Page 10 of Edging Obsession

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.

Miles 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.

6

Jules is taken in by the celebrities who pass us, some even stopping to say hello. A couple of bold women shake my hand and kiss it, ignoring the fact my other arm is around Jules. It makes her uncomfortable as she glances the other way. I squeeze her closer, and she turns, offering me a smile. A smile that will haunt me when we’re apart. She’s rare like a white peacock—a stunning creature. Although I mention her outer beauty, it’s also the way she’s taken to me, while at the same time, I’ve taken to her. An unexplainable lure, which hasn’t retreated.

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