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His mouth never parts from mine as he walks backwards, leading me toward the long off-white couch. I dig my hands deeper into his hair, wanting to keep his body attached to mine, his lips attached to mine. He seems of the same mindset as his hands clutch tighter at my hips, drawing me as close as he possibly can as we make our way steadily towards the sofa. Finally, he feels the backs of his legs come in contact with the edge of our intended destination and he takes that as cue to fall back onto it in a sitting position, bringing me with him.
Automatically, my knees fold beneath me on either side of his small waist, my hands releasing his now messier-than-ever black locks and instead opting to grip the back of the couch in order to better steady myself on his lap. His large hands reach behind me to remove my boots before he returns them to my hips. He groans in my mouth as his jeans began their predicted stretching, his arousal becoming more and more evident the longer we kiss. Unable to resist the urge building up hastily in my throat, I release a guttural—almost animalist sounding—groan that flows fluently into his parted lips, earning me a moan of pleasure in return, the rough sound of it only serving to make the small bits of space between us suddenly unbearable.
“Mmm…I love you…so much, baby.” He sighs, running his hands down the sides of my torso before skimming them back up to my shoulders. He lets one hand go all the way up to the wild trenches of my hair, massaging my scalp with his long, nimble fingers.
I moan; closing my eyes at the soothing motion of his fingers skating through my coffee locks…
Then he suddenly seizes a handful of the thick curls and doesn’t hesitate in yanking harshly on the bundle, causing my head to snap back in immediate response as well as a low yelp of surprise to escape me simultaneously.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised with his antics. They’ll be more of them before this night is over. No doubt.
He’s always been like this with me. My first time was probably the gentlest he’s ever been. Given, he did try to go easy on me the first few times we made love after he took my virginity; him being of the idea that my body was still sensitive and needed proper preparing before he unleashed all of his skills (I often rolled my eyes at this although he insisted). But ultimately, it didn’t really matter. He could never truly control himself the way he always liked to think he could. Nah-uh. Not when it came to me.
He’s always been like this with me. My first time was probably the gentlest he’s ever been. Given, he did try to go easy on me the first few times we made love after he took my virginity; him being of the idea that my body was still sensitive and needed proper preparing before he unleashed all of his skills (I often rolled my eyes at this although he insisted). But ultimately, it didn’t really matter. He could never truly control himself the way he always liked to think he could. Nah-uh. Not when it came to me.
I can’t help but smirk a little as he uses the newly exposed skin of my neck to his advantage, his mouth curling around the sensitive flesh there, his teeth scraping and his lips suctioning, no doubt marking me in his habitual way like he has a point to prove. Maybe he wants to prove to any guy who dares make a pass at me in the future that I was his first. That I belong to him, as he so eloquently put it. Or maybe he just wants me to remember my place the next time I decide to get engaged to someone else.
Not that I really mind.
Sure, I’ll complain to him about it on occasion—mostly, just to annoy him and give us something to argue about (he’s fun to pick fights with sometimes; in a sick way, I think we both get a rush from raised voices and insults being tossed between us)—but in truth; I like it. I like the way he gets possessive over me. I like that he doesn’t give a damn about sugar-coating his love for me and that he’s not afraid to admit it’s more like an obsession. I like that because I understand it. Because he’s my possession and my obsession just the same.
Sure, I’ll complain to him about it on occasion—mostly, just to annoy him and give us something to argue about (he’s fun to pick fights with sometimes; in a sick way, I think we both get a rush from raised voices and insults being tossed between us)—but in truth; I like it. I like the way he gets possessive over me. I like that he doesn’t give a damn about sugar-coating his love for me and that he’s not afraid to admit it’s more like an obsession. I like that because I understand it. Because he’s my possession and my obsession just the same.
Sometimes—I think as his hands make their way under my sweater, his mouth nipping at my collarbone causing me to groan embarrassingly—I can’t help but wonder how sex with the many other women he’s been with—including his current fiancé—compares to sex with me.
I can’t help but wonder if he’s as reckless, as careless when it comes to demanding full control of their bodies as he is when he yanks me toward him and whispers bad things in my ear. I can’t help but wonder if he likes to taste them the way he never fails to insist he feast on me. If he stares at them with the same jealous longing he looks at me with when he’s inside of me. If he takes the time to admire every piece of them the way he seems to worship each aspect of me that comes into sight as he removes stray articles of clothing that block me from his hungry view.
I can’t help but wonder if any other woman gets to see this passionate, uninhibited man with no restraints. If I’m the only one…
But I always come to the conclusion that, yes, I am. Because he’s the only one. And that’s all he’ll ever be.
“Take this off, girl.” He growls right on cue, his hands withdrawing themselves from beneath my sweater and instead seizing the hem of it so as to pull it over my head.
I hold my hands up obediently, eager for its removal same as him. As soon as I’m free, I hear Michael release a soft sigh, apparently pleased with his decision. I bring my hands up to part the curtain of curls that fell in my face when my sweater was discarded and poke my lips out to blow at the few strands that remain in my way. His eyes lock on mine and he reaches out to run his hand through my hair, brushing the locks out of my face as he does so. His bottom lip disappears between his teeth.
“Gosh, you’re beautiful…” He sighs breathlessly, his dark gaze flickering over my face and torso as though he were viewing a spectacular canvas for the first time.
His words make my heart stop and have me blushing despite the fact that this isn’t the first time he’s complimented me so genuinely. Not at all. In fact, he’s made it a habit to make me feel like a queen in rags on a number of occasions. But it is the first time he’s done it while looking at me partially exposed in a long time. Funny how every time always feels like the first time.
“Thanks…” Is all I mumble back, ducking my head and feeling my face burn with acceptance of the praise.
He places his finger beneath my chin and raises my gaze to his. He smiles slightly before whispering, “Don’t ever hang your head when I tell you that, girl. Know I only say it because it’s true,” and then he leans forward and captures my mouth with his.
I close my eyes and bring my hands down from the back of the couch to rest on his small chest. I distractedly fiddle with the remaining buttons that are done on his oxford, undoing them as he continues to play tongue games with me. His hands soon find their way to the snap of my bra and, like an expert, he easily unhooks the garment and breaks only briefly from me so that he can pull the straps from my arms and toss the black material somewhere over my shoulder.
I bite my lip and throw my head back, releasing a moan of pleasure as I feel his lips eagerly place themselves on the curve of my right breast, his tongue coming out to trail around the skin in earnest. My lower body automatically grinds itself against his jean-clad member, my own jeans beginning to dampen with traces of my arousal. The friction I create with this simple gesture has my heat burning with anticipation and my body quivering with keen delight at his presence beneath me. Equally pleased, Michael growls and brings his hand to my hips to push me down on him harder as he begins to thrust just barely, creating a sensual dance between our clothed lower bodies that has me begging to be filled with him. Screw foreplay.
“Michael…I want you,” I whine as he bites down on my nipple. I grind against him a little harder.
“Ssssss…” He hisses in response, pausing briefly from his treating on my breasts to lean his head back against the couch. “Girl, you have no idea…how good you feel right now.”
I smirk and lean forward to tongue his neck, enjoying the clean taste of his skin. Man, he smells good. “Mmm…you feel really horny. My fault?” I ask innocently as I press myself into his now very apparent bulge.
He growls and bites my right nipple causing me to curse and nip his neck with my teeth. He likes that apparently, judging from his low chuckle. Pervert. “Girl, you better watch yourself. As bad as I’ve been dying to make love to you; you’ll be lucky if you can walk tomorrow.”
“Mm, is that a promise?” I challenge, smiling against his collarbone. I suck harshly, making him arch his neck in response, then release my suctioning lips with a pop before leaning back to examine my handiwork. I tilt my head. “I think that’s the best one I’ve ever done.”
“Red or purple?” He asks, arching a brow.
I lower my brows. Suck my lip. “Hmm…kind of maroon now. But it’ll definitely be purple by morning.”
He smirks and leans forward to resume making out with my small boobs. “Mmm, that’s good. The purple ones are always the best.”
“They’re the hardest to cover up,” I frown, drawing from experience.
But he only chuckles and pops my nipple from his mouth just long enough to murmur, “That’s why they’re the best. C’mere, girl. I got something I wanna try.”
And before I can inquire what tricks he has up his sleeve, he’s wrapping his arms around my lower body and moving to stand up. I tighten my legs the width of his slim waist, my arms doing the same to his neck, and bring my mouth back to his in order to curve my hunger for his penis by handling the hunger I have for his tongue while it’s right here. He sighs into my mouth and gives me what I want but keeps his eyes open as he maneuvers us through the king suite of this Detroit hotel. I move my hands to the opening of his shirt and quickly shove the ends over his broad shoulders, letting the red oxford fall down his arms patiently waiting to be disposed of when he gets the chance while also allowing me better view of his lean chest through the thin material of his white t-shirt.
He takes us into the other smaller lounge area a short ways down the hall and past the mini kitchen where the bar is. But he reaches out one hand to seize hold of a leather-topped barstool before carrying it and me away. He comes to a complete stop, however, before a gold-trimmed, full-length mirror that sits impressively against the wall in here. My heart-rate picks up as I take notice of it and immediately begin imagining all of the wild things a creative mind like Michael’s might come up with.
Now I think I totally get the expression wet panties. Well, in a more literal sense, I guess now.
“Mm…perfect.” He mumbles placing me down and moving around me to place the stool directly in front of the mirror.
I scrunch my brows and shift my legs, trying not to get too horny just yet. What the heck is he up to? “Michael, seriously. Are you gonna start getting all insanely freaky on me now? You know, more than usual?”
He only laughs before pressing his finger to his lips, reaching out to pull me over. “Shh, girl. Let Cookie Monster take care of this. I just wanna see something before I start chomping on your delicious cookies…”
I can’t help but giggle a little as he leads me around toward the stool. I start to sit down but he stops me with a quiet, “Wait,” his lust simmering beneath the single word as he reaches around me to undo the buttons of my jeans.
I bite my lip and eye his reflection in the mirror as he lowers the zip before dipping his fingers in the waistband and…slowly…sensually…tug them down my hips, his eyes never breaking contact with mine through the glass. Damn. Who knew taking off pants could be so sexy? Finally when they’re around my ankles, I step out of them and kick them aside, the shyness gone out the window as my mind clouds over with thoughts of him entering me and stretching me so perfectly like he does.
God, it seems like forever ago…
I bite my lip and eye his reflection in the mirror as he lowers the zip before dipping his fingers in the waistband and…slowly…sensually…tug them down my hips, his eyes never breaking contact with mine through the glass. Damn. Who knew taking off pants could be so sexy? Finally when they’re around my ankles, I step out of them and kick them aside, the shyness gone out the window as my mind clouds over with thoughts of him entering me and stretching me so perfectly like he does.
God, it seems like forever ago…
“And these…” He whispers, resting his chin on my shoulder and turning his head just slightly to nibble at my earlobe. I close my eyes and moan, my hands instinctively flying to my red underwear. I can’t stop my hands from lingering over my womanhood for a second longer than necessary as I go to pull them off like he directs. At my slightly aroused action, he chuckles and places his hands over mine, removing them from my dripping middle to the sides of my hips, saying huskily, “Not yet, beautiful…”
I swallow, taking note of the phrase not yet and allowing a shiver to pass through me as I imagine what he could possibly mean by that. Sucking my top lip in, I lower my gaze to the simple red panties I chose this morning and gradually pull them down, stepping out of them very much the same way I did my jeans moments ago, and kick them aside. I look up at him and try to make an expression that reads, ‘Happy, loser?’ despite how oddly turned on I am right now.
And eerily, as though he can read my mind, he smirks, “Very.” And he places his hands on my waist, helping me onto the stool.
Seconds later I’m staring at my naked body being reflected to me in a very tall, very expensive looking mirror. My legs are slightly parted giving both Michael and I a very clear view of what’s waiting there for him whenever he decides to make use of it. I swallow a little, my tongue coming out to roam my suddenly dry lips as I gauge the sheer wetness of my arousal coating my lower lips likes some sacred juice.
“Mmmm…girl, do you see how beautiful that is?” He moans in my ear, his mouth resting there as he takes a step closer behind me until I can literally feel his hardness pressing into my lower back. I sigh and shift my legs uncomfortably. “Baby, I want you to look in the mirror…I want you to look at how perfect this body is…”
I open my eyes and do what he says. I bite my lip and frown slightly. I don’t know about perfect…my breasts aren’t that great. I honestly don’t know why he likes them so much; they’re so small…I raise my gaze to my face and scrunch my brows. My nose is pretty funny looking and my hair is way too curly. There’s so much of it too…Looking at how slim the rest of me is, I can’t help but wonder how he doesn’t whine about not having a whole lot to grab hold of during sex…
“Stop that.” He says suddenly, a tint of annoyance briefly overshadowing the lust in his tone.
I blink at him. “What?”
He rolls his eyes and bends to kiss my neck before locking his eyes back on mine in the mirror. Reaching his arms around and beneath my arms, he grabs two handfuls of my breasts and says simply, “Your whole body is perfection. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve laid eyes on to date—and trust me, babe. I’ve been many places.”
I blush again. Damn him. Shaking my head, I scoff playfully but half-serious, “You’re just saying that because you love me.”
He gives a half smile and says with his thumbs absently padding over my nipples, “Yes and no. I love you but that don’t mean I gotta call you the most beautiful girl in the world. I wouldn’t tell you that if it wasn’t true.”
Arching one brow at him through the mirror, I challenge, “Oh yeah? And just what would you say to me during sex if I wasn’t beautiful?”
He bites his lip and shrugs one shoulder, responding with a candid seriousness, “Nothing. I’d just groan and grunt a lot to fill your ego and let you come up with your own accolades for yourself.”
I can’t help it. I snort with laughter and bring my hand up to my mouth as I reach behind me to swat his shoulder. “Oh my gosh, you did not just say that out loud! Geez, you really have done that to some poor girl before, haven’t you?”
He only smirks and gives my boobs one more firm squeeze before releasing them and taking hold of my hands instead. “Nevermind that. Now shut-up and focus back on this faultless body…” By the end of his sentence, his voice has returned to that low husky tone brimming with sexual innuendo.
I suck my breath in and do as he says, feeling myself getting hot between my legs, thus moistening my opening for both of us to see via the large reflective glass right in front of us. Geez, this is really freaking erotic. His hands, resting gently over mine, bring my palms up slowly to touch along the top of my neck. I eye my reflection in the mirror as he gradually…drags one down…down my stomach … down… lingering at my bellybutton…
“Tell me, Asha….” He murmurs quietly into my ear as his lips kiss just barely at the skin right beneath it, “How wet did you get thinking of me since the last time?...hmm?”
His question catches me off guard with its crassness but soon has me sighing as he gently guides my left hand down…grazing the soft skin between my breasts…
"Did you ever think of how it’d feel to have me inside you again…how deep I can go, girl…?"
Did I ever.
He lets my right hand dip teasingly between my thighs before slowly dragging it back up. I moan beneath my breath.
“Mm…I thought about you, girl…all the time…in my bed…at night…I thought about how good you tasted when my tongue was deep inside of you…” He brings my hand down again and just barely presses my finger against my entrance. I gasp and arch my back against him as my own wetness drips along my fingertip.
His question catches me off guard with its crassness but soon has me sighing as he gently guides my left hand down…grazing the soft skin between my breasts…
"Did you ever think of how it’d feel to have me inside you again…how deep I can go, girl…?"
Did I ever.
He lets my right hand dip teasingly between my thighs before slowly dragging it back up. I moan beneath my breath.
“Mm…I thought about you, girl…all the time…in my bed…at night…I thought about how good you tasted when my tongue was deep inside of you…” He brings my hand down again and just barely presses my finger against my entrance. I gasp and arch my back against him as my own wetness drips along my fingertip.
“Do you feel that, Asha?” He moans, pressing his hardness against my back. I groan and arch some more into my own awaiting hand. He presses it down on my wet entrance harder, bringing my other hand up to clutch at my breast. “So beauitful, baby….Feel how wet, girl…isn’t that lovely…?”
“Yea…” I moan before I can stop myself. And without his egging, I suddenly become a little more daring than I thought was in me and I allow my finger to begin making smooth circles around my clitoris. Gaahhh that’s gooood…“Oooh…”
“That’s it, baby…Show me what I do to you…” He sighs, biting into my neck softly and squeezing my hand slightly so that I pinch my own nipple. Amazed at the sensation that’s being caused by my own hands, I cry out slightly and—growing bolder—drag a finger down to my entrance. I hesitate a little.
"Do it." He encourages hoarsly. "Feel how tight you are, babygirl…mmh, so tight…so wet for me…” His words making me hot and horny beyond belief, I groan and slip my finger inside of myself. He sucks air in between his teeth and presses his jean-clad penis—now harder than ever—against my back unconsciously. “How does it feel, baby?” He groans.
"Do it." He encourages hoarsly. "Feel how tight you are, babygirl…mmh, so tight…so wet for me…” His words making me hot and horny beyond belief, I groan and slip my finger inside of myself. He sucks air in between his teeth and presses his jean-clad penis—now harder than ever—against my back unconsciously. “How does it feel, baby?” He groans.
“Oooh…Michael…so good, baby,” I gasp, slowly beginning a rhythm with my hips and thrusting against my own finger. I arch my back, feeling his lean chest behind me and his teeth nipping at my neck, and suddenly I get the urge for more. The craving for more. the burning, aching need for more.
Imagining his thick, vein-riddled penis filling me up to the brim, stretching me in that painful way that tends to be so deliciously agonizing when he’s entering me…imagining him panting over me as he thrusts in and out…Gosh, he feels so good…he moves so good…so deep…I find myself slipping another finger in, the wet warmth collapsing on my digits as I begin sliding them hastily in and out of myself. The feeling inside of my cave as well as the feeling burning in my gut and along my spine as I go about pleasuring myself has me moaning desperately in my stool seat. For a moment, I forget where I’m at and who with. I just pinch my nipple between my thumb and forefinger and alternate between pumping my digits deep inside of my moist entrance and pulling out to pat my aching clitoris which begs for some fondling.
Remembering what Michael likes to do and curious to see what makes him so crazy each time he does, I hesitantly remove my fingers and bring them slowly up to my mouth…Tentatively, I run my tongue along them, coating it in my own flavor.
“Mmm…” I moan just as Michael does the same.
Suddenly I open my eyes, and what I see has me dropping my mouth in shock and unimaginable hotness as my thighs literally quiver and my slit begins leaking like someone turned on a faucet.
Michael’s standing slightly beside me now, his eyes on my fingers through the mirror as they linger at my mouth, his bottom lip being tortured like a prisoner between his perfect white teeth. But that’s not what’s got me hornier than a curb-side prostitute. It’s what his right hand is doing that’s got me hypnotized. Damn, if I knew fingering myself could make him sweat like this; I’m pretty sure I would’ve done it a long time ago.
My eyes flit up to his face before shooting back down. Mmm…he’s so sexy….
His large hand is wrapped gingerly around his now freed cock, his jeans undone just enough. His fingers grip the top, gently tugging the foreskin back and forth while his thumb pads rhythmically over the tip, his white essence trickling just barely from the tiny opening.
Unable to take the sight without becoming increasingly aroused, I moan and bring my now saliva soaked fingers back down to my heat, not hesitating in dipping two fingers inside of myself this time. Man…Michael has a way of transforming a girl into something her mother would be ashamed of in an instant. My other hand leaves my breast and, now desperate for some kind of relief, trails down my stomach to begin rubbing my wet bud while my fingers pump themselves to the image of Michael stroking his swollen length beside me.
Unable to take the sight without becoming increasingly aroused, I moan and bring my now saliva soaked fingers back down to my heat, not hesitating in dipping two fingers inside of myself this time. Man…Michael has a way of transforming a girl into something her mother would be ashamed of in an instant. My other hand leaves my breast and, now desperate for some kind of relief, trails down my stomach to begin rubbing my wet bud while my fingers pump themselves to the image of Michael stroking his swollen length beside me.
“Oooh, fuck, Asha…” He moans, closing his eyes and tossing his head back as his stroking becomes a little rougher. His mouth parts slightly to form the most delicous 'O' I've ever seen.
I pump my fingers in and out of myself faster as I watch his hand go…the delicious milky white oozing from his penis, slipping between his fingers…the thick blue chords wrapping themselves around his hardened shaft…the beautiful size of it…the way his foreskin moves down revealingly…and then up again while his strong hand works along with his now thrusting hips…Mmm…so perfect…I want it…I want to taste him…
“Ooh, babygirl; let me see.”
His voice draws my attention as he moves to come stand in front of me, his hand still working on his stiff member. My eyes remain glued on his masturbating hand even as he kneels in between my legs, my thighs draping on either side of his face as he stares closely at my dripping opening. “Move your fingers, girl.”
His voice draws my attention as he moves to come stand in front of me, his hand still working on his stiff member. My eyes remain glued on his masturbating hand even as he kneels in between my legs, my thighs draping on either side of his face as he stares closely at my dripping opening. “Move your fingers, girl.”
I do as he says, seemingly in a trance, and slowly slide my fingers free of my wet warmth. But that doesn’t last long as, almost immediately, Michael’s got his hand wrapped around my wrist as he brings my two fingers forward only to imprison them in another hot cave. I moan out desperately along with him as he swirls his tongue around and around my fingertips, as though unable to get enough of my taste.
Then, opening his eyes, he pulls my hand from his mouth just long enough to mutter, “I didn’t tell you to stop, beautiful.”
And I swear, I just about came right there.
But, swallowing, I bite my lip and bring my other hand over to rub teasingly at my clitoris as Michael continues sucking gently on my fingers. I close my eyes and groan quietly as I begin to trace my folds, barely dipping a finger inside of my drenched opening while he watches with an eager gaze. I glance down to watch his expression as I push one in…then another…I arch against myself just as he sucks the air in through his teeth, nipping down on my hand unconsciously.
“Mmm, Michael…” I sigh out.
But, swallowing, I bite my lip and bring my other hand over to rub teasingly at my clitoris as Michael continues sucking gently on my fingers. I close my eyes and groan quietly as I begin to trace my folds, barely dipping a finger inside of my drenched opening while he watches with an eager gaze. I glance down to watch his expression as I push one in…then another…I arch against myself just as he sucks the air in through his teeth, nipping down on my hand unconsciously.
“Mmm, Michael…” I sigh out.
“Nngh…that looks so good, baby.” He breathes. He surprises me by brining a large hand up to softly begin rubbing my clit with his thumb while I continue moving two digits in and out of my opening. “Yeah, girl…keep that up…mmmh…”
“Oh…ooh…Michael…baby…” I moan, trying to keep my balance so I don’t fall off the stool while also attempting to speed up the tempo of my pumping fingers in order to match that of Michael’s now frenzied rubbing. I spread my legs a little wider and rest them on his shoulders as I very gently begin moving my hips in time just as Michael starts lightly patting the sensitive area with his fingertips, my juices splashing a little causing me to groan out and arch my back. It's almost embarrising how wet I am.
“Baby…oh, shit, Michael…I’m gonna…”
“Baby…oh, shit, Michael…I’m gonna…”
“Do it, baby.” He says in a raspy voice and I notice that he’s slowed his stroking of his own member to a sensual pace as he continues to be a prime observer of my fingers each time they dip into my soaking heat. He leans forward and shocks me by spitting on my clit. My eyes pop open at his bold move but he only rubs it in as I increase my pace franticly, my orgasm within reach…Oh, God…
“Mmm, Asha, let go for me…let me see that beautiful juice…”
“Mmm, Asha, let go for me…let me see that beautiful juice…”
And, never able to deny him what he wants, I pump my fingers hard in and out of myself while he rubs and pinches my clit, his saliva dripping all down the fleshy area until, suddenly and abruptly…my body rocks with the strength of my orgasm and Michael has to release his length and my clitoris in order to grab hold of my hips to keep me from falling off of my seat as my legs quiver and shake on his shoulders. I scream out and dig my fingers deep inside of myself, feeling my juices seeping out and coating my skin. I continue to shudder when Michael leans forward to briefly and abruptly lock his lips around my clit, flicking his tongue out and around as he groans against my heat, tasting me and sucking my spewing essence in before pulling back to watch me empty onto the stool…
“Asha…baby, look at that. Sweetheart, you can’t even begin to understand how sexy you look when you cum.” Michael whispers, licking his lips as he straightens up. I moan softly, despite my body’s struggle to regain strength, as I watch him lick my essence off of his hand. Smirking at my expression, he arches a brow and asks, “Would you like to return the favor?”
“Is that a trick question?” I grin, already trying to climb off of my stool.
Laughing, he helps me up by securing his hands around my torso and pulling me forward. He pulls me right smack into his chest, locking his arms around me, his palms resting on the globes of my ass as he presses me close. I close my eyes when he moves to kiss me slowly and deliciously, his tongue grazing over my lips before parting them and slipping in to dance with mine. I groan and scrunch his t-shirt in my hands as I get a taste of myself on him while simultaneously feeling how hard he is against my stomach. Sucking on his tongue gently, I reach down between us and wrap my hand around his penis, moaning when I feel it pulse beneath my touch, his veins protruding incredibly.
“Tsss, girl…stop teasing,” He breathes, parting from my lips to close his eyes and press his forehead to mine as I began to carefully stroke his rigid shaft in my small hand.
Smiling, I whisper, “Alright, then.”
And before he can say ‘hell yeah’ I’m on my knees in front of him, unzipping his jeans a little more so that I can free a bit more of his incredible size.
Man, this thing is so perfect. I’ve only really had a chance to taste it once and to say I’ve been eager to give him head again would be an understatement. This baby is the best treat I’ve ever had in my mouth by far and I’m dying to taste his flavor again. It’s been so long since I just had him. Since I’ve been able to feel or taste or just make love to the man I so desperately crave so often. There's nothing better than satifying him.
Man, this thing is so perfect. I’ve only really had a chance to taste it once and to say I’ve been eager to give him head again would be an understatement. This baby is the best treat I’ve ever had in my mouth by far and I’m dying to taste his flavor again. It’s been so long since I just had him. Since I’ve been able to feel or taste or just make love to the man I so desperately crave so often. There's nothing better than satifying him.
The anxiousness building inside of me becomes nearly too much the longer I sit in awe of his anatomy. So without further ado, I grip the base of his penis and open my mouth, taking him in a far as I can manage. I close my eyes and moan. Now, that’s nice…
“Shit, Asha…oh, baby….yessss….” He growls out, his lips parting and his lashes falling as he reaches down to run a hand through my hair. He slowly begins to thrust his hips, gently forcing me to take him in deeper. And, of course, I accept his challenge and open my mouth wide before beginning to bob my head on him, enjoying the rich flavor of his pre-cum. “Asha…baby, I love you…damn, I love you, girl…uuhh, just like that…just like…yeahh…”
“Mmm…” Is my only capable response as I suction my lips up and down his shaft, fighting back the gagging as I take him in deep. He curses and strokes my hair as he thrusts forward eagerly, dying to touch the back of my throat apparently. Geez, you think he’d learn a little patience. Nonetheless, I circle my hand around his cock, massaging his meaty flesh before doing what he wants and opening my mouth and throat wide enough to allow him as deep as he pleases. Man, it's been a while.
“Fuuuuuccckkk…” He groans as he brushes past my tonsils, eliciting a slight gag from me as he pulls back out…only to repeat the process.
Soon, I’m moaning with him as his cum dribbles down my tongue, allowing me a pre-taste of what I initially did this for in the first place. I don’t know what it is—maybe the fact that I love him so much, or maybe the way I love George so much—but there’s something about his flavor that makes me trip out. Seriously, I would literally suck his member all day if it meant I could drink as much of his release as I pleased. He’s sooooo good….
Soon, I’m moaning with him as his cum dribbles down my tongue, allowing me a pre-taste of what I initially did this for in the first place. I don’t know what it is—maybe the fact that I love him so much, or maybe the way I love George so much—but there’s something about his flavor that makes me trip out. Seriously, I would literally suck his member all day if it meant I could drink as much of his release as I pleased. He’s sooooo good….
Suddenly, Michael grabs hold of his penis, knocking my hand aside, and he gently pops it out of my mouth, his other hand clutching my jaw firmly. I open my eyes and frown, my shoulders drooping.
“Hey, what are you doing?” I breathe. “Give it back.”
“Hey, what are you doing?” I breathe. “Give it back.”
This only causes his lips to twitch as though fighting back a smile as he begins dragging the tip of his penis across my cheek, pulling back and laughing whenever I turn my head (despite his grip on my chin) to try and capture it back in my mouth.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want this?” He teases, gently tracing the outline of my lips with his penis, some of his pre-cum getting left behind there as he goes about his taunting.
I eagerly swirl my tongue around my mouth to gather his essence, sighing at how sweet he tastes. How delectably bitter as well. Just as I try to snap at his shaft when it taps lightly at my lips, he pulls it away, tightening his hold on my jaw so I can’t follow it; all the while, laughing. I glare and reach out to punch his jean-clad leg. “Stop playing, Michael! Give me your penis!”
He grins and tilts his head. If he weren’t being such an asshole, I might go as far as to say the way he’s looking at me right now is borderline boyishly adorable. Raising one brow, he smirks, “Say that again. This time add ‘please’.”
I scowl. Is he serious?
He knows I hate begging. He knows I despise lowering my pride so much so that it’s got me sounding like a wanton whore in some back-alley. Well, screw him. He can take his stupid cock and shove it for all I care. I suck my lip into my mouth and glance down at it…it does look really good, though. Especially the way it’s gotten all big now…I lick my lips before shaking my head, realizing my mistake. I glance up at him and glare. “Give it to me, now.”
He knows I hate begging. He knows I despise lowering my pride so much so that it’s got me sounding like a wanton whore in some back-alley. Well, screw him. He can take his stupid cock and shove it for all I care. I suck my lip into my mouth and glance down at it…it does look really good, though. Especially the way it’s gotten all big now…I lick my lips before shaking my head, realizing my mistake. I glance up at him and glare. “Give it to me, now.”
I want nothing more than to knock the stupid smug look off his face as he slowly starts pumping his shaft with the free hand that’s not clutching my chin in restraint. My eyes are instantly drawn to his movement, my mouth literally watering each time his dripping tip emerges through the circle created by his hand. He groans and moves forward…reaching out to tap my lips lightly with it…before pulling back when I try to bite it.
“Just ask for it nicely and you can have it…and if you’re a good girl…I’ll even let you swallow the whole thing.” He winks conspiratorially. He loves getting under my skin. I think he thinks I’m prettier when I’m pissed.
Oh how I want to punch him and kiss him at the same time.
I groan and throw a mental tantrum, preparing myself to give in because, frankly, I really cannot begin to explain how bad I want him in my mouth right this instant (and the stupid prick knows it too, that’s why he’s standing there smirking like he’s just won a big prize). I open my mouth in order to let the stupidest words ever placed together in a sentence escape me when—like a light bulb—I get my own idea. He’s not the only one who’s got something the other wants. Hey, I just discovered his weakness (well more like he just pointed it out to me when he put that stool in front of the mirror).
Idiot.
I groan and throw a mental tantrum, preparing myself to give in because, frankly, I really cannot begin to explain how bad I want him in my mouth right this instant (and the stupid prick knows it too, that’s why he’s standing there smirking like he’s just won a big prize). I open my mouth in order to let the stupidest words ever placed together in a sentence escape me when—like a light bulb—I get my own idea. He’s not the only one who’s got something the other wants. Hey, I just discovered his weakness (well more like he just pointed it out to me when he put that stool in front of the mirror).
Idiot.
Smirking my own smirk of victory, I yank my chin out of his grip and move to scoot back on my knees until I feel the cool glass of the mirror pressing against my back. I kick the stool out of the way and settle down on the carpet…spreading my legs for him to see my excitement. Just like mine were a moment ago, his eyes are instantly drawn to the new view. He swallows and his hand immediately stills, his grip becoming vice on his now rigid cock.
Biting my lip, I place two fingers in my mouth and, keeping eye contact with him whenever he can stand to glance away from my dripping center, I lower them to my folds…rubbing for a moment…before dipping them inside. Automatically, I gasp and tilt my chin up, pushing my head back against the glass as my other hand moves to fondle my breast. I hear Michael’s shallow breathing and that only makes me do a little triumphant dance in my mind before returning to the task at hand.
Mission: Make Michael Beg Me To Treat George Like A Lollipop. I think the title’s kind of catchy, myself.
It doesn’t seem I’m far from my goal, however, when my knees fall sideways allowing him better view of my hand slipping between my saturated folds. I moan his name throatily for effect but soon find myself forgetting my mission as the pleasure builds up inside me, begging me to bring myself relief. Wow…maybe I shouldn’t have waited so long to masturbate.
"Ooh, Miiichael..."
"Mm, don't baby. Don't...You're makin' me wild, sweetheart..."
I ignore him, his quivering voice hardly convincing.
"Ooh, Miiichael..."
"Mm, don't baby. Don't...You're makin' me wild, sweetheart..."
I ignore him, his quivering voice hardly convincing.
This feels so good…If I would have known how easy it would have been to pretend I was with him again all those months we spent apart; maybe things wouldn’t have seemed so bad. If I would have understood the art of self-pleasure while imagining he’s the one causing it; maybe I could have spared the angry snaps given to my friends and my mother due to the horniness of my pregnancy. If I would have known how good it could feel with my own fingers handling my sex while my mind conjures up pictures of Michael’s perfection…maybe I wouldn’t have gone half as crazy as I did sitting around craving him as bad as I was this entire year.
Biting my lip, I suck on the fingers playing with my boobs before bringing them back down to tweak my nipples just as the digits stroking my hot opening speed up tempo, thoughts of Michael inside of me telling me how much he’s missed me filling my mind…
“Jesus Christmas, Asha. I can't—let me taste it.” Michael suddenly groans, reminding me of his presence once again.
And before I have a chance to say anything sly, he’s dropped down on his stomach in front of me and has already placed his hands on my inner thighs to spread me open for him. He immediately dives down and begins sucking hungrily at my entrance.
“Ahhh….yesss…Miiiicchaeell…” Is all I can manage as he slurps at me, flicking his tongue over my swollen bud every once in a while before suctioning my clit into his mouth whenever the urge hits him. My hips are literally squirming beneath his face and I’m crying out his name like it’s the only word in my vocabulary as he continues to eat me out, my fingers pulling roughly at his hair. Maybe this is a more appropriate reason to call him Cookie Monster rather than the blue dye…
“Ooh, baby, you taste like heaven…you know that?” He mumbles against my lower lips, licking along the creases down there. The whiny desperation in his tone surprises me, although I guess it shouldn’t anymore. “Mmmhh…sweetheart, I could eat you for breakfast…” He sucks my clit. “Lunch…” Circles my entrance with his tongue. Geez, I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on him for this long… “And dinner, girl. Mmm, look how pretty…”
“Michael, stoooopp it.” I whine, slapping at his head as I toss my own head back unable to bear the pleasure ripping through me. “This is…backfiring…I was supposed to…taste you.”
He dips his tongue inside of me and then pulls back only to smirk arrogantly, saying in a breathless tone, “Well, I got here first. So tough.”
I scowl and place my hands on his face, shoving him back aggressively. Closing my legs and moving away from the mirror, I say, “Hell no. I was the one who wanted to taste-test first and you took advantage of me.”
“You were also the one who started touching yourself when you know good and goddamn well that that’s my body to touch.” He argues back, sitting up and folding his arms.
I roll my eyes. He such a freaking two-year-old sometimes. “Well, I wouldn’t have had to had you not been a jerk and just let me finish what I was doing.”
“All you had to do was say please!”
“You didn’t say please when you jumped down here like a carnivore!”
“You didn’t ask me to.”
“Well…fine. You have to ask ‘please’ the next time you want to put your fat head between my legs.”
“I don’t have a problem with that. You’re the one who likes making everything difficult.”
“No I don’t!”
“May I please finish feasting on your gorgeous lady parts?”
“No, you may not!”
“That’s not fair; I asked nicely!”
“And I said no. Deal with it.”
“Fine. You can’t finish me sucking me either.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
We both sit in silence on the floor with our arms folded, glaring haughtily at one another, neither of us willing to cave first.
Leave it to Michael to argue with me about who gets to give head first. Wasn’t this ‘romantic night of passion’ his idea in the first place? He’s the one who was dying to make love to me and here he is being difficult. He’s always so damn difficult. Geez, why the hell do I even love him as desperately as I do? I don’t know why I bother yearning for his affection and his attention or why I take the time to fantasize about how beautiful he is or what an incredible lover he is when he’s so damn annoying.
Leave it to Michael to argue with me about who gets to give head first. Wasn’t this ‘romantic night of passion’ his idea in the first place? He’s the one who was dying to make love to me and here he is being difficult. He’s always so damn difficult. Geez, why the hell do I even love him as desperately as I do? I don’t know why I bother yearning for his affection and his attention or why I take the time to fantasize about how beautiful he is or what an incredible lover he is when he’s so damn annoying.
He’s such an asshole. He thinks he can have whatever he wants his way whenever he wants it and anything else that I might want doesn’t matter. I don’t make him beg when he wants to put his stupid, fat (shapely and amazingly talented) lips on my womanhood. I don’t make him ask nicely before he sticks his fingers in there or his tongue or his freaking penis. Just because he wants his stupid ego fed by making me beg doesn’t mean I have to do it.
I continue to fume silently (Michael always having a way of getting me riled up) when, finally, I hear him groan under his breath before letting out a sigh. Surprising me by relinquishing his power for once. For me.
I glance up just in time to see him moving back to press his back against the middle of the mirror where I previously sat. Biting his lip, he reaches down to grab the hem of his shirt and he pulls the plain, white t-shirt over his head, succeeding in ruffling his hair. He quickly rids himself of the material and tosses it aside. I catch my breath as I eye his small chest, riddled with traces of his Vitiligo. No make-up today. He’s beautiful.
I suck my lip in, though, as my eyes run over his slim torso. He seems just slightly skinnier than usual and I guess seeing him bare—really, for the first time since I got back (I can’t remember the drunken sex on the plane all that well)—is making me realize just how fragile things have been since we separated. I’m sure I don’t look entirely as healthy as I did a year ago, either, but I can tell things have really taken a toll on him just by how his ribs protrude a bit more than they did before we broke up.
Moving to pull his pants the rest of the way downward, he discards them and his briefs, throwing them aside much like his shirt. Once done, he leans back against the mirror fully naked and looks over at me. He gestures at his saluting eight and a half inches with a patronizing look that says, ‘Have at it, then.’
I stick my nose higher in the air, “I want an apology first.”
His lips twitch in amusement before he rolls his eyes and says, staring directly at me, “I apologize for devouring your goodies without asking nicely first and also for teasing you with my penis. I was out of line and would be honored if you would, please, suck my cock.”
He’s biting his lip to keep from laughing.
Unable to remain completely in character, I laugh out as well before nodding my head pompously and crawling over to where he sits on the carpet.
“Apology accepted. And just for future references? You don’t have to ask nicely. And I like it when you make me beg.” I wink, straddling his legs and bending down.
Unable to remain completely in character, I laugh out as well before nodding my head pompously and crawling over to where he sits on the carpet.
“Apology accepted. And just for future references? You don’t have to ask nicely. And I like it when you make me beg.” I wink, straddling his legs and bending down.
Ignoring his shocked look at having given in for no reason, I smile and grab hold of his penis. I instantly feel his veins protruding deliciously through the meat as I wound my fingers around the base of it. Mmm. Now for what I was doing before I was so rudely interrupted…I lower my mouth onto his cock, immediately going down on him as far as I can before bringing myself up all the way once more, popping him out of my mouth. I feel his hand come out to run through my hair as I began bobbing on him rhythmically, letting him sink deeper and deeper into the recesses of my throat each time. I manage to calm the gagging reflex after a while and begin enjoying testing how far he can go before I have to pull him out.
“Uurrgggg…you drive me crazy, honey…deeper, guurrrl…suck it like you missed me…”
Oh and I missed him so much.
I begin working my hand on the base of him, massaging the fleshy area as I slob on his knob before popping him out of my mouth and moving down to swirl my tongue around his ball sack. He shivers and presses my head down harder, apparently pleased with this. I pump his shaft with my hand at a higher tempo and continue alternating between sucking each of his testicles like they were jawbreakers… Mmmm, Michael flavored jawbreakers…
“Baby…let me get inside of you…lemme get…ooh yesss…girl, stop…I wanna be inside…” He begs, his body contradicting him as his hands press down on me while his hips thrust upward, telling me he doesn’t want me to quit at all.
I grin and open my mouth and throat wide, letting him almost scrape my tonsils this time. I groan, the vibrations causing him to shiver pleasurably beneath me as he all but whimpers.
Man, I love having power over him. I love seeing him go as crazy for me as I do for him whenever he takes his time to satisfy me. Thanking God for bringing him back in my life, I suck the thickening releases of his pre-cum from his tip and began swirling my tongue around his urethral opening, gathering the hot fluid greedily. Gosh, if he’d let me, I’d make him orgasm ten times into a glass cup, stick a straw in it, and drink him as a protein shake.
Man, I love having power over him. I love seeing him go as crazy for me as I do for him whenever he takes his time to satisfy me. Thanking God for bringing him back in my life, I suck the thickening releases of his pre-cum from his tip and began swirling my tongue around his urethral opening, gathering the hot fluid greedily. Gosh, if he’d let me, I’d make him orgasm ten times into a glass cup, stick a straw in it, and drink him as a protein shake.
“Asha…dammit, girl, you’re…killing me…ah ah…ahhhh…” He cries out between his teeth, his feet scrapping the carpet behind me. I know he’s struggling to keep from letting go, trying to hold his orgasm until a more appropriate time in his eyes. He hates cumming before me. No matter how many times I tell him it’s okay; he still refuses. I think it has something to do with his stubborn, pig-headed, male ego and his irrepressible desire to always be the best at everything. Even sex.
“Michael. Let go.” I tell him, removing my mouth to look up at him.
“Get on.” He mumbles, clenching his eyes shut as he struggles to swallow back the pleasure buildup.
“Nooo. I told your ass I wanted to taste you—”
“You’ve tasted me enough! Get the fuck on it.”
“I’ll get on it when I feel like i—ahh!”
His arms suddenly reach out to grab me, his big hands locking around my tiny arms easily as he yanks me up and towards him, my legs automatically straddling his waist. Holding my arms behind my back, he looks up at me and mumbles through clenched teeth, his eyes black with lust and his tone serious as he orders, “Reach back. And put. It in.”
A part of me wants to tell him no just to see what’ll happen. But the other part—the hungry part that’s been without him for too long now—wants to do exactly what he says. So, swallowing and biting my lip, I obediently reach behind me until I feel his hard shaft.
However, I hesitate before placing it at my entrance. His eyes turn steely as he waits, one brow cocking as if daring me not to. I bite my lip. Raising myself up just a little, I push his penis forward, letting it lay across his stomach, and lower myself down on it before he can say nay. Automatically we both groan as my wet slit begins stroking the heated skin of his length, pulling the foreskin back and forth…grazing and creating friction as I began rolling my hips against his flesh.
However, I hesitate before placing it at my entrance. His eyes turn steely as he waits, one brow cocking as if daring me not to. I bite my lip. Raising myself up just a little, I push his penis forward, letting it lay across his stomach, and lower myself down on it before he can say nay. Automatically we both groan as my wet slit begins stroking the heated skin of his length, pulling the foreskin back and forth…grazing and creating friction as I began rolling my hips against his flesh.
“Daaammn, girl…” He growls, his head leaning back against the mirror and his eyes closing as his hands tighten their vice-grip on my arms, automatically arching my back for me.
“Ooh…Cookie…Monster…” I gasp, closing my own eyes and quickening the pace, loving the way my clit gets the attention it needs rubbing against his penis this way. His skin is pretty much soaked now as my cunt becomes almost embarrassingly saturated. “Michael…”
“Please, Asha…Please, baby; I can’t take it. I just wanna be inside of you.” He sighs, and the vulnerability in his tone is what gets me. “I miss you…”
No longer there is the domineering jerk who likes being in control. In his place is a defenseless man just desperate to be connected to the woman he loves for the first time in twelve months without feelings of guilt or worry of tomorrow to weigh us down.
Because he loves me again.
Sucking my lip in as my heart swells with affection for the guy seated below, I feel behind me until I get a good grip on his member, lifting myself off of it just enough to hold it straight. But before I lower myself down on him, I lean forward and close my eyes, pressing my mouth to his in a slow, languid kiss. He sighs out against my lips and his hands release their hold on my arms so that they can bury themselves freely in my hair, dragging me as close as possible as though afraid of losing me again. Both of our flavors, still lingering vaguely on our tongues, collide and become one as our mouths and saliva intermingle in a heated and passionate lip-lock.
Months and months of wishing and praying to be joined together intimately again the way it should be reveals itself in the way his lips brush slowly against mine and in the way his hands trail from my hair down to graze the smooth skin of my lower back before running up again and clutching a handful of my curls, pulling just enough to show how bad he wants me. A sigh flows from my lips and drifts silently into his as I trail my hand down his thin, blotched chest, fingering his skin and letting my tongue battle with his as we exchange one another’s essence, getting high from the taste alone.
Finally, with one hand bracing itself on his shoulder, I use the other to hold his now pulsing cock steady as I…slowly…slide…down.
"Oh, sweetheart." He sighs contently.
"Oh, sweetheart." He sighs contently.
I toss my head back, thrusting my breasts in his face as the wondrous sensation of short-lived burning followed by unimaginable pleasure overtakes me, pulling me into its world of blissful sensation with each inch my stretching heat swallows of his perfect anatomy. He moans and leans forward to suck at my boobs, his tongue and lips working on my nipples and areola as I begin to move on him. I place both hands on his slim shoulders and begin dragging my heat upwards, almost pulling his cock out completely, before driving it back down and repeating the process with more vigor each time.
“Michael…Oh…oh…yeah—yesss….” I moan closing my eyes as he grips my hips, his mouth still being incredibly attentive to my breasts as he marks them shamelessly with hickies of his favorite colors, and brings me down harder on him while he drives up, meeting me halfway and creating the most delicious slapping noise as damp flesh meet each time.
“Uugh…so gorgeous…slower, baby. I wanna feeellll you…” He groans, closing his eyes and throwing his head back as I start grinding myself onto him slower, letting him feel every part inside of me. “I love you…God, Asha, you have no idea how much I love you.”
“I love you…too.” I sigh out, leaning forward to kiss him again as I circle my hips on his cock, causing him to moan loudly.
Soon, I dig my nails in his hair and began slamming myself on his pole, riding him like I’ve been dreaming of this day since I was conceived. Gosh, he feels so incredible. His thickness spreads my lower lips like pushing against elastic and I angle my hips so that I can feel him sliding deeper and deeper inside of me, filling me with his mass and destroying my insides with the power I’m crashing down on him with.
I scream out as he thrusts up and manages to hit that sensitive spot inside of me that he knows so well. Always able to find exactly what he wants inside of me. Somewhere along, I feel his hands sliding down my slippery back and coming to a pause at the curve of my bottom. His hands begin clenching and massaging the fleshy piece of me while I continue moving on his cock like an addict desperately taking in hits of her favorite drug.
I scream out as he thrusts up and manages to hit that sensitive spot inside of me that he knows so well. Always able to find exactly what he wants inside of me. Somewhere along, I feel his hands sliding down my slippery back and coming to a pause at the curve of my bottom. His hands begin clenching and massaging the fleshy piece of me while I continue moving on his cock like an addict desperately taking in hits of her favorite drug.
“Oooh…yessss, Miiichael…yes, yes…oohhhh….”
“Ride me, baby…God, I love…watching you…work on me…uugghhhh….”
Gradually, his finger moves until it’s circling the small opening of my asshole. My eyes fly open and I look down at him—never ceasing in my movement—as the thought of what he’s up to makes me incredibly hot and nervous.
He’s never ventured near there before…Well, Lord knows none of me is off limits when it comes to him.
Apparently he knows that too because he removes his hand only long enough to suck on two of his fingers, wetting them with his saliva, before bringing them back down to where they lingered previously. He doesn’t do it right away and I soon begin forgetting the idea completely as my hands fly up to massage my own breasts, enjoying the feel of them in my hands as I roll my opening over his cock, traces of my impending release already beginning to drift down his shaft whenever I raise up.
Apparently he knows that too because he removes his hand only long enough to suck on two of his fingers, wetting them with his saliva, before bringing them back down to where they lingered previously. He doesn’t do it right away and I soon begin forgetting the idea completely as my hands fly up to massage my own breasts, enjoying the feel of them in my hands as I roll my opening over his cock, traces of my impending release already beginning to drift down his shaft whenever I raise up.
Just when I’m sure my body can’t handle anymore sensation, Michael dips a finger inside of my ass just as I bring myself down on his now drenched penis.
“Shiiittt…” Is the vague scream that slips from my parted lips as the alien sensation overtakes me, causing me to shutter with a mini orgasm as he begins to twist his index in my ass while also thrusting into my heat. “Michael…that feels…oooh…”
“Mmm…baby, you feel so perfect…” He groans closing his eyes and increasing our tempo as he lifts and lowers my me on him harder, all the while his finger buried deep inside the tiny hole.
He begins pumping it in and out of me before trying to add another one in. I wince a little at the feel. It hurts some—like my virginity being fondled with all over again—but at the same time, it does something crazy to me and I don’t want him to pull out. Suddenly, I begin working his stick like a mad woman, bouncing on him and pulling his hair, loving the feel of him biting my breasts carelessly as he helps me to fuck him and love him and need him and take him and…gahh….oooh...The tip of his penis purposely slams repeatedly into this sensitive spot inside of me just as his fingers in my ass do the same and suddenly…
“Ooohh maaaannnn, Miicchhaeeelll….” I cry out as my body begins shuddering uncontrollably on top of him.
I dig my nails in his shoulders as my inner walls tighten like crazy, suffocating his pulsing cock and bringing it to a still inside of me as my orgasm washes over me. Waves and waves of euphoric ecstasy crash into me and cause me to scream his name as he helps me ride it out, his hands pushing against my hips so that they role deliciously, swirling his drenched member all around my inner walls as my essence begins to seep out and down his shaft, running over his pelvis, sticking our thighs together.
I dig my nails in his shoulders as my inner walls tighten like crazy, suffocating his pulsing cock and bringing it to a still inside of me as my orgasm washes over me. Waves and waves of euphoric ecstasy crash into me and cause me to scream his name as he helps me ride it out, his hands pushing against my hips so that they role deliciously, swirling his drenched member all around my inner walls as my essence begins to seep out and down his shaft, running over his pelvis, sticking our thighs together.
“Oooh…You’re so beautiful…when you cum, girl…” He sighs, kissing my breasts and tugging on my hair.
Then suddenly, he groans my name as my walls begin loosening just slightly, giving him room to start pumping me at a ridiculous pace.
Apparently not able to get enough access in this position, he wraps his arms around me and pushes forward, knocking me on my back while he hovers above now thrusting in and out of me in a frenzy. He grabs hold of my hands above my head, turning his head in order to continuously kiss my cheek and whisper how much he adores me as he comes upon his orgasm. I howl out and tighten my legs around him, digging my heels into his lower back as he wrecks my internal organs with his penis. His thrusts begin to pick up tempo and strength and I let out a gargled cry as I feel him smacking into the barrier of my womanhood repeatedly and with constant force. My teeth bite into his neck, drawing blood as pain and pleasure rack us both. Soon enough, he calls out my name just as his release squirts out and splatters my walls, painting them white with his love and devotion then oozing out of me as I arch into him.
He slows down, still pumping lazily inside of me as he catches his breath, my own seemingly lost forever as I pant like a dog in heat.
I gaze up at him just as he lowers himself down on me, wrapping his arms securely around my torso and turning us on our sides so he can look at me. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, placing kisses on my collarbone while we both struggle to regain our right minds. I can’t speak for a while and after almost ten-minutes, I finally manage to sigh his name out. He pulls his face from my neck and looks at me, his hand coming up to stroke my cheek.
I gaze up at him just as he lowers himself down on me, wrapping his arms securely around my torso and turning us on our sides so he can look at me. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, placing kisses on my collarbone while we both struggle to regain our right minds. I can’t speak for a while and after almost ten-minutes, I finally manage to sigh his name out. He pulls his face from my neck and looks at me, his hand coming up to stroke my cheek.
I bite my lip. Hoarsely, I begin, “Michael…that was—”
“Shh…” He breathes, moving forward to touch my lips with his. Then, still inside, he rolls over so that he’s back on top of me, his weight pressing against my body deliciously. Biting his lip and holding my gaze, he surprises me by propping himself up on his elbows and slowly …beginning a steady rhythm in and out of my exhausted sex once more. “I’m not done with you yet, girl. Not even…close.”
Instantly, I feel my body readying itself for him yet again as my arousal immediately begins a slow trickle down my thigh. I groan out, closing my eyes and locking my legs around his back, “Mmm, Michael…you’re going to kill me, stupid.”
He only gives a gruff laugh before summing up his strength and pulling himself out of me so that he can massage my sensitive sex with George’s body as he leans forward to capture me in a slow, toe-curling kiss. Brushing my lips with his while our tongues battle lightly, he reaches down to grip my hip in a large hand and…gradually…he nudges my still recovering lower-lips with the wide tip of his penis. Gently, he eases it back into me all the way, right to the hilt, his balls pressing against my skin as he shoves his full length in my small but hungry opening.
All. Near. Nine. Inches.
God help me.
& & &
Several hours later, after the remaining light outside the windows have disappeared completely and our bodies lay drained entirely from a night of uninhibited passion, Michael and I sit curled up on the floor before the now roaring fireplace.
It took us forever trying to figure out how to get it started and when I say there’s nothing like seeing a naked Michael Jackson waving a broom around the suite trying to clear the smoke out before the fire-alarm goes off; I mean it. I had a laugh watching him profess himself the man when he finally got it going right. He then cut the lights and dragged the comforter out of my room so we could drape it over ourselves and keep warm and cozy while we cuddled.
It took us forever trying to figure out how to get it started and when I say there’s nothing like seeing a naked Michael Jackson waving a broom around the suite trying to clear the smoke out before the fire-alarm goes off; I mean it. I had a laugh watching him profess himself the man when he finally got it going right. He then cut the lights and dragged the comforter out of my room so we could drape it over ourselves and keep warm and cozy while we cuddled.
I have to admit; being here in his arms again, shut-out from the rest of the world and free to relax in the warmth of his body-heat for as long as I want…it feels right. It’s almost like the world finally decided to turn upright again after spending twelve months on its head. I can’t stop my lips from smiling a little as I sit back against Michael’s slight chest, grabbing hold of his hand that’s wrapped around my stomach as I stare at the flickering flames of the fire.
He intertwines our fingers and leans forward to rest his chin on my shoulder, turning his head slightly to brush my neck with his lips.
Like he needs to do that anymore tonight. I’m pretty sure I look like a leopard now, thanks to the numerous hickies now officially bruising as the hours progress. I swear. I limped to the bathroom after I convinced Michael that there is such a thing as too much sex (which, I don’t know if that’s true or not—but hell, I had to say something to make him quit! That man gets up like a sixteen-year-old with an overactive imagination.) and the minute I saw my naked body in that large mirror; I screamed. Michael came banging on the door asking me what happened. Seriously; it looked like I was a severe victim of domestic abuse. My chest and neck area were purple with so many hickies, I could have been that awkward dinosaur who’s always bursting into songs with random groups of children.
All I can say is, Michael’s lucky I marred his neck just as bad so didn’t really have an excuse to kill him. Because I would have. I didn’t even bring my make-up bag with me on this stupid trip and Michael and I aren’t exactly the same skin tone. I don’t own any turtlenecks anymore. No scarves. So basically I just have to wonder around back to his plane, back to LA with evidence of our ‘encounter’ written all over me. Sure; I’ll hold my head up. I’ll wear my sunglasses and pretend I don’t hear Wayne snickering. But, boy, will he snicker.
“You practically glow in firelight, girl.” He murmurs against my skin, breaking into my thoughts. Then, curiously, he looks at me and asks, “Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?”
I roll my eyes but have to bite my lip to keep from grinning as I mutter, “Only about every other minute.”
I feel him smile into my skin. “Oh? And, uh, how long has it been now?”
I suck my lip thoughtfully, “Eh. I’d say…fifty-two seconds.”
“Ah.” He’s quiet and then, approximately eight seconds later, he brushes his lips against my neck and up to my ear, whispering, “Hey, Asha. Guess what.”
I grin, “What?”
“You’re prettier than a sunset.”
I blush a little. “Thanks.”
“Asha?”
“What?”
“Do I really have to wait forty-seven seconds before I tell you how you remind me of what a goddess must look like on her throne?”
“Well…it is proper etiquette.”
“Oh.” He pauses. “Asha?”
“Yeah?”
“Did I ever tell you I’m not really a gentleman?” He whispers, kissing my cheek.
Laughing, I twist my neck and shift in his lap in order to capture his lips in mine, tightening my hold on our intertwined fingers as I move.
I feel him smile into my mouth before he gently begins sucking on my tongue, his hand coming from beneath the comforter draping over his shoulders (and around me by extension) so that he can play with my locks, winding his finger in one of the russet ringlets as he kisses me. I sigh and break our gentle lip war, pressing my forehead against his as I begin fiddling with the small black hairs that curl at the nape of his neck, hiding beneath his now frizzy mane of long dark curls. I raise my gaze only to lock eyes with him while he watches me, his hand now running repeatedly through my locks as he stares right through me. I bite my lip, feeling my heart stutter a bit.
I feel him smile into my mouth before he gently begins sucking on my tongue, his hand coming from beneath the comforter draping over his shoulders (and around me by extension) so that he can play with my locks, winding his finger in one of the russet ringlets as he kisses me. I sigh and break our gentle lip war, pressing my forehead against his as I begin fiddling with the small black hairs that curl at the nape of his neck, hiding beneath his now frizzy mane of long dark curls. I raise my gaze only to lock eyes with him while he watches me, his hand now running repeatedly through my locks as he stares right through me. I bite my lip, feeling my heart stutter a bit.
“I don’t like it when you straighten your hair,” He admits quietly, leaning back so that he can view me better, a thoughtful look grazing his sculpted face. “I think your curly hair reflects you so perfectly—like a lioness.”
I bite my lip and smile, running my finger down his chest and letting it linger absently around one of the dark pieces of flesh there. I sigh and lay my forehead against his collarbone, his chin moving to rest on my head as he rubs my arm. “I think it makes me look crazy.”
“Like I said. Perfectly.” He jokes, earning him a slap on the chest. He giggles and tightens his arms around me as though afraid I’ll disappear at any moment and says in a voice more serious, “You amaze me, girl. You don’t even realize your own magnificence. You’re like a living breathing piece of Heaven just hanging around on earth and you don’t even know it.”
“Sounds like you.” I mumble tiredly, feeling the intimate exercise we just spent the last six hours practicing finally catching up to me.
I could fall asleep right here, listening to his heart. I swear, it’s like even his heartbeat sings a song…always in perfect key. I yawn a little and rub my nose against his skin as I breathe in his sweet scent now riddled with the vague overlay of sweat.
“Besides. I’m only average pretty—girl next door pretty. The girls you’re usually with are exotically gorgeous. Even your fiancé is a supermodel. Most of the girls you have sex with look like that.”
I could fall asleep right here, listening to his heart. I swear, it’s like even his heartbeat sings a song…always in perfect key. I yawn a little and rub my nose against his skin as I breathe in his sweet scent now riddled with the vague overlay of sweat.
“Besides. I’m only average pretty—girl next door pretty. The girls you’re usually with are exotically gorgeous. Even your fiancé is a supermodel. Most of the girls you have sex with look like that.”
All of this is said in a quiet kind of factual tone. I’m not fishing for compliments and I don’t mean to be a critic of his choice in women. I mainly just mumbled it because it’s true and I’m sleepy.
But apparently my observation doesn’t sit well with Michael and as soon as the words are out of my mouth, he’s pushing back from me slightly so that he can look down on me with a look that suggests I just insulted his favorite manikin (although whoever shaped that thing’s lips could use some tips). Frowning with that faintly annoyed air that tends to lace his features whenever I manage to put myself down—or rather, don’t seem to hold myself in such high regard as he apparently does—he shakes his head.
Rolling his eyes, he says like I’m missing a point, “Yeah, but those girls don’t have what you have, Asha. Not a single one of them; including my fiancé.”
Raising a skeptical brow, I ask, “And what is th—?”
“Everything I’ve ever wanted.” He whispers earnestly, cupping my chin.
My breath falters and before I know it, he’s pressing his lips softly against mine letting me know with a few gentle pecks that he means what he said. That he believes it. Despite how warm his words make me feel as they sink one by one into my skin and despite the way he’s brushing his lips along every spot on my face and neck…it hurts me to realize that all of me doesn’t believe him.
Even as we sit here, embracing by firelight after a night filled with him moving inside of me and whispering words of adulation just like I’ve been longing for since I bumped into him at that restaurant; a part me still suspects he’s not being completely honest with me.
Obviously, I can’t be that perfect to him and I know he can’t genuinely place me above all of those vixens he used to screw on the regular looks-wise, because if that were all true; I wouldn’t have spent the past twelve months raising his son without him or leading a life that didn’t involve him. If he really saw me in the picture he’s so good at painting (best when he’s having sex with me), then why was it so hard for him to tell me that he didn’t want his stunning fiancé because he wanted me instead?
I can’t help but wonder—as bad as I wish I wouldn’t—if he’ll find a reason to erase everything he’s confessed tonight once we’re dressed again, the fire’s been extinguished, and we’re on our way back to his happy life with his life-size Barbie waiting for him in his bed.
Bringing his mouth from where it was lightly brushing against my shoulder, Michael drags his lips back to my mine so that he can gently force his tongue inside in order to taste me again. He moves me off of his lap, never breaking our kiss, and lays me down on the floor once more, my head resting on the couch-pillow he tossed down here earlier as he moves to lay on top of me, bringing the comforter on his shoulders with him.
Moaning slightly into his lips, I spread my legs so that he can get comfortable between them and wrap my arms around his back, lightly running my hands along his wiry frame and stroking his spine with my finger tips. He likes that and shivers in response as he rests his weight on my breasts. He parts from my mouth so as to press his cheek against mine and nibble tenderly at my earlobe and at the skin below it—a sensitive spot for me as he’s well aware of.
Moaning slightly into his lips, I spread my legs so that he can get comfortable between them and wrap my arms around his back, lightly running my hands along his wiry frame and stroking his spine with my finger tips. He likes that and shivers in response as he rests his weight on my breasts. He parts from my mouth so as to press his cheek against mine and nibble tenderly at my earlobe and at the skin below it—a sensitive spot for me as he’s well aware of.
“Asha…” He murmurs as he continues sucking at the skin beneath my ear. I close my eyes and can’t resist rubbing myself against him a little as his hands move to, once again, interlock with mine beside us. “Baby…making love to you is the best experience of my life. I think…girl, I think I might like it better than performing.”
And that has my eyes flying open, my heart pausing, and my lungs taking a short leave of absence as the memory of what he said to me when he broke my heart comes sailing forward only to be knocked aside by his contradictory statement in this moment.
“Because I’d go to a concert and sing before I’d come home and curl up next to you. Because I’d choose a performance over your birthday without ever meaning to. Because I’d rather spend all day dancing with her then all night in bed with you.”
All those nights praying for a miracle, yearning for the day I could be just as important to him, mean as much to him as his career did, as his aspirations did, be as significant to him as that stage whose heart he’d never break because he loved her so…here he is. Here he is telling me what I’ve wanted to hear since he took my virginity and told me he loved me. Here he is saying it to me after months and months of painful days where he made me believe he could never love me that strongly and long nights where I was forced to push through the shattered remains of my first heartbreak and look at his son every hour of every day; the living result of that very break-up.
He kisses my cheek softly, tightening his hands in mine, and moves back to my ear. I close my eyes as he begins to whisper what sounds like a poem, pausing every now and then to place a kiss on my lobe, “Your words stabbed my heart and I cried tears of pain…’Get out’ I shouted. ‘These are the last tears I’ll ever cry for you’…so you left.”
He moves his kisses down to gently graze my neck. “I waited for hours but you didn’t return. That night by myself, I cried tears of frustration. I waited weeks, but you had nothing to say…thinking of your voice, I cried tears of loneliness.”
He moves his kisses down to gently graze my neck. “I waited for hours but you didn’t return. That night by myself, I cried tears of frustration. I waited weeks, but you had nothing to say…thinking of your voice, I cried tears of loneliness.”
I bite my lip and tilt my chin, closing my eyes as he moves to trail his lips down my chest, stopping below the curve of my breast to place butterfly kisses.
I tighten my fingers on his, listening to his words as he continues, “I waited months, but you left no sign for me…In the depths of my heart, I cried tears of despair.”
Maintaining his tender displays of affection, he kisses down my stomach, releasing my grip and dragging his hands down my sides, barely grazing my skin with his fingertips, causing me to shiver just slightly. “How strange that all these tears could not wash away the hurt! …Then one thought of you pierced my bitterness.”
I tighten my fingers on his, listening to his words as he continues, “I waited months, but you left no sign for me…In the depths of my heart, I cried tears of despair.”
Maintaining his tender displays of affection, he kisses down my stomach, releasing my grip and dragging his hands down my sides, barely grazing my skin with his fingertips, causing me to shiver just slightly. “How strange that all these tears could not wash away the hurt! …Then one thought of you pierced my bitterness.”
He kisses my navel. Softly. Tenderly caressing the skin there. “I remembered you in the sunlight, with a smile as sweet as May wine.”
He moves lower still, delicately placing his lips at my pelvis. “A tear of gratitude started to fall, and miraculously…”
And finally, he reaches my place of utmost sacredness, and he carefully begins placing airy kisses along my womanhood. I close my eyes and bite my lip to keep from moaning out and ruining the tenderness of the moment. Not that he would mind, I’m sure. “You were back.”
He moves lower still, delicately placing his lips at my pelvis. “A tear of gratitude started to fall, and miraculously…”
And finally, he reaches my place of utmost sacredness, and he carefully begins placing airy kisses along my womanhood. I close my eyes and bite my lip to keep from moaning out and ruining the tenderness of the moment. Not that he would mind, I’m sure. “You were back.”
Gradually, he climbs up my body once again, returning to his previous position over me, his fingers reengaging themselves with mine while his other hand affectionately brushes over my cheek. His dark eyes trace my face in a way that suggests pure worship of my features. Quietly he whispers, “Soft fingers touched my cheek…and you bent over for a kiss…”
And with that he leans down and only just barely grazes my lips, parted in sweet anticipation of his touch already. But despite the lack of excess ardor, the simplistic yet incredibly sensual delivery of this particular kiss is one that has my toes curling and my body arching into his as I beg silently for more.
Yet he only leans forward, pressing his chest into mine once more, and drags his face gingerly along my cheek, finally resting his forehead there as he murmurs, “ ‘Why have you come?’ I whispered… ‘To wipe away your last tear’ you replied…”
Yet he only leans forward, pressing his chest into mine once more, and drags his face gingerly along my cheek, finally resting his forehead there as he murmurs, “ ‘Why have you come?’ I whispered… ‘To wipe away your last tear’ you replied…”
Leaning back just slightly so as to look upon my face again, his dark eyes take in every curve and bump of my countenance. His fingers trail lightly from my forehead…down my nose…over my lips…then back up to brush an imaginary tear from my cheek, murmuring, “It was the one you saved for me.”
As he finishes the poem, he makes no move to change position or to lower the level of intensity in his gaze, nor even to remove his fingers from my lips where they now linger. And suddenly, his presence makes me immensely intoxicated yet again and I soon find myself losing my soul in the dark depths of his incredibly soulful eyes.
Reaching up to run my hands through his long black hair, I whisper breathlessly, “That was beautiful. What was it?”
At that he gives a little half smile, tapping my cheek. “The Last Tear. You never got to read it.”
And abruptly I remember the book of poems and reflections he wrote that I spent a lot of time reading in rapid fascination but that—through all of the chaos that followed my receiving it—I somehow forgot to finish. I can’t believe the little things he remembers that I tell him. I find it hard to imagine that he listens so well when I speak.
I smile at him. “Thank you.”
“I love you, Asha Amelia.” Is his simple response.
Unable to resist a smile, I run my fingers through his hair before dragging my hands to cup his cheeks. In this moment, I find myself thinking how incredibly handsome he is. “I love you too, Michael Joseph. I love you so much it hurts.”
Suddenly, he bites his lip and his brows lower as an apparent serious thought travels through his mind.
Then, quickly, he’s leaning down to press my mouth against his in a fleeting kiss before pulling away and whispering with a sudden earnest that catches me completely off guard, “Marry me, Asha.”
Then, quickly, he’s leaning down to press my mouth against his in a fleeting kiss before pulling away and whispering with a sudden earnest that catches me completely off guard, “Marry me, Asha.”
Huh??
I stare at him for a minute, his words taking a moment to register. Finally, I stutter, “W-What did you just say?”
Eagerly, he releases our hands and moves to rest on his elbows as he looks down on me bright-eyed. “I said marry me. Listen, I know we just got back together and right now it’s a little confusing because I have a fiancé and you have a fiancé but nevermind all that because we’re in love. Right? I mean, this is what we always wanted! Asha, we can be together and we can start a family—and I know you already have a son and everything and I can’t say how your boyfriend’s gonna feel about this but I don’t know; I think I would make a pretty good stepdad and eventually—and by that, I mean fairly soon—we can get started on our own children. And our life together. Asha, our life.” He reaches out to brush a curl from my eye, whispering, “We can finally have a life together, girl. Isn’t this what we always wanted?”
I blink rapidly, his hastily-spoken string of suggestions dancing around my ears, dizzying me with the idea of it all.
Marriage? He wants to marry me? Start a family…start a life together…be with me. He wants to be with me forever.
My throat tightens a little and I have to avert my gaze.
Normally, my response to this uncomplicated statement of adoration would be an easy return of words; normally, I’d probably scream and kiss him like crazy; normally, this would probably lead to another insane bout of sexing and more loving confessions. But for some reason, this particular instance, his words carry a heavy weight that it leaves sitting right on my chest, his declaration from earlier coming to mind and reminding me so much of his previous one.
He says he’s willing to risk it. He says he wants to. But…isn’t that exactly what he told me before? Before he turned his back on me and left me in the cold? Why now? But more importantly…why not then?
He says he’s willing to risk it. He says he wants to. But…isn’t that exactly what he told me before? Before he turned his back on me and left me in the cold? Why now? But more importantly…why not then?
Why not when I handed myself and my virginity to him on a silver platter? Why not when I all but begged him to make love to me? Why not when I confessed to him all the things I kept silent about up until he convinced me it was okay to let it out—the way he refused to do in return for me? Why not when I cried and pleaded for him not to leave me; when I told him I’d do anything if he’d just stay? Why not when he came into that bathroom on a mission to break what little resolve I had left to love him? Why not he told me to hate him—when he practically forced me to give up on him…when it was clear I didn’t want to?
Why not then?
All of a sudden the anger, the hurt, the resentment, all of those things I buried beneath the exterior for so long now in an effort to just move on from it…it’s all coming back. And suddenly…I just want an explanation. Before I talk to him about all that’s happened since he broke up with me, before I tell him how bad I’ve always wanted to be officially accepted into his life, before I tell him all the things he’s missed out on in regards of our son…I want him to tell me why he even had to.
“Asha?” He whispers, breaking into my thoughts as he brings a hand up to stroke my cheek, obviously surprised by my lack of enthusiasm. “Baby, why aren’t y—”
“Michael, why did you do it?” I blurt, my gaze focused beside us on the flickering flames as I try to swallow back months worth of dejection. Humiliation. Days spent feeling like I wasn’t good enough. Of hating him endlessly because he told me to.
He blinks and from the corner of my eye, I see his expression become void of most emotion, defenses automatically going up as he senses where the topic may be turning. In a voice lacking feeling, “Why did I do what?”
Turning to look up at him, my eyes fixing on his, I ask, “Why did you leave me?”
He stares at me blankly for half-a-second…before rolling off of me and onto his back. I sit up on my elbows, clutching the comforter up to my chest as I shift my body to look down at him. He brings a large hand up to his face and rubs his eyes in a suddenly exhausted manner before mumbling, slightly irritated, “I thought we were passed that.”
I scowl, taken aback by his cool response. “No, we’re not passed it! We’re never just passed it—!”
“Don’t be so loud.”
“To hell with that! I’ll be as loud as I goddamn please!” I yell, moving onto my knees in one annoyed motion so that I can look at him better. I want to see his face; I want to hear it in his voice; I want to understand why he felt the need to do this to me. To us. “Tell me now. Why did you do it, Micha—!”
“I did it for you!” He snaps angrily, propping himself up on his elbows as he eyes me with something like frustration marring his features. But beyond that is a kind of mute desperation; as though begging me to see his reasoning.
“Me!?” I exclaim, staring at him dumbfounded. “How the hell did you do it for me!?”
“Asha…” He groans, flopping back onto his back as he runs both hands the length of his face, as though I’m missing a simple point. Then, quickly, he sits up again to show it to me. “Asha, look at you! Look at how far you’ve come—look at what you have! You have a great guy who’s on hand and foot just waiting to please you and who seems to love you as far as I can see! You have all these friends you keep telling me about who hang around you and support you and keep you young and fresh. And you have the this incredible and perfect little boy who looks just like you”—I glance down at my hands briefly—“and you have so many places you can still choose to go with your life, Asha.” At that he reaches out to take one of my hands, looking into my eyes with a touch of sadness hiding in his own. “You have so many options ahead of you, girl, and no responsibilities to hold you back. You have all of that now.”
Shaking my head and feeling a lump make its way to my throat, I glare at him. “And if I would have stayed with you?”
At that, he sighs and drops my hand, lowering his gaze to the blankets around us. Quietly he states, “You wouldn’t have any of those things. My busy life and career would have kept you away from all of that and you would have been doing nothing but following me around while I worked. All you would have had is me.”
“And that’s all I would have needed—”
“Yeah! Yeah, sure; if I would have been able to be there for you!” He exclaims exasperatedly, his eyes hardening and softening all at once as he practically begs me to acknowledge what he apparently already did. “But I couldn’t, girl. Mentally, I couldn’t and I wasn’t.”
“And why couldn’t you? Huh?” I ask, my eyes filling up with tears as I reach out to shove his shoulder angrily.
It occurs to me suddenly with the speed and force of a silver bullet, that this was all his fault. Everything up until this point was his fault. All because he couldn’t hold up his end of the deal when we exchanged vows of love on that stupid stage with that stupid champagne. Why was it so hard? Why he couldn’t just be there for me as well? If he loved me at all like he once claimed he did, if needed me even half of the way I needed him…why was it so damn difficult?
“Why couldn’t you have been there for me when I needed you, Michael?” I exclaim, aware of the tears finally leaking by the warmth of them as they trickle down my cheek. Aware of how angry I am by the way my fists clench against the comforter I’m holding to my bare chest. Aware of the way he hurt me by the way having to ask these questions is killing me. “Why couldn’t have we just stayed together? Why couldn’t we have just pretended that that day in the studio was a mistake and just let everything stay the way it was? Why couldn’t you be there for me, Michael?”
“Because I couldn’t love myself back then, Asha!” He yells, his hand flying to his hair and clutching at it in a way that makes me wonder if he means to tear it out or if he’s only looking for something to take his frustrations out on. He fixes his dark eyes back on me and I notice how angry they are; how disgusted…how desperate. Resting his hands on my lap he whispers, shaking his head, “Let alone a whole other person on top of that. I couldn’t find what I needed to make me happy, Asha. How could I have possibly made you happy?”
“I made you happy, Michael!” I’m screaming now. My emotions, months and months of bottled up resentment, finally come boiling out of me along with a sea of tears and I find myself shoving my hands against his chest as I move to stand up, taking the comforter with me as I go. Eager to be out of his space. Spinning around, I scowl, “I made you happy and you know damn well that you made me happy. That was more than enough.”
“I didn’t make you happy, Asha.” He argues, shaking his head. “I made you miserable. I made cry way too often. I hurt your feelings constantly because I didn’t know how to put my own feelings aside well enough so that I didn’t direct them at you. I was still learning and I hurt you while doing it.”
I suck my lip in, my vision blurring by the second with the renewed pain of losing him that I had to endure, and I find my mouth twisting into a snarl as I look at him.
Scoffing quietly and reaching up to wipe the back of my hand across my eye, I whisper sarcastically, “Is that why you did it, Michael? That the noble reason?”
Scoffing quietly and reaching up to wipe the back of my hand across my eye, I whisper sarcastically, “Is that why you did it, Michael? That the noble reason?”
“I did it for you.” He sighs sadly.
Standing and slipping on his boxers which lay near our pallet from our third round of lovemaking, he makes his ways over to me, moving close until I can feel his breath on my skin. Taking my face between his palms, he strokes his thumbs over my cheeks, his dark eyes probing me as he says plainly, “I didn’t want to hurt you so I made the decision to let you go.”
Standing and slipping on his boxers which lay near our pallet from our third round of lovemaking, he makes his ways over to me, moving close until I can feel his breath on my skin. Taking my face between his palms, he strokes his thumbs over my cheeks, his dark eyes probing me as he says plainly, “I didn’t want to hurt you so I made the decision to let you go.”
Narrowing my eyes, I jerk my head out of his grip and hiss, “Well, it was selfish of you to make that decision—”
“And it was selfish of you to ask me not to!” He yells, his pleading expression shifting to one of anger as he drops his hands.
We glare at one another in furious silence. Chocolate versus Hazel. The return of a formerly familiar stand-off.
Finally, though, he groans and leans against the fireplace where we stand, his head bowed in furious contemplation for a while before he turns to face me again, his expression still annoyed yet weary as he tries to explain, “Just because you said you were fine with me hurting you, girl, doesn’t mean I was fine with myself doing it. It killed me to watch you cry over something I did or said or didn’t do just as much as it killed you to have to do it.”
Finally, though, he groans and leans against the fireplace where we stand, his head bowed in furious contemplation for a while before he turns to face me again, his expression still annoyed yet weary as he tries to explain, “Just because you said you were fine with me hurting you, girl, doesn’t mean I was fine with myself doing it. It killed me to watch you cry over something I did or said or didn’t do just as much as it killed you to have to do it.”
I shake my head, blinking back tears, refusing to accept this as an excuse, “Just because I cried a little bi—”
“Asha! I could have stabbed you with a fucking machete and you still would have found a reason to be with me!” He cries in exasperation, whirling to face me, his eyes boring into mine in disbelief. “It was unhealthy!”
“And Alexei?” I spit, suddenly, the lump in my throat now developing a taste of bile as I recall just how much he hurt me by going out and getting engaged to some supermodel that looks so perfect standing next to him. That seems to belong on his arm in a way that’s so sickeningly right. In a way that a simple girl like me never will. “She’s healthy, right? She’s so fucking perfect. She has everything that I didn’t, right?”
His face falls and his expression is pained as he eyes me standing before him so naked in so much more than the literal sense. I can see in his eyes that he wants to hug me or comfort me—anything to stop me from crying—probably even tell me how beautiful I am and that all of my feelings of lowliness in comparison with his sweet and gorgeous fiancé are all for naught. That I was always better than her.
But he knows he can’t do any of that.
That I won’t let him.
Not until he tells me why. Why her. If I’m so beautiful, so perfect in his eyes…why her? Why not me?
But he knows he can’t do any of that.
That I won’t let him.
Not until he tells me why. Why her. If I’m so beautiful, so perfect in his eyes…why her? Why not me?
Swallowing and ducking his head in shame just as a few tears drip from his dark lashes, he mutters his response almost inaudibly. But I hear him loud and clear.
“She didn’t scare me the way you do.”
“She didn’t scare me the way you do.”
And it hurts. It hurts like a dagger to the chest. Like a slow-traveling arrow to the brain.
She didn’t scare him. She was easier to love. An easier pill to swallow. And apparently, I wasn’t worth enough to put up with like he once said before. She’s the one he wanted to spend his life with because she makes everything simple for him; and me? I’m just the girl who he enjoys living out his sexual fantasies with. Because sex isn’t complicated. It’s simple in a way that loving someone on the regular and being there for them is not. I scared him. I scared him so he ran. After everything we went through together in that month…turns out I wasn’t worth the fight.
Shaking my head as the tears pour at a rapid rate despite my best efforts to wipe them away, I give my finest attempt at a laugh that only manages to come out sounding choked and gargled, and I shrug my shoulders at him, asking, “So what were you hoping for, Michael? Hmm? Were you hoping that I would move on with my life; maybe find someone else and forget about you? Forget how scary we were? Yeah? Well, you got your wish, you bastard. Cody asked me to marry him; I said yes.”
Scowling, I snarl, “Enjoy your new life with your stupid fiancé. I hope she never scares you.”
Scowling, I snarl, “Enjoy your new life with your stupid fiancé. I hope she never scares you.”
And then I brush past him and head for my room to grab my bag. I have to get out of here. My chest is starting to hurt and breathing is becoming a chore. I just need some space. I still need to tell him about Skyler; to sit him down and discuss the whole situation and what his need to run away did to our family.
But not now. I can’t even stomach him right now. I need to be out of this hotel. Out of the same vicinity as him period.
________ M ________
I watch her brush past me, turning her head in a faint attempt to hide her tears from me as she storms to her room. The tears that I caused yet again.
I spin to allow my gaze to follow her as she retreats from me and suddenly, my chest tightens painfully and my throat constricts as something about her retreating back brings forth memories of that limo—sleek, black and encompassing everything I cherished—as it drove away from me that day twelve months ago.
And I panic.
Quickly, I turn to run after her, reaching out to stop the door with my hand just as she makes to slam it shut. She tries in futile desperation to force it close anyway despite my impeding hand but soon, after getting nowhere, she gives a loud groan and moves away, allowing me to push it back all the way and walk in after her. My eyes widen as I catch sight of the scene before me.
She’s discarded the large blanket that’s been hugging her naked body the whole while we argued and is now digging through her opened bag for something to throw on. I can’t even take time to appreciate the beauty of her petite frame because the fact that she’s tossing items that she dumped this morning back into the small carry-on has got me frozen where I stand with an odd sense of dread.
She’s discarded the large blanket that’s been hugging her naked body the whole while we argued and is now digging through her opened bag for something to throw on. I can’t even take time to appreciate the beauty of her petite frame because the fact that she’s tossing items that she dumped this morning back into the small carry-on has got me frozen where I stand with an odd sense of dread.
I rush over to her bed and try and remove everything she’s put in as she continues filling the bag with her things. “Asha, please. Come on, girl; you don’t have to go.”
“Yes, I do, Michael. You made it clear how much you care about me.” She retorts rigidly, not sparing me so much as a half-glance as she slips into a pair of jeans, jumping a little to pull them up. She turns to retrieve her shirt; then glares, spinning to face me with her hand out. “Give me my top, Michael.”
Holding the T-shirt out of her reach as she moves to grab it, I plead, “Baby, please don’t do this. I made a mistake—I shouldn’t have given up on us the way I did—but I’m better now! Asha, you make me better.” I insist, reaching an arm out to wrap it around her tiny waist, pulling her towards me until we’re chest to chest, our body heat mingling together the way it’s supposed to. Pressing my nose to her hair, I close my eyes and inhale the incredible scent of her shampoo, whispering, “Asha, I love you.”
For a moment I think I did it.
I think I finally made her see sense; see how perfect we are together; how just right; how much sense we make, as concluded when she doesn’t immediately pull away. Her hands linger on my chest and I wrap mine around her naked torso, praying that time stops and that she forgets. Forgets every wrong turn that I’ve managed to make since I met her. Forget that I’m not a very gifted man when it comes to making the clever decision with anything involving my personal well-being. Forget that I’m stupid enough to convince myself that the thing I most want in life is desperate to avoid me when it was lying naked in my bed for a week before I turned my back on it.
I think I finally made her see sense; see how perfect we are together; how just right; how much sense we make, as concluded when she doesn’t immediately pull away. Her hands linger on my chest and I wrap mine around her naked torso, praying that time stops and that she forgets. Forgets every wrong turn that I’ve managed to make since I met her. Forget that I’m not a very gifted man when it comes to making the clever decision with anything involving my personal well-being. Forget that I’m stupid enough to convince myself that the thing I most want in life is desperate to avoid me when it was lying naked in my bed for a week before I turned my back on it.
“Asha…you’re everything to me.” I murmur, pulling her close, terrified at the thought that I might lose her again. I brush my lips over her forehead, closing my eyes as I all but beg her not to walk out on me tonight. “You’re my whole world, girl…and I don’t want you to leave me. I…baby, I need you.”
Her hands clench and I feel her nails scrape lightly at my skin. She brushes her nose just barely against my chest and the faintest hint of a sob travels the short distance to my ears and I have to bite my lip to stop it from trembling as I realize that no matter what I do; somehow I always manage to hurt her. I squeeze her to me, wanting to meld into her soul, wanting to become a part of her again the way she granted me access to her core the first time she told me she was in love with me; when she refused to take it back despite my rejection. The first time I ran from her…and she still waited for me.
Slowly she leans back and I lower my chin to look at her. Immediately, I regret it as the first thing I notice is the slight reddish tint now surrounding her golden-green irises and the dim remains of tear-tracks painting her reddened cheeks as she looks up at me with eyes so filled with disappointment that, for a moment, she doesn’t even resemble the lively girl who I once caught doing impersonations of me on my private plane.
Bringing a hand up to softly touch my cheek as her hazel eyes unite with my dark ones, she frowns sadly, “But where were you when I needed you?”
And it’s like a dagger to my heart thrust in by my own hand. Who knew such a simple question could carry the punch of a thousand insults? And the part that stings the most? She’s absolutely right.
Pushing away from me, she sighs and gently takes her shirt out of my hand. I watch her in silence as she slips it over her head and adjusts the hem, unable to think of anything that might paint me in a better light that I haven’t said already. Pulling her hair out of her collar, she walks over to her closet to grab her big winter coat, slipping her arms through it and zipping it up before turning to me with an expression that trembles with exhaustion. I’ve exhausted her. Those new lines on her twenty-one-year-old face are results of the stress I cause her on a constant basis when I only mean to love her.
Trying one last time because I know I can never sleep without her and also because I just don’t want to see her go, I shrug my shoulders weakly and plead in a tone bordering resignation, “Asha…I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just…thought that if you hated me it would be easier for you to get over me. I never wanted to hurt you, girl. I thought I was saving you from more hurt later on and I—”
“Thought you were saving yourself from that same hurt from me.” She offers, nodding her head as she reaches for her bag to sling it over her shoulder. Looking at me, she says, “Well, here’s a little information for you, Michael. I was scared too. The catch? I thought you were worth the trouble.”
Then she’s stepping around me toward the door once again while I stand here unable to stop the reality of the situation I created from caving in on me. I never regretted turning to the stage for comfort before. I never thought there would come a day where I would long for a take-back regarding the affection I show to my art. I love what I do; I love that it’s been my safe haven for so many years…but I love Asha more; and I should have confided in her that night Chris broke my trust. I should have let her in when she asked me too…I should have trusted her with my feelings the way she trusted me but I didn’t. I didn’t and now she’s probably out of my life for good.
I honestly don’t know if she’ll come back to me this time.
“I’ll catch a cab to the airport and fly back to LA myself. Please don’t follow me, Michael.” She asks from the doorway, her eyes fresh with the arrival of new tears that she’s struggling to keep back. I hear the effort in her tone. It’s faint but I can always detect the change. “I just need some time. It’s been a…crazy day.”
I nod my head, not turning around to look at her because the warmth trickling down my cheeks tells me I’m losing my fight with Composure and I’m not too fond with looking entirely helpless in front of people. Not even her. It just sucks being vulnerable. It’s a feeling I’ve never liked since I got from under Joseph’s demanding and authoritative hand. After being a victim of his rules, his way for twenty-years, I pretty much decided never to let another person dictate my feelings or my choices. And for the past fifteen years; I haven’t.
But then there’s Asha. She dictates everything.
I don’t like that. But I love her so I tolerate it.
“You know, Michael?” She whispers faintly before walking out. “I used to think I had the mystery pretty much figured out; and I fell in love with the person I thought I saw there. But…I’m starting to think that maybe I didn’t know you so well at all.”
And then she’s gone. As soon as the door closes behind her, I collapse on her bed, toss my arms over my face…and let it all out. Damn me. I finally get something good and stable and perfect and I run away from it because my past experiences taught me to be skeptical about anything that seems too good to be true. But she wasn’t. She was simply good and true and I might have blown it entirely.
Either way, I’m ending my engagement. I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t want another woman in my bed ever again.
If it’s not Asha, then it’s not anyone.
...
His
Very intimate and sexy...I really can't wait to see what's going to happen!
ReplyDeleteSuch an amazing chapter and I'm absolutely in love with this story!
Please keep me updated love! =)
AND best of luck!
where can i find next chapters of Jerk?
ReplyDeleteYeah... where are you posting now?
ReplyDeleteMJJEternal.com ;)
ReplyDeleteOMG GIO,
ReplyDeleteI don't remember this being sooooo heart wrenching. Michael finally realizes that ASHA is all he ever wanted and..........Asha you go girl! getting out all the hurt he caused! letting him know exactly how she felt...only now can the healing begin!