on her chest, from the mystery gift bag. Too small to be a vibrator. She half-acknowledged what it was as she pushed him up off her. As she leaned up on her elbows and stared at it, the word “Tiffany” seared her eyeballs. “What the hell, Andreas?”

He grinned and pulled his trousers together, the ones he never even removed while fucking her to happy oblivion. She frowned and her heart pounded again. He held out a hand and tugged her up and onto his lap, cradling her in his arms. “Well, open the thing and find out.”

Lale bit her lower lip and slowly opened the box. Then slammed it shut and clenched her eyes closed. What was he thinking?

“Lale, look at me.” She did and when he removed what must be a five-carat rock set in pure platinum from her shaking hands. She let him and tried not to cry. “I won’t be introduced today as ‘some guy I met on a blind date.’ Do you understand? I want to be with you forever. I know it seems early and crazy and all manner of fucked up, but.…” He took a deep breath. “I’m in this for the long haul. The till death kind of haul. And while you may kill me early with frustration, I can’t think of a better way to go.” He pushed her up to standing and went down on one knee. “Lale Deniz, my heart, my beauty, my tulip. Will you do me the honor of being my wife? At a time and date of your oh-so-kill-my-grandmother-Turkish choosing? I want nothing more than to meet your brother as your fiancé. The man you will marry.”

He slipped the perfectly sized ring on her finger. Unable to speak, unwilling to admit how happy she was, and flabbergasted this was happening to her, she nodded, and wiped her nose with the back of the hand he wasn’t holding. The sound of his deep musical laughter made her flush as he stood and pulled her into his arms once more. “It will all be fine, my love. Your brother wants your happiness, above all. He might be shocked, but he’ll know it’s right. You’ll see.”

She pressed her face into his shirt. “You don’t know my brother.”

His lips touched her hair. “Well, I’m about to. Get dressed. It’s nearly time to land.”

“Oh fuck, Andreas. I’m gonna faint.” He helped her with her clothes, held her close as the private plane came to a swift halt before taxiing towards the terminal. Her chest constricted, but the sound of his Greek endearments soothed her, and she stood and held his hand as they exited the private room. Now an engaged woman, she sailed past the jealous bitch in the uniform who stared daggers into her. The butterflies in her stomach had turned into seagulls by the time the steps were rolled up and they descended into the warm Southern California night. Andreas kept a firm grip on her.