20
M afia! One minute, I’m falling in love with a drummer in a rock band, and the next, I’m finding out he’s in the German Mafia. And to top it off, he was married and was about to have a child! The secrets. Lies. I had to get out of there even though I have no idea where to go other than to his house. Bile rises in my throat. My words to my parents from when we were flying here come to mind. I would never put either of you in danger. If I had the slightest knowledge or feeling Miles was dangerous, none of us would be here. Please accept what Miles has and hasn’t told us.
What was I thinking?
The instant attraction. The control. A different name. Did he prey on me because of my mental illness? His money from the band is the perfect cover for his true identity. And what illegal activities does his family do? Drugs? Sex trafficking?
I drop to the ground, crying into my hands, and shaking my head. Even with this new information I love him. God, I’m so stupid. He played with my emotions, saved my life, only for me to rely on him. Fall for him. Love him more than any man I’ve known.
Miles crouches in front of me. “Jules. Why did you leave?”
Astonished by his question, I lift my head, eyebrows caved in, and say, “Why? Are you kidding me?”
“If you’re upset about what I said, stay and talk about it like a grownup instead of running away.”
I get to my feet, seething, hands clenching at my sides. “Fuck you Miles, or whatever the fuck your name is. Fuck you!”
Turning on the balls of my feet, I walk away, hoping I’m heading in the direction of his house. Miles catches up to me, his strides in line with mine. The silence is thick with emotion. A discussion battle ensues in my head.
Stay and talk like a grownup? Oh, I’m so sorry, did my not wanting to listen to more of your bullshit secrets and lies bother you? Fucking asshole! He’s pretending he’s innocent. Like nothing he said should warrant my reaction. Well, fuck him!
He cuts into the discussion in my head. “It was inevitable I’d have to tell you about my Mafia life. With all that’s happened, I hadn’t found the right time to have the discussion.”
My feet halt, pivoting to face him, and I jab my finger into his arm. “No time is the right time! You charmed your way into my life. Seduced me. Devoted all your time on the road to me so I’d fall for you. I did. I fucking fell for you. My attempted suicide is proof. Then you saved my life, twice, and by then I loved you so much I would die for you. But I’m guessing your Mafia life had something to do with the first attempt on my life, too.” I turn my head, the tears streaming down my face, sucking them back in to focus on him. “The scar on your leg? That’s from the car accident you failed to tell me about, right? The wife and child you had and lost. There were plenty of times you could have told me about them.” A sob stops me from talking and I press the back of my hand to my mouth. “I fell in love with Miles Nash, the most popular drummer in the world. A man who stopped my heart with one glance. A gorgeous man who cared for me when I needed it the most.” My shaky fingers touch my lips. “How could you deceive me? Do you not have a conscience? I loved you!”
There’s a tick in his jaw, his face gone rigid. “Loved? So, you no longer love me? Just like that you go from love to hate?”
I’m shaking my head vigorously. “I didn’t say I didn’t love you.”
He takes a step into my space. “You said loved, as if in past tense.”
“I want to go home.”
Miles stalks toward his house. “Fine! I’m done. I’ll pack for you.”
His long strides have him at the house with me running after him. He takes two steps at a time to the bedroom, retrieves my suitcase, and tosses my clothes inside. It’s Carl all over again. Instead of Carl leaving, it’s me. Except it’s not me. I want to go but I want to stay. This is what he’s done to me. My head is a jigsaw puzzle again. Scattered thoughts, feelings, desires tossed into the air, falling in all different directions.
I run to him, grabbing his arm, shouting, “Stop. Don’t do this.”
Miles stops and throws his arms in the air. “What, Jules? I come clean and you take off, claiming you no longer love me, and you’re ready to go home.” He backs me up against the wall and screams in my face. “What the fuck do you want?”
His nose flares as he breathes hard through his nose. Eyes narrow, gluing me to the wall. My body is trembling from sadness, fear, and crying. Miles has never touched me out of anger. The fear comes from the thought of him being done with me. Tired of my ups and downs. I don’t know what I want. That’s not true. For starters, I’d like it all to stop. The secrets and lies. And most of all, I want Miles. Drummer. Mafia. I’ll take it. I’m sick in the head to accept everything he’s done. His deceit. Being his girlfriend has jeopardized my life…but he’s also protected me. He stayed even after finding out about what I did to my boss. That’s...that’s got to mean something, and not just control. My disgusting behavior was enough for him to flee, yet he stayed. Through my waves of emotions, he simply coasted, making sure I ate, slept, and spoke to the therapist. Looking at his gorgeous, angry face breaks my heart. I did this to him. I gave up.
My hands brace against his chest, pressing my lips together, and I answer, “You.”
Still glaring at me, his large hands wrap around my wrists, and he asks, “Me?”
The back of my head rests against the wall, glancing up at him. “Yes, you.”
Miles flattens his hands on each side of my head. “I might be a conceited, deceitful motherfucking asshole…” He takes a deep breath before continuing. “But when it comes to you, Jules Hunter, I lost my heart. Everything about us, from the first time we laid eyes on each other until now, has been genuine.” His words have me sobbing more, and he brushes them away. “I’m not that great of an actor.”
He steps forward, our fronts flushed, cupping my face, and kissing me. Just lips touching and eyes bolted to mine. A cautious apologetic kiss. Then Miles takes what’s his, which is me. His possessive, bruising kiss escalates the hunger. Miles sucks my lower lip into his mouth, bites it, and lets it go. The sting pebbles my nipples, and my brewing tornado of emotions need an outlet. I roll my hips into him.
Miles breaks the kiss, steps away, and says, “Oh no, Schatzi. There’s going to be some making up to do.”
“By all means, start making up.”
He gives me that devious lopsided grin, and in one fluid motion, his hands drop and he takes my hand, leading me down the stairs into his basement. The switch of the light reveals a similar dungeon to the one at his lake house, except this one has no windows. Black is the theme covering the walls and floor. The ceiling is white other than the mirror hanging over another Dore Alley Dungeon Bed. Even though it’s built of thick metal angles, the covers and pillows look cozy.
He commands, “Strip, Mein Schatzi.”
When he deepens his voice like a deep whisper in a cave, my core dampens, and I’m his for the taking. It doesn’t take long before I’m naked with him fully dressed.
Miles winds his hands around my hair, yanks me closer, kissing behind my ear. “Are you ready for some make-up sex?” I sigh a yes . He tightens his hold. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, Mein Lieber.”
“Safe word?”
“Triscuit.”
Miles guides me over to two metal hoops drilled into the floor about three feet apart and cuffs my ankles to them. His large hand runs over my ass, snaking up my lower back, forcing me to bend at the waist. I grasp the black metal pole in front of me, dangling handcuffs, and he attaches me to it. I’m bent over, holding onto the pole, legs wide open. My breathing increases with small intakes. It’s the anticipation, fear, his control, and my power, sparking life into my body. To feel free by surrendering. These are Miles’ and my private journeys of sexual exploration, and they tinker with my moods until bliss is all that exists.
His fingertips wander over my skin, starting at my wrist, along my arm, shoulder, down the side of my torso, tickling me. With a hand on each butt cheek, he draws circles over them, and I wait for the smack. But it doesn’t come. Instead, he sits backwards between my legs, and very lightly brushes his fingers from my ankles to my inner thighs. The gentle touch alone generates a decent amount of lubrication.
With his hands splayed across my ass, Miles puts his face by my pussy and blows on it. His tongue darts out, wiggling against my clit, and my eyes close. I feel everything Miles is doing to a point that I picture it. Opening my swollen lips, he slides his tongue from clit to opening while massaging my ass cheeks.
He whispers into my pussy, “Total sü?.” (Totally sweet)
My lips are sucked into his mouth as the tip of his tongue peruses the seam. I’m murmuring how good it feels. Telling him to take all of me. My head drops between my attached arms to watch him as I rise onto my tippy toes. Miles isn’t listening to what I’m saying because his face is shoved into my pussy, nose at my clit, chin by my opening, lapping up his saliva and my juices. Two fingers slip into me while he continues with his mouth. In and out. He’s slurping, running his tongue between my lips, and he shakes his head to jiggle my clit with his nose. My head falls backward, arching and screaming through my orgasm. I’m shaking like earthquake tremors—strong and unpredictable. Aftershocks wrack my body, but I can still hear Miles’ zipper.
I haven’t even caught my breath, and Miles slams into me. My hands clamp around the bar to steady myself. His hands hold my hips as he thrusts deep and hard. I’m crying out from a mixture of pleasure and pain. Miles ruts himself deep inside, stops, retracting in slow motion, then he bucks back in. Several more follow before his fingers press into my skin for leverage as he fucks me hard. My breasts are dangling, bouncing all over the place, and one of my manicured nails breaks off. I raise up on my toes, trying to find a better angle. Relief comes when his hands leave my hips.
Smack .
Heat spreads across my ass cheek.
Smack .
Then the other.
One after the other, he smacks my cheeks, and the blazing heat fires like a backdraft to my core. Tears splatter on the floor. An orgasm hits. I’m coming and jerking from my release and Miles’ strikes. My mind whirls into darkness; into a world beyond. Time slows and distorts noises. I hear Miles’ moans and curses, the slap of his hand, yet my head is empty of space. I’m snapped back, hearing Miles grunt through his orgasm, warm spurts flooding my insides. There’s a genuine peace while my arms hang limply from the bar. I can’t control the shaking in my legs.
Miles pulls out, bends to release my ankles from the bindings. With one arm wrapped around my waist, he frees my wrists, holding me so I don’t collapse onto the ground. My body resembles a noodle as he hauls me into his arms and carries me into a washroom. I’m exhausted, eyes wandering the place in a hazy fog. It has soft lights, gray walls, and stone tiles, and a whirlpool spa that fits six.
On top of the vanity, Miles reaches into a fridge to retrieve a bottle. A fridge in the washroom?
He hands me the bottle and says, “Drink this.”
Disoriented from fucking, I can’t even lift the bottle or see what it says on it. “What is it?”
“Gatorade. To replenish your electrolytes.”
It’s difficult to focus, so Miles uncaps the bottle, bringing it to my mouth. I gulp it down, not realizing how thirsty I was. When I’m done, he fills the spa, and then lifts each foot, inspecting my ankles.
I’m swaying on the counter, eyes half-opened, and I groggily ask, “What are you doing?”
“Checking for cuts and bruises.” He touches the bone of my ankle and I wince. “It’s just a bruise and will go away in a few days. In the meantime, I’ll carry you everywhere.”
My head rolls back, looking at Miles’ beautiful face. He bends down to kiss the tip of my nose.
He hits a button and soft classical music plays overhead. “We’ll bathe, I’ll wrap you in a fluffy robe, we’ll eat and cuddle in bed.”
In a shaky voice, I say, “I love cuddling with you.” He gifts me a stunning smile, tucking some hair behind my ear. “I’m thirsty.”
Miles offers me more Gatorade. While I’m drinking it, he places me in the spa, getting behind me. He has me tilt my head back to wet it, and he suds it up, massaging my scalp. I moan from his firm, yet gentle rubbing. These are the best times. I have all of Miles’ attention, and he’s so loving and caring. The cuddles, soft words, and caresses have increased since the beginning of our relationship. It seems my crazy bipolar behavior has brought us together. Out of everyone, Miles is patient when I hit my highs and lows, even though I see the strain in his resolve. Sometimes his life and my mental illness collide, but Miles reaches out and finds me, soothing both of us.
Wiggling my toes, he gets between each one, kneading my feet and gliding his thumb over the markings on my ankles from the handcuffs. The entire time Miles bathes me, he whispers how much he loves me. How happy he is to have me in his life. His Schatzi . And after all the cleaning, wrapping in a robe, and feeding me, he tucks me under the covers, slides in next to me, and we watch a movie. My parents are back at the guesthouse. They’ve left several text messages, so I let them know everything is okay. I’ll talk to them tomorrow.