Page 35 of Edging Obsession

Jules kneels on the floor, legs wide, palms facing upward on her thighs, with her head bowed. I groan just seeing her in this submissive stance, giving me control. My dick springs out of my jeans when I release it.

“Look at me.”

Her eyes glaze over my cock and hitch to my eyes. Jules’ mouth slightly opens, and the sight has me fighting to keep from deep fucking her throat. I wipe the pre-cum across her lips and she licks them afterwards.

“That’s a good girl.” She smiles, and my dick pulsates. “Hands behind your back and put it in your mouth.” Jules does as she’s told. Her head bobs up and down my cock. I stop her by holding her head in place. My pelvis thrusts into her mouth and the head of my cock touches the back of her throat. Tears streak her face, smearing mascara down, and she moans on my dick. The sensation has my head dropping back for a moment. I slide out, saliva dripping from it, and I tell her to stand and strip. When she’s naked, I command her to get on all fours.

The thick vein underneath my cock throbs. Before she’s even in position, I’m kneeling behind her, hands gripping her hips, and I thrust inside. Her back arches and I fuck her as if my life depends on it. As if she’s my last breath. Jules falls forward. I hold her with one arm, and my other hand plays with her clit. She’s moaning into the bed. I drive in hard, my fingers digging into her hips. I close my eyes, capturing the warmth and wetness of Jules. Smelling her arousal when she comes. Hearing her whisperMein Lieber, sets me off again, and I raise her back against my chest. I’m a locomotive. The speed I’m drilling into her is unfathomable. Her breasts are bouncing around until my one hand squeezes and pinches her nipple. She whimpers, trying not to make a lot of noise, but the slap of our bodies alone is loud. A couple more and I’m shooting cum into her without slowing down.

We both fall face down on the mattress, breaths heaving from exertion, and our sweat combines. I tear my shirt off, pull her close, and kiss her face and lips. She’s a habit I’ll never quit. I twirl her hair around my hand, tighten it, and tilt her head until our eyes meet.

“You’re a good girl, Schatzi.” I climb on top of her. “The best.” I kiss each cheek.

“Thank you, Mein Lieber.” Our eyes connect and we smile.

“You’re mine, Jules. Only mine. No one will ever see you naked, fuck you, or touch you without my permission. I own every inch of you.” She nods. “And you own me.”

Another round, and we fall asleep in the bedroom. We wake before Elise and Elliott see us walking out of the room.

17

My parents and Miles have come to a mild understanding, which is they’re both a part of my life and must learn to get along. I’m in love and fixated on Miles, tainting my perception or stance regarding his secrets. When he’s around, my senses go into overdrive, battling to endure his overpowering presence. Mom and Dad’s main focus is me and my health. They don’t see beyond Miles’ secrets. But we all have secrets. Things we shouldn’t or wouldn’t tell another soul. The kind Hades chews on to satisfy his hunger.

We’ve landed at Dusseldorf Airport, and another hour is tacked on to get to Miles’ home. I’m buckled in next to him in the backseat of the limousine, and my parents are seated perpendicular to us. Pumped up on adrenaline, I’m excited to have my first stamp in my passport, and the fact it’s Miles’ homeland is all the more special. I’ve been wearing a grin pretty much since we left the States.

Mom, Dad, and I crane our necks to get a better look at the scenery. It’s a dreary day, rain pelting the windows, distorting our views. Still, we scope out concrete ornate buildings and statues on the streets and in the middle of roundabouts. Miles explains that this is the North Rhine-Westphalia area, situated in Northwest Germany. While he talks, the car veers away from a large city, crossing into hilly farmland. The gloom doesn’t ruin my appreciation of the green meadows and valleys. Trees align the outskirts of fields. Where farmland ends, forests coat a sizeable portion until the next farm or village.

There’s a two-lane road carved into a hillside, winding along its perimeter as it climbs upward until we reach the top. A massive wrought-iron gate connected to a stone wall, which I’m guessing is twenty feet high, slowly swings open. The road continues ahead, squeezed between a huge expanse of land, overlain with trees, bushes, and flower beds. From a distance, I can see a house to the far right, and one to the left. We reach a circular section, embellished by a large fountain, where you can turn right, left, or go straight. The car circles and heads left. In front of us is a beautiful two-story, stone-built house, lavished in colorful vines attached to the left side.

When the limousine stops, we gradually get out of the car, and stare upward in wonder. On the right and left side of the stone slated aligned mahogany door are picture windows. I’ve never seen such enormous windows to where you can somewhat see right through to the backyard. Hedges outline the front, right below the window ledges, holding the last of summer’s blooms.

Miles’ arms circle my waist, and he hauls me against him and whispers, “Close your mouth, Schatzi, or I’ll give you a reason to keep it open.”

My face flushes even after the countless hours naked and in unceremonious positions with Miles. He approaches the door, unlocks it, and gestures for us to enter. The inside is as magnificent as the outside. Standing in the foyer, a beautiful chandelier hangs in the center, light glinting off the crystals, and reflecting onto the whitewashed walls. A wood door to the left of the foyer leads into a den. Aside from a rounded entranceway leading into the rest of the house, the living room, dining room, and kitchen are open concept. Evenly spaced, distressed wood beams run across the white ceiling, and atop a granite fireplace that takes up half the wall in the living room.

My parents’ mouths along with mine hang open, transfixed on all the detail.

Mom’s hand glides over the kitchen island countertop, and she says, “Miles, this house should be in Architectural Digest.”

He lets out a soft laugh, and says, “Thanks, Elise. I worked with an architect to get it the way I wanted it.”

Dad walks to one of the two picture windows in the living room and sighs out, “Gorgeous.” He turns to Miles. “Do you mind if I go out there?”

“No. Go ahead.”

My dad is giddy, opening the back door, and says over his shoulder, “I’ve never seen a deer up close.”

I gasp and skip outside with my dad. Miles’ backyard is a menagerie of small to medium sized animals roaming around the plethora of vegetation. They even make their way to the colossal patio, half covered by an overhanging roof. Miles has bird feeders and a small area where he tosses old vegetables for the animals. It’s a place caught between modern and frontier times. At the far back of the property is a forest, where the animals must come from.

We join my mom and Miles, who are discussing where my parents will be staying. Miles places bottled water and juices on the counter and asks what we’d like to drink. My parents and I shout out, “Coffee!”

While the coffee brews, he says to my parents, “You’ll be staying in the guesthouse down the hill. It’s in walking distance. Of course, the house isn’t as big as this one, but there’s more than enough room for both of you.”

Mom touches his forearm and says, “We’ll be happy in a hut. Thanks so much for inviting us.”

Miles retrieves the coffee, pouring four cups, and suggests we sit in the living room or outside. My dad declares outside. Tossing blankets over our legs, we sink into bloated gray couches, snuggling our mugs of coffee near our faces. We talk about the tour, but before we walk to the guesthouse, Miles receives a phone call. He excuses himself while we remain snuggled under the blankets.

Dad lowers his voice and asks, “Do you think his band popularity could afford all of this?”

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