Her Familiar Stranger - Book cover

Her Familiar Stranger

Calista Rosch

I'll Take Care of You

Di-Vine restaurant’s lighting was dim, the air was thick with the scents of so many different foods, and ambient music played in the background.

But even in this environment, Ceylan Aslan couldn’t relax.

She admired a group of young women in their thirties next to her table, collapsing with helpless giggles.

If she hadn’t allowed Savannah to book her this appointment, she would be free like these women. Maybe she should cancel—this whole thing was an insane idea.

Ceylan pulled out her phone and checked the time for the millionth time: 8:39 P.M. Only twenty-one minutes left to her appointment.

She had been sitting there for more than thirty minutes, but Savannah hadn’t shown up. This was definitely a sign—the arrangement wasn’t a good idea.

But soon enough, Savannah appeared through the entrance.

“Sorry I’m late, the board meeting took forever,” Savannah said as she sat in the free chair. Being the only heir to her family fortune, Savannah had assumed all major responsibilities. Ceylan was lucky there were two of them. She was only the CFO, and her brother, Baris, was the company’s CEO.

“Don’t you think this is a sign?” Ceylan tried to convince the blonde.

“I’m not having you chickening out,” Savannah said, sliding the entrance ticket across the table to Ceylan.

“Put that thing away!” Ceylan whispered as she quickly snatched the ticket from the table. She then threw it in her purse. Her eyes darted between the people sitting at the tables next to theirs, making sure no one saw it.

She sighed in relief, seeing no one was paying attention to her or else she would wake up tomorrow to her name on every Los Angeles magazine. Probably with the headline ‘Ceylan Aslan, Daughter of billionaire Dacey Aslan, getting services from Voluntas Tua’.

People would feel sorry for her, while others would make fun. She couldn’t imagine her father’s reaction—he would be so pissed. Her mom would probably fast for her immoral act.

Savannah frowned.

“I haven’t gone through all this for you to back out at the last minute.”

Savannah had really done so much for this arrangement to pull through. She had taken care of the booking, Ceylan’s mandatory tests, sent the results to Voluntas Tua, and finally got her this entrance ticket.

“You deserve an orgasm. Or maybe you will finally get to know if men aren’t your preference.”

One fling and one long-term relationship, yet she hadn’t had an orgasm. Ceylan had once considered she might be gay, but her toxic lust for Liam Chase told her otherwise.

But her brother’s high school best friend had never noticed her. She couldn’t forget the time when he and Baris came home after their college graduation for her eighteenth birthday—she stole a kiss from him. His response still hurt her till now. “You are like my younger sister Ceylan, nothing more.”

Even with them being in the same city, Ceylan hadn’t spoken to him ever since.

She only saw his photos in magazines, and for the longest time, that was enough to make her see him in her dreams and be the image that popped in her mind every time she pleasured herself.

Ceylan had finally learned to brush off her crush. She was grown up and well past the days of mooning over Liam Chase.

She wasn’t about to be among the numerous women the playboy had slept with.

Savannah was right, she deserved an orgasm. She was going to have sex without worrying about not doing the right thing during lovemaking.

Ceylan was well aware of her insecurities on bedroom matters, and they always came rushing during sex.

None of her two lovers ever told her to her face that she wasn't good, but she just had the intuition. You couldn't possibly fake an orgasm so well for a long time.

And so she was going to have a one-night stand with a stranger. No fear of what the other person would think about her if she messed things up. No fear of a lover leaving her.

“I'm still up for it,” she said firmly, convincing herself too.

Savannah nodded. “That's good.”

She then stared at Ceylan's hardly touched food. “It's obvious you are nervous, you wouldn't get any of that flat enchiladas down.” She pulled the plate towards herself. “Just get out of Di-Vine and go. It is a twenty-minute drive and you have less than that.”

“You are right,” Ceylan said. Sipping her wine for the last time, she got up and said, “please get me some take-outs, I'll be hungry when I get home.”

Her roommate and best friend smiled. “You'll be hungry for more sex when you get home, I'm sure.”

If everything Savannah said was right, that the men going to Voluntas Tua were sex gods, then she would come home satisfied.

She picked up her purse and coat. “I'll get a cab. I wouldn't want my car seen anywhere near that place. Please get someone to drive it back home.”

“Sure,” Savannah said with a full mouth.

Ceylan tugged the new black dress the store assistant swore looked so flattering as she walked past several tables. She moved swiftly across the marbled lobby of the restaurant and was soon outside.

The cool evening breeze hit her and sent her putting on her coat. A cab showed up a moment later.

There was no judgment in the cab driver's eyes when she gave her destination. He had probably heard worse than this.

As the car engine sang to the busy Los Angeles roads, her stomach knotted up. All the reasons not to do this came flooding in, as if her body chemistry just sent them a blanket invitation.

But she wasn't going to quit.

To distract herself, Ceylan dug into her purse and took out her lipstick. She applied another coat to her already red lips.

Ceylan peered outside her window as the driver slowed at the curb in front of Voluntas Tua.

Her eyes greedily soaked in her surroundings, street lamps and street lights spangled the pavement with shards of color.

Streams of pedestrians who were wearing everything from formal attire to casual clothes all around.

She worried what these people thought of her wearing a mask and walking towards Voluntus Tua's entrance.

Her legs felt feathery; she even feared they wouldn't take her as far as the door.

At the entrance, she showed her ticket to the bouncer and he let her through. Taking in the sight, she was pleased; the place was beautiful, Gabriella Keene's ‘business' was a huge success.

She didn't need to be told, Savannah had told her the door she should walk to. She could swear Savannah had been here before; she knew too much.

Ceylan wound her way through the loud crowd towards the door to the “sex rooms.” A pretty blonde asked for her ticket before escorting Ceylan to her assigned room.

As she walked past several doors, her heart hammered louder. She was sure the lady beside her had heard it.

“Enjoy,” the lady said as she left Ceylan in front of room VT29.

Ceylan rested her hand on the hinges of the roughly painted door, then pushed. The hinges squeaked as though they were a warning, but their plea was silenced when the door swung open.

A sharp, pleasant male scent wafted towards her, like black plumes billowing from the windows of a burning house.

She walked in and closed the door behind her. She could barely see in the almost extinguished light; the only thing she could make out was the bed.

With the looming silence, for a second she thought she was alone.

“You are late,” a deep male voice said, proving otherwise. Then she saw it—the male figure sitting on one of the room corners.

“I wasn't sure I wanted to come,” Ceylan said truthfully.

The chair squeaked as the man got up. Her stomach shifted uneasily, and she realized she was hugging herself. She felt stupid, and so she released herself.

But then she couldn't figure out what to do with her hands, so instead, they clasped and unclasped each other.

He walked until he stood in front of her, and Ceylan lifted her face to gaze at him in the dark. Of course, she couldn't see his face; this whole thing was confidential.

“Is this your first time here?” he asked as his hand went up to her face. His fingers brushed against her ear, taking off her mask. The sudden unexpected pleasure of his touch sent her whimpering, “Do you like that?”


“Yes to the first question or the second?”


The mask made a soft thud as it fell on the floor.

“Call me Vintage, and what's your name?”

“Cey… Ava. Call me Ava.”

“So Ava,” his hand went to her hair and freed the perfect bun, “what did you come for tonight?”

“My first orgasm,” Ceylan blurted out.

“Are you a…virgin?”

“No,” she said, feeling the need to defend herself. “It's just that none of the men I've been with have ever given me that.”

“You've come to the right person.”

Even in the dark, she could tell Vintage held her gaze with intimacy.

“I'm going to give you the orgasm of your life.”

She reached up to touch his face, but he stopped her.

“You don't have to do anything, I'll take care of you.”

His hand left her now free, deep copper-colored hair and tenderly traced the line of her cheek with his thumb.

Ceylan became rooted to the ground as he leaned down and brushed his mouth along the curve of her jaw. Heat ignited in her core, a slow burn that melted even more of her senses.

Vintage's lips traced her jaw and brushed against her lips. Her eyelids fell shut. Then his mouth moved over hers in a soft, mesmerizing kiss.

His lips were warm on hers, his teeth roughly grazing as he sucked her lower lip between them before drawing back.

Just like that, the kiss was over and she wanted more. Ceylan wove a little on her feet, panting and breathless.

She couldn't open her eyes for the way her blood was thrumming, every part of her hot with need and impossible yearning.

She felt her coat come off. His large hands then followed, caressing her curves. Even with the cotton preventing direct contact, his touch burned her.

“Your figure is exquisite,” Vintage said before his mouth pressed hot and hungry against her neck. His teeth grazed the sensitive spot below her ear, which throbbed now like the heavy beat of drums.

His hand flew to her dress zipper and freed her from the short thing. Her skin was warm to his touch, heat flourishing around her neck and in her breasts, and down, in her core.

Everything in her seemed to have roused in his presence, all that was female and essential coming online at once.

Her common sense came to life too. What was she doing? This was not her.

“Vintage, I…I didn't think this through.”

Vintage lifted her chin and crashed his lips to hers. Vintage buried his hands in her luxurious mass of hair as their mouths crushed together in a deep, prolonged joining. He was such a good kisser.

She lost her senses once again, her hands coming up around his neck to hold him closer. Seconds faded into a minute, then minutes more. A mad, timeless oblivion.

When they broke away, he guided her around to the bed, easing her down onto the pillows. She fell back and looked at his form. This position made her feel all sorts of things.

Vintage moved over her, kissing a path from her lips to her chin, then along her throat, and moved down to the front closure of her bra.

Her hard little buds strained harder against the fabric of her bra. He snapped it open and slowly peeled the satin away from her breasts.

Cupping her breasts, he said, “these are lovely.” His voice was rough. As though he knew the direction of her thoughts, Vintage flicked his tongue over one of the tight buds. He pulled with teeth and tongue, while he took the other in his palm, stroking her, driving her crazy with desire.

Ceylan felt him reaching down for her panties, nudging them aside. He slid his fingers underneath her panties, not ceasing until he found her moist cleft.

Once his finger brushed against the moist cleft, she jerked as if he touched her with an open flame.

“You are so wet for me Ava, you feel like hot silk.”

The finger cleaving between her folds penetrated her, just the tip. She wanted more. She lifted her hips and he drew back, teasing.

She was not expecting it when he slid one long finger into her, a tickling feeling sent her moaning loudly.

“Did I hit it?” he whispered in her ear. “Did I hit your G-spot?”

“Yes,” she managed to croak.

Vintage slid her moisture up around her clit with the tip of his slick finger. He rubbed his thumb on her clit and she moaned again. As he stroked and rubbed, her carnal need increased.

Ceylan's pleasure spun higher and tighter. She didn't know it was possible to feel this kind of want, but now that she was glistening with it, there was only one thing that could satisfy it.

“Please,” she whispered, forcing him into an urgent rhythm. Her need was too far gone, she wanted release.

He showed her no mercy and stroked her toward a shattering release. She came apart in wave after wave of shuddering pleasure, her climax rippling through her body.

He drew his hand away from her, then whispered, “That was your first orgasm.”

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