The Casanova (The Miles High Club)

by T L Swan

  Fuck . . .

  The man’s a god.

  He slowly pulls out and then pushes back in, and the sound of my wet body echoes throughout the room. “Do you know how fucking hot that sounds?” he whispers. “Your body sucking me in.”

  He pulls out and slams in hard.

  “She wants it,” he says darkly. “She wants to be fucked hard.” He slaps my behind and the crack echoes all around us.

  I slip into some kind of out-of-body experience, a sub space.

  So lost in a deep arousal that I can’t even speak.

  Then he’s riding me, deep, punishing pumps, and I can do nothing but try and keep upright on my knees.

  “Watch,” he growls.

  He grabs a handful of my hair and pulls my face back to face the mirror on the wall.

  His dark eyes meet mine in our reflection and he begins to slowly pump me; I can see every muscle in his torso, every perspiration droplet on his sheened skin.

  My breasts are swinging as he pounds me and he tips his head back to the skies as he deals with the pleasure.

  There’s no mistaking our bodies are on fire together—this is pure, unadulterated lust.

  Something I’ve only ever heard about, I thought it didn’t exist in real life, but hell . . . I’ve been missing out . . . big time.

  He lifts his foot to rest it on the bed as he rides me, and the change in position tips me over the edge. I scream into the mattress and he pushes my body down so that my behind is sitting up. Completely open for his onslaught.

  Our bodies begin to slap and I can feel every inch of his beautiful cock.

  So deep . . . so good . . .

  His moans get deeper, louder, his grip on my hip bones is nearly painful, and I smile as I feel his oncoming orgasm overtake his control.

  This is how I love him, unfiltered and, just for the moment, mine.

  He holds himself and cries out as he comes deep and we both gasp for air. The pumps slow as he completely empties himself, and then he leans down and takes my face in his hands and gifts me with a kiss.

  It’s sweet and tender, so different to the love that we just made.

  He lies down beside me and we take our time with our kissing; we both know this is going nowhere, but damn it, he makes me wish it was.

  He brushes my hair back from my forehead as he stares at me and my heart constricts.

  Does he feel it too?

  “You’re very good at that,” he whispers softly.

  I smile shyly, overwhelmed with emotion.

  As if sensing my fragility, he pulls me close and holds me tight, kisses my forehead. “Sleep, baby,” he whispers.

  I close my eyes as I rest my head on his chest. It’s warm and safe here. If I could pick anything in the world to do tonight, it would be being here with him, doing this.

  I know that six days with this man isn’t enough . . . I already want more.

  He traces his finger in a circle over my bare shoulder. “Do you know how beautiful you are to me, Kate Landon?” he whispers.

  I close my eyes in regret.

  Elliot Miles is a heartbreak waiting to happen.

  Chapter 14

  I turn the tap off and get out of the shower, and wrap the towel around me.

  I watch as Elliot slowly pulls the razor down his cheek while looking in the mirror. “Does that hurt?” I ask.

  “Nope.” He rinses the razor under the hot water; he has a white towel around his waist and looks completely edible.

  “I hate the grating sound.” Fascinated, I lean on the bathroom vanity as I watch him.

  “You get used to it, I’ve been shaving for . . .” He pauses as he thinks. “Twenty-one years now.”

  I sit on the cabinet in front of him. “You’re so old.”

  “Thanks.” He taps his razor on the sink. “Although, you’re only as old as the woman you feel.” He raises his eyebrows. “That makes me . . . twenty-seven.”

  I take the razor from him. “Can I have a go?”

  “I’m not a ride, Kathryn.”

  I giggle as I hold the razor to his face. “Could have fooled me.” I concentrate. “I rode you pretty hard last night.”

  He chuckles as he pulls my hips toward him on the counter. “And fucking loved it.”

  I hold the razor up and bite my bottom lip as I focus.

  He closes his eyes. “This isn’t a good idea.”

  I slowly glide the razor down his cheek. “What isn’t?”

  “A woman having a razor in the vicinity of my throat, can’t end well.”

  I giggle. “I’m actually good at this.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  “Why are you shaving on holiday, anyway?”

  “Because I want to kiss you and my stubble is sharp as fuck.”

  “Aww . . . your first sacrifice for me.” I pause and smile as I run my hand through his messed- up hair. “You’re so sweet . . . Pooky bear,” I say in a baby voice.

  He rolls his eyes. “Hurry up.” He stretches his face out. “And don’t call me Pooky bear, it’s emasculating.”

  “Oh please, Mr. Miles, you do know that you’re going to be my bitch by the end of the week . . . right?” I tease.

  He smiles and takes the razor from me. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

  “What are we doing today?” I ask.

  “Whatever you want.”

  “Oh . . . what shall we do? The possibilities are endless.” I smile dreamily.

  He washes the razor out under the tap and then picks up my toiletry bag; he takes out my contraceptive pill pack and studies it. He pops out today’s pill and holds it on the end of his finger for me. I take it from him and swallow it down.

  “When was your last STD test?” he asks.

  “Why?”

  “Interest’s sake.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t want to use condoms while we’re on this trip.”

  I frown. “Why?”

  He shrugs as he leans in to kiss me. “I just don’t want to.”

  “No.” I pull back from him.

  “Why not?” He seems surprised. “I’ve never had sex without a condom before.”

  I stare at him as my brain malfunctions. “Never?”

  “No.”

  “So why would you want to do it with me?”

  “I don’t know, I just do.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to wait a bit longer.” I jump down from the cabinet and walk into the bedroom, go to the walk-in closet, and begin to look for something to wear.

  He follows me. “Why?”

  “Because it’s too intimate for me, that’s something you share with a partner.”

  “We’re partners.”

  “For the week, Elliot. That doesn’t count.”

  “No, we’ll see each other at home. We made a deal, remember? Exclusive casual.”

  I try to hide my smile; this is the first time he’s mentioned anything long-term.

  “Well . . .” He puts his hands on his hips as if outraged. “Have you done it with anyone else?”

  “Yes, of course I have. That’s what boyfriends are for.”

  “Well, I’m your boyfriend . . . for the week.”

  I roll my eyes as I get my clothes out and lay them on the bed.

  “That counts for something,” he says.

  “Not really.” I drop my towel and pull my bikini bottoms on.

  He takes me into his arms as he tries to sweeten the deal. “I’ll make it worth your while.” His lips drop to my neck.

  “No. Discussion over.” I pull out of his arms and put my bikini top on. “Get dressed, we’re going out.”

  “Where to?”

  “Anywhere away from a bed.” I smile as he bites my neck.

  “That won’t save you, I don’t need a bed.” He pushes me up against the wall. “I’m an all-surface kind of man.”

  I laugh out loud. “Shut up, you fool. It’s not happening.”

  The Canary Islan
ds are everything I ever dreamed of. Sun, sand, and sea, all with such a beautiful backdrop. We’ve eaten at the most beautiful restaurants, laid on the beach for hours and sipped cocktails at quaint little ocean-side bars until late into the night.

  This place is heaven, with old colorful buildings perched high on the cliffs overlooking the ocean; I’ve never been somewhere so utterly perfect.

  Three days.

  Three magical days is all it’s taken to transform me into an Elliot Miles disciple.

  We’ve talked for hours, laughed, eaten all the beautiful food, and made love in every possible way.

  It’s not awkward or foreign, it’s organic and beautiful . . . the kind of feeling that I have always searched for.

  His dark eyelashes flutter, his big lips slightly parted, and I watch as his chest rises and falls as he sleeps, the white sheet pooled around his hips.

  Elliot Miles is a force to be reckoned with. It’s not who he is.

  It’s what he is.

  For the first time in my life, I feel heard.

  And I know that sounds ridiculous, even to me . . . because, of all the things I know about Elliot Miles, being a good listener isn’t one of them.

  I lie on my side, propped up on my elbow as I watch him—I’ve been doing it for over an hour. I need to go to the bathroom but I don’t want to get up and disturb my uninterrupted view.

  My eyes roam down over his broad chest and down to his navel and the small trail of dark hair that disappears under the sheet. His skin is olive, his hair dark.

  Physically, he’s a beautiful man.

  But I know a secret about Elliot Miles: it could start wars, end dreams, and light up a city from space.

  His heart is his strength, and maybe it’s not mine to keep.

  But I’ll cherish this week that I had it in my hands, forever.

  His eyes flutter open and he frowns as he focuses on my face, then breaks into a slow, sexy smile. The one I’ve become addicted to.

  “What are you looking at?” he whispers as he pulls me onto his chest, holds me tight, and kisses my forehead.

  “Just your goat face.”

  He chuckles and it’s deep and husky and surrounds my senses.

  “Bahahaha,” he says.

  I laugh out loud. “Goats don’t bahahaha.”

  “What sounds do goats make?” He smiles.

  “I don’t know, but I know they don’t bahahaha.”

  He rolls me onto my back and comes over me, and his lips softly take mine. “Well, if I don’t bahahaha, you better make me moan.” He puts his knee between my legs to spread them.

  I smile up at him. Oh, this man. “You mean like a cow?”

  He chuckles. “I’m a fucking bull, Kate. I told you before.”

  ELLIOT

  I follow the hot little ass up the trail—black leggings, a white midriff tank top, and a blonde ponytail swinging as she walks.

  What a view to behold.

  Kate and I are climbing a mountain, and it’s steep. She turns and looks out behind me. “Oh El, look at that.”

  We turn and stare over at the view.

  She smiles wistfully into the wind and I stare at her. “It’s so beautiful,” she whispers.

  “She is.” I smile.

  Her eyes find mine and she gives me a shy smile. “I’m talking about the view.”

  I take her hand in mine and kiss her fingertips. “I know.”

  She smiles softly. “Can I take a photo of us?”

  “If you want.”

  She takes her phone out and puts her face to mine, and with the backdrop in the background, she takes a shot. She looks at it with a huge smile. “I want to see what you looked like on film before you piggyback me up to the top.”

  I laugh. “Angel, if you want to fall spectacularly down this mountain and die, let me carry you.”

  She turns and begins to walk up the trail again. “I could carry you,” she replies casually.

  “I have no doubt,” I huff as I climb. “Horses can do that.”

  She laughs. “You know I haven’t gone hiking in such a long time . . . since my parents died, actually.”

  I frown; this is the first time she’s told me this. “Your parents both passed?”

  She continues to walk in front of me. “Yeah, they were killed in a car accident six years ago.”

  Shit.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too.”

  We keep walking.

  “What were they like?” I ask.

  She turns. “My mother was like me.”

  “A sex maniac, then.”

  She laughs out loud. “And my father was the sweetest man on earth.”

  I keep climbing as I listen.

  “We used to have this thing that we would do together on special occasions.”

  I puff as I climb. Fuck, this hill is steep. “What was that?”

  “Eat Cornetto ice creams.”

  I smile as I listen.

  “Watching a movie, Cornetto ice cream. Something was celebrated, a Cornetto ice cream. When I got my first job, he picked me up with a Cornetto ice cream.”

  “I haven’t had one of those ice creams in years,” I say.

  “Me neither . . . not since he died.”

  We walk for a while. “What are your parents like?” she asks.

  I think for a moment. “Busy.”

  She turns and frowns, as if surprised by my answer. “And that bothers you?”

  “Not necessarily.” I walk for a bit. “I just never had that time as a kid to hang around and be bored.”

  She listens.

  “I went to boarding school from the age of seven. Holidays were always rush, rush, from one exotic resort to another.” I shrug. “I don’t know . . .” My voice trails off.

  “Will you send your kids to boarding school?”

  “Not on your life.”

  She turns as if surprised. “What would you do differently—I mean, to the way you were brought up.”

  “Give them my time.”

  She stops and turns. “You didn’t get time with your parents?”

  “Still don’t.”

  She stares at me for a moment. “What about your brothers?”

  “My brothers.” I smile. “They take up too much time, I love those fucks.”

  She giggles and continues walking.

  “We only ever had each other growing up. They mean the world to me.”

  We walk for a while.

  “Our formative years were spent preparing us to take over Miles Media. We all sometimes resent that we never got to choose our own path.”

  She keeps walking in front and I don’t know why I feel the urge to tell her all of this.

  “I should probably shut up now.” I pant. “This hill is getting steeper.”

  “Yeah, time to piggyback me, Miles. Impress me with your power.”

  I laugh and we keep climbing.

  “You know, I wish you were a plumber,” she says casually.

  I frown. “Why?”

  She turns. “Because then I wouldn’t have to share you.”

  We stare at each other.

  “And you could be a normal boring guy and fall for me.”

  That would be the easiest thing in the world to do.

  I smile softly. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  “If that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever heard”—she laughs and turns back to climbing—“you must know some real assholes.”

  “True, I do . . . I’m very good at cleaning out pipes though. So, I am a plumber . . . of sorts.”

  She laughs out loud. “I know. A damn good one too.”

  I lie on the deckchair and sip my cocktail.

  The afternoon sun is just going down over the water and the sound of the gentle waves lapping on the shoreline fills my senses.

  Kate is playing volleyball with some kids by the water’s edge. I watch as she laughs and talks with them as if they are long-lost
friends.

  She’s animated and laughing loudly, so carefree and happy.

  She’s in a white bikini and I don’t think I’ve ever seen something so beautiful and flawless.

  Calm.

  That’s what she is . . . she brings me a sense of calm that I don’t ever remember feeling before.

  I don’t have to try to be something I’m not, I can just be myself.

  She doesn’t care about my name or my money, or how cool she looks.

  She hasn’t worn makeup or styled her hair for our entire trip and I don’t think either of us have looked in a mirror once.

  It’s liberating not trying to impress each other. She’s seen me at my absolute worst . . . and I’ve seen hers; and yet somehow, we just work.

  I take out my phone and open my messages, smile when I see Pinkie’s name.

  I’ve missed her.

  Hi Ed,

  I hope your holiday is going well?

  Things are going well for me, my new boyfriend is turning out to be lovely.

  It’s cold here, wishing I was in the sun somewhere . . . next year I hope to be away.

  Enjoy your trip, in no time you will be back to being a garbologist.

  Pinkie

  Xoxo

  I smile. Kate’s laughter echoes and my eyes rise to watch the volleyball game.

  This is the weirdest friendship I’ve ever had. Pinkie Leroo is the absolute opposite of the kind of women I date, but she gets me, and I somehow get her.

  I like our friendship.

  What will I reply?

  We walk home along the water’s edge holding hands. “I got you something.”

  “What’s that?” She smiles up at me.

  God, this could go either way . . .

  I put my hand in my pocket and pull out two Cornettos.

  Kate stares at them in my hand and her eyes immediately well with tears.

  Fuck.

  “I mean . . . I just thought,” I splutter. “It’s our last night and all . . .”

  Her eyes search mine and she smiles softly and goes up onto her tiptoes to kiss me. “Thank you,” she whispers as she takes one from me. “You’re so thoughtful.”

  I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but never that.

  She drops to sit on the sand and taps the ground beside her, and we both open our ice creams.

  She stares at hers. I watch as a lone tear rolls down her cheek and I don’t know if this was the right thing to do.