Tulip Princess Read online

  “Uh, yeah. Nice. Thanks.” He shrugged, hoping she’d take the hint and get off of him. She did. “It wasn’t necessary, but thanks.” Christ, he couldn’t even recall her name. “So, I’ll drop you off.” He winced at the bullshit coming from his mouth. But he had to get away from her. How did I let this happen?

  “Oh, well, sure but don’t you want to come in?” Her voice tightened as anger permeated her space. That he could handle. “I mean, you know, a little payback?”

  He stared straight ahead. “As appealing as that sounds, I’m going to have to offer you a rain check.” She huffed and puffed a little, but didn’t say anything else. He spent the next ten minutes it took to get her home berating himself. He did not treat women like this. He should have maintained hands off. Shit.

  He stopped at her house, got out, and opened her door. He kissed her hand and gave her a lame, non-committal hug. She glared at him.

  “Don’t bother calling me again. You’re an asshole.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” He sighed and got back into his car.

  The entire way home, he beat himself up. Extreme asshole behavior didn’t come naturally. Even when he had a slave or a pet, they never went without being fully satisfied by him. The whole scene reeked of ridiculous. He needed to try something different.

  He grabbed his phone and hit speed dial.

  “Hey, what’s up?” his sister asked.

  “Well, I just had the most godawful blind date on the planet. I was thinking that maybe I should try it your way.”

  “Finally, he sees the light.”

  “Yeah, yeah. If it’s as all magical as you say, then maybe I can stop all this hit and miss bullshit.” He didn’t really believe it, but he was willing to try anything at this point. He ran a hand through his nearly shoulder-length hair. He ought to get it cut, but he sort of liked it longer. And the University didn’t seem to care. They loved trotting him around like a one-man dog and pony show: our former professional football-playing Athletic Director. He heaved a huge sigh. What a mess. Time to stop marking time and pretending and get some sort of stability.

  “So what do I do?”

  Connie gave him the details. As soon as he got home, he contacted the 1Night Stand service. After rolling his eyes at some of the questions, he filled it out as honestly as he could, including his past as a Master, and his preference to find a willing submissive at the very least. Maybe they’d take one look at that and toss it, thinking him crazy or some sort of sadist. He hit send and stood in a scalding hot shower for nearly an hour, trying to wash some of the stink of bad behavior and cheap perfume off his skin.

  ***

  The next morning he received his response. Apparently, they had some delay because there were several folks looking for the same thing as he, and Madame Evangeline, the owner of the 1Night Stand dating service, was picky and wanted to make sure each Dom got matched properly. He would be contacted as soon as “a suitable arrangement could be made.” He shrugged.

  After wading through a day’s worth of random crises at the student athlete level, the booster level, and random university political bullshit, he got an email reminding him of a friend’s bachelor party. He rolled his eyes. He hated those damn things. But the guy had been a very good friend to him from his early days in the athletic department. They were to all meet at Mixology, an exclusive club at the Castillo. Small world, he thought before adding the event to his calendar. His sister had told him many of the 1Night Stand dates were, what…“consummated” there? He shook his head.

  Making a mental note to get enough cash out of the bank for the requisite strip club tipping, he glanced at an incoming email. The 1Night Stand service had apparently worked its magic for him already. The subject line said: Your Date Is Set. He opened it and discovered he was to meet his date in three nights, at the celebrity chef restaurant in the Castillo hotel. He raised his eyebrows and suppressed a smile before turning his attention to work once again. Good. Now Connie would leave him alone.

  ***

  Elle grinned at the new message in the inbox. The 1Night Stand service had brought her and Emre together. It had brought Caleb back to life. Why couldn’t it work for Lale, too? Now it came down to getting the girl a flight—and convincing her husband to let her go.

  Elle knew he’d agreed to let his sister go out for the night. She put a hand on Ayla’s warm back. The girl curled her small body around the baby. Thanks to Lale’s efforts, the headstrong child finally accepted that Aslan hadn’t caused her mother’s scary brush with death. Grateful Emre had loosened up his rigid attitude about Lale, too, letting her go out and have some fun, she swung her feet down to the floor, wincing when her head pounded as it always seemed to do lately when she moved too fast.

  She adored her husband, loved him with every fiber of her being, but he got disconcertingly chauvinistic when it came to his sister. He had an alarming double standard about her. She had determined to break him of it so they didn’t have the same problems with their own children. She heard him finish a phone call in Turkish in the other room, smiled and formulated a plan. Leaving Ayla on the bed, she put the baby in his crib then wandered out to the living room. She needed some face time with her husband.

  He looked up from his newspaper and smiled, which lifted her heart. She slid onto his lap, straddling him, and leaned in for a long kiss. He gripped her ass, and she pressed down onto the erection under his shorts. God, I have missed this. She tried to focus.

  He broke the kiss and looked deep into her eyes. “Dear God, darling wife. I’m so glad you’re better. Thank God you....” She stopped him with her lips again, reveling in the familiar taste of him, the feel of his skin under hands.

  “I know. I’m sorry to put you through this.” Her breathing quickened. She needed him, all of him, right now. But they had to talk first. She had to convince him to send Lale to Las Vegas. He feels so good though. She cradled his dark, exotic face between her hands. “I love you so much. I think what you did, bringing Lale here was amazing. She’s worked wonders with Ayla. I think we should reward her.” He looked puzzled, but took her hands and pressed one, then the other to his lips.

  “I’m going to ask Father to let her finish school here, I think. Is that what you mean?”

  “That’s nice, but no. It’s not what I meant.” She moaned as he slipped his hands under her T-shirt and cupped her breasts, running his talented fingers over her nipples. “Stop distracting me.” She clutched his shoulders and ground against his cock.

  “Um, okay, but—” She put a finger on his lips. He bit it and leaned up, grasping her ass and possessing her mouth again.

  She gave into it, let his lovely familiar body hold hers. But she had to tell him. She broke away.

  His eyes were nearly black with lust. “I am so fucking horny. Honey, please, can we wait to talk?” His voice roughened by passion, he yanked her shirt up over her head and popped open her bra. Her breasts ached for his touch.

  “Ahh, God, wait. I have got to tell you something.”

  “Later, I promise, later.” He sucked one nipple and brushed his thumb over the other as he unzipped his shorts and shoved her panties aside. He ran his finger over the angry, red scar at her bikini line. “I must be inside you, right now. But can we? I mean does it still hurt? It’s been almost three months since….” Without another word, she lifted herself up and sighed as he eased into her, one delicious inch at a time.

  “Maybe a little, but not making love with you hurts worse.”

  “Dear God, I missed you.” He fisted his hands in her hair and pulled her lips back to his. She raised up and lowered herself again, slowly, clenching her muscles. She sucked his tongue into her mouth. Her neglected libido raged up, took control as she eased up and down on her husband’s body. He broke their kiss and stared into her eyes, nearly making her cry with a sudden burst of emotion.

  “I’m sorry, my darling, I’m not going to last long.” He gasped, digging his fingers into her hips. A delicious
orgasm rolled over her, starting at her tingling scalp and working its way down her spine straight to her pussy.

  “Oh, my, yes...please...” she whispered into his hair. He cupped her breasts as she moved against him. “Emre,” she gasped as the climax exploded across her vision.

  She kept moving, faster, needing him to join her, to fill her. He groaned against her flesh and shoved up high. “Evet!” He shouted into the room before she slapped a hand over his mouth. “Ah…yes.” His cock shuddered and spilled into her. They stayed clasped together, their bodies joined and entwined. She kissed him gently, took a long shuddering breath, and sat up on her knees, releasing him. He lay back, still gasping. She ran a finger down his damp face then sat next to him and grabbed his hand.

  “I want to send Lale to Las Vegas.”

  “Huh?” He stared up at the ceiling, then over at her, his dark eyes glassy with post-coital satisfaction.

  “I want to send Lale to Las Vegas. I already have a date arranged for her. You know, a 1Night Stand.” She bit her lip, knowing it wasn’t fair to spring it on him right then, but needing to get it out there nonetheless.

  He tucked his cock back into his shorts and zipped up. He leaned forward and ran hands through his hair. The look he shot her over his shoulder didn’t bode well for her plan. She swallowed. They had an equal partnership, took equal responsibility for decisions in their life. She realized she might be overstepping, but he stayed so blinded by a protectionist instinct with his sister, the first step would have to be hers.

  “Why?”

  “Because, my love. She is twenty-five years old, and deserves to find some happiness.”

  “Why can’t she wait? Find it later?”

  “You were only twenty-five my darling, remember? When we....”

  He sighed. “I know but that’s....”

  She joined him at the edge of the couch. “So help me if you say ‘it’s different because she’s a woman,’ I will brain you with a frying pan.”

  “Okay, I won’t say that. But it is. And you know it.”

  She held her temper. She didn’t want to argue with him. What she really wanted was him inside her, again, right now.

  “No, but I think we could at least give her this little...vacation.”

  He sighed and leaned back, taking her with him, holding her close and kissing the top of her head. “Anything for you. You know it. Las Vegas it is for our Lale.” She sighed and snuggled down into his embrace, throwing her bare legs over his lap.

  “Good. I think it’s the right thing to do. Ayla will miss her, but it’s only for a few days.”

  “Yes, my love. Now, let’s go take a bath together. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

  ***

  An undulating dance floor held Lale upright, kept her moving as the club lights flashed. The familiar surreal sensations seemed strange. While it felt great to be out again, she thought the silly twit in the bathroom had slipped her a double dose of X. Things were getting very trippy.

  The hot guy she’d spotted within thirty minutes of entering the downtown LA club clutched her ass, grinding his crotch against her. She had her arms overhead, trying to reach the flashing lights. His lips were on hers so she wrapped herself around him and stuck her tongue in his mouth. Her clit thrummed against the hard metal ball that pierced it. His cock swelled against her leg. He bit her lip and sucked the ring in it into his mouth. His hands were strong, clutching her so hard; she might bruise later. The thought turned her on even more.

  “Hey,” she gasped, “Let’s get out of here.”

  The tall blond man nodded eagerly. She wobbled her way off the floor, unsteady from frozen vodka shots and whatever amount of Ecstasy she’d imbibed. Her brain yammered at her, reminding her she had nowhere to take him. She couldn’t exactly bring this person back to her brother’s house in the hills. What was she thinking? She’d jumped right back into her old routine. Drinks, drugs, dancing, stranger-danger sex. The guy yanked her close again and covered her mouth with his. Lust rendered her dizzy. Maybe this guy could actually get her off. It had been a while. A damn long while.

  hey stumbled out of the club and he hailed a taxi. His hands were all over her. At one point he put his palm right on her bare clit. She’d gone without panties tonight, the skirt she’d chosen too tight for such propriety.

  “I want to taste that piercing.”

  “Hmmm....” Annoyance reared its ugly head. She never actually left a club with anyone. She needed to ditch him.

  But he climbed into the taxi after her, shoved her up against the door, and jammed his hand up her skirt. She remained unamused. “Cut it out,” she demanded.

  “No, you want it, you know it.” His finger flicked the metal ball in her hood. His lips covered hers, and suddenly she tasted old booze and cigarettes and shame. She shoved him away, hard.

  “No, you asshole, I do not. Get the fuck out of my cab.” She suddenly had a surge of strength. She didn’t need this. She could go home, back to her brother’s, take care of her niece, be around people who loved her. She had no need to prove how wild she could be here.

  The cabbie turned around.

  “You heard the lady, lover boy. Vamoose.”

  He shot her a dark look. “Fucking tease.”

  “Maybe. But maybe you aren’t as hot as I thought you were. So, bye-bye now.”

  He leapt out of the back seat and slammed the door. Before he got a chance to give a parting shot, the taxi squealed out into the traffic. She laid her head against the headrest and rearranged her skirt, proud of her herself. Maybe she’d turned some sort of corner. Maybe she could be an adult. She tapped the cabbie’s shoulder. “Thanks for that.”

  “No problem, dear. My sister was date-raped. I don’t let that shit go on in my taxi.” She frowned at the dashboard clock.

  “Oh, crap, is it really that late?”

  “Yeah, honey. It’s nearly three-thirty.”

  Shit. She dashed off a text to Emre apologizing, making traffic excuses, praying he’d understand.

  Chapter Five

  Lale threw some money at the cabbie, overtipping to compensate for him saving her from the creep, and ran up the long walk to Emre and Elle’s house. The porch was dark, but a light shone in the kitchen. Damn. Busted. She smoothed her rumpled skirt and tried to set her face along sober lines. But the pavers wobbled under her feet, and she smelled the booze oozing from her pores as she made her hasty way toward her angry brother.

  She eased the door open, hoping, praying that he slept, but knowing damn well he sat, wide awake, waiting for her. She shut the door softly and kicked her shoes off to make less noise on the stone floor. Leaning against the wall a minute to catch her breath and keep the room from spinning, she heard footsteps. Lale sighed and opened her eyes. Emre stood, arms crossed, dressed only in sweat pants.

  “What?” She attempted to brush past him. He grabbed her arm.

  “I thought we had a deal. An understanding about limits.” The low tone of his voice made her gulp.

  “I know, I’m sorry. Did you get my text?” She turned away, but stumbled, the booze and pills making the room narrow and widen in turns.

  “You’re drunk off your ass.” His grip tightened, keeping her from falling.

  “So? I’m allowed. Last time I checked I’m over twenty-one.” She sat down before she fell down. Her heart pounded so hard it hurt. She didn’t want to make him angry. They had been getting along so well lately. She put her head in her hands. Fucked up again.

  “You’re no better than a whore.” She jerked her head up. His eyes were hard.

  “You can’t call me that. You don’t know anything about me!” Anger made the room settle. A sense of control settled over her again. “You’re our father in miniature. A small-minded, peasant Turk asshole!” Lale realized they’d fallen into Turkish in their anger.

  She whirled around and noticed Elle in the doorway. Her usual small frame seemed even more shrunken and fragile, wrapped in a huge rob
e. She stared, open-mouthed, at Lale’s brother.

  “What did you say, Emre Deniz?”

  Lale watched him wince and turn to face his wife. She opened her mouth and spoke before thinking of the consequences. “He called me a whore. Because I’m forty-five minutes late for his curfew, and I have been drinking.”

  Elle set her jaw. “That’s what I thought he said.” She walked over to stand in front of him. Lale’s heart clenched. These two were like her touchstone, proof that true love really existed in the world. “You,” she put a fingertip on his bare chest, “can leave.” Lale gasped.

  Then her sister-in-law faced her, eyes hard and determined. “And you have an appointment in Las Vegas. You may as well go now.” She handed her a credit card, a set of keys, and a printout from her email. Lale gaped at her. Las Vegas? What the hell is she talking about?

  He reached out for his wife, but she sidestepped him. “I will not tolerate that old school chauvinist bullshit, Emre, and you know it. You can spend the night elsewhere. I don’t care where.” Lale saw her choke back a sob.

  “No, Elle, don’t….” She started toward her sister-in-law. “You guys don’t have to…over me…I’m not worth it.”

  Elle turned to her and cupped her face with one hand. The woman’s anger permeated the foyer. Lale suddenly saw how she got where she had in the corporate world. “You are worth it. You’ve spent too many years being told otherwise. Your brother—” she shot Emre a deadly look,“—should know better. You deserve to be treated like an adult. Allowed to make mistakes, learn and move on, not constantly judged against an outdated model of ‘good girl versus bad girl.’ It’s bullshit.”

  She nodded at Lale. “Go tonight. Take my car. I’ll explain it to Ayla. We’ll see you in a few days. Read this.” She gestured at the paper Lale clutched in her hand. “You’ll understand.” She turned to face Emre again. He stood, fists clenched at his sides, agony in his eyes.