| Straight: Celebrity: Hup Part I (1/4) |
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The Turkish singer Tarkan embodies seduction and temptation. Author’s note: If you’ve never seen Tarkan, check out his video for Hup and his live performances on youtube and you will understand why I lust after this man! Hayatımı güzelliklerle doldurduğun için, teşekkür ederim. = Thank you for filling my life with beauty. Sevgili can mean ‘dear,’ or ‘girlfriend,’ or ‘lover’. Hup is the sound you make when you breathe in sharply. ************************************************** The kettle whistled. Didem turned to shut the gas off, but he stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her under her breasts. He pressed his hard body against hers while he nuzzled her nape. When he brushed his silky lips across her hairline, the soft hairs of his goatee tickled her. “Tarkan,” she protested feebly, but she held him in place when she grasped his forearms. “I love the way you say my name.” His voice was low and thrummed with subtle energy. “The Turkish way …” “Tarkan, please …” “Mmmm, yes?” The sound of her swallow boomed in her ears. “I don’t – I can’t –” “Shhh, sevgili Didem,” he urged, his breathy whisper teasing the space behind her ear. The term of endearment shattered the sweet spell he’d cast on her and galvanized her into action. “No!” She spun to face him and felt cold after breaking his embrace, the loss cutting her deeply. She grasped at anger to fuel her resolve. “No, I am not your girlfriend!” She slapped his hands away when he tried to touch her face and shoved him away from her. She didn’t want to feel his heat. “You already have a girlfriend,” she hissed. Tarkan’s brilliant emerald eyes bore into hers, but he didn’t say anything. Desire saturated his look. Why does he seem to have absolutely no problem with this? Is he even listening to me? Unmoved and unmovable, he just stood, watching her lips. Unruly hair framed his stubble-shadowed face, and his gaze burned. Her heart pounded, but it wasn’t anger that quickened her blood. Against her will, her body was responding, softening, melting … She shook her head, trying to squelch those stirrings by holding fiercely onto her pride. She grasped at anything she could think of to rile him and halt his assault on her defenses. She folded her arms in front of her to serve as a barrier between them, and then leaned back against the stove dials. “Besides … you’re supposed to be gay.” He didn’t betray any emotion, didn’t even blink. “Is that what you think?” “What I think doesn’t matter, does it?” “No, it doesn’t matter,” he affirmed. Ire flooded her in a rush, but he continued before she could retort. “What matters is what your body thinks.” “Shit!” She turned away from him to face the range-top. Her hands shook. When he pressed against her back again, she knew she was lost. “Shit, shit, shit!” What bothered her the most was that he knew she was attracted to him – powerfully attracted to him – though she’d tried to keep a professional, detached demeanor during their innumerable business meetings. How in the world could she impress her bosses if they found out she had slept with the client? She didn’t protest when he placed his hands on her shoulders. |
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hmmmm