Page 33 of Edging Obsession

“Fuck, Schatzi!”

The drumbeats quicken. I’m bouncing on his lap, fingers digging into his shoulders, but he doesn’t flinch. Quick beats.Boom.Bounce. Both our hair is sticking to our foreheads, gulps of air heating the other’s face, but our eyes remain locked. I’m climbing.Bounce. Strike. The edge is near.Boom. In sight. Juices drip between us and trickle onto his lap. A tinny sound tickles my clit.Boom. And I’m screaming Miles’ name. His arms strike the drum. Cymbal.Boom. One after the other, bringing him to his height. He drops the sticks, grabs my hips, and thrusts upwards, riding out the aftershocks.

My arms and head hang over his shoulders as I level out my breathing. Miles has me in a tight hug. His cock twitches while coming down from his orgasm.

His fingertips brush at the nape of my neck, and I whisper, “I love you, Miles.”

He kisses my temple, mouth against my ear, and says, “Right back atcha, Schatzi.”

16

It might not have been the wisest decision to invite Elise and Elliott to my home. Their incessant fussing over Jules and questions aimed at me become tiring. I get it, Jules means a lot to them, and the guilt of her not truly being theirs probably adds to it. In any case, I’ll deflect as many questions as possible, but there will come a point when I can’t hide my home life or occupation.

We arrive at the airstrip. My bodyguards circle us, and the aircraft crew retrieve our luggage. Elise and Elliott turn in circles, mouths open wide, while I clutch Jules’ hand. My head angles toward her, and a smile drifts across my face when I consider all the sexual things we’ve done. I’ve never had a bond quite like ours—terminally indestructible and a constant eroticism. Our libido and kinks are a match. She’s naturally fallen into the submissive role, allowing me to take the lead in all facets of life. And that’s what I’ve wanted. A mate to surrender her head, heart, and body to me. Our collection of pain, sin, and ecstasy, unites us. She’s my precious gem—my treasure—who I’d risk everything for.

Once boarded, Elise and Elliott run their hands along the soft leather seats, squishy to the touch, and investigate the buttons overhead. Each seating area, including the couch on the left, has tables. At the far back of the plane is a bedroom with a queen-sized bed.

Elliott lets out a whistle through his teeth. “Damn! Rockstar status pays well.”

Fortunately, he’s ignorant to the fact my money comes from other means. The rockstar life is a brilliant cover for the money I obtain in other ways. This is where things will get rocky, and why I’m regretting inviting Elise and Elliott. It was a weak moment on my part, and in doing so, I invited excessive questions, along with anger, and a bazillion other issues.

Jules and Elise fall onto the couch, holding hands, laughing, and patting the surfaces.

I step into the cockpit to check on the pilots and to say hello. In my line of work, one can never be too careful when it comes to caution. We shake hands, go over the flight plan and arrival time, and I head back to the group. Elliott is in a chair, reclined all the way back, feet stretched out.

He snuggles into the chair, sighs, and says, “I can get used to this.”

So far, there hasn’t been a barrage of questions.

The stewardess comes into the cabin, stands by me, and says, “We’re ready for takeoff, Mr. Wolf.”

Fuck!My brows cave, mouth fastens, and eyes bore into her. Everyone was instructed to refer to me as Miles. She recognizes her mistake, takes a quick inhale, and covers her mouth.

Elliott returns to a seated position. “Mr. Wolf?”

Now come the questions. Her ass is fired. I clear my throat, dismiss the stewardess, and inform everyone to buckle up for takeoff. Seatbelts click into place. From my peripheral, I notice Elise and Elliott exchanging looks. My eyes meet Jules’, and she wears a painful expression as she shrugs. The pilot speaks over the intercom, announcing our departure and the approximate time of arrival, and wishes us a pleasant flight. Once we’re above the clouds, the stewardess comes back out for drink orders.

Before she can leave Elliott, he touches her forearm, points to me, and asks, “Why did you call him Mr. Wolf?”

Her head turns in my direction, eyes begging for help, so I say, “Because that’s my name.”

Elliott’s hand falls away and Elise takes the chair next to him across from my seat. Jules is next to me and takes my hand. There’s tension in the air, electrocuting our nerves, which will remain until the elephant in the room is addressed. To avoid questions that might deviate from the subject at hand, I take charge of the discussion.

Jules’ parents sit wide-eyed as the stewardess places our drinks in front of us. I down my vodka, pointing to the glass for her to bring another.

“My name is Matthias Wolf, which is pronounced Ma-tea-us.”

They both gasp and their eyes set on Jules, who is staring at me. I forgot to mention it to her when I told her I was German. My hand brushes along her jaw as I plant a kiss on her lips. When I turn back, Elise and Elliott remain the same.

“I was born and raised in Germany, which I informed Jules about. What I neglected to tell her was my name.”

Elise folds her hands in her lap and says, “You neglected a hell of a lot of things.” Her voice rises with every word. “Not only were we unaware of your German nationality, but you’re not even Miles.”

I hold my finger up. “That’s not true. Miles Nash is my American name. When I moved to the States, I changed it because Matthias is too foreign.”

Elise narrows her eyes. “Legally?”

“What are you implying, Elise?”

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