by Liz Crowe
“Dear God,” she cried out as he slipped a finger inside her soaked walls, reaching up, high, under her pubic bone, finding her G-spot so quickly she wondered if he hadn’t been there before. “Ah, yes!” The orgasm gripped her, spun her around, made her see stars as her pussy clenched his fingers and gushed once again. She could practically smell his passion as it overtook the massage oil essence of the room.
“I don’t know how this happened, Emre, but I am going to die if you don’t get your cock inside me in the next five seconds.” She finally slipped the eye cover off and gazed into the young man’s eyes, staring at her from between her legs. “Please, fuck me.” Her voice was a mere whisper.
“Oh, my darling, I will.” Her heart sang in response. He stood and reached into a small bowl near the table. He stared straight into her eyes as he ripped the condom packet open with his teeth. She watched him roll the latex down his thick shaft.
“Hurry,” she demanded. “Stop teasing me.” Somehow she’d known it was he from the beginning, but remained in denial until the moment he’d touched his lips to hers. He crawled up her body, planting kisses everywhere, sucked each nipple into his mouth, his cock pressed against her as he recaptured her lips.
Elle put her hands on his shoulders as he loomed over her, his dark eyes liquid pools of pure lust. She ran a finger across his swollen mouth, and tears formed behind her eyes. He was so beautiful, so amazing, this was one night she’d forever hold in her heart without regret. He propped strong arms on either side of her head, and she ran her hands down his biceps, wanting to memorize every inch of his mocha-tinted body. She leaned up and flicked his dark nipple with her tongue, making him shudder. Running her hands down his chest, tracing the line of his abs with a fingertip, then grasping his throbbing shaft. He gasped with delight at her touch.
She wrapped her legs around his torso and smiled when he ground his thick shaft against her, thrusting the thick head against her clit, shifting his hips so he glided down along the length of her slit. His eyes never once left hers. The intensity of his gaze went beyond the physical connection they were about to make. Her pussy pulsed as her body flushed in pre-orgasmic bliss.
“Elle,” her young lover whispered as he leaned down to lick the sweat pooled between her breasts. “Sevgilim, I have never wanted a woman like I want you. I….” He groaned as she shifted her hips and he slipped inside her, like coming home. He moved his hips, slowly, pulling all the way out of her body then going in deep. She raised her hips, putting one knee against his damp chest, needing him deeper.
Their breathing combined, fast, urgent, and he claimed her lips again. This time he was rough, needy and she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him, loving his tongue as it jammed inside her, sweeping the inside of her mouth like he owned it. The orgasm roared up from the soles of her feet, sweeping her away, and she gripped her lover’s strong body with hers and let it take her, moaning his name into his mouth, gripping his hair with both hands.
Emre pulled away from her lips, propped himself on his hands again and glided into her, pulling her from one orgasm straight into another with a tilt of his hips. She clutched his ass, loving the sweat-slicked feel of his skin under hers. He locked eyes with her again, and her soul melted into his gaze.
They rocked together, moving in a rhythm as old as time, as the arabesque music joined them, spinning out an urgent melody, coaxing the couple to climax. Emre stopped, suddenly, his jaw clenched in an effort to hold back. She smiled, and flexed her body, gripping his amazing thickness with her pussy, once, twice, again. He groaned. She did it once more, raised her hips, taking his length deep.
“Evet! Ahhhh, yes! Elle, my God!” He yelled as he released inside her, the delicious sensation of being claimed by a man she had desired for months making her shiver and grip his ass, holding him close. He leaned down, made love to her lips with his, his tongue caressing and gentle, as his hips continued to buck and thrust into her.
Their breathing slowed, but she continued to kiss him, couldn’t get enough of his lips. Moving to one side so he could fall down next to her, she smiled lazily when he propped up on one elbow and traced her wet cheeks with a fingertip.
“Tears, my love?” He leaned in and licked them before kissing her, letting her taste the salt.
“Oh, sorry.” She looked away, suddenly embarrassed by the strength of her reaction.
He pulled her face back to his. “Don’t be,” he said, his soft voice husky with his own emotion. “I just don’t ever want to make you unhappy.”
She took his hand and kissed it, held it to her face, loving the warmth spreading from his skin to hers. “Thank you,” she said. “This was…incredible.”
He smiled and rolled over to stand beside the table. “We are not even close to done,” He touched a button on the wall near the light switch and tossed her the silk cover. The barely-dressed women reappeared with covered silver trays, a bottle of wine and two glasses.
Chapter Five
Emre cut a small piece of the rich, delicate lamb chop and fed it to the beautiful woman dressed only in a towel across from him. He watched as her lips closed around the meat, loving the line of her jaw as she chewed and her throat as she swallowed. His cock stirred to life again. She grinned and pressed an olive against his lips. He sucked it in, chewed and swallowed before taking a sip of the red wine he’d ordered especially from Italy.
They were seated at a small, linen-draped table for two on the balcony of a top floor suite of the Kempeski. She leaned back in her chair and took a drink from her glass. The candlelight flickered in her green eyes, making them sparkle. Emre’s heart clenched at the sight of her. How in the hell could he ever leave her, now that he’d had her and it had been the most incredible moment of his life? He sighed, and cut another piece.
She stared at him, questions in her eyes. He put the morsel in his mouth.
“Why me, Emre?” She asked, running a finger around the edge of the wine glass.
He leaned in and grabbed her other hand. This is my chance. He couldn’t blow it. He took a deep breath. “I love you, Elle.” He stared into her eyes. Color rose in her cheeks, but he plowed on, unwilling to stop now. “Let me finish. I…I don’t see whatever age difference you are hung up on. I just see….” He ran a hand down her face. “You’re so stubborn you won’t believe me.” He sighed. She was as bad as his brother.
She stood and walked around to stand next to him. Emre pulled her close, wrapped his arms around her waist and laid his head against her stomach. The moment was perfect. He ran his hands up her legs to her ass, clutching her, smelling her passion. His cock hardened instantly. He stood, keeping his eyes locked on hers.
“Emre,” she said, “you have provided me with the most amazing night ever.”
He cradled her face in both hands. “I plan to be more than only one night for you.”
She blushed, tried to look away.
Her lips were too tempting. He leaned in for a taste. They were delicious. The trauma he’d left at home, his parents grieving over Tarkan as if he were already dead, his mother putting pressure on him to stay. His grandparents offering up the tuition money for the Vanderbilt MBA. And how he’d managed to find the love of his life just a few days before he left again, was beyond him. But she felt exactly right to him. Perfect.
“Elle.” He held her close. “I loved you the minute I laid eyes on you. Please stop fighting it. I know I have.”
He flinched when she pressed her hand on his rock-hard cock.
“I won’t fight it. But I will be realistic.”
Emre gasped as she yanked the towel down and dropped to her knees in front of him. Her hand was soft; the feel of her lips and tongue amazing. He pulled up on her hair, just enough. She moaned against his flesh, he felt her fingers dig into his ass as he shoved his hips forward into her mouth.
The sensation of her fingers against his balls, underneath, pressing up into his ass as she used exquisite suction on the tip of his cock, n
early made the top of his head come off. The fact that he wanted her, for much more than a blow job, for more than a hot, sweaty fuck caused him to groan in frustration as he grabbed her hair and shoved his cock further down her sweet throat.
“God,” he groaned, as his balls contracted in her palm. He smelled her sex, and he licked his lips, tasting her all over again. When she pressed a finger harder into his ass, teasing his prostate as her tongue roamed the edges around his head, he simply gave into it, let it happen.
Emre already knew his heart belonged to this woman. No need to hold back. The sweet suction and pressure against his most sensitive areas were the perfect storm. He grunted, shoved himself into her mouth one last time and came, shooting his load down her throat, grasping her hair and moaning. He tried to stay standing, but his knees buckled and he had to sit. The slight woman straddled his lap, kissed him, and he tasted the salty essence of his own fluid on her lips. She pulled away and looked into his eyes, down into his very soul.
“I think I love you, Emre. But how in the hell are we going to make this work?”
He put both hands on her face, held her still.
“I can’t live without you. I know this now. We’ll figure it out.” He was limp with emotion and post-orgasmic stupor. The extreme complexity of the last few days rolled over him, bowling him over with their reality. He looked up at the ceiling, away from her, unsure how to voice his own worry. Fear for his brother, for his and Elle’s future beyond this room, tightened in a band around his chest.
She stood and pulled him to his feet, guiding him back to the table. “Let’s finish this great meal,” she insisted, pushing him down on the chair. “And talk.”
***
Watching as the nearly perfect man across from her devoured the rest of his lamb, the delicate rice and olive oil side, and yogurt cucumber salad, Elle picked at her food, a sudden heaviness in her heart at the thought of the next few days.
The whole scene, realizing it was Emre touching her on the table, finally getting him where she wanted him, all of it, on the pretense of a blind date set up, was sinking in. She didn’t know whether to be angry at him or sad that this would be the first and last time for them to be together. She sipped her wine. Something bothered him too, she could tell. Directness always worked best in her business life, no need to be any other way now.
“Are you sorry you agreed to this?”
Emre looked up, something like anger in his gaze. He stood, pulling her to her feet, crushing her to his chest. His lips grazed to top of her head. “How many times do I have to say it? I love you. I want you. I am never letting you go.”
He crooked a finger under her chin, tilted her face up to his. She had to go up on tiptoes to reach his lips, but they were worth the effort. Elle let herself fall, letting go, allowing him take her wherever he wanted. Against her deepest desire to kiss him forever, she broke away and buried her nose in his bare chest.
“Ah dear God, woman, I….” Instead of speaking, Emre simply picked her up and carried her to the huge bed, shoved all the pillows aside and sat, settling her onto his lap.
Shocked to find him hard as a rock once again, she grinned. Youth—it had its advantages. He reached over to the side table and grabbed another condom, handed the packet to her.
She pushed him down, took her time covering his throbbing shaft with the thin layer of protection, then straddled his hips, his thickness penetrating her immediately, bringing a cry of delight to her lips. Emre smiled, and Elle’s entire world fell into place.
Epilogue
Eight months later
Elle gripped the airplane seat arms. Ensconced in the luxurious private jet she now used to travel internationally, she still managed to sweat every take off. Closing her eyes as the huge machine lifted into the air, she heard the familiar sounds of retracting landing gear. A firm touch on her hand made her smile.
“Sorry we stayed so long?” Emre’s lilting voice was in one ear. She looked to the side and gazed into his deep chocolate eyes.
“No, my darling, I’m not. We needed the time with your family.”
He looked out the window, biting his lower lip. She ran a finger down his face. His parents had welcomed her like one of their own, his grandmother even tried to teach her a few traditional Ottoman dishes that were her grandson’s favorites. Unable to admit she was a terrible cook, Elle merely watched, tasted and felt loved and accepted by the family.
They’d married within three months in a delightful ceremony attended by many of her colleagues and gobs of his relatives at his family’s estate on the Asian side of the Bosporus, where it was calmer, and more pastoral. The traditional fireworks had been lit on a barge just below them, shooting up into the dark sky over the historic Bosporus Straits. His family was puzzled at the rush but happy to do whatever pleased Emre most. Elle smiled to herself. Emre told her they weren’t stupid—could do the math once the baby was born, but he didn’t care.
Tarkan and Caleb were there together, and Emre’s father did his best not to scowl at them every second. They had the photographer take pictures including Caleb, to solidify the relationship between the two men. Emre’s grandmother loved Caleb.
On this trip, there was a going away feast for Emre’s twin. He’d been slated to board a plane for Ankara in the morning. Their father pulled a few strings and managed to get his son placed in the capital for his two years of military service, as opposed to the Syrian border where he had been originally assigned. After Emre’s wedding, the family was assured of Tarkan’s intentions regarding Caleb when he returned.
She reached across the aisle and grasped Caleb’s hand with her free one. The large diamond ring on her left hand caught the sunlight that slanted through the plane’s window as they banked, and made the turn over the Mediterranean Sea. The tall blonde man smiled at her, but she saw the depths of sorrow and worry in his face.
“He’ll be okay,” she squeezed his hand. “I know it.” Caleb only nodded and leaned back, letting his eyes close.
On her other side, her husband laced his fingers in hers, brought them to his lips. The quick progression of her life in the last few months had been disconcerting, but she didn’t regret a moment of it. Emre was about to enter the UCLA business school to finish his degree. Her new in-laws seemed to love her. Even Emre’s teenaged sister Lale, who had spent the entire time in tears over Tarkan’s departure, bonded with her. Elle had a feeling they’d see the girl in the States soon, once she graduated from high school.
Emre let go of her hand, and put his large palm on the ever-increasing six-month bump under her shirt. Smiling, she put her hand over his and drifted off to sleep, cradled in the large leather seat; suspended between her two lives, between her soul mate and her best friend. Her doctors in both countries had a firm hand on her condition. The new life growing inside her was safe, and healthy according to all tests. She would not be allowed to travel after this trip, but once the baby was born, they would all head back to Istanbul, home of her heart.
Blue Cruise
Notes from Author
Seni Seviyorum is “I love you” in Turkish.
Turkish people are deeply emotional and take these words very seriously.
A Blue Cruise out of Istanbul is an actual vacation package whereby you can rent a boat of nearly any size to fit your group, be it one, two or fifty. You pick your route, your stops, your meals, and all are prepared for you. You can stay on the boat, or go ashore along the coast for tourist outings.
They are, in a word, perfect.
Gulet (gu-lay): traditional design of a two-masted wooden sailing vessel from the southwest coast of Turkey, although similar vessels can be found all around the eastern Mediterranean. Today this type of vessel, varying in size from 14 to 35 metres, is popular for tourist charters.
Afiyet Olsun (Ah-fee-yet Ohl-sun): Bon appetit
Evet: yes
Ne istyorum (Neh Ist-ee-yo-room): what do you want?
Kardesim(card-esh-um): my brot
her
Lutfen (Lyoot-fen): please
Merhaba (mare-hah-bah): hello
Turkish first names always have meaning:
Emre=Friend, Brother
Tarkan=Strong, Bold
Adem=First Man (Arabic version of Hebrew, Adam)
Ayla=Moonlight
Aslan=Lion
Chapter One
Caleb smiled at the woman sitting next to him. She was easy on the eyes—that much was certain—olive skinned, sultry eyes, killer legs she crossed and uncrossed on purpose. They’d spent the last couple of hours talking about the new job that had brought her over to the States from Turkey. She kept digging, trying to get him to talk more about himself, but he wasn’t inclined. Yet she was fun, flirty, and amused him the way she kept finding excuses to touch him.
He stretched his legs out and took a sip of his bourbon and water. For the millionth time, he mentally thanked his boss for paying him enough so he could fly first class overseas. When his seat mate’s manicured hand made its inevitable way onto his thigh again, pretty high up this time, he put his drink down, placed his hand on hers, and removed it.
“Married.” Caleb flashed the heavy platinum band he wore. The woman’s pretty face flushed.
“Sorry,” she muttered into her wineglass.
He patted her thigh, encased in skinny jeans. “It’s okay, dear. You aren’t my type anyway. Too many Xs in your chromosomes.” He raised an eyebrow as she giggled.
