Obsessed with Me - When she rejected him, he set out to destroy her - book 1 (17 page)

I give a small chuckle. “How come you’re so eager to go?”

“I …I just want you to foking move on.”

“To …you?”

He pulls off the covers scoops me up and carries me into the bathroom. “Get your arse showered and changed.”

****

“Vyf!” Tarago calls.

“Coming, Tarago!” I hope he’s looking good and wearing the suit I asked him to.

“Vyyyyf!”

I grab my purse and make my way down stairs. When I see Tarago, I gasp – he looks great – charcoal suite, lavender shirt, striped grey tie, hair slicked back into a ponytail – hot.

“Wow!” he exclaims when he sees me. “You look …ugly.”

“Too late, I head your ‘Wow!’ mister,” I say and knock him on the butt with my purse. “And you look …hot,” I say in a shy voice.

“Really? Good enough to want to fok me right now?”

“Tarago!”

“It’ll only take a few minutes.”

With a smile, I smack him again with my purse. “Did you arrange a nice ride for us?”

He gestures outside. I walk to the door and my jaw drops at the sight of the helicopter parked close to the cliff. “Oh my God, Tarago!” I laugh. “I can’t believe you did this.”

“I believe this will knock their wedding cars right out of the foking picture,” he says wriggling his eyebrows.

“I was kidding about that, Tarago. But yeah, of course! Wow! This is cooool!”

With a pleased smile, he sticks out his elbow. I take it and we enter the waiting helicopter.

“I’ve never been in a helicopter before, I whisper as take a seat.

“You nervous?”

I nod.

“Don’t be,” he says and takes my hand in his. “If anything happens ... just scream and the problem will go away.”

“Mff! Funny.”

Throughout the flight, I hold onto him, even though I have a huge smile on my face.

When we arrive at the wedding venue in Pinelands, the road is temporarily blocked off by four police cars to allow the helicopter to land on the road close to the hall!

My neck jerks to look at Tarago. “You did all this?”

“
Ja
. I’m foking rich, I can do any shit I want.” He gives me naughty smile.

“You are
laanie
(rich) for sure.

Unfortunately for Rheema and Ashwin, we arrive at the same time, which means that not only do they have to wait for us to land and alight from the helicopter, but it also means that we have successful upstaged their entrance.

All eyes are on us and people stare with their jaw hanging. Talk about a grand entrance. I don’t think anything can top this. I’m giggling like crazy as we enter the hall.

“I see there are no whites here,” Tarago whispers as we sit next to strangers. “I don’t like this segregation shit.” 

I smile. “Only
charros
(Indians). You feeling out of place?”

“For sure.” Tarago finds a lot of things funny at the wedding and I get caught up in his giggling.

“By the way, we’re leaving for Paris tomorrow morning,” he says.

“Paris…?” I cock my head and look at him. “France?”

He nods. “A business trip and I’m gonna need my PA to come with.”

“Gosh, I’ve never been to Paris before!” I whisper, excitement coursing through me. “Wow! For how long?”

He holds up seven fingers.

I squeeze his hand. “Wow! This day is getting better by the minute.”

We smile at each other.

Somehow, I suspect Tarago threw in the trip to Paris to distract me so that I don’t get too hung up on this wedding. It works, my mind wanders – I need to pack. What the hell do I take? A bikini or two? My mother – gotta tell her. My passport – please don’t let it have expired.

“I’m soooo excited, Tarago. It’s like a honeymoon.”

“Honeymoon?”

“Yes, we got married, remember? And this will be like a make-believe honeymoon!”

He smiles as I ramble on. “Shall I give you a kiss in case they are watching?”

Actually Ashwin and Rheema take turns to turn and look at us. Strangely I haven’t felt too bad about them being together. It helps that they married in court and this is just a wedding reception. A grand one at that.

“Yes,” I say, feeling shy.

He cups my cheek with his huge hand and plants a light but lingering kiss on my lips. I close my eyes and press my lips to his. It’s nice and strangely, I want more.

When I open my eyes, I smile and kiss him again. “In case they’re watching,” I say as I wipe off lipstick from his lips with my thumbs.

He holds my hand with both of his.

Finally, it’s time to wish the bridal couple so we make our way to them and stand in the long line of well-wishers.

Tarago stands behind me, his hands on my hips, tickling me at times and sending me into fits of giggles.

“Behave!” I whisper.

When we get to Ashwin and Rheema, I give Rheema a hug first. “All the best.”

I mean it. She doesn’t make a very good looking bride – she’s hugely pregnant, her face is puffy, her eyes are red as if she’s been crying, she looks tired and morose. I have trouble recognizing my friend under all the garish make-up, flowers and that hideous red sari that’s badly draped.

“Thank you,” she says. “I’m really glad you could make it. It means a lot to me.”

Funny, I knew she’d say that, but it doesn’t feel bad when she says it.

Then I give Ashwin a hug.

“What’s he doing here?” Ashwin whispers.

“Huh?”

“And why the hell are you cozying up to him?”

“Relax and enjoy your hanging,” I say as I grab my neck with both hands and stick out my tongue. I laugh, but he doesn’t. In fact he seems pissed off.

After Tarago shakes his hand, he says, “Sorry, we can’t stay long. We have to be up early. Going to Paris tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, really? Paris? Tomorrow?” Rheema’s envy is visible. Her eyes drop to Tarago’s hand which is now around my waist.

“Ja,” Tarago says in a casual voice. “Seven days.” He squeezes me to him.

As we walk away, Tarago slides his hand from my hip over my butt, purely for Ashwin’s sake, I’m sure.

“Tarago, stop!” I whisper.

He responds by pinching my butt and making me jump.

When we dance, Tarago twirls me around, drops me, then kisses me, this time a long, lengthy kiss. When we surface for air, he says, “Just in case they are looking.”

 I nod and grin. I can’t believe that I’m not pushing him away and I can’t believe that I am enjoying his kisses. Guess I’m caught up in the moment.

When we leave the reception, the helicopter is waiting for us.

Once again most people rush out of their seats when they hear the helicopter outside.

As we fly towards his home in Clifton, Tarago leans over and kisses me long and hard. “In case someone is watching.” he says.

I giggle and slip my arms around his neck as he kisses me again.

What a great day it’s been.

When I call my mother to tell her that I’m going to Paris, she has a lot to say about the wedding reception, which she chose not to attend.

“So many people called me and asked about you and your boss, Tanin,” she says. “They were very impressed. They couldn’t get over the helicopter. They wanted to know if he was your boyfriend.”

”What did you say?”

She hesitates before she answers. “I said that I wasn’t sure and that you are now a big girl who leads her own life. I said that I support you with everything you do.”

“Okay…”

Silence.

“Is he, Tanin?”

I look at Tarago. Imagine if I told her that he was my husband. “Nah, Ma, he just helped put on a show for everybody. I saved face, that’s all. You know how it goes.”

She does luckily.

Chapter Nineteen

Paris, a
business
trip? What was I thinking believing Tarago?

It’s absolutely wonderful and I’m in awe from the moment I arrive.

Seven days with just Tarago and me. For the first time since I’ve known him, he’s lost his posse, lost the party spirit, the childishness, the need to be obnoxious and I get a glimpse of the real Tarago. And …I like who I see.

He’s relaxed and openly affectionate towards me – holds my hands, hugs me all the time, kisses my lips in public – and seems happy to be with me. It’s quite a change from when we’re with his family and friends – he’ll make fun of me and goad me, but he does keep me, his dark secret under wraps.

To my surprise, I find myself luxuriating in the warmth of his affection.

In a way, it makes me a little angry that he is so concerned about what other’s think. So concerned about losing money and making deals with people who won’t conduct business with him because he is dating or married to someone other than a blue-eye, white skin woman. Shallow, amoral people.

On the other hand, I’m thinking that maybe after this trip, he will tire of me and send me packing.

For now, I live in the moment, surrender to Tarago and enjoy France and all its culture. I can’t wait to tell my sisters about my wonderful trip and give them the presents I bought them.

Tarago charters a yacht, complete with a skipper and staff. We travel around and visit quite a few places like Le Havre, St Malo and St Tropez.

We enjoy a champagne cruise where wait staff proffer and fuss over us and before I know it, I’m tipsy and giggling at Tarago’s antics.

When the sun disappears, we sit in the dark in each other’s arms and enjoy the dazzling night lights. To afford us the privacy, the staff place a bell is placed next to us, which we are to ring for service. This gives us time alone without interference, which we both enjoy.

I’m having such a good time with him that I don’t mind when he slips his hand up my dress and cups my butt. I don’t mind when he presses his hard-on against me. I find myself moulding my body against his and angling my neck for his urgent kisses.

I do mind when I realize that we’re out in the open and that someone might see us getting frisky. Not to mention that the skipper and wait staff who are only feet away.

But he doesn’t seem to care and forces off the straps off my dress.

“No, not here,” I whisper and try to stop him from.

With an impatient growl, he yanks down my straps, freeing my breasts. With the night air on my bare chest, my nipples immediately harden. 

I moan when he sucks on my breast, at the same time, slipping his fingers deep inside of me.

“You’re wet,” he says with glee.

“Yes, well, I’m …I’m at sea,” I give an embarrassed laugh, “what do you expect?”

He laughs and pushes me on the deck. With his tongue in my mouth, he shoves up my dress, rolls down my panties and spreads my thighs.

I’m nervous about being seen, but I also don’t want him to stop. I find this recklessness a bit of a turn-on. He strokes, gently at first, then faster, eliciting all sorts of cries from me.

When I raise my bare hips towards his, he drives his erection into me. As he moves inside of me, I reach up and bring his lips down to mine for a lusty kiss.

He thrust harder and in varying rhythm, burying himself deep inside of me. In spite of my nervousness, I feel myself on the brink of a shudder. Then it happens – with a long moan, I implode, feeling like the millions of stars above me have just dipped down to earth to graze my wanton body. My first orgasm with Tarago. Amazing.

With a pleased smile, he pauses and sucks on my bottom lip. As he does, I feel him twitch inside of me.

Then he raises himself up, drapes my thighs around his hips and thrusts vigorously, rocking me and the yacht until he bursts inside of me.

When he is done, he falls breathless onto the deck. I raise myself up to look at him. We smile at each other. I lean down and kiss him.

“I don’t even like you,” I say, holding his face with both my hands. “You are boorish, arrogant, a liar and yet, I like what you just did to me.”

“But I like you,” he says as he strokes my hair. “You turn me on like no other women.”

We exchange a tender kiss before we retire to bed.

When I awake, I realize that it’s the first time I’ve woken up with Tarago and it’s not a bad feeling. We cuddle in bed and chat for a while.

He’s not obnoxious or flippant and we have a glorious morning with breakfast in bed. I didn’t know that life could be as sweet as this and I must say, I’m really enjoying it. And Tarago. Who’d have taught I’d say something like that?

When it’s time for us to say goodbye to Paris, the epitome of recklessness, sensuality and freedom, to our wonderful honeymoon and head back to Cape Town, a weird feeling creeps over me. Tarago is now going to become the obnoxious oaf he was before we left for France and that’s going to make me sad. No, no, no – it’s going to piss me off, not make me sad.

I mean, why should it make me sad? It is after all, a sham marriage. It’s not real. It isn’t like Tarago is in love with me and wants me to have and to hold.

“What’s wrong?” Tarago asks.

I shake my head. “Nothing. Just sad to see this end.”

We lock eyes.

I reach over and gently kiss his lips.

We smile at each other.

“You are kissing me,” he points out. “Like I predicated you would.”

With a short laugh, I grab his face and kiss him deep and long.

Then we share a tender hug for a long time.

Chapter Twenty

“What do you want to talk to me about?” I ask, surprised to receive a call from my ex-boyfriend two weeks after he got married.

“I just need to – to apologize face-to-face, Tanin,” Ashwin says. “All I ask is five minutes. After seeing you at my wedding reception, I realized that there are so many things I want to say to you. That I
need
to say to you.”

“It’s not necessary,” I say.

It is necessary. I want to hear everything he has to say.

“But it is,” he argues. “The last we met, you were so angry and you never gave me a chance to tell you what went wrong…” He goes on to make a compelling argument as to why we should meet.

Curious to know what the man who dumped me and married my best friend has to say, and without thinking, I find myself agreeing to meet him the following day at a restaurant.