Page 80 of Galata and Nutmeg

“Never!” He crushes his mouth back down on mine, I can feel the raw power of his desire. He takes what he wants from me, and I’m powerless to resist. I open my mouth, inviting him in, eager to feel his tongue exploring the depths of my mouth. In that moment, nothing else matters but the sensation of his lips on mine. The rest of the world has faded away, leaving only the two of us locked in this moment.

The ache between my legs proves that I want more. I move away from his embrace and pull my T-shirt over my head, tossing it on the floor. Kaan’s mouth latches onto a nipple immediately and sucks.

I open my mouth and moan, the pain mixing with pleasure beneath his ministrations. He drops my nipple from his mouth with a soft pop and drags himself slowly down my body, his lips never once leaving my skin.

“You skin tastes like honey melon; sweet and sticky,” he moans. “I could taste you all day.”

His mouth now hovers over my sex. The heat of his breath on my wet pyjama shorts and the scratch of his stubble on my thighs nearly ends me right there. I fist his hair, pulling him even closer and push up against him. He takes a deep breath, his nose against the wet material. “That smell is like some exotic perfume created for me alone. It drives me insane.”

Kaan rips the flimsy material with his teeth. A growl, guttural and animalistic, comes from within his chest as he dives between my legs, his tongue tasting and probing, his fingers rubbing and teasing. “You like that, baby?”

“Oh, God, yes. Yes!” He plays me like a damn maestro with his tongue, fingers and his thumb. My entire existence is focused on this moment. I feel myself being pushed ever closer, bubbling through me like hot lava. “I need… more… please, please.”

He crawls up my body and kisses me fiercely. I can taste my salty juices on his lips, smell my scent on him. I moan into his mouth. I’m still throbbing, itching to be filled with him. “More what?”

“I need you inside me, Kaan. Please.”

“Since you asked nicely.”

He pulls me upward, flips me over onto my hands and knees and pushes his cock into me, filling me with a roar.

I claw at the sheets as he pounds into me, increasing his thrusts, deeper and deeper until he finds my hidden centre. “Yeah, Kaan, fuck me. Fuck me hard.”

A few seconds later, the tip of his finger nudges my butt hole. I moan loudly as he breaches the tightness, his finger inching inside. “Oh my God, Kaan.”

His finger slides in and out in a different rhythm to his cock and the waves of pleasure build with each thrust—deeper, slower, faster, harder—working together to bring me closer to climax. Sweat pours of our bodies as his pace quickens. His removes his finger and holds me steady until that final wave crests and he moans as my walls clenching around him. “That feels so good, Nutmeg. Come for me. Come all over me.”

Kaan withdraws and with a kiss on my lips he swaggers naked to the bathroom. Somewhat lost in my orgasm afterglow I watch him intently, unable to tear my gaze away until he closes the door softly behind him. I don’t make any attempt to rouse and instead snuggle back under the thick comforter for a few more minutes of post-coitus bliss. Unfortunately, my brain had other ideas and clicks into high gears. Full throttle into doubting myself. And Kaan.

Just a few short weeks ago, the most complicated thing in my life was whether to order Thai or Indian food for dinner. Now I’m in Istanbul with a rockstar and trying to decide if any of this is real.

Can I believe Kaan?

He only tells the truth.

But can I trust Kaan?

Groupies throw themselves at rockstars all the time. He’ll be going on tour… maybe not right now but at some point, he’ll be on tour… sex with a groupie is part of a rockstar’s life.

And the drinking?

I thought back to last night. He had only had two beers.

Does that make him an alcoholic?

You already know the answer to that, Meg.

The shower ends and he pokes his head around the bathroom door. “You getting up?”

“Can we talk for a minute?”

Wrapped in a towel, Kaan slides back into bed beside me. “Shoot.”

“I just want to make sure you understand what beingall inmeans. You know… a relationship. I mean, it’s not very rock-star of you.”

He chuckles at himself. “I’ll admit monogamy is not my usual style.”

“Supermodels? Groupies? The party girls? Are you willing to give all that up to be with me?”

---