Stolen by a Sinner (Sinners #3)(85)

What?

Then Gabriel pushes the fabric up and pulls my legs open. He lifts one over his shoulder, and some champagne splashes from the glass and onto the seat when he plants his face between my legs, sucking and licking the ever-loving hell out of me.

I clamp a hand over my mouth and set the flute down before I drop it. With the hand I have free, I grab hold of his hair, my head falling back from the intense pleasure.

It takes only minutes for me to shatter, and I struggle to muffle the moans as the orgasm paralyzes my body, and I grind against his face.

Gabriel pulls himself up, shoves my hand out of the way, and claims my mouth. I taste my release on his tongue, my body spasming with residual pleasure.

Just as he ends the kiss, the limousine comes to a stop.

Gabriel murmurs, “Happy birthday, Ödülüm.” Then he quickly adjusts my dress, so I’m covered.

Opening the door, he helps me out of the vehicle, my legs still trembling from the orgasm.

He takes hold of my hand, and linking our fingers, he leads me into a building with a sign that reads, ‘Vengeance.’

It’s dark, and fairy lights decorate the walls, showing the path we need to follow. “It’s so pretty,” I whisper, then my lips part, and emotions wash through me.

The hallway opens up to a floor where our family waits, all dressed in formal clothes. Mom looks so pretty in a gold-colored gown. Murat has a possessive arm wrapped around her.

“Happy Birthday!” they all shout.

There’s a table overloaded with gifts. An enormous birthday cake stands near it, seven layers high. Lights sparkle everywhere, pink and silver balloons floating against the ceiling.

“Wow,” I breathe, tears filling my eyes.

Turning, I plow into Gabriel’s chest, wrapping my arms tightly around him. He engulfs me against him, pressing kisses to my hair.

“Thank you,” I squeeze the words out through a tight throat, fighting hard not to cry so I won’t ruin my makeup.

“You’re welcome, baby.” He rubs his hand over my back. “But you need to let go so I can give you your gift.”

“You already did,” I say as I reluctantly pull back.

Gabriel tugs me to the middle of the floor, where a soft spotlight shines. I glance around me, a smile quivering on my lips, then my eyes widen as Gabriel kneels before me for a second time tonight.

He wouldn’t… would he?

Just before I can have a heart attack, he takes a small black box from his jacket and opens it.

Holy shit!

I burst out in tears, covering my face.

“Look at me,” he orders.

I shake my head.

“Baby, look at me.”

I lower my hands and meet his eyes.

“Marry me,” he demands.

“You have to ask her!” Nisa cries. “Allah Allah, have I taught you nothing?”

Laughter bursts through my tears, and I nod as quick as I can. “Yes. YesYesYes!”

Rising to his full height, he pushes a stunning diamond onto my ring finger, then kisses me hard, applause and cheers filling the air.

Cinderella was right…

Being kind, having courage, and believing in a little magic brought me to Gabriel and a family filled with good and caring people.





Epilogue


Lara



Seven years later…

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” I call playfully.

I hear Deniz’s chuckle, and knowing he’s behind the armchair his grandmother is sitting in, I pretend to search everywhere for him.

“It’s time for your bath,” I say, smiling at my mother as she reaches behind the chair to tickle him. Laughter bubbles from him. “Oh, I can hear you. Are you behind the curtain?” I yank the fabric back.

“No,” he shouts.

“Are you hiding…” I make a show of looking in the vases, “between the flowers?”

“Nooo,” he laughs.

Gabriel leans against the doorjamb, and crossing his arms over his chest, he watches as we play hiding-go-seek.

“Have you looked beneath the table?” Gabriel asks.

“I’m not there,” Deniz calls out, then suddenly he jumps up with what he thinks is a scary face. “Wha!”

He runs toward me, and I hold open my arms, sweeping him to my chest. “Ready for your bath?”

He nods. “Can I have hotcho…golate?”

“Just a little. It’s almost time for bed.”

Carrying our five-year-old while pregnant is no easy task. Gabriel takes him from me, saying, “You’re getting too big, little man.”

“Like you.” Deniz wraps his arms around Gabriel’s neck.

When we walk past a framed portrait of Babaanne, my heart squeezes with sorrow. She got to see her great-grandchild and spent three wonderful years with him before passing away in her sleep.

I smile at my husband and our son, Deniz, the spitting image of his father.

Entering Deniz’s bedroom, I head to the bathroom, opening the faucet so the water can run while I get his pajamas.

Gabriel and Deniz are wrestling on his bed as I pull the clothes out of the chest of drawers.

Giving them a playful scowl, I say, “Time to bathe.”

“You heard your mother.” Gabriel nudges Deniz toward me, making himself comfortable on the bed.