Edging Obsession

3

F irst sight of Miles and my insides turned to jelly. He is spectacular. No picture could capture his striking presence. He looks like he was sculpted during Viking times. A body chiseled for combat, a face carved to exemplify masculinity, and a wildness in his personality. No wonder women want to run their hands through his thick shoulder length dark brown hair. His light brown eyes pop from an outline of long black eyelashes. He’s the epitome of a woman’s wet dream. When I look into his eyes, the world evaporates, darkness shrouds us, and I’m left at his mercy. He makes me nervous. He makes me desirous. From the first moment, I gravitated toward him without a thought. Once our eyes met, a magnetic link happened, uncontrolled but fully received in haste.

God built Miles’ body brick by brick. His torso doesn’t taper down but remains an expanse of muscle and cut abs. And when he speaks, the words come out like a low echo in a cave—haunting and mysterious. No matter what he says, it’s always an order—dominant and direct. I have to squeeze my legs together to ward off the eagerness gripping my core. Carl’s words sneak in, I need someone who’s stable , and I swallow fear. I’m sure my instability will deplete our magnetic hold.

Miles assigns me his bunk, stating he’ll take the couch. I protest, but his word is final. The band calls a meeting, so I take the time to check out the bus. It’s huge and beautiful. White and brown marble covers the floors, accenting the buttery soft leather sofas and chairs from where I entered the bus, and the lounge area where Miles and I were earlier. A couple of hanging wood cabinets line the kitchen, large enough to hold a microwave and a coffee maker. Guitars and equipment lay around the rooms. The bunks are on each side of the hallway, two bottoms and tops. Miles is on the top left if facing the back of the bus. Inside each bunk are twin-beds, mini-televisions, individual controls I assume for lighting, and a privacy curtain. The thought of seeing Miles fit into the bed makes me laugh. There’s also a bathroom with a stone-tiled shower and glossy marble flooring to match the colors.

Lee calls me over to the group and says to them, “We’ll be pulling up to Fenway in fifteen minutes. Get dressed for the concert.” He turns to me. “Jules, you can sit up front while the guys change.”

Callan tears off his shirt. “I don’t mind if she watches.”

Miles ticks his chin and glances at Lee, indicating for me to go. It’s as if we’ve known each other for years, automatically following his orders. No hesitation or a rising insult. He’s seized my sanity since the moment I laid eyes on him. A menagerie of sexual impulses and a need to please. This is new to me. I’m usually standing at an impassive distance. Miles happens to have clipped the distance and slayed the coldness.

I open the curtain to the spacious front of the bus. The driver and passenger seats are the same type of leather as in the back, and the driver has a GPS, traffic tracker, and his own music console. He’s a gruff man, maybe thirty, around Miles’ age. I run my hand over the beautiful leather, close my eyes, and inhale the smell. When I open them, the man has a strange expression.

“Sorry.” I slide my hands once more over the leather and put them in my lap. “I love leather.”

He grunts and takes a sip out of a coffee mug most likely the culprit of the stains on his shirt. Lee retrieves me, and everyone heads out of the bus and directly on stage. The opening act ended a half hour ago, so the band is up. I remain off to the side. The crowd roars when the band enters the stage. My eyes are only on Miles. His black T-shirt hugs his arms and chest, worn-in jeans snuggle against his ass, and to complete the ensemble, he’s wearing battered black untied combat boots. Miles twirls his drumsticks when he sits down. The man is delicious.

Carl who? I laugh to myself.

Since we just arrived, the band skips a proper sound check, only fiddling a bit with the instruments. The music begins, and the crowd goes wild. Arms pump in the air, and all I see is dead bug and pogo stick dancing. I’m right there with them flailing my arms and legs. The crowd’s energy is electric just like Miles said. Song after song, the audience continues to surge. Callan knows how to work the crowd, prompting them to sing along during slow songs and choruses. Sweat flies from his hair as he whips his head to the side and women scream. My voice is getting scratchy from all the shouting I’m doing. Several hours and two encores later, the band finishes and retreats to the bus to take us to a hotel.

I congratulate them as they pass, and Miles is the last one. He stops in front of me, staring as he hits the bottom of his cigarette pack, takes one out, and lights it. The rest of the band are on the bus. He blows the smoke upward, takes a couple of hits, and flicks the cigarette to the side. His arm hooks around my waist and hauls me onto the bus. Callan, Ace, and Thomas are drinking beers, handing us a couple. Miles sits in a chair, and I grab my notepad, writing down my thoughts before they’re lost for good. I need to capture the experience from them walking on stage to their final goodbye. Those hours were electric, surging through and waking something inside of me. A part of me that’s been vacant from the drabness of life’s underwhelming events.

Since it’s a three-night concert in Boston, Lee booked a hotel suite on the top floor. It’s huge and the floor to ceiling windows have it appearing even bigger. There’s a small kitchen, couches, and chairs near the windows, two bathrooms, and three bedrooms, one up a small staircase. For someone who hasn’t had the opportunity to travel, this has my mouth hanging in awe.

I’m about to bring my suitcase to the couches when Miles snatches it and walks out of the suite and down the hall to another room. I trip over my feet to keep up. He tosses my suitcase into the room, grabs my arm, and pulls me inside. Before I have time to catch my bearings, he backs me up to a desk with a large mirror support, and places me on it. His hand slides along the side of my face, cradling it, thumb caressing my lips. It isn’t long before his mouth demands mine. His thick tongue glides along my lips, teeth, battling my tongue for space. I light up like a firefly, dimming and brightening in response to his lips and hands.

Our mouths break free, enough for Miles’ eyes to trace the contours of my face. He’s intense, with his hand still holding my face. His eyes unzip and peel off the skin I wear for everyone else but me. Now he’s getting a glimpse of my other half I hide behind. Miles bites into his bottom lip and the corner of his mouth has a slight upward curve. He’s disturbingly beautiful. A body carved of granite, and an edge of danger.

We’ve only spoken through actions. He snaps my thong off and then unzips his jeans. I’m captivated by his dominance. It’s controlled and sexy. Bracing my left arm behind me as he takes hold of the back of my neck, I clamp my other hand around his forearm. We latch onto one another like life preservers. We’re live wires, vibrating through touch. Breaths chasing the next, anchoring us in the moment.

Miles guides his cock to my entrance. Our gazes lock, never disconnecting, seeing through feel. He slides the head of his cock up and down my slick pussy, and then thrusts inside. I cry out, my legs voluntarily wrapping tight around his waist, unprepared for his long thickness. My God it hurts. He begins to move his pelvis as if wading through quicksand. The slowness helps me catch my breath and stretch for him. Miles tightens his hand at my nape to keep me steady, and his other hand digs into my hip. The intensity of our stares and how we hold each other takes flight, and he increases the momentum. The pain materializes into pleasure. His cock claims me. Our breathing gallops in tune to Miles’ drives. Sounds of fucking reverberate in the room. I dig my fingernails into his forearm, body clenching on him when my orgasm rips through. He’s fucking me hard. I’m struggling to stay on the desk, riding my orgasm. Miles whispers Fuck, Jules , pulls out and comes on the floor.

He presses his forehead against mine. His mouth wanders over my skin, skimming the surface while he coasts through his orgasm. As if I weigh nothing, he carries me to the bed. Our eyes continue to remain fastened to one another.

In his commanding voice, he says, “Strip.”

My clothes fly through the room as his do the same. I want to view his body, but before I can, he’s already spread over me, mouth bruising my lips. Even though we came, we’re greedy for more. His hand slides underneath my head, bicep compressed against my cheek, trailing his tongue along my lips, kissing my jaw, and licking downward. Miles buries his face into the curvature of my neck and inhales. It’s possessive and my body craves his attention. He tightens his arm, and out of the blue, bites down hard enough for me to screech out curse words yet he avoids breaking skin. I’m breathing heavily as his fingers thread through my hair, pulling my head to the side. With my neck exposed, he runs his tongue over the bite mark.

“What the hell, Miles?”

“Shhh. Concentrate on the pain and it will subside.”

I attempt to put distance between us, but he’s holding me tight. “Please, Miles.”

Releasing my hair, his thumb traces circles around my hairline, and he says, “Please what?”

“Let me go. You bit me and it hurts.”

He gives me a languid smile and then kisses me. A tender kiss to counter the bite he left behind.

His forehead rests against my mouth. “I’m sorry. I got carried away.”

I can’t believe he bit me. The thought drowns out his sweet whispers. I want him off me but when our eyes meet, his lips thick with lust, words teasing my core, the thought evaporates, replaced by desire. A desire to keep him. To please him. It was only a bite. Things happen when we’re caught up in passion. My body relaxes while the pain diminishes. He pulls his head back, transfixed on my face. I purse and rub my swollen lips together.

“You’re exquisite, Jules.” He plants a kiss on the tip of my nose. “I don’t want you around the other guys without me.”

I knit my brows. “What do you mean? I’m supposed to interview them.”

“While I’m there.”

“Why?”

“Do you not agree there’s a connection between us?”

An unsteady breath releases. “Yes.”

“Are you not attracted to me?”

I squirm under his stare. “You know I am, Miles.”

“Then you talk to them while I’m around.”

Our gazes drift from mouths to eyes. A deep heat bathes my skin and leaves beads of sweat in its wake. I can’t tell if it’s from anger or lust. Miles’ dominant nature is relentless in demanding obedience. The idea of him dictating my actions should infuriate me. I’m not one who appreciates someone telling me what to do, especially after Carl exploited my failures. Yet, there’s something arousing about Miles’ commands, his possessiveness. I surprise myself when I nod. This conjures a smile from him, and I feel him harden.

I’ve just met this man, and I’m authorizing his domination. Has Carl pushed me to this point? My gaze skims over his face, landing on his eyes. No, he didn’t. Miles awakened all my senses and emotions. A yearning I’ve been chasing for years is semi-quenched. There’s a sting blooming in my chest from a fear of losing him since I’ve become his biggest fan, and I’m not talking about his drum skills. For once in my adult life, I feel alive, like my mind is clear.

Miles bends over the side of the bed, scrambling in his pockets, and returns with a condom. Nudging my legs apart, he puts it on and sinks into me. My eyes roll, arching my back. He squeezes my large breasts together, taking turns sucking on each nipple. He inhales one in his mouth, teeth grazing it, until he’s satisfied, and does the same to the other. When he’s done, I have purple blotches on them and a circle of teeth marks.

I’m about to protest, except Miles holds my head, kissing me behind my ear. A moan replaces my words. His hips rock, sliding up and down, brushing against my clit. He continues to kiss me over my face, neck, and shoulders, rocking his pelvis until mine moves along with his. We’re lost in the onset of our rising needs. It’s Miles and me. Our bodies consumed by sensations. My release is so intense, I quiver underneath him while he continues to drive in fast. Miles dives in one last time, squeezing me closer, and releases. My name drips from his mouth like a dirty secret. We fall asleep in tangled limbs.