Edging Obsession

5

T here are four days left of my travels with the band, and up until now, most of it is occupied by Miles. Sex is our language. Sensual and tender, scattered into the normal of dark and brutal. He’s introduced me to new heights, compelled me in ways I’ve never deemed possible. All of it freeing. Miles motivates by pushing my limits. Sometimes I fight against him to show I’m not a pushover, but I give in to satisfy our needs, and Miles knows exactly how to do just that. This quick pace relationship is nothing I’ve ever experienced before.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. When Miles looks, touches, or kisses me, I get tunnel vision and can’t think straight, only about the incomprehensible need for him. It’s insane because I don’t know him, only in the carnal sense, intense and surreal. No one’s ever fucked me hard like Miles. There’s pain, but as he watches me it puts everything at ease and pleasure takes over. This unbelievable link we have is mind-blowing and terrifying. I feel as if I can’t breathe while at the same time, I’m breathing for the first time. The way he stares, the things he says, lures me in and sticks to me like flypaper. His demanding voice and personality make my head fuzzy. Not in a bad way…it’s just I’m reckless in his presence, and the wildness has me desperate for more.

The band has played in Boston and New York, and is taking a few days off. Today is one of them. After a full night of sexual fulfillment, Miles and I go to the band’s suite to see how things are going. Callan opens the door, a pillow covering his front. Without acknowledging us, he turns and stumbles to the couch, his bare ass visible. Miles breathes out a what the fuck while our eyes browse the room. Empty alcohol and beer bottles litter the floor. Cocaine and other drug paraphernalia are spread across the table. Naked and half-naked women are passed out on the floor and furniture.

From the floor, Ace grumbles, “Where’s the cat?”

Miles’ face turns to disgust as he asks, “What cat?”

“The one that shit in my mouth.”

Miles throws a pillow at him. All of the guys are exposed so he ushers me out of the room.

He jabs his thumb over his shoulder as we walk away. “This is why I don’t share a room.”

My hand slips into his and his scowl softens. “Isn’t this the life of a rockstar?”

“Not my life.”

I let out a little laugh. “My aching body disagrees.”

Miles gives my hand a slight squeeze. “Sex, yes. Getting wasted and drugs, no.”

It’s the last free day before I head home, and the band continues the rest of their tour. For once, Miles and I decide to leave the room and explore New York. He wears a NY baseball cap and sunglasses. I laugh at his disguise. While walking down the street, holding hands, I get a strange feeling someone is following us, and I periodically turn around to see. A huge guy, bigger than Miles, is always a few steps behind us. Glancing around, I recognize another guy I’ve seen several times when Miles is coming and going from the hotel or even ordering room service.

I tug on his arm and whisper, “There are a couple of guys trailing us.”

Miles doesn’t show any concern when he says, “They’re my bodyguards.”

Another glance behind, and I find myself advancing closer to Miles, hand gripping his. We do the touristy things in New York: Statue of Liberty, Empire State Building, and a walk in Central Park. He blackmails me into going up in the Empire State Building by saying he’ll make my evening painful if I don’t. Even though the idea of Miles inflicting pain on me is somewhat arousing, I am not sure how much pain, so I give in. Of course, my eyes remain closed, and the bodyguards stand close, blocking the side views. Miles holds me against his front, and walks closer to the edge, causing me to squeal.

“Jules, you’re bringing attention to us. To me.”

My heels dig into the ground. “Then let me go.”

“No! You have to get over your fears.”

I shake my head vigorously. “And you think this is the way? You’re crazy.”

A rumble comes from his chest as he refrains from laughing out loud. “It’s in preparation for what’s to come.”

My body twists to face him. “What’s to come?”

His gaze drifts lower to meet mine. “More experimental fucking.”

I shush him, eyeing the bodyguards. “Miles. Please.”

“What? Sex is natural.” A smug smile takes the edge off his face.

Again, I glance at the bodyguards. “Yes, but you don’t have to be so vocal about it.”

“Trust me, Jules, they’ve heard how vocal you are.”

I gasp and this time he lets out a booming laugh. My head buries against his shoulder while he enjoys the views and doesn’t push me anymore.

From there, we walk on the path through Central Park, people watching, stopping by fountains, and seeing New York from this perspective. We find a bench and his bodyguards stand like statues far enough for us to breathe yet close enough to stave off any fans. Miles’ hand rests on my thigh and inches upwards. I catch it and tell him to stop, nodding toward the bodyguards and waving at the people around us. Miles does it again and I’m unable to stop his hand. He unbuttons my jeans. This is where I end it by jumping off the bench.

“Jules. Sit.”

“Miles. No. I’m not doing anything here.”

He stands and says, “Fine. Let’s go to the hotel.”

The palm of his hand strokes the front of his jeans. I glance at a couple walking by and I start to head back. He lifts me and carries me through the park. My arm rests across his shoulders as I scrutinize his beautiful face. I dislike beards and mustaches, but on Miles, his designer stubble with a defined cheek and neckline, intensifies his masculinity and attractiveness. It also makes his stoic expression rigid.

Without looking at me, his brow cocks upwards and he asks, “What are you thinking, Jules?”

“About how handsome you are.”

His head pivots my way with a sly smile. “Devilishly. Don’t forget devilishly handsome.”

I chuckle and lay my head on his shoulder the rest of the way until a car pulls up to drive us back to the hotel. How the driver knew where we were is baffling, but I don’t ask questions.

Upon entering our room, Miles removes my clothes along with his. He places me on the table in the lounge area and spreads my legs as he crouches down. His eyes close for a moment when he takes a huge inhale of my pussy. When they open, he glances over at one of the couches and retrieves a pair of drumsticks. He takes the oval wood tips, lightly running them between my slit. My body surrenders to the sensation. The drumstick is different from his fingers. A teasing lightness has me spreading until I’m doing a straddle split.

Miles dips the tip of the drumstick inside me, and I gasp. I can feel my wetness dripping down my ass crack. Moving it in and out, he inserts the second one, both going deeper. My hands grip the side of the table, moaning his name. I close my eyes to get the full experience. Even these being so thin, they produce a shiver throughout my body, except I need him inside me. To be impaled and stretched on Miles’ cock as his trophy. If the drumsticks weren’t enough, his tongue circles my clit, the sticks pumping faster. I try to lift my pelvis, but without any leverage, I’m unable to. My legs begin to jerk closed, so Miles moves above my left leg, and holds it open while maintaining the thrust of the sticks. At this angle, his tongue drifts downward, licking, sucking, and taking my clit between his teeth. He applies pressure, the sticks sinking in and out at a rapid speed to which I come and come hard. I scream as he continues what he’s doing, my legs shuddering from my high.

I can see him dig into his pants pocket, rip open the foil, and roll on a condom. He tosses the drumsticks to the side and carries me to the back of the couch. With my butt on top and my back laying upside down against the back pillow, he opens my legs into a split and enters me. I’m wetter than Niagara Falls so his width doesn’t sting. I’ve never seen a man this horny, plunging into me at his speed. Miles’ thumb rubs my sensitive bud, sending me over the edge again, but it takes him several thrusts to come. He bleeds my name in a fluid fashion as he extends the orgasm, face twisted in pleasure.

After he’s done, he holds my jaw and says, “Jules. Fuck. I’m uncontrollable around you. First time for everything.”

I stand to kiss his cheek. “Same here.”

He cleans up the living area, putting the drumsticks on the table by the door while I hug myself, wishing we could cuddle. Miles knows how to deliver in the bedroom. It’s the intimacy he falls short on and that’s something I crave from him. To know our time together isn’t short-lived, and I won’t lose another relationship.

M iles and I take a long nap, with me in the bedroom and him on the couch. He orders room service, and we get ready for the night out. The band wants to be around their fans, so they chose a not-so-discreet nightclub. Miles bought me a clubbing dress, whatever that means, since I’m not much of a clubber. It’s a red silk, thin strap dress with an open back, draped in front, and hits mid-thigh. A dress I’d never buy for myself, yet the look in Miles’ eyes when he sees me in it has me caving in. I’m wearing silver strappy sandals to match. He lets out a sizzling whistle when I walk out of the bedroom. Even though he’s not dressed up, he’s still gorgeous as ever. Miles has on worn, faded black jeans, a fitted black T-shirt, and his beat-up combat boots. He makes everything sexy. And his natural scent is of a woodsy kind, adding a touch of leather.

He takes my hand and slides the other to the side of my face and kisses me. It’s such a tender moment, a rare moment, that my breath catches.

His lips plant a kiss behind my ear as he whispers, “You’re captivating, Jules.”

The tickle of his breath sends chills through me, pebbling my nipples. From the corner of my eye, I watch him scan my shoulder, neck, and face as if committing them to memory. My mind conjures up visions of him thrusting into me. Wearing a towel. Standing naked. His severe stare freezing me in place, commanding my body and mind, which both comply.

I place a kiss on his cheek and whisper, “And you’re devilishly handsome.”

He roars at the response of me repeating his earlier comment and leads us out the door.

Inside the nightclub, my eyes adjust to the lack of light. The flooring has squiggly black and white lines, and the booths and walls are swathed in browns, leather, and wood. Lights line the floors and upper walls, creating a muted tone. Rounded, bulbed chandeliers and a disco ball hover over the dance floor.

The guys sit at a large, rounded leather couch with two tables in front of it. There are snacks piled on top and a lone candle on each. My head whips to the left when I see a celebrity, but my brain freezes, unable to remember their name. I’m bouncing from excitement even though clubs aren’t my thing. The place, music, and celebrity sightings spike my energy. Miles wraps his arm across my back, resting his hand on my waist. It grounds me—a reminder I’m his for the time being. This thought zaps my excitement, because I want to be his forever.