Turkish Delights 0.50 - 4.00 Series Bundle

by Liz Crowe

  When he felt her hand on his zipper, lowering it as she kept kissing him, he didn’t stop her. His traditional upbringing battled with his inner man falling deeply in love—man in love won out. He caressed her face, held her close a moment then laid her back, and positioned a pillow under her head.

  “I don’t want to hurt you. And I need you to promise me something.” His voice was low, gravelly, but he meant to have his say before they went any further.

  She worried her bottom lip as he unbuttoned his shirt, finished unzipping his trousers and dropped everything to the floor with her discarded dress. He sat beside her, his cock pressed up against his belly, leaking and throbbing. But he would go slow, would not make this a shock or any more painful than necessary for her. No matter the hurt that would come later, when they parted, forever.

  He ran a palm down her face. She captured his hand, brought it to her lips then let him go and stretched her lovely body out as he watched.

  “I promise.” She answered his unasked question.

  He grinned at her, kept his hand moving down her neck, to her luscious breasts tipped with those delicious dark pink hard nubs. She shivered.

  “I haven’t told you what you are promising yet,” he insisted.

  “I don’t care. I promise. May I touch you?” Her breathy voice made him even more aroused. Levent nodded and closed his eyes as she reached over and gripped his shaft, ran her hand up and down his length, circled under and cupped his balls, exploring him. He shifted, giving her a better angle. He reveled in her touch, the quickening of her breath as the liquid pearled at his tip. He put a hand over hers, halting her movements.

  “Promise me, my small one, my guzelim, you will give me this amazing gift. Then you will go home and forget about me.” He wiped her tears away with his thumb. “You must. Unless I can convince your father that I….” His throat closed with the admission. He wanted her for life, as his wife. Wanted to impregnate her, for them to raise children, grow old together—wanted it in a base, urgent way, and more than he’d ever wanted anything. But every one of those fantasies remained complete impossibilities. Of course, for now, he had her here, with him and he wanted her to never forget this moment they were about to share together.

  He slid back down to the floor, on his knees, ran his hand up her leg again, marveling at the slick bare skin of her sex. “Promise me, Vivian.” He nuzzled her breasts, their heavy, round perfection making him ache with need all over again. “Please, my darling. My Vivian. I need to know you understand.”

  She took a long shuddering breath and nodded.

  “Say it.”

  “I promise.” Her voice was hoarse, choked. “Now, Levent, I need you now.”

  He sighed, closed his eyes briefly and joined her on the couch, crawling up between her legs, pressing against the warm, wet heat of her core. It was overwhelming, this need to possess her. It was strange, unwelcome, yet compelling. Holding himself over her, watching the lust in her eyes take on a tinge of fear. He leaned in for a gentle kiss, making her relax as he moved his lips down her neck, pulled a nipple into his mouth. Her hips moved under his. He held back, letting her set the tempo. She rubbed against his length as he flicked at her nipples, nibbled her neck then recaptured her lips.

  “Guzelim, are you sure?” he whispered. One leg was up around him, her arms captured his neck.

  “I’ve never been more sure of anything.” She moaned as he angled himself differently, pressing the tip of his cock against her clit. The moist warmth of her almost shattered his resolve. He’d thought he could make her come again, perhaps enter her a little, just enough to…. Levent groaned as she wrapped both legs around his waist, and he found himself poised, unable to stop.

  “Ah evet, my darling, I cannot.” He kissed her then, pressed his tongue into her soft mouth just as he entered her body. The tight, exquisite glove of her walls enveloped him, impossibly hot. He moved slowly against her as she angled up again, making room, gasping and clinging to him as their lips stayed connected.

  She mumbled. “Oh, ah, Levent, it’s….”

  He stopped all movement. “I’m hurting you, my darling.” He gritted his teeth. The grip of her body was borderline painful, but he welcomed it.

  “No,” she whispered. “I want it.” She arched into him, exposing her neck to his lips. He kissed his way down, helping her loosen, felt her slowly unclench around him ever so slightly, soften as her body received more of his length. He made small movements, resisting his primal need to press in fast, hard, to explode inside her. She made soft noises, deep in her throat.

  “Relax, my love. Let me inside.”

  She took a breath. “Kiss me.” He raised his head from her breasts and did just that, plundering her mouth with his tongue as his hips moved faster, breaching her. She gasped and clutched at him.

  “Oh.” She moved away from his lips and pressed her hips hard against his taking him deep, all at once, making him cry out at the sweet tight grip of her sex on his. “Ah…Levent!” She yelled his name when he felt something give against him, allowing him full access to her. The tears flowed down her beautiful face as he propped himself up and gazed at her.

  “I can stop, I think.” He ground out, unsure if he could or not.

  “No.” She gasped, tightening her hold with her legs. “More. Harder.”

  He groaned and pressed in, pulling out and reentering her amazing warm depths, grinding his pubic bone against her clit. She clutched his ass, dug her fingernails in, and cried out again as he felt her gush and pulse with a monstrous climax. “Ah, Vivian…my love.” The spasm of her orgasm sent him over the edge, and he grunted into the skin of her neck and pounded into her, letting his body lead, emptying everything he had inside her. A strange prickling sensation tickled behind his eyes at the last moment when he realized he would never feel her this way again.

  Chapter Eight

  Vivian sat in the cooling water of her bath, let the seemingly ever-present tears dry on her face. She pressed a hand between her legs, where a pleasant soreness throbbed, reminding her of what she’d had and lost all in one day. It had only been a week, but still her body ached in places she never realized she could. But she’d kept her promise.

  He had dried her tears that night in his apartment, kissed her, held her in his arms. Used a warm cloth to wipe the blood from her thighs. She had shook uncontrollably, welcomed the blanket he wrapped around her. When he called her house, summoning her driver, he’d offered to take her over to Lillian’s so the driver wouldn’t realize where she’d been. But she didn’t care. Not anymore. She’d sat in his lap, sobbing with relief, stress, and anticipation of the emptiness her life would be now that she had to leave him. He had stroked her shorn hair, whispered endearments, and generally made her feel worse with the realization of what she’d promised in exchange for his body moments before.

  It was time to get real. She had a date with her destiny. It was the night of the Marine Ball—a sort of prom for ex-pats and diplomats. Her dress was ready. She was not. But she had no choice. The upstairs maid shuffled around her room, preparing her dress, shoes, make up. The girl was annoyingly confident that this night meant nothing. That her young mistress would end up with the handsome, dashing and wealthy young Turk—a hero among the servant class for his amazing successes.

  The girl had given her a knowing look when she’d stumbled upstairs the night she’d given Levent her virginity. She’d been such a mess but after seemingly lying in wait for her, the girl had hustled her up to her room, helped her undress. When Vivian had insisted she did not want a shower or bath—that she wanted to smell him all over her—the girl had held her while she sobbed and mumbled his name, then tucked her into bed.

  And now, she was stuck. Her father shouted from downstairs for her, demanding to know why she wasn’t ready yet. Ron was due to arrive in fifteen minutes. The girl opened the door, whispered furiously to someone on the other side then peeked into the bathroom. “Missus, we should prepare you.�
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  Vivian emerged, let the girl brush what remained of her hair, and slip the soft silk dress down her body. She moved as if in slow motion, as if she were underwater. How could she possibly consider anything Ron had for her now that she’d given so much to Levent. Her love. The she remembered the promise. Her virginity. In exchange for never seeing him again. She sighed.

  The girl interrupted her thoughts. “Do not worry, missus. All will be well. He will be yours. Now go, be beautiful and enjoy yourself. Know that Mr. Deniz waits for you.”

  She patted the girl’s hand. “No. He doesn’t. We agreed. Our last night together was exactly that—our last night together.” Vivian stood, slipped her feet into heels, and swiped lipstick on.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming.” She muttered under her breath at the sound of her father’s booming complaints from downstairs.

  The sight of the handsome, blond man in a military uniform at the bottom of the steps made her chest tight with agony. He was lovely. And a nice guy, undoubtedly. Too bad she was about to ruin his night.

  ***

  Levent clutched his head and listened to Burak’s latest account of difficulties with their job site. The Raki he’d poured for them sat at his elbow, untouched. He had solved myriad problems for a week, sorted through the complications posed by his proposals to move a couple of the Imperio Ottomano locations, and had managed about two hours of sleep each night. Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was her. Vivian’s eyes, her body, her lips, as he took her, and she gave herself to him—it was too much. He should not have done it.

  “My brother.” Burak’s hand was on his shoulder. “Where are you? You’re a million miles away. Can I help you?”

  Levent raised his eyes to his friend’s. “Yes. Teach me how to let her go.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t.” Levent raised an eyebrow. “I mean that, Levent. This woman is special, I can tell.” He leaned back and crossed his legs. “You must go and speak with her father. I know that means a lot to you. You might be surprised.”

  “No, I won’t be.”

  “How do you know?” His friend finished his anise-flavored traditional drink and poured another.

  “Because I already did.” He stood and walked to his window. “I’m moving. In two days. I bought a place in Etiler.”

  Burak whistled at the name of one of Istanbul’s most exclusive neighborhoods. “So, what did the consul general say to you my friend?”

  Levent laughed, and picked up his drink, downing it in one gulp. “What do you think he said?”

  Burak sighed and poured them both another. “Well, at least you tried. Now what?”

  “Now, I leave her alone. I won’t let her choose me over the comfortable life her father has planned for her.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  “No, that’s reality.” Levent downed his Raki, took a long look at the glass in his hand, and heaved it against the wall, relishing the sound of the shattering glass as it hit the floor.

  “That’s a cop out, my friend, and unlike you.” Burak took Levent’s quick violence against the glassware in stride. “Tonight is the Marine ball. Both of them are going. I say we stage an invasion, capture our women and rescue them from their mundane, planned lives.”

  Levent scoffed at his friend’s romantic notions. “No. She and I are not to be. I won’t pretend any longer.” He clapped Burak on the shoulder. “You have a different situation and I envy you. But it’s not the same as mine. You go after your woman. I must pack.”

  Burak stood, his imposing height a perfect match for Levent’s. “I won’t let you get off that easily. I’ve never known you to give up like this, Levent. Not over something this important.”

  Levent stared at him. Ever since he had gently handed Vivian into the back seat of her car last week, his heart had been frozen in ice. His body craved hers. His psyche demanded her presence. But he denied himself. He’d made her promise. So he knew he had to do the same. Take her then let her go.

  He groaned and looked up at the ceiling. He did need to pack. He’d purchased a two-story penthouse apartment overlooking the Bosporus, merely two days after the incredible evening he’d shared with Vivian. He pictured her there, placing furniture, rocking their babies to sleep, so vividly he had to shut his eyes against the visions. It was ludicrous to even imagine such a thing.

  Her father had made no bones about the fact that he, Levent, the servant’s son, could consider the diplomat’s daughter off limits. He’d even gone back for a second round of self-confidence beat down. It was useless. So he had to move on. He would not proceed without something resembling approval from her father.

  He sighed, drained his drink, and tried to cast his mind to the office girl. She’d make a fine wife, he was certain. It seemed proper that they would be together. Her father was one of his construction subs. They had plenty in common. He had his place now. He only had to move his few meager sticks of furniture and his mother into it. The apartment had a separate suite equipped with a kitchen and everything just for her. He stared out the window, unable to move, unable to do anything resembling productive. Vivian was here, still. He sensed her, craved her, and he couldn’t do anything about it. Even though he’d defiled her, taken her virginity like the commoner he was then dismissed her, he would never be the same as long as she was not by his side, sharing his life and all his successes.

  Burak joined him at the window. “I am picking Lillian up after the dance. She had to go. Had made a promise to her cousin to accompany him months ago.” Levent held up a hand. “No, my friend, my brother, I will not stop. This is killing both of you. Lillian says Vivian has stopped going to school, sits in her room staring at walls, and won’t talk to anyone. She won’t eat or anything. You are a man grown with a successful life. You don’t require permission to be with the woman you love.”

  Levent stared at him. “I swear to Allah those are the most words I’ve ever heard you string together at one go my brother.” Burak shrugged. “And all on behalf of my love life. How sweet. You’re going soft. I must let our former commander know. Perhaps you need another couple of years back at the Syrian border, hmm?” Levent wasn’t sure why he was being such a jerk. But jealousy and frustration all roiled in him, making him speak before he thought—something he rarely did.

  “I’m not gonna hug you or anything, so don’t get any ideas.”

  Levent’s laughter was harsh, even to his own ears. “No, no, I’m sorry. I’m being, oh hell, never mind.”

  “She wants you to come for her, Levent.” Burak put a hand on his arm to stop him from walking away. “Why doesn’t that matter more than what her class-asshole father has to say? And frankly.” He ran a hand down his face. “Frankly, my friend, Lillian is afraid of what she might do tonight with the Marine. She’s been saying self-destructive things all week.”

  Levent’s heart stuttered when he let the reality sink in. Vivian. His Vivian was going out on a date with another man. An American military man who had a job in Ankara. Her father had told him flat out that she was going to marry this man and move away. That he should pack up his rug shop and move along, find someone suitable to his station in life because it was not going to be his daughter.

  Burak’s grip tightened on his arm. “I don’t know what you did with her, and it’s not my business. But whatever it was…well, Lillian says she will never get over you. Tells me constantly, if you must know, that I have to convince you to come to her. That she’s afraid of what Vivian will do if you don’t.”

  “Amına koduğumun piçi” In a lightning fast move, Levent had his friend pinned against the wall, arm to his throat. “Stop already, will you? I cannot. I, bok.” He let Burak go. The man rubbed his throat and stared at him. “That sikkafa of a father has me tied up in knots.” He dropped on the couch.

  Burak put a hand on his shoulder. “Let it go. She’s not a teenager. She doesn’t need his permission. But she does need you, my old-fashioned friend. And you do her a disservice by letting
the sikkafa stand in your way.”

  Levent looked into the middle distance. Let memories tumble through him. The girl, her laugh, her strong legs pumping, following him through the streets all those years ago, defending them from dogs, sneaking around, and stealing bread. And the woman, her scent, her smile, her very soul. It was his. He knew it. It was time to claim what was his.

  “Let’s go. I’ll wait with you. Then I will take her from that piç of a Marine. He will not touch what is mine.”

  Burak laughed. “Now that is the Levent I’ve known all these years. Let’s go, my brother. The dance should be starting soon. And I have a connection at the venue. We’re going to have a front row seat, so we can make sure these men don’t do anything with our women that doesn’t meet with our approval. Go change into black trousers and a plain white shirt.”

  Chapter Nine

  Vivian stared out the window, aware of her date on the other end of the seat, realizing she’d said perhaps three words to him since getting in the car. His eyes had shone as she descended the steps to meet him. And she’d smiled, completely ignored her father, and gripped Ron’s arm.

  “Let’s go have some fun, shall we? I hope you have a bottle of something in that car. I need a drink. Ta-ta, father.” She’d waved without looking at him. “I’m going out to get blasted drunk with this handsome man, and maybe I’ll let him go all the way. What say you, Marine?” Ron’s jaw had dropped as he quickly glanced at her father’s face. “Oh don’t worry about him, dear. He’s already sanctioned you, did you know.”