Edible: The Sex Tape Read online

  The doors open and I gently place my hand on the small of her back to lead her to the double doors of my suite. When we step inside, her eyes widen a bit at the fully-stocked black granite bar on the left and the sweeping views of the strip through the floor-to-ceiling windows straight ahead of us.

  I set Killer’s cage down on the ivory marble floor and resist the urge to let my other hand slide down her back and onto her ass. Instead, I yank the black cloth off the cage and Killer squawks. It’s a shrill birdcall that can be quite startling if you’ve never heard it in a confined space like this.

  “You never told me your name.”

  She eyes Killer warily then looks up at me and smiles. “I’m Bridget,” she replies, holding out her hand.

  I take it in mine and bring it to my lips. Planting a soft kiss on the back of her hand, I allow my lips to linger for a while so she can feel my breath on her skin. Out and in. Out and in.

  She swallows hard then begins to pull her hand back. “I’m… I’m from California.”

  “So am I,” I say, nodding toward the bar and she follows me. “What part are you from?”

  She chuckles at this question. “Everywhere. My parents moved around a lot before they got divorced five years ago. Right before I went to college.”

  I slip behind the bar and grab a couple of martini glasses and a bottle of Grey Goose off the shelf. “So you graduated from college? And you’re here for one last hurrah before you enter the corporate world?”

  She blinks a few times then looks down at herself, as if she’s expecting to see a sign with her life story written on it. “Am I that obvious?”

  “Not really. It’s just a guess that happens to be right about fifty-percent of the time.”

  She narrows her eyes at me. “I should not be up here.”

  “Then why are you up here?” I reply, pouring her martini in the glass in front of her then dropping an olive in it. Plink.

  She eyes the drink warily. “Did you slip anything in here while I wasn’t looking?”

  I shake my head. “Sweetheart, you’re the one who came up here. You’re the one who wanted to pet my bird.”

  “What? I never said I wanted to pet your bird.”

  “But you do want to pet my bird.” I round the bar with my martini in hand. “I can see it in your eyes. You want to stroke him and love him and kiss him.”

  She draws in a sharp breath as I stop in front of her, my lips inches from hers. “What… what kind of bird is it?”

  I smile as I watch her lick her lips to make them more enticing. “Killer is a black eagle. He perches on my shoulder through the whole show.” I move my face just a bit closer to hers so she can feel my breath on her lips. “Then, at the end of the show, I set him free.”

  “And he comes back?”

  “Over and over again.”

  I set my martini down on the bar and grab the back of her neck as I lean in to kiss her. She tastes like strawberry daiquiri. She whimpers as I slide my tongue into her mouth and my dick twitches inside my jeans. I slide my other hand over her waist and back to her ass. I have to feel it.

  “Goddamn, Bridget.”

  “What?” she breathes as I kiss the velvety skin over her collar bone.

  “Your ass is perfect. It’s so round and… fuckable.”

  I pull her hips closer to me so she can feel my erection and she moans. Fuck. I should not be doing this. I’m going to be late for sound check.

  I grab her face with both my hands and look her in the eye. “I have to be somewhere in thirty minutes, but I have a little bit of a problem.”

  “What kind of problem?” she whispers breathlessly.

  “I want to bury my cock deep inside you. But first I want to take my time making you come.”

  She smiles and her eyes light up at the suggestion. “So what are you going to do?”

  “I’m gonna devour you and your perfect ass.” She grinds her pelvis into mine. “Is that a yes?”

  She nods slowly as she moves her hips back and forth. “Yes.”

  “Good decision. Max Milan is about to teach you how to have multiple orgasms before the bass drops.”

  She giggles as I pull up her black dress until it’s gathered around her waist. Then I kneel down on one knee and yank her black panties down. She steps out of them and leans back against the granite bar as I lift one of her legs and drape it over my shoulder. Her pussy is pink and glistening wet as I spread her lips and take her clit into my mouth.

  “Oh, my God,” she moans.

  Sucking gently on her pearl, I grab her glorious ass with both hands to hold her steady as she writhes against me. I flick my tongue over her clit as my lips form an O around it, holding it in place. She whimpers and trembles in my grasp. I massage her ass cheeks, then I slowly slide my middle finger between her crease and inside her. She gasps and doubles over as if she’s been stabbed in the gut. Then she lets out an erotic sigh unlike anything I’ve ever heard.

  “You like that?” I say, then I go back to sucking on her clit as my finger massages her hole.

  “Yes,” she breathes, digging her fingernails into my scalp. “Fuck yes.”

  I keep going until she convulses so violently I almost lose my grip on her. I stand up quickly before she can collapse, then I lift her up by the waist and set her down on the barstool so she can get her bearings.

  “Holy fuck,” she gasps, one arm draped over the back of the stool and the other resting on top of the bar, her chest heaving and legs still spread open. “I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my life.”

  I slide my hand between her legs and her eyes widen as I shove two fingers inside her pussy, smiling as I feel it contracting around my fingers from the after effects of the orgasm. “Yeah, I’d agree you’re slicker than the hotel pool slide.”

  She chuckles as I pull my fingers out and drag her moisture up to her clit. But when I move my finger in a light back and forth motion, the laughing stops and her mouth falls open in a silent gasp.

  “Oh, God!” she whispers.

  Her knuckles turn white as she grips the back of the barstool. I grab the back of her neck and kiss her hard as I caress her kitten until she comes, moaning and howling into my mouth. When she’s finished, I take my hand out from between her legs and let go of her neck.

  I place my fingertips under her chin and gently lift her face so she can look me in the eye. “Want to touch my bird?”

  She laughs as she pushes me backward. “Yes, but can I please have a minute to catch my breath?”

  “I’m Max Milan, sweetheart. I don’t even know what ‘catch my breath’ means.”

  She smiles as she shakes her head. “Okay, show me your bird.”

  I grab the handle on the top of the cage and lead Bridget into the living room. “Just have a seat. I’ll be right back. I have to wash up or Killer might mistake my hand for prey.” I return from the bedroom a few minutes later with clean hands and two leather gloves. “Put this on your left hand.”

  She pulls the glove over her left hand then stares at Killer as I begin undoing the latches on the bottom of the cage. I swiftly pull the entire top of the four-foot tall cage upward and she yelps when he immediately spreads his giant wings and takes flight. I laugh as she latches onto my arm, shivering as she watches Killer fly off to his perch in the corner.

  “Just do me a favor and watch him. I have to get one of his toys on the balcony.”

  “You want me to watch him!”

  “Just for a second. Just stand next to his perch and if he starts to flap his wings, hold your arm up—the one with the glove—and he won’t try to get past you.”

  I pull open the doors leading to the balcony and, as expected, Bridget yelps as Killer flaps his wings and takes off. I duck so he can fly over me and out into the dusky Vegas sunset.

  “Oh, my God! I’m so sorry!” she cries.

  I suppress my smile and instead put on a faux irate expression, then I turn to face her. “I told you to watch
him.”

  “I didn’t know what to do! Oh, shit! Will he come back? Oh, my God. I’m so sorry!”

  “That bird is priceless. It’s the only trained eagle in a Vegas show.”

  “But you’re the one who opened the door.”

  I narrow my eyes at her. “Are you saying this is my fault?”

  “Well… yeah. I mean, I’m not a fucking bird babysitter. How could you even trust me to watch your pet eagle?”

  I stare at her for a moment dumbfounded. Every time I do the bird trick on a girl, she always blames herself. But Bridget has quickly turned the tables on me.

  I hold my left arm up in front of me and Killer swoops in through the door and lands on my gloved fist.

  Bridget glares at me from across the room. “You knew he was coming back?”

  “That’s what he does.”

  “You’re a jerk!”

  “Oh, come on. You had to know he’d come back. That’s what he’s trained to do.” I smile at her and she just stares at me, her eyes wide with fury. But I’m more concerned with the fact that Killer looks restless, flapping his wings as he pecks my leather glove with his razor sharp beak. “Look, I’m sorry if I worried you, but can you please give me a hand? There’s a bowl of raw steak in the fridge. Can you bring it here and help me feed him?”

  She glares at me for a moment, then she heads for the kitchen and retrieves a large glass bowl from the refrigerator. She places the bowl on the coffee table and removes the plastic wrap. She catches a whiff of the meat and cringes as she turns away from it.

  “Ew! What is that smell?”

  “It’s snake meat. It’s his favorite.”

  It takes Bridget a few minutes to warm up to him, but soon she has Killer eating out of her hand. And she’s giddy over it.

  “He’s just a big baby,” she says, scratching his belly as I toss a piece of snake flesh into his beak. “Yes, you are. You’re just a big baby.”

  “Don’t get too friendly with him. Killer’s a notorious mama’s boy. If you treat him like a baby, he’ll never leave your side.” She laughs as she reaches for a piece of meat and holds her hand out for him to take it. “I’m serious. Before he started working with me, he was thirty-seven years old, in bird years, and still living in his mother’s basement nest.”

  “You’re so full of shit.”

  “That’s what I said to him the first time I met him. Trust me, you do not want to live in a basement nest. It’s disgusting.”

  She smiles at me and suddenly I can’t breathe. Something about this girl is different. It’s not just the fact that she’s the only girl who’s been brave enough to feed and pet Killer. Maybe it’s the way the light sparkles in her blonde hair or the way she makes me feel like I’m hanging out with a friend, not a conquest. I don’t know what it is, but I want to stay here and figure it out.

  Once Killer is fed and he’s back in his cage, I check the clock and realize I’m twenty minutes late for sound check. I already have four voicemails and eleven missed calls. I turn my phone off and tuck it into my pocket. Then I pull the black cloth over the cage so Killer can rest. He’ll be happy to have a night off.

  The Dirty Truth

  Present Day

  “Why did Barry have a family emergency in Montana?” I say, taking a seat in the chair across from the ex-girlfriend who makes a cobra look friendly. “Did you kill one of Barry’s kids so you could see me today?”

  “You’re unbelievable. You’d think that planet-sized ego of yours would have deflated just a tiny bit while your prison boyfriend was pounding you in the ass.”

  “Hey, I don’t know what you heard, but there was none of that going on in there. I’m not anyone’s bitch.”

  “Don’t make me pull up the sex tape link.”

  “Well, not anymore I’m not,” I clarify. “But of course I was your bitch. You’ll always be my Birdie whether you like it or not. You can’t quit Max Milan. That’s like trying to quit breathing.”

  “Still referring to yourself in the third person? Are you ever going to grow up? Because I got a phone call from a Hakkasan promoter last week asking if I’d been in contact with Max Milan.”

  “They called you?”

  “Yes, they called me. And I promised Barry I’d let him know whether prison had matured you. Barry and Hakkasan don’t want anything to do with you if you’re going to pull anything like the stunt you pulled two years ago.”

  I let out a hearty laugh. “You’re supposed to determine whether I’m mature enough? Are you fucking kidding me? I mean, I’m sorry, babe, but that’s not really fair to you. Couldn’t they at least get someone who has the slightest chance of resisting me?”

  “You’re a real piece of work.”

  “You’re the artist who painted me. Revel in your creation, sweetheart.”

  “Are you ever going to take responsibility for what happened?”

  “Are you ever going to take responsibility for what happened? I did twenty-two months of hard time and you never came to see me once. Never tried to apologize to me.”

  “It wasn’t my fault that you couldn’t keep your dick in your tight designer jeans!”

  “I wouldn’t have ever gotten the idea to make a sex tape with Kyla if you hadn’t convinced me to make that sex tape with you!”

  “Convinced you? I don’t remember you needing that much convincing.”

  “Sweetie, I know you’re getting old, but your memory can’t be that bad.”

  She picks up a pen off her desk and hurls it at me. “Asshole!”

  I duck and the pen hits the wall behind me. “Listen, Bridget—”

  “Don’t call me Bridget. My name is Elara.”

  “Whatever. Listen, Birdie, I know you want to take credit for signing me and you want the commission from the deal with Hakkasan. So I’m willing to let go of all this shit between us to help you out. Just apologize for swindling me into making that sex tape and I’ll sign with you.”

  “Un-fucking-believable,” she huffs, shaking her head.

  “Fine. Since you’ve obviously forgotten how this all went down, how about I refresh your memory. It all started when I came home from a show on April 26th.”

  “You remember the date?”

  “Of course I remember the date. It’s stamped on the fucking video.” I reach down and adjust my balls in my jeans, partly because my designer jeans are a little too tight, but mostly because I know it will divert her attention to my goods. “Now, if you’ll remember, you were laid out on top of the bar, naked, with fucking whipped cream and a cherry on your muff.”

  She tears her eyes away from my crotch and looks up at me. “There was no cherry.”

  “Yes, there was, because I remember putting the cherry in your mouth while I licked every bit of whipped cream off your freshly waxed skin.”

  She stares at me for a moment, lost in the memory of my mouth on her, then she draws in a sharp breath and focuses. “I don’t want to do this.”

  “Birdie, this is your job. And your job is to determine whether or not I’ve matured. If we’re going to work together after today, then I think we need to set things straight once and for all.”

  She leans back in her chair and closes her eyes. “Fine.”

  I lean back in my chair and get comfortable. “Where was I? Oh, yeah, I was making you come.”

  The Sex Tape

  Two Years Ago

  Birdie must have had a spa day today. Her pussy is freshly waxed, her hands are manicured, and she always wants to have sex immediately after she’s had a massage. Which is exactly why I encourage her to utilize the hotel spa as often as she wants.

  I lick the last bit of whipped cream off her sweet pussy, then I spread her lips to get at her clit. She moans as I devour her. Her hips squirm beneath me, her skin squeaking as it rubs against the shiny granite bar top. Then she pushes me away and presses her thighs together.

  “What are you doing?”

  She sits up and grabs the front of my T-shirt
as she slides forward on the bar. “I don’t want to come yet.”

  She wraps her legs around me and I smile as I slide my fingers inside her wet pussy. “It’s kind of late for that.”

  She pulls my hand out from between her legs and places it on her waist. “I’m serious. I want to hold off for now.”

  “Why?”

  She flashes me that sly, sexy grin that always gives me an insta-boner. “I want to do something different tonight.” Wrapping her arms around my neck, she leans forward and takes my bottom lip between her teeth, tugging a bit. “I want to do something naughty.”

  I brush aside a piece of a blonde hair that’s stuck to her lipgloss and look her in the eye. “What do you want to do, baby?”

  She lays her hands flat against my chest and pushes me back a little so she can slide off the bar. Then she kneels down in front of me and begins unbuckling my belt.

  “I want to do something we’ve never done,” she says, unbuttoning my jeans and sliding the zipper down.

  “No offense, babe, but I think we’ve done this at least a thousand times.”

  She lets out a throaty chuckle that makes my boner twitch. Pulling down my jeans and boxers, she smiles at the sight of my erection just inches from her mouth. She leans forward and I hold my breath as she plants a slow, sensual kiss on the tip. One of my favorite things about Bridget is how she starts a blow job by making out with my cock.

  I resist the urge to grab the back of her head and plunge my dick into her mouth. Instead, I lean my back against the bar and try to focus on not blowing my load too early. But it’s not so easy when Bridget knows exactly what turns me on the most. She knows exactly how long to stimulate the tip before she takes me into her mouth. And she knows exactly how long and how fast to bob her head, and when to ease up, to prolong and maximize the pleasure.

  Communication. You hear that, fellas? Communication. Tell your girl exactly how to give you a blow job and let her tell you exactly how to eat her pussy and your sex life will improve exponentially. ‘Cause let’s face it, the best sex is oral sex. Even when it’s not that good, it’s still amazing. But when you get oral sex from someone who not only knows what they’re doing, but they enjoy it, life is good.