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mjwhisperer · 3 months ago

Text

𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚕𝚎

*Requested*

1988

New York City

Word Count: 13.5k

It had been four agonizing days since you'd last spoken to him, since you'd even allowed yourself to think of him. His presence, once so comforting, now felt like a jagged wound. Each memory of him was another shard of glass piercing through you. The betrayal, the heartbreak—it felt like your chest had been crushed, shattered into a million tiny fragments, impossible to piece back together. He had called you "My Girl," made you believe you were his everything, but after that night, everything was tainted. What once felt like a dream was now an unrelenting nightmare, one that played on repeat in your mind, tormenting you with every passing moment.

That night was plastered everywhere—on television screens, across newspaper headlines, whispered about in conversations you couldn't escape. That kiss, her kiss, replayed over and over in your mind, like a cruel loop. The sight of her lips on his still burned into your vision, making you nauseous with every flash of recollection.

Why did she kiss him? And why did he just stand there, unmoving, as if her lips on his meant nothing? A thousand questions raced through your mind, all of them worse than the last. Had he been cheating on you this whole time? Was every sweet word, every whispered promise, a lie? Had the love you thought was so real never even existed at all?

Now, you sat stiffly at the dinner in his honor, your presence at the event feeling like a punishment. It was being hosted by the United Negro College Fund, an evening meant to celebrate his success, but for you, it felt like your heart was being laid bare before a crowd. His mother, Katherine, had insisted you attend, had even personally invited you. She held your hand now, her fingers warm and gentle, silently acknowledging the depth of your pain. She knew. She understood what it felt like to see the man you loved kiss someone else in front of thousands of people at Madison Square Garden, to have that image seared into your memory. It was unbearable.

Every second in that room felt suffocating. It was as if his eyes were always on you, watching, piercing through you with a burning intensity that made you sick. You could feel your pulse racing, the bile rising in your throat as you fought back the urge to scream, to cry, to demand answers from the man who had shattered your heart. The weight of your grief was suffocating, and it sat heavy on your chest, trapping you in place.

You hadn't spoken to him since that night. You couldn't. The moment the scene had unfolded in front of you—her lips pressed against his, his frozen reaction—you'd fled. Your heart pounding, your vision blurred with tears, you'd rushed back to the hotel, barely registering your surroundings as you packed your bags with shaking hands. The ache in your chest was unbearable, suffocating, and the thought of being near him, breathing the same air as him, felt like it would destroy you. So you ran, found another hotel, anywhere that offered an escape from the tormenting replay of that kiss.

But no matter how far you went, no matter how many doors you closed between you and him, the truth clung to you like a shadow. You had once believed—truly believed—that he loved you, that you were his everything. Now, that belief felt shattered, crumbled into dust by the cold reality of what you had witnessed. The love you had trusted in so completely now seemed like nothing more than a cruel illusion.

"Relax, hun," Katherine's soft voice broke through your spiraling thoughts. Her hand, warm and steady, gave yours a reassuring squeeze.

You swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to escape. The knot in your throat tightened as you forced out, "I'm trying... it's just... looking at him, being here... I don't know if I can do this."

Katherine turned slightly in her seat, her eyes soft but searching as they met yours. "Have the both of you talked?" she asked gently, her voice filled with concern.

You shook your head, unable to find the words. The weight of everything unsaid pressed down on you as you glanced up, only to see Michael standing at the front of the room, now wearing a cap and gown—a doctorate cap and gown. He had earned this moment, a recognition of his achievements, but the sight of him—his eyes locking with yours, that familiar smile beginning to spread across his face—made your heart lurch painfully in your chest. You quickly looked away, focusing on the folds of your dress, anything but him.

Katherine's voice was patient but firm as she spoke again. "Sweetheart, you both need to talk. Holding it in won't help. It'll only eat you up inside."

Your throat tightened, and you turned to her, your voice trembling as you admitted, "If I talk to him, I might cry the whole time... I don't know if I can do it."

Katherine's eyes softened with understanding. "And it's okay to cry. Let it out if you need to. Michael didn't mean any of what happened that night. The girl only did it to get under your skin, to make you angry. She knew exactly what she was doing, and she got what she wanted. Michael fired her that same night—he wanted to tell you, but when he came back to the hotel, you were already gone."

You could feel your heart clenching, torn between hope and doubt. "What if he's lying to you?" you whispered, barely able to get the words out. "What if... what if he's seeing her? What if there's something going on between them, and I'm just too blind to see it?"

Katherine shook her head with conviction, her grip on your hand tightening just slightly. "I know my son," she said softly but with a quiet strength. "When I looked into his eyes that night, I knew. He wasn't lying to me. He was devastated, sweetheart. He made a mistake by not stopping it fast enough, but he's not seeing her. I can promise you that."

Her words offered a glimmer of reassurance, but the doubt still gnawed at you. The memory of that kiss, of the crowd, of the betrayal—it was all so fresh, the wound still too raw. Could you trust him again? Could you even bear to hear his side of the story, knowing that it might break you even more? The thought of facing him, of letting him see your tears, felt too overwhelming to contemplate.

But somewhere deep inside, you knew Katherine was right. Holding everything inside would only deepen the hurt. If you didn't talk to him, the questions would never stop, the pain would never heal.

"I can't believe I'm nervous," Michael's voice reverberated through the speakers, deep and familiar, sending a shiver down your spine. It was a sound you had been avoiding, a voice that used to be your comfort, now stirring a mixture of longing and pain within you as if you hadn't heard it in years.

The crowd laughed softly, charmed by his humility, and even Katherine smiled, her hand still wrapped securely around yours, her thumb grazing the delicate skin of your knuckles. Her touch was gentle, but it tethered you, grounding you amidst the swirling emotions threatening to pull you under.

Michael cleared his throat, his voice softer this time, almost vulnerable. "But I really am embarrassed. I appreciate everyone coming tonight... all these great friends, the people who've supported me through thick and thin. My dear mother and father, who are here in the audience."

Applause erupted as Michael gestured toward Katherine and Joe. The room seemed to collectively turn their attention to them, but his eyes—they were locked on you, unyielding, even as he smiled for the crowd. "Stand up," he encouraged, his voice echoing with a certain pride that you couldn't bear to acknowledge.

Katherine gently rose, her hand never leaving yours, as if she knew that if she let go, you might crumble. Joe stood as well, a grin spreading across his face as they soaked in the crowd's cheers. But you remained seated, stiff, still staring at the ground. It felt as though if you met his gaze, even for a second, you'd break apart, and you couldn't afford that—not here, not in front of all these people.

Katherine squeezed your hand tightly as she sat back down, her fingers still clutching yours, protective, like a mother shielding her child from the storm. You clung to that gesture, feeling like something small and fragile, lost and unsure.

You tried to focus on anything but him, but even as you lowered your gaze, you couldn't escape the memories flooding your mind. You stared down at your dress, the one he had picked out for you, his exact words echoing in your head: "I know you'll love this." It had been perfect—he had known your taste so well, had known you so well. But now, that once-beautiful gown felt like a weight, something forbidden, a painful reminder of the intimacy you had shared, the deep connection that had once defined your relationship.

Michael continued to speak, his voice rising and falling as he delivered what must have been a carefully crafted speech. But you didn't hear the words. You couldn't. They blurred together in the background, distant and meaningless, drowned out by the roar of your thoughts.

You tried to remember, tried to grasp at the fragments of what you had once shared. The way he'd make you laugh with just a look, the secret touches under the dinner table, the nights where your heart felt like it would burst with the intensity of your love for him. The connection, the trust, the bond that had seemed unbreakable. But now... it all felt so far away, like a faded memory, an echo of something that once was. The love that had once filled your heart felt hollow now, emptied by doubt, by betrayal, by the haunting image of her lips on his.

What had once been so vibrant between you—so pure and unbreakable—now felt tarnished, a cracked reflection of everything you thought you knew. As Michael's voice echoed through the room, each word from his speech felt like a weight, pressing down on you, making it harder to breathe. The ground beneath you seemed to shift, unstable, leaving you with nothing solid to cling to. Every memory, every smile, every promise hung in the air like fragile glass, threatening to shatter at any moment.

Once the speeches ended, there was a collective sigh of relief from the audience, but for you, the tension only mounted. Michael made his way to his parents, his smile warm and effortless as he embraced them. Katherine's hand slipped from yours as she stood to greet him, and that single moment of separation hit you with a force you hadn't expected. It was as if the last tether holding you together had snapped, and reality crashed down like a tidal wave, merciless and cold.

The tears you had fought so hard to contain finally escaped, hot streaks running down your cheeks, betraying the calm façade you'd tried to maintain all evening. You hastily grabbed a napkin, dabbing at the moisture before anyone else could notice, but it felt futile. The ache inside you wasn't something you could wipe away.

And then, there he was. Kneeling before you, Michael's presence consumed the space, suffocating in its intensity. His hand reached out, gripping yours firmly, as if trying to anchor you back to him, to that version of you that had once believed in him so completely. The warmth of his touch was like fire against your skin, burning through the layers of hurt you had tried to bury. It ignited something deep inside, a rush of emotions you weren't ready for.

You pulled away quickly, instinctively, like his touch was too much, too overwhelming. But it was already too late. Just that brief contact had opened the floodgates. The dam holding back your tears collapsed, and the pain you had suppressed came rushing to the surface. The weight of it all was unbearable, the heartbreak, the betrayal—it all came spilling out in an uncontrollable torrent.

Without a word, you stood abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor as you pushed back from the table. You could feel eyes on you as you moved, but you didn't care. The only thing you could focus on was escape. Each step you took felt heavy, your heels clicking against the cold marble floor like a drumbeat in your chest. Faster and faster, you walked, your breaths growing shallow, desperate, until you found sanctuary in the women's restroom.

The door swung shut behind you with a dull thud, and for a moment, the silence felt deafening. You stumbled over to the sink, gripping the cool porcelain edge for support as you turned on the faucet. The sound of rushing water filled the space, drowning out the quiet sobs that had begun to escape your throat. You stared at your reflection, but the tears blurred your vision until all you could see was a distorted image of yourself—lost, broken, and heart-wrenchingly alone.

The pain was suffocating, wrapping around your chest like a vise. Every breath felt labored, your heart pounding erratically in your ribcage, a wild, desperate beat that matched the chaos inside your mind. Why had you come? The question looped over and over, each repetition deepening your regret. It felt like a cruel trap—an elaborate game you had been pulled into without ever realizing the rules.

The bathroom door creaked open, and the soft sound of it locking echoed through the room. You froze, your tears momentarily pausing as dread pooled in your stomach. You looked up at the mirror, but your eyes were still too blurred with emotion to see clearly. All you could make out was a figure, the deep red of their clothing catching your attention.

The figure approached, each step deliberate, but you couldn't move. You stood there, helpless, until they reached forward and turned off the water with a quiet click. It wasn't until you felt the familiar warmth of his hand brushing against your cheek, wiping away the tears, that you realized—it was Michael.

His touch was gentle, tender, as he carefully dried your eyes with a paper towel, his gaze never leaving yours. For a moment, the world around you seemed to still, the storm of emotions paused as you stood there, facing the man who had caused so much of your heartache. His presence was overwhelming, filling every inch of the room, and despite everything, a part of you still ached for him, for the connection you had lost.

Michael's large, warm hands cupped your face, his fingers spreading over your cheeks with that familiar tenderness that once made you feel safe. His touch was a comfort you had longed for in your sleepless nights, yet it now felt like a betrayal. You wanted to melt into it, to give in to the sensation of being cared for, but something inside you resisted—an ache too deep to ignore. You pushed him away, your hands trembling as they met his chest.

"Leave," you whispered, but even your voice betrayed you, cracking with the pain you had tried so hard to conceal.

Michael's brow furrowed, his expression softening as he took a step back. "Can we talk, please?" His voice, so pleading, felt like a dagger. He moved toward you again, cautiously, as if afraid you might shatter. "All I need is five minutes."

Your tears blurred the edges of his figure, but the hurt inside you was sharp and clear. You wiped at your eyes furiously, your hands shaking. "Just five? Just five minutes?" You laughed bitterly, though it was choked with emotion. "All you need is five minutes to fix what you messed up? Five minutes to fix a six-year relationship?"

"Baby, listen, I—" he started, his tone desperate, but it only fueled your rage.

"Don't 'baby' me, Michael!" Your voice echoed in the small space, each word laced with the bitterness of betrayal. "I'm not your baby after you kissed that... that girl on stage, in front of everyone—your fans, the world." Your voice wavered as the images you had tried to block out resurfaced, haunting you. "I have to see it every day, Michael. Her lips on yours, pulling you in close, like she was claiming you, owning you. Why? Was I not enough for you? Was I not the one you wanted, the one you needed?"

Your voice cracked with the weight of those questions, and the tears that you had tried so hard to hold back began to fall in earnest, hot and relentless. You could barely breathe through the sobs that wracked your body, each one pulling you deeper into the pain. Before you could step away, Michael was already moving toward you, wrapping his arms around you in a way that was both protective and suffocating. He held you close, his hand gently caressing your back in soothing circles as you broke down completely.

"Let it out," he whispered, his voice low and soft, like a lullaby meant to calm a storm. He didn't try to explain himself just yet, knowing that words would only make things worse in that fragile moment. He simply held you, absorbing the tremors of your sobs, allowing you to cling to him like he was the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

You buried your face in his chest, the fabric of his red blazer damp with your tears. The scent of him filled your senses—familiar, intoxicating—pulling you back into memories of better days. Days when his presence alone was enough to silence all your fears, to make the world feel right. But now, even with him so close, that feeling of security was gone, replaced by an overwhelming sense of loss.

Michael lifted your chin gently, his thumb grazing your skin as he tilted your face up to meet his eyes. There was a softness there, an apology unspoken but clear in the way he looked at you. "Give me an hour," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "But we can't talk here. Come with me back to the hotel. Please."

"An hour?" you asked, your voice hoarse from crying. You weren't sure you had the strength to relive everything, to open the floodgates again, but something in his voice, in the way he held you, made you pause.

Michael nodded, his expression resolute. "Maybe all night if that's what it takes," he added, his voice soft but firm, as if he had already resigned himself to whatever consequences might come from this conversation.

You hesitated, every muscle in your body screaming for you to run, but instead, you found yourself nodding. "Okay," you whispered.

Michael's hands moved with care as he grabbed another paper towel, gently drying the tears that still clung to your skin. His touch was almost reverent, as if he were handling something fragile and precious. He wiped away the last traces of your tears, even brushing softly over your lips, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

"Don't cry," he said softly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of forgiveness. "I promise I'll explain everything to you."

You didn't respond, your throat too tight, your heart too numb. The words he spoke felt distant, as though they belonged to someone else, someone who hadn't been hurt like you had. You weren't sure if you could believe him anymore.

You followed Michael out of the bathroom, your hand limp in his as he unlocked the door and guided you into the dimly lit hallway. The cool night air hit your skin as you stepped outside, the gentle breeze doing little to ease the storm inside your chest. His limo sat waiting at the back exit, a sleek, black vessel that felt like a temporary escape from the emotions swirling in your mind. The driver, ever the professional, opened the door wordlessly, giving you a brief, respectful nod.

Michael let go of your hand, his touch lingering in the empty space between you, before he gestured for you to step inside. You hesitated, just for a moment, your mind racing with second thoughts, but the exhaustion from your emotions made the decision for you. You slipped into the cool leather seat, the familiar scent of luxury filling your senses. Michael slid in beside you, and the door was quietly closed behind him, sealing you both inside the small, intimate space.

Without a word, he reached over and pulled the privacy screen shut, his long fingers steady and deliberate. It was something he had always been particular about—privacy, especially when it came to you. He didn't want the world prying into moments like these, moments that felt too raw, too personal for anyone else to witness.

For a few beats, silence hung in the air, thick and heavy between you. The hum of the car's engine barely registered in the back of your mind, drowned out by the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. The weight of everything—the betrayal, the hurt, the confusion—sat like a stone in your chest, making it hard to breathe. You stared out the window, watching the city lights blur as the car began to move, but even the distraction of the outside world couldn't quiet the ache inside you.

Michael shifted beside you, his gaze burning into the side of your face, but you refused to meet his eyes. You weren't ready, not yet. The thought of confronting everything he had done—everything he had ruined—was too much. You could feel the tension radiating off him, the way his body tensed as if he wanted to reach out to you, to fix what had been broken, but he held back. He knew better than to push you right now.

Finally, the silence broke, his voice soft, almost pleading. "I know you're hurting," he said, his tone careful, measured, as if afraid to say the wrong thing. "And I know I'm the one who caused it. But if you give me a chance... just one chance... I'll explain everything. I owe you that much."

You didn't say anything, your mind racing with a thousand different thoughts, none of them offering any clarity. A part of you wanted to scream, to tell him that no explanation could fix what he had done. But another part, a smaller, quieter part, still yearned for the Michael you had once known—the Michael who made you feel loved, cherished, like you were the only person in the world that mattered.

He reached for your hand again, his fingers brushing against yours with a tentative touch, but this time, you pulled away, folding your arms tightly across your chest as if trying to protect yourself from the vulnerability that came with being near him.

The limo continued to glide through the streets, its quiet hum the only sound between you. Minutes stretched on, and the weight of everything unsaid felt suffocating. Finally, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "Why did you do it, Michael?" You didn't look at him, your eyes still fixed on the window. "Why wasn't I enough?"

Michael's hand reached out, gentle yet insistent, turning your face toward him. His touch was familiar, tender, and his gaze was pleading. "You are enough," he whispered, his voice soft but filled with an intensity that cut through the silence. "Every bit of you is enough. Enough for me."

For a moment, your eyes met his, and in that brief exchange, you saw the sincerity—the regret—etched into his features. But it wasn't enough. You pushed his hand away, your gaze falling back to the cityscape outside the window, the lights blurring into streaks of color. "I don't feel like it," you murmured, barely loud enough to be heard. "If I was enough, you wouldn't have kissed her."

His breath hitched, and you could hear the quiet shake in his voice as he responded, "She kissed me. It wasn't meant to happen. She didn't stick to the script. I only went along with it because... because I didn't want to embarrass her. But deep down, I wanted to push her away. I should have pushed her away."

You turned further from him, the weight of his words doing little to ease the ache inside your chest. "You should have," you whispered, the bitterness of it lingering on your tongue. The image of him with her, of their lips meeting, replayed in your mind, a loop that wouldn't stop. How could he not see the damage it had done?

"Baby, I wasn't going to embarrass her," he said, his voice growing more desperate as he reached out again, this time resting his hand gently on your thigh. The touch sent a shockwave through you—his warmth seeping through the thin, delicate fabric of the red satin dress he had chosen for you. "But I knew I messed up the moment you walked out that night."

You didn't respond. Your silence spoke louder than words. The flood of emotions that had been brewing within you—rage, hurt, betrayal—clashed violently with the part of you that still ached for him, that still longed for the man sitting beside you.

Michael withdrew his hand from your thigh, his fingers curling into a fist as he turned his gaze away, his expression one of defeat. You could sense his guilt, the deep regret that radiated from him. He was lost in the silence, unsure of how to make things right.

But then, without fully understanding why, you reached out, your hand hovering for a moment before gently covering his. The warmth of his skin beneath yours was a reminder of everything you had shared—the love, the intimacy, the trust. It wasn't a solution, not yet, but it was something.

Michael's head turned slowly toward you, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find hope. When he saw your hand resting over his, his gaze softened. He didn't say anything, didn't dare break the fragile peace that seemed to settle between you. Instead, he turned his hand over, his fingers intertwining with yours, holding you tightly, as though afraid to let go.

In that moment, it wasn't forgiveness—not yet. But it was a step. One small step toward something that felt like it could be mended, if only you could both find the strength to rebuild what had been broken.

The limo coasted to a stop in front of the Helmsley Hotel, a place that once held memories of fleeting happiness and painful betrayal. The hotel's grand entrance loomed before you, a reminder of the night you had fled, desperate to escape the life you thought you'd be leaving behind. Yet, here you were again, back in the same place, back with the same man who refused to let you go. Michael wasn't going to let you slip away—not this time.

The door opened, and Michael stepped out first, his hand extending toward you. His grip was firm yet gentle, pulling you close to him as you both walked toward the hotel's towering doors. Inside, the rich red and gold decor filled the lobby, the marble floors gleaming beneath the soft lighting. Each step echoed in the space around you, the weight of the moment heavy on your shoulders.

Michael's hand remained on the small of your back as you approached the elevator. He pressed the button with a deliberate touch, the soft light glowing beneath his finger, a subtle reminder of the path ahead. You glanced down at your feet, the polished tips of your heels reflecting the tension you felt building inside. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, a small gesture meant to comfort you, but it only reminded you of the ache still lodged deep in your chest.

The elevator doors slid open with a quiet ding, the polished interior welcoming you inside. Michael stepped back, letting you enter first before following closely behind. He pressed the button for the top floor—the floor where his suite awaited—and the doors closed, sealing the two of you in together. The only sound that filled the space was the low hum of sensual jazz, its smooth notes creating an intimate backdrop for the tension that lingered between you.

Without a word, Michael moved closer, his arms encircling your waist from behind, pulling you against his chest. His hands rested gently on your front, holding you as though afraid to let you drift too far. You felt the warmth of his breath against your neck, his steady breathing grounding you in the moment.

You glanced down at his hands, resting atop yours. His thumb grazed over your engagement ring, the one you had nearly taken off that night—the night you'd left him. It felt heavy now, a symbol of something you weren't sure you could still hold onto. Yet, in his touch, there was familiarity, a longing that whispered of the connection you both shared despite the pain.

The elevator doors slid open, revealing the hallway to his suite. Michael loosened his hold on you but kept your hand firmly in his as you both stepped out, walking in silence down the plush carpeted hall. His grip tightened just slightly, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your palm as you reached the door. He pulled the key card from his pocket and slid it into the lock, the soft click echoing in the quiet corridor. The door opened, and he let you step inside first, flipping the switch to bathe the suite in a soft, dim glow.

He followed behind, closing the door with a soft thud, the sound of the lock turning a subtle reminder of the privacy now surrounding you both. You walked across the room, your heels sinking into the plush carpet as you approached the tall glass windows. Outside, the city of New York stretched before you, the night alive with lights and movement, a stark contrast to the stillness you felt inside.

Michael stood back, watching you. He didn't want to disturb the fragile peace, his gaze lingering on your silhouette as you stared out at the city. You heard his soft footsteps retreat, but the tension between you remained thick, unspoken.

"Michael..." your voice was barely a whisper, the sound cutting through the stillness.

He stopped, turning back toward you, his eyes searching yours. "Yes?"

"I—" You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. You glanced back out at the city lights, the answer to your question lost somewhere in the blur of emotions. "Never mind," you murmured, turning away from him again.

Michael's sigh was heavy, weighted with regret and weariness as he took a step toward you. Each movement felt deliberate, as if he feared that closing the physical space between you might shatter the fragile calm. The soft rustle of his clothes brushed against the silence of the room, but it couldn't bridge the emotional chasm that now lay between you both—vast, like an ocean neither of you knew how to cross.

"You can talk to me," he murmured, his voice low and earnest, as if he was trying to coax out the words you were holding back. "You can say anything you need. I know you're mad. Frustrated. Angry. Upset. You have every right to be." His hand hovered for a moment before it gently brushed against yours, tentative, like he was afraid you'd pull away.

When your eyes finally met his, the tears that had welled up moments before threatened to spill over. His eyes softened, dark and pained, pleading in a way that unsettled you. It wasn't just the guilt—it was the rawness, the fragility you weren't used to seeing in him. And for a second, it almost cracked the walls you'd built.

"I mean it, deep down with everything I have, I swear to you—" His voice wavered as if the truth was burning him from the inside out. "I didn't want to kiss her. It wasn't supposed to happen. She didn't stick to the script. I had to fire her. She's off the tour, I made sure of it." His voice held the weight of a promise, but you weren't sure if you believed it anymore. Could promises still matter when trust had been shattered?

You looked at him, your gaze trying to pierce through the layers of his words, searching his face, his eyes, for something—anything—to tell you if he was telling the truth. His eyes, wide and glistening, held that familiar warmth, the warmth that once made you feel safe, but now felt distant, like a memory you couldn't quite grasp.

You let out a sigh, heavy and exhausted, your gaze drifting back to the window. The city lights blurred behind your tears, a mess of color and light reflecting the turmoil inside you. Michael stood there for a moment longer, watching you, before he reached out again—this time, his hand found your chin, the touch tender yet firm as he turned your face back to his.

"Can I ask you something?" His voice was quieter now, more fragile, as though he was treading on dangerous ground.

You swallowed hard, feeling the tension in your throat as you tried to suppress the anger that threatened to spill over. "What?" Your voice came out sharper than you intended, but you couldn't help it. The weight of your hurt clung to every word.

He held your gaze, not backing down. "Do you trust me?"

Silence. The question hung in the air between you, thick and suffocating. You didn't answer, couldn't answer. Trust? How could he ask that now, after everything?

He stepped back slightly, his voice even softer now. "If you don't, I'll leave you be. But I need to know... do you trust me?"

The words stung. Part of you wanted to scream that you didn't, that he'd lost that right when he let her lips touch his. But something inside, something small and wounded, still wanted to believe him. "I trust you," you whispered, the words feeling both true and false all at once.

Michael took a small breath, relief flickering in his eyes, but you weren't done. "Look at me," he said, his tone a little firmer now, pulling you out of your thoughts. His hand, still on your chin, tilted your face just enough so your eyes met his fully.

"Do you still love me?" His voice cracked ever so slightly, and you saw the tears begin to well up in his eyes, though he fought to keep them from falling. His vulnerability was heartbreaking, but the question cut too deep.

Your hand fell from his, your body going cold as the gravity of his question hit you. It wasn't just about trust—it was about everything. Love, broken promises, the future you once saw together, now clouded with doubt.

Michael blinked rapidly, trying to push back the tears that threatened to spill over. "Please don't do this," he whispered, his voice shaky and desperate. "Tell me you still love me. Tell me you still want to be my wife." His words came out in a rush, like he was afraid if he stopped speaking, the silence would swallow him whole.

Your throat tightened, the lump there almost unbearable. Your heart pounded in your chest, the rhythm erratic and painful. You did love him—you couldn't deny that, even if you wanted to. Every piece of you, every broken part, still loved him. Even the pieces that hurt the most.

But the question wasn't whether you loved him—it was whether you could move past this, whether you could still be the woman who stood by his side, the woman who once trusted him so completely.

The air between you felt thick, almost suffocating, as you took a step back. Michael's desperation was palpable, his movements quick as he closed the distance you tried to create. "Do you still love me?" His voice cracked, raw with emotion. "I will get down on my knees and beg!" The intensity in his eyes made your chest tighten, and for a split second, you saw him lower himself, his knees threatening to meet the floor.

"Don't do that," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, but firm enough to stop him. You took another step back, instinctively, as if space could shield you from the weight of his plea. But Michael wasn't giving up. He moved closer, his presence overwhelming, and before you could retreat further, his hand caught yours.

His fingers wrapped around your hand, holding on as if he feared you might disappear if he let go. "Tell me you still love me, please..." The way his voice wavered, like a man on the edge of losing everything, sent a shiver through you. "Baby, please!" His grip tightened, his words almost echoing off the walls of the suite, as though he needed the room itself to hear his cry for mercy.

Your eyes drifted to where your hands were intertwined, his large, calloused fingers enveloping yours. You felt the tremor in his hand, the desperation coursing through him. Slowly, your thumb brushed over his knuckles, tracing the familiar ridges and veins, grounding yourself in that simple touch. When your gaze met his, the raw vulnerability in his eyes nearly unraveled you.

"I-I still love you," you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips, but they carried the weight of your heart.

Michael's face softened, but the wariness lingered in his gaze. He wasn't sure yet, wasn't certain if you meant it fully, and you could see the question hovering in his eyes. "Do you mean it?" His voice was soft, almost afraid to hear the answer.

You nodded, feeling the burn of unshed tears in your throat. "I do. I-I could never stop loving you. Not even the bones in my body could stop loving you." The words flowed softly from you, but they felt heavy, laced with the depth of the love that still lingered, even after everything.

Relief washed over Michael, and he stepped even closer, his body just inches from yours now, the warmth radiating off him in waves. "Do you forgive me?" The question lingered in the air, heavy and full of hope.

You hesitated only a moment before nodding. "I forgive you," you said softly, feeling the weight of the words lift from your chest as you released them.

Michael exhaled a long, shaky breath, like a man who had been holding it for far too long. "You still my girl?" His voice was tender now, searching for the reassurance that you were still his, that he hadn't lost you completely.

You met his gaze, your heart swelling with emotion. "I'm still yours," you whispered, the truth of it ringing in the space between you.

Michael's hand cupped your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek with a tenderness that made your heart ache. "I love you," he murmured, his voice full of sincerity, each word wrapped in the emotion he could barely contain.

You couldn't help but smile, the corners of your lips lifting softly. "I love you," you replied, the words a balm to the cracks in both your hearts.

He moved even closer, his breath warm against your skin, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "Can I kiss you?" His voice was playful now, a slight grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, though the intensity in his eyes never wavered.

A soft laugh escaped you, shaking your head lightly. "You don't have to ask me that. You can kiss me," you teased, the lightness between you returning for the first time in what felt like forever.

Michael chuckled, the sound low and warm. "I wanted to ask first," he teased, leaning in just a little more. "I don't need you biting my head off." His words were playful, but the look in his eyes was one of deep, unwavering affection. He wasn't just asking for a kiss—he was asking for the chance to heal.

Your lips curled into a faint smile as you closed the remaining distance between you, your breath brushing against his. "I wouldn't bite your head off," you whispered, your voice soft yet teasing, "unless this took a completely different turn. You should be lucky your mother saved your ass." You moved even closer, feeling the heat of his body wrap around yours like a warm blanket, grounding you both in that moment of vulnerability.

Michael wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against him as his forehead rested gently against yours. "She told you, didn't she?" His voice was low, laced with guilt, yet there was a tenderness to it that tugged at your heart.

You nodded slightly, feeling his breath mingle with yours. "She did," you whispered. "But I didn't want to hear it from her. I needed to hear it from the man who put this ring on my finger and promised to love me."

His lips hovered just over yours, brushing against them softly, barely a touch, but it sent a wave of warmth coursing through your veins. "I do love you. All of you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he finally closed the gap, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was tender, yet filled with the desperation of a man trying to make amends.

His lips were warm, soft, and comforting, moving with a gentle urgency that conveyed everything words couldn't. He kissed you deeply, pouring everything he had into that moment, as if trying to kiss away the pain, the hurt, the doubt. You felt your body melt against his, the tension in your muscles unraveling as he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you like he never wanted to let go.

As the kiss deepened, you felt your legs grow weak beneath you, your resolve crumbling under the weight of his affection. With a practiced ease, Michael scooped you up into his arms, cradling you as if you were the most precious thing in his world. Your lips never parted as he carried you, the soft click of his shoes echoing in the suite as he led you both down the hallway.

You kicked off your heels, the soft thuds as they scattered across the floor barely registering in your mind. All you could focus on was him—his warmth, his touch, the way his lips continued to claim yours with a passion that left you breathless.

Michael nudged open the bedroom door with a soft kick, closing it with another, the quiet click of the door signaling the intimacy of the moment. He walked over to the bed, laying you down with a gentleness that belied the intensity of the kiss still lingering on your lips. He kissed you again, deeper this time, his body hovering over yours as you sank into the plush mattress.

His hand roamed your arms, fingers trailing over your soft skin, igniting a fire everywhere he touched. Slowly, he reached for the straps of your dress, pulling them down with deliberate care, his lips never leaving yours. You lifted your arms, letting the dress slide off, pooling in a rich, crimson stain on the floor, leaving you bare save for the delicate lace of your black panties.

Michael's lips moved from yours, trailing down your cheek and along your neck, each kiss sending a shiver of pleasure through you. His breath was hot against your skin as he found the pulse point at your throat, sucking gently, his touch igniting every nerve in your body. The intoxicating mix of your pheromones and the familiar scent of your skin only spurred him on, heightening the moment as his kisses grew more fervent.

Your hands found their way into his hair, fingers tangling in the soft curls as you let out a quiet gasp. He pressed his body against yours, the heat between you almost unbearable, and yet, you craved more. The way his lips worshipped your skin, the way his hands explored every inch of you—it was as if he was trying to memorize you, to make up for every wrong with each kiss, each touch.

With each breath, each kiss that grazed your skin, Michael was more than just a reminder of the love you shared—he was a force pulling you deeper into that connection, a tether to something unbreakable, even in the face of all your doubts. His lips moved like a soft whisper, trailing reverently down the curve of your body, leaving a path of heat in their wake. As his mouth traveled lower, the ache in your chest, the heaviness of the past few days, began to unravel, replaced by the overwhelming presence of him—of the man you could never stop loving, no matter how hard you tried.

Michael paused at your chest, kissing delicately down the valley between your breasts before continuing his descent. His movements were unhurried, savoring every inch of your skin as if committing it to memory. When he reached your stomach, his breath warm against your skin, he shed his red blazer in a single fluid motion, the soft rustle of fabric hitting the floor echoing faintly in the room. The air felt charged between you, a silent promise hanging in the space as his lips continued downward, inch by inch, until they found the sensitive skin of your lower abdomen.

His teeth grazed the waistband of your panties, latching onto the delicate fabric as he slowly, teasingly, tugged them down your legs. The sensation was tantalizing, every movement deliberate and filled with purpose. You felt the cool air brush against your bare skin as the lace fell away, pooling on the floor beneath you. Now, you were laid completely bare before him, vulnerable and exposed in a way that left your heart racing, but trusting him entirely.

Michael's hands found your thighs, his grip firm yet gentle as he guided your legs back toward your chest, your knees brushing softly against your skin. He kissed along your inner thighs with a tenderness that nearly undid you, each press of his lips a silent declaration of his love, his devotion. The heat of his mouth sent shivers up your spine, a delicious contrast to the cool air of the room, and your body instinctively arched toward him, seeking more of his touch.

"Michael..." you breathed, the sound barely a whisper, your voice heavy with longing. You could feel the intensity of his gaze, the weight of his attention fully focused on you, on pleasing you, on reminding you that his love had never wavered.

With slow, measured care, he spread your legs wider, revealing the most intimate part of yourself to him. His eyes darkened with desire as he kissed the soft skin around your center, brushing his lips against your folds in a way that made your breath hitch. The anticipation coiled tightly in your core, your entire body attuned to every movement he made.

When his tongue flicked out, tasting the arousal that had already begun to glisten on your skin, a shuddering moan escaped your lips. "Oh God," you gasped, your head falling back against the pillows, fingers tangling in the sheets as pleasure rippled through you.

Michael's fingers slid between your folds, his touch firm yet tender as he parted them, exposing you fully to him. His tongue found your clit with an expert precision, flicking it in quick, teasing motions that made you gasp for breath, your body instinctively arching into him. He sucked gently on the sensitive nub, his lips moving with practiced ease, as if worshipping the very core of your pleasure. The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve in your body alight with the intensity of it.

His tongue moved lower, dipping into your entrance, thrusting slowly in and out as he tasted you, the warmth of your walls clenching around him with every movement. The sensation of his tongue exploring you, combined with the rhythmic strokes on your clit, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, building with each passing second.

"Don't stop," you begged, your voice breathless, desperate, as your fingers found their way into his hair. You tugged gently, not wanting to hurt him but needing something to hold onto as your body teetered on the edge of release.

Michael groaned softly against you, the vibration sending another shock of pleasure through your core. He doubled down, flicking his tongue with more intensity over your clit while thrusting it deeper inside you, his lips moving in perfect rhythm. The pressure was building, an inferno in your belly, and you could feel yourself spiraling toward release, your hips beginning to move in time with his mouth, chasing that edge, that moment of bliss that was so close you could taste it.

Your breath hitched, your chest rising and falling in rapid succession as the pleasure built with a tantalizing intensity. Your body trembled, hips instinctively grinding against his face, chasing that elusive release he was masterfully guiding you toward. The tension in your core twisted tighter, every nerve electrified, every sensation amplified as you teetered on the edge of bliss.

Michael's fingers slid inside you with ease, his middle and ring fingers curling just right, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust. His tongue, slick and warm, moved back to your clit, the soft flicks sending sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine. His pace was steady, controlled, each movement deliberate as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, your arousal coating them in a glistening sheen.

He rested his head against your left thigh, the warmth of his breath fanning across your skin, grounding you in the moment. His tongue moved lazily over your sensitive nub, each slow flick driving you mad with need. He was edging you, teasing you with the slow, deliberate pace, keeping you right on the precipice without allowing you to fall over.

"Michael, I'm so close," you moaned, your voice trembling with desperation, your body arching toward him, begging for release.

But instead of giving you what you craved, he slowed down. His fingers moved inside you with an agonizing slowness, his tongue tracing languid circles over your clit, drawing out the moment. The tension in your core tightened even further, the pleasure building but never quite reaching that peak. He was toying with you, pushing you to the brink and pulling you back, and it was driving you wild.

"Michael, please!" you whimpered, your voice raw with need, your fingers digging into the sheets as you writhed beneath him, desperate for more.

He lifted his head just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and molten with desire. Those big, brown eyes—eyes that had always held you captive—drew you in even deeper, pulling you into the depths of his love and passion. His gaze was intense, filled with a hunger that matched your own, but beneath it all was the tenderness that had always made your heart ache for him.

"Mmm, you taste so good, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. His tongue flicked lazily over your clit again, drawing another desperate moan from your lips.

"Michael... please, I want to cum," you begged, the words tumbling out in a breathless plea. Your body was trembling, your thighs shaking with the effort of holding back, your core burning with the need for release.

A small, wicked smile tugged at his lips as he curled his fingers inside you again, pressing deeper, finding that sweet spot with precision. You gasped, your entire body shuddering as pleasure flooded through you, your walls clenching around his fingers. His tongue resumed its slow, torturous rhythm on your clit, flicking over it with deliberate care, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

"Let go for me," he whispered against your skin, his voice barely audible but filled with command, "I want to feel you fall apart."

With that, he curved his fingers even more, pressing into that perfect spot inside you while his tongue picked up speed, flicking and swirling over your sensitive nub. Your body jolted, every muscle tensing as the pleasure built to a breaking point. You were so close—too close.

And then, with one final flick of his tongue, everything snapped.

A wave of euphoria crashed over you, your body convulsing as you came undone beneath him. You cried out, your back arching off the bed, your fingers tangling in his hair as your release washed over you in powerful waves. Your walls clenched around his fingers, your thighs trembling as the pleasure consumed you, white-hot and overwhelming.

Michael didn't stop, his fingers and tongue continuing their relentless assault, drawing out your orgasm until you were a quivering, trembling mess beneath him. He coaxed every last bit of pleasure from your body, his touch firm but gentle, his mouth worshipping you as you rode the high.

Finally, when you could take no more, your body spent and trembling, he slowed down, his fingers slipping out of you with a wet sound as he kissed his way back up your body. His lips brushed softly against your skin, each kiss tender and loving, a contrast to the intensity of the pleasure he had just given you.

He hovered above you, his breath warm against your cheek as he looked down at you with that same, unwavering affection. "I love you," he whispered, his voice hoarse but filled with sincerity.

You smiled up at him, still breathless, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your body continued to hum with the aftershocks of pleasure. "I love you too," you whispered, your voice soft but heavy with meaning, your heart swelling with the fullness of the moment.

Michael's dark eyes never left yours as he stood straight, the intensity in his gaze making the room feel smaller, the air thicker with anticipation. Slowly, he began unbuttoning his black shirt, each flick of his fingers deliberate, almost torturously slow, revealing the smooth expanse of his bare chest beneath. Your eyes followed every motion, captivated by the way his muscles shifted under his skin, the light catching on the sheen of sweat that still lingered from earlier.

He shrugged the shirt off, letting it fall to the floor without care. The fabric barely made a sound as it crumpled at his feet, but the sight of him standing there, shirtless, was enough to steal the breath from your lungs. His hands moved to his belt, the soft click of metal as he unbuckled it echoing in the quiet room. The leather slid from the loops with a quiet hiss before joining the shirt on the floor with a muted thud, forgotten in the heat of the moment.

You shifted, sitting up on the edge of the bed, your pulse quickening as you watched him with wide eyes. Michael didn't say a word as he reached out, his large hands wrapping gently around your waist as he pulled you to your feet, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours. The moment his lips met yours, the world around you melted away. The kiss was deep, fervent, full of passion, his lips moving against yours as if they were searching for something, something only you could give him.

A soft moan escaped your lips, muffled by the kiss, as his hands tightened around your waist, pulling you closer to him. The heat of his body, the firmness of his chest against you—it was intoxicating. You could feel the pulse of his need radiating from him, mirrored in the way your own body responded.

Your hands found the waistband of his pants, your fingers trembling as they unbuttoned them. The sound of the zipper lowering was lost in the fervor of the moment. With practiced ease, you slid the pants down, but before you could go any further, Michael caught your hand, guiding it beneath the waistband of his briefs. The heat of him was startling, the hardness unmistakable as your fingers wrapped around him, feeling him pulse and grow under your touch.

A shiver ran through you, your pulse quickening as the kiss deepened, your lips moving in a frantic dance of passion. You backed Michael up, the two of you moving in sync, until his back met the wall with a soft thud. He pulled away from the kiss, his breath coming in harsh pants, his forehead resting against yours as he gazed into your eyes.

"I love you," he whispered, the words rough and raw, filled with all the emotions that had been building between you.

Your eyes flicked from his lips, now swollen from the kiss, to his eyes, dark and full of longing. "I love you," you whispered back, your voice barely more than a breath as you gave his hardened shaft a teasing squeeze.

Michael's breath hitched, his hand coming up to cup your face gently, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he leaned in, capturing your lips again in a slow, sensual kiss. The intensity of it sent a jolt of electricity down your spine, and before you knew it, he was guiding you back toward the bed. Your body gave way to the soft mattress, the sheets cool against your skin as you collapsed onto it, your breath coming in short gasps as you watched him shed the rest of his clothes.

The sight of him standing there, fully bare, took your breath away. His body was a masterpiece of lean muscle, every curve and line a testament to his years of dancing. His abs were defined, his skin smooth and glistening under the soft light. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, the slight sheen of sweat catching the light. But it was the way his hardened length stood thick and proud, the veins running along its length prominent and pulsing, that had your pulse racing.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice soft but filled with awe as he moved toward the bed, his eyes never leaving yours.

You shifted, dragging yourself up toward the headboard, watching as Michael climbed onto the bed, his movements slow, predatory. He hovered over you, his breath ghosting over your skin as he kissed his way down your body, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Each kiss, each flick of his tongue, sent shivers racing through you, your body arching toward him, craving his touch.

When his lips reached the apex of your thighs, he paused, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, dark with desire. He placed a soft, lingering kiss against your folds, his breath warm against your skin. The sensation sent a shockwave of pleasure through you, your body trembling with anticipation.

Michael held his hardened length in his hand, stroking himself slowly, his eyes never leaving your face as he teased you with the sight of him. His tip was slick with precum, the thick skin pulling back with each stroke, revealing the sensitive head that glistened in the low light.

He kissed his way back up your body, his lips brushing over your stomach, your chest, until finally, they found your neck. His body pressed against yours, his warmth surrounding you, the weight of him a comforting presence as his lips found yours again.

You could feel the heat of his shaft against you, the swollen tip brushing teasingly over your slick folds, sending a pulse of raw desire coursing through your body. The anticipation was electric, the air between you humming with unspoken longing as his breath mingled with yours, every brush of his skin against yours a promise of what was to come.

The teasing glide of his tip against your entrance had your heart racing, your core tightening with every soft, deliberate movement. His gaze held yours, intense and unwavering, making you feel like the only person in the world.

"You ready?" His voice was deep, laced with both tenderness and need, as he continued to nudge himself against your entrance, his precum mixing with the wetness that had already begun to gather there. The slick friction of him against you made your breath catch in your throat, and you could only nod, the words barely able to form on your lips.

"Yes, Michael," you breathed, your voice soft, trembling with the weight of desire. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, your fingers threading through his hair, anchoring yourself to him.

Michael's hand moved with practiced ease, gently lifting your left leg and draping it over his shoulder, the position opening you up to him completely. The warmth of his body was overwhelming, the sheer size of him pressing into you making you shudder with anticipation. Slowly, carefully, he guided the tip of his length inside, his every movement deliberate as he stretched you, inch by agonizing inch.

You gasped, your head falling back against the pillow as he filled you, the sensation both overwhelming and exquisite. The stretch, the fullness of him inside you, made every nerve ending in your body come alive, your slick walls pulsing around him, adjusting to the invasion.

"Shh, relax, baby," he whispered, his voice rough with restraint. His eyes, dark and full of heat, flickered up to meet yours before dipping down, captivated by the sight of himself sinking deeper into your warmth. He took his time, easing in slowly, savoring every inch as your body stretched to accommodate him.

The feeling of being completely filled sent a shudder through you, your body tightening around him as he bottomed out, his hips flush against yours. The fullness, the delicious stretch of him inside you, was overwhelming, and yet, all you wanted was more. His slow movements in and out were almost torturous, dragging out the pleasure, making you hyperaware of every inch of him.

Your eyes followed his, both of you transfixed by the sight of your bodies joined so intimately. His thick shaft glistened with your arousal, every movement making it shine under the soft, dim light. The way he slid in and out of you, slow and steady, left a trail of slick wetness that only added to the growing intensity of the moment.

Michael's breath came in shallow gasps, his mouth hanging open slightly as he watched your bodies come together again and again. The look on his face, the pure, unfiltered desire, sent a thrill through you, your own breaths turning into soft, shaky moans. Each thrust, each pull, was deliberate, his hips moving in a slow, sensual rhythm that had you climbing higher and higher.

He reached out, his hand cupping your face gently, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. The connection made your heart stutter, your body arching into his as he sank even deeper, the pressure building inside you unbearable in the most delicious way. Your moans were muffled against his lips, the sound of them only making him chuckle low in his throat.

He broke the kiss, his lips hovering inches from yours as he whispered, "You feel so good, baby."

And then, he went deeper, pushing past the point of teasing, hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur, your body jerking in response. A cry escaped you, your hand flying to his abdomen, fingers splaying against the hard planes of his stomach in an attempt to steady yourself. But the truth was, you didn't want him to stop; if anything, you wanted more. Needed more.

Michael's chuckle was dark, knowing, his hand slipping from your face to your waist, holding you firmly as he thrust deeper, his pace still slow but each movement precise, deliberate. The tension was coiling tighter inside you, the heat building with every second. You could feel the pressure mounting, every nerve in your body on fire as you teetered on the edge, waiting for that final push.

"More, Michael," you pleaded, the need in your voice thick and trembling, your nails pressing into his skin with desperation. Every inch of your body was taut, straining toward the release you craved, but Michael was in control, holding you just at the edge.

"You want more?" His breath was hot and teasing against your lips, his deep voice vibrating through your chest. You nodded eagerly, your body arching into him, but Michael's dark chuckle made your heart flutter with both frustration and desire.

"I'm taking my time tonight, baby," he murmured, the words a slow, deliberate promise as his hips rocked forward again, his thrusts measured, almost torturous. "I'm not rushing anything."

A gasp tore from your lips as he pushed deeper, his tip brushing against your cervix with each precise movement, sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your body. Your muscles tensed, clinging to him even tighter, your breaths coming out in ragged, desperate pants.

"Michael..." you gasped, your voice a broken whisper as you held onto him like a lifeline, his warmth and weight grounding you amidst the overwhelming sensations.

His lips found the crook of your neck, soft and slow as he pressed tender kisses against your skin, the heat of his body melding with yours as he shifted, pressing deeper, stretching you further. Your leg still rested over his shoulder, his grip on your waist firm but gentle, pulling you even closer.

Each thrust was slow, deliberate, designed to make you feel every inch of him. It was maddening—the way he held back, savoring the moment, pouring all of his unspoken emotions into the rhythm of his hips. This wasn't just about pleasure—it was about making up for everything, about showing you just how much you meant to him. The love and regret hung between every breath, every deep plunge inside of you.

"Oh god, Michael..." you moaned, your voice cracking as your nails dragged down his back, leaving faint marks in your wake. His name was a soft plea, a prayer, whispered against his ear. The sound seemed to ignite something in him, urging him on, though his pace remained maddeningly slow, each thrust a steady, rhythmic beat like the pulse of a heart.

Your bodies were slick where they met, a sheen of sweat and arousal coating both of you, making the friction both unbearable and intoxicating. You could feel every inch of him, the thickness of his shaft stretching you to your limit, his tip pressing against all the right spots. Each slow retreat left you aching for more, but when he filled you again, it was like he was made to fit perfectly inside of you, his length pulsing in time with your own heartbeat.

He could feel the way your walls clenched around him, slick and hot, gripping him tighter with every slow thrust. The pressure inside of you was building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter, threatening to snap with each deliberate movement of his hips.

"Tell me what you want, baby," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear, his lips brushing the shell of it as his hand cupped your chin gently, forcing you to meet his gaze. His dark eyes were filled with heat, with the need to hear you say it.

You moaned in response, unable to form words as his lips trailed over your neck, each kiss sending jolts of pleasure down your spine. His hips continued their slow, devastating rhythm, driving you mad with need. "Tell me," he coaxed again, his voice low and rough, a command hidden within the soft plea.

"I want you," you finally gasped, your voice broken and breathless, your body trembling beneath him. "All of you," you moaned, your words spilling out between labored breaths.

Michael's lips brushed against your ear, a soft kiss filled with reverence and need. "You have all of me," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Everything." His words were a vow, one that made your heart swell as his hands gripped you tighter.

Your nails dug into his back, pulling him closer, your moans vibrating against his skin. He responded with a deep groan of his own, his body pressing harder into yours as he buried his face in the curve of your neck. His tongue flicked out, teasing your skin, before his lips latched onto your throat, sucking gently but firmly, his intention clear. He wanted to mark you, to claim you all over again, as if the love you shared could somehow be stamped into your skin.

His slow, deep thrusts had you teetering on the edge, your core burning with the need for release. The tension inside you was unbearable, your body trembling as the pressure mounted, threatening to break. You were so close, so desperately close, and he knew it. He could feel it in the way your walls clenched around him, could hear it in the breathless moans that escaped your lips.

Michael's lips hovered just above your ear, his breath hot and tantalizing as he whispered, "I can feel it, baby. You're so close. Just let go for me."

The sound of his voice sent shivers down your spine, the rumble of it vibrating through your core. You were on the edge, teetering on that precipice of pleasure that only he could push you over. "Michael, please..." Your voice cracked, laced with desperation, the heat in your body growing unbearable. You clawed at his skin, nails raking along his back in a silent, aching plea for more.

His mouth lingered at your neck, his breath teasing your sensitive skin, and his voice dripped with both power and tenderness. "What is it, beautiful? Tell me what you want."

You could barely breathe as you looked up into his eyes, pupils blown wide with need. "Harder," you whispered, your voice shaking as you tried to find the strength to speak. The tension between you was almost unbearable, a heavy, charged silence that echoed in the room.

For a moment, he just watched you, his dark, molten gaze searching your face, savoring every flicker of emotion. His slow, deliberate thrusts continued, each one calculated, driving you wild with the need for more. He was holding back, teasing you, savoring your frustration. Then, without warning, his pace changed. His hips snapped forward with a force that took your breath away, his body slamming into yours with raw, unbridled intensity.

The shock of it ripped a cry from your throat, the sound broken and jagged, your moans turning into desperate, breathless screams that echoed off the walls. His name left your lips in a shattered gasp, "Michael!" The sharp, rhythmic slapping of skin on skin filled the space, each powerful thrust driving him deeper, harder, shaking you to your very core.

His hand found your chin, gripping it possessively as he tilted your face upward, forcing you to look into his eyes. There was fire there—an intensity that left you breathless. He leaned down, his lips rough as they claimed your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a possessive mark. Each kiss felt like a brand, a reminder of the connection, the tether that held you both together in this feverish moment.

"You feel that?" he whispered against your skin, his voice a deep, dark growl that sent a shudder through your body. "I can feel how close you are... just let go, baby. Let it out."

You tried to resist, tried to hold on to the last thread of control, but it was slipping, unraveling with every brutal thrust of his hips. Each time he moved inside you, he hit that perfect spot, the one that had your body trembling, your mind slipping into a haze of pleasure. The tension inside you snapped all at once, a white-hot wave crashing over you as your body shattered. You convulsed beneath him, your muscles tightening around him, your release coming in violent, uncontrollable spasms.

Your hands flew to his back, nails digging into his skin as you cried out, your voice lost in the storm of sensation. You could feel your own slickness coating him, your release mixing with his as he kept moving, unrelenting, drawing out every last bit of pleasure from you.

"Oh, just like that," he groaned, his voice a low, guttural growl as he felt your body responding to him. The tight, pulsing grip of your walls drove him closer to the edge, his movements becoming more erratic, more desperate. His arms wrapped around you, holding you against him as his body tensed, the muscles in his back tightening under your hands.

With a final, powerful thrust, he spilled into you, his release coming in deep, shuddering waves. His moan was raw, broken, his breath ragged against your neck as he emptied himself inside you. Each pulse of him inside you sent another ripple of pleasure through your body, your walls milking him for every last drop, the heat of him flooding your core.

Michael collapsed against you, his body heavy as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath still ragged and uneven. He was still moving inside you, slow, languid thrusts as he rode out the last waves of his release. The sensation was overwhelming, your body trembling beneath him, utterly spent.

You could feel his seed seeping out of you, mingling with your own, slicking the insides of your thighs and the rumpled sheets beneath you. The air in the room was thick with the scent of sweat, sex, and the aftermath of what you had just shared.

For a few long moments, the two of you just lay there, tangled together, the only sound the soft, heavy rhythm of your breathing. His heartbeat pounded against your chest, still racing, in sync with your own.

Slowly, Michael pulled out of you, his length slipping from your body with a wet, slick sound that left you trembling. He carefully lowered your leg from his shoulder, his hands trailing down your thigh, his touch soft, gentle in the aftermath. The cool air hit your skin, making you shiver, your body feeling strangely empty without him inside you.

He pressed a soft kiss to your hip, then your stomach, working his way up to your chest, leaving a trail of tender kisses in his wake. Finally, his lips found yours again, capturing you in a deep, lingering kiss. "I love you," he whispered against your mouth, his voice rough with emotion. "More than anything."

Your body was too exhausted to respond, but you smiled softly, your heart swelling with the warmth of his words. He eased off the bed, disappearing into the bathroom for a moment before returning with a warm, damp washcloth. Gently, he wiped away the sweat and the sticky mess of your shared release, his movements slow and careful, full of love and tenderness.

Once he was done, he discarded the cloth and slid back into bed beside you, pulling the covers over both of your bodies. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, his chest pressed against your back, the warmth of his body soothing your trembling limbs.

His lips found your ear once more, brushing against your skin as his breath came in soft, warm waves. The simple, quiet intimacy of the moment felt profound as he whispered, "Hey."

You stirred in his arms, your body moving instinctively closer, seeking the comfort of his embrace. The bed felt like a sanctuary, the covers a cocoon around you both, holding you in this fragile moment. Your hand slipped out from beneath the blankets, your fingers trailing across his chest before coming up to his face. Your touch was gentle, delicate, as if you were tracing the very essence of him.

The room was bathed in a pale, silvery glow from the moonlight streaming through the window, casting soft shadows across his face. His strong features were softened by the light, the sharp lines of his jaw now gentle curves under your thumb as you traced the rough stubble there. His skin was warm, and you could feel the subtle tension in his muscles begin to relax as you caressed him.

"You mean it, right?" His voice was barely above a whisper now, the vulnerability in his tone raw and exposed in a way you didn't often hear. It trembled slightly, a hint of insecurity laced beneath the question. "You still love me?"

The weight of his words lingered in the air, fragile and heavy at the same time, like he was afraid of the answer despite knowing it deep in his heart. You nodded slowly, your fingers moving across his jaw, brushing lightly against the stubble that you loved so much. The texture beneath your fingertips grounded you in the moment, in the depth of your shared history.

"Always," you whispered, your voice quiet yet resolute, filled with all the love and assurance you could offer. The word hung between you, a promise as enduring as the years you'd spent together, filled with passion, struggle, and unwavering devotion.

A look of pure relief washed over his face, and his lips curved into a soft, almost shy smile that melted something deep inside of you. His dark eyes softened, the intensity in them easing as the tension that had been gripping his body finally released. He leaned in slowly, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, his nose brushing against yours in a gentle, playful gesture that was so quintessentially him.

Then, he closed the distance between you, his lips pressing against yours in a kiss that was achingly tender. It wasn't a kiss of passion or heat but one of love—deep, abiding love that spoke of shared memories, of moments when words weren't enough, of the bond that had grown stronger through every trial. His lips moved against yours slowly, reverently, sealing the love you both carried for one another, a love that had withstood time and trials, unshaken.

When he pulled back, the soft smile remained on his face, but his eyes held a spark of playful curiosity. "Good," he murmured, his lips grazing yours as he nuzzled against you, the warmth of his body wrapping around you like a blanket. "Because I didn't want to lose you. I don't think I could handle that."

You smiled at him, the affection you felt bubbling up inside you, and pressed your forehead against his. The closeness between you felt magnetic, an unbreakable bond drawing you together. The warmth of his skin, the scent of him, the sound of his breath—it was all so familiar, so comforting. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat, beating in time with yours.

"You never will," you murmured softly, your voice a gentle promise that you both knew was true. Your fingers traced the shape of his lips before resting on his cheek, feeling the slight roughness of his stubble beneath your palm. "But, like I said, thank your mother. She was a big help in all this."

Michael let out a quiet chuckle, the sound rich and warm, and his smile grew. The tension that had been hanging between you seemed to melt away completely, replaced by a sense of peace and lightness. He leaned in even closer, his nose brushing yours again in a playful, teasing gesture.

"Yeah, I guess I owe her one," he replied, his voice still low, but filled with affection and gratitude.

Before you could say anything more, he closed the distance between you again, this time with a kiss that was deeper, more intentional. His lips moved against yours with a gentle firmness, conveying everything that words couldn't—the gratitude, the devotion, the love that had claimed you both so completely over the years. There was something timeless about the way he kissed you, like each kiss was a reaffirmation of what you had, of what you would continue to build together.

As he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet of the room. The love that tethered you both was palpable, an invisible thread woven through years of memories, trials, and triumphs. And in that moment, in the quiet darkness, you both knew that it was a love that would last—still strong, still meant to be.

#michael jackson #wattpad #moonwalker #mjf fanfiction #writing #badera #imagine #mjj

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mjwhisperer · 3 months ago

Text

𝚃𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 & 𝚃𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐

Smut

1986

New York City

Word Count: 10.7k

The hotel suite pulsed with the relentless beat of music, every throb reverberating through the walls as you lay on the bed, trying to focus on the movie flickering across the screen. But with the heavy bass pounding through the air and Michael's voice cutting through the chaos as he rehearsed for his upcoming short film, concentration was a lost cause. You knew better than to interrupt him when he was in his zone, especially with the tension that had been building over the last few days. He was becoming more withdrawn, his stress accumulating like storm clouds, and even the brief moments before sleep had become silent and strained.

With a sigh, you gripped the remote and turned the volume up, hoping to drown out the noise from the main room. The television blared, but it was barely a match for the music and the sharp edge in Michael's tone as he barked out instructions to the dancers. You could almost hear the frustration in his voice, the way it cracked like a whip through the air.

Suddenly, the music cut off, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. A knock on the bedroom door broke the quiet before Michael slipped inside. His usually well-kept curls were in disarray, his tie hung loose around his neck, and one of his sleeves was still buttoned as he leaned against the doorframe, his gaze fixed on you.

"Can you turn that down, please?" His voice was strained, almost pleading, but it held a firmness that warned against defiance.

You didn't say anything, just reached for the remote and lowered the volume, the room now thick with unspoken tension.

"Thank you," Michael murmured before slipping back out, closing the door softly behind him. The click of the latch echoed in the silence, a reminder of the growing distance between you.

Frustration simmered beneath your skin, the way he'd been acting gnawing at you. You were done tiptoeing around him. Without hesitation, you clicked the TV off and tossed the remote aside, throwing the covers back with a decisive flick. As you rose, your reflection caught your eye in the mirror, the black satin of your nightgown clinging to every curve, a silent testament to the power you still held over him.

You reached up, fingers brushing through your hair, letting it tumble down your shoulders in a soft cascade. With one last glance in the mirror, you crossed the room and opened the door, the music immediately assaulting your senses once more.

Your footsteps were muffled against the plush cream-colored carpet as you made your way down the hall. When you reached the main room, your bare feet met the cool surface of the hardwood floor, grounding you as you took in the scene before you. Michael was in the middle of the room, his movements sharp and precise as he demonstrated choreography to Jeffery and Gregg. But the moment you entered, their focus shifted, eyes raking over you with a mixture of admiration and something far less innocent.

"Damn, Mrs. J," Jeffery muttered, his voice dripping with appreciation.

Gregg let out a low whistle, the sound slicing through the air like a blade, instantly drawing Michael's attention.

His gaze snapped to you, narrowing as he took in your appearance. "Baby, what are you doing out here dressed like that? Go back to the room," he commanded, his tone a mix of protective concern and simmering irritation.

Ignoring his words, you sauntered across the room, feeling the weight of their stares on you. You sank into the plush sofa, crossing your legs slowly, the satin of your gown shifting with the movement. "I just came to watch," you teased, a sly smile playing on your lips. "It's not like I'll be a distraction."

Michael's jaw clenched, the muscles working beneath his skin as he fought to keep his composure. He looked away from you, a storm brewing in his dark eyes as he clapped his hands together sharply, drawing the others' attention back to him. "We don't have all night," he snapped, his voice a dangerous edge. "Let's get to work, and quit eyeing my wife."

"Yes, sir," they chorused, their tones subdued, though you could still feel their lingering gazes.

As the music surged back to life, you leaned deeper into the plush cushions of the sofa, savoring the heat that curled in your chest. The satisfaction of knowing you had his attention, the way his eyes flickered back to you despite his attempts to stay focused, sent a thrill through you. You weren't about to let that go—not tonight.

Your gaze followed his every move, mesmerized by the fluidity of his body. The way his hips swayed in time with the beat, the sharpness of his spins, the precise snap of his fingers—it all spoke of control, discipline, and a deep, simmering passion. But there was also a wildness to him tonight, the way his half-untucked shirt clung to his torso, how the damp air clung to his curls, making them even wilder. Despite the chill of a November night in New York, the heat in the room was palpable, a testament to the intensity with which he worked.

Michael turned to speak to the dancers, his voice authoritative, though his gaze lingered on you longer than necessary before he forced himself to look away.

You couldn't help the playful smirk that curled your lips as you slid your feet up onto the couch, reclining in a way that accentuated the curve of your body. With a slow, deliberate motion, you let one of the straps of your satin nightgown slip down your shoulder, your eyes never leaving his. The moment it fell, his attention snapped back to you, the frustration clear in the tight line of his mouth. You winked at him, enjoying the way his jaw clenched in response. He was trying to maintain his composure, especially in front of his colleagues, but you knew you were getting to him.

Determined to keep the game going, you called his name, your voice a sultry purr that sliced through the music. "Michael..."

He sighed deeply, a sound heavy with exasperation and something darker as he turned to face you. "Yes, doll?" he asked, his tone betraying a careful restraint.

"I'm thirsty," you said, your voice laced with innocent mischief. "Could you get me a glass of juice?"

Michael's eyes darkened, a silent warning that you were treading on thin ice. "You two keep working. I'll be back," he told the dancers, his voice clipped as he walked off toward the kitchenette. The sharp sound of the fridge opening and slamming shut punctuated the tension in the air.

When he returned, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine—a mix of anger and desire burning beneath the surface. He handed you the glass, his fingers brushing against yours as he did. "Here," he said, the word barely more than a growl.

You looked up at him, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you accepted the juice. "Thank you, Daddy," you whispered, your tone sweet and saccharine.

Michael leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Keep going, and I won't be nice after I'm finished rehearsing." His hand cupped your chin, his grip firm but not painful, forcing you to meet his gaze.

You held his stare, your smile widening as you felt a delicious thrill run through you. "I'd like that," you replied with a soft chuckle, your voice thick with anticipation.

A shiver visibly ran through him, his resolve wavering for just a moment before he sighed deeply, releasing your chin and pulling back. Without another word, he returned to the dancers, his movements sharp and deliberate, though there was a new tension in his body. You could tell you were getting to him, unraveling that tight control he always prided himself on.

As you sipped your orange juice, your eyes locked onto Michael, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips. Every move he made was laced with tension, his body more charged, more deliberate, as if he was trying to shake off the effect you had on him. But you knew better. No amount of rehearsing could quell the fire you'd ignited tonight. The game was on, and it was clear you were winning.

When Michael finally wrapped up the rehearsal, he escorted the dancers to the door, his demeanor calm and composed, though you could sense the storm brewing beneath his cool exterior. He watched them walk down the hallway to the elevator, his eyes following them until the doors closed. The click of the lock echoed through the suite as he secured the door for the night.

He turned back to you, leaning casually against the wall, one foot crossed over the other. The tension in his posture was palpable, yet his voice was deceptively calm as he crooked a finger, beckoning you over. "Come here."

You took your time, savoring the last sip of your juice before setting the glass down on the side table, condensation pooling beneath it on the wood. You stood and walked over to him, your eyes never leaving his, the distance between you closing with each step until you were just a breath away.

"Yes?" you asked, your voice soft, almost innocent, though the challenge in your eyes was anything but.

Michael's gaze traveled slowly down your body, then back up to meet your eyes. "What were you trying to do?" he asked, his voice low, simmering with restrained frustration.

You shrugged, crossing your arms over your chest. "What do you mean? I just came in to watch."

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of incredulity in his expression. "Dressed like this? In your nightgown?" His voice was sharp, each word edged with the accusation you knew he was holding back.

You met his gaze with a defiant tilt of your chin. "It's late at night, Michael. What do you expect? You should have rehearsed earlier instead of the ass-crack of midnight," you shot back, your tone laced with sarcasm.

Michael's jaw tightened, the muscle ticking as he fought to keep his temper in check. "Watch your damn mouth," he hissed, the words coming out harsher than he intended.

You shrugged again, your expression daring him to make good on his warning. "You gonna make me?" you challenged, your voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur. "You've been doing all this talk, but where's the action? Saying you're going to do this to me, do that to me, but where's all the follow-through? Hmm?"

Michael's eyes darkened further, his frustration simmering dangerously close to the surface as he bit the inside of his cheek, a vain attempt to rein in the storm brewing within him. The fire in his gaze told you that you were pushing him, maybe even further than he could handle. The tension between you was almost unbearable, like a live wire ready to snap at any moment. His restraint was admirable, but you could see it fraying, and it was only a matter of time before it unraveled completely, releasing something far more intense.

"What?" you taunted, your voice cutting through the thick silence. "You're just going to stand there and look at me like that? Fine, I'll just go to bed then." You turned on your heel, making a move to leave, but Michael's hand shot out, his grip firm as he pulled you back, your body colliding with his. The heat of his frustration and desire radiated off him in waves, and for a moment, all you could feel was the intense thrum of his heartbeat against your own.

"What's your issue?" he demanded, his voice low, gravelly, tinged with the barely restrained anger that you'd stirred up in him.

You met his gaze, your expression unyielding, even as your pulse quickened under his touch. "What's your issue?" you countered, raising a brow, your tone defiant.

Michael's grip tightened, his fingers digging into your arm just enough to make you gasp. "Stop acting like this," he growled, his voice laced with a warning that you were all too eager to ignore.

"And what are you going to do about it?" you challenged, your eyes flicking down to his lips and then back up to meet his gaze. The smirk on your lips was enough to push him even closer to the edge, and you knew it. You could see the internal struggle playing out behind his eyes—the battle between his desire to maintain control and the overwhelming urge to give in.

For a moment, Michael just stared at you, his eyes raking over your form as if undressing you with his gaze alone. He licked his lips, his frustration giving way to something darker, something more primal. He released his grip on your arm, but before you could step back, his voice cut through the air, cold and commanding.

"On your knees," he ordered, his voice low and authoritative.

A smile curled on your lips as you slowly sank to your knees in front of him, the anticipation thrumming in your veins. Michael reached out, his touch surprisingly gentle as he caressed your face, his thumb brushing over your lips with a possessive tenderness. "Open your mouth," he whispered, his voice a dark promise of what was to come.

You obeyed, parting your lips for him, your gaze locked onto his as you looked up, awaiting his next move. Slowly, deliberately, he eased his four fingers into your mouth, his other hand cradling the back of your head as he pushed them deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, the pressure of his fingers making your eyes water as you fought to accommodate him.

"You're going to stop teasing me, right?" he murmured, his voice dark and laced with a dangerous edge. "Stop acting up when I'm working? Because that's what you seem to keep doing."

The weight of his fingers in your mouth made it difficult to respond, but you nodded as best you could, your eyes watering further as he pulled your head up slightly, forcing you to gag on his fingers. The involuntary reaction sent a shudder through your body, and you could see the flicker of satisfaction in his eyes.

"Did you hear me?" he asked, his voice sharp as he applied just a bit more pressure.

You nodded again, the movement constrained by the tight grip he had on you.

"Will you stop?" he pressed, his tone leaving no room for disobedience.

You nodded once more, your eyes pleading, though the defiant spark hadn't entirely left them. Michael smirked, the corners of his mouth curling upward as he watched you, the power dynamic between you crystal clear.

"I don't know if I believe you," he murmured, his voice thick with suspicion and a hint of amusement.

A whimper escaped your throat, your eyes wide and filled with pleading as you gazed up at him, desperate for some form of release, though you knew you were far from done playing this game. The intensity in his gaze was overwhelming, and you could feel the weight of your actions bearing down on you, the consequences of your teasing unfolding in real-time. The smirk on his lips only grew, and you knew that you were in for exactly what you had been provoking all night.

Michael's gaze darkened further, his breath catching as he felt the tension between you both mounting. The room seemed to shrink around the two of you, every sound, every movement magnified in the charged atmosphere you'd both created. He pulled his fingers from your mouth, his thumb brushing over your lips in a gentle caress that belied the intensity burning in his eyes. He tapped the side of your face lightly, and you obediently closed your mouth, the teasing smile still playing at the corners of your lips as you held his gaze.

"Get up," he ordered, his voice stern, commanding.

You rose to your feet, your heart pounding in your chest as you stared him down, the flames of desire flickering between you, growing hotter with each passing second. Michael advanced on you, his presence overwhelming, forcing you to retreat step by step until the backs of your knees hit the sofa. You fell back, your eyes never leaving his as he loomed over you, his expression unreadable, a mix of controlled fury and unspoken need.

"Take it off," he demanded, his voice low and rough.

You hesitated only for a moment, letting the tension stretch before you reached up and slowly pulled down the straps of your nightgown, your eyes locked on his as you revealed yourself to him. The fabric slid down your arms, pooling around your waist before you let it drop completely, leaving you bare before him. The warmth of the room caressed your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat in Michael's gaze as he devoured every inch of you with his eyes.

Michael stepped closer, the distance between you closing as he loosened his tie, yanking it off and tossing it carelessly onto the sofa. But before it could settle, you grabbed it, wrapping it around your neck with a playful grin, holding the ends in your hands as you looked up at him through your lashes. "What are you going to do to me?" you asked, your voice a sultry whisper as you spread your legs, inviting him in.

Michael's eyes flicked down, taking in the sight of you before returning to your face. He moved in, standing between your legs, his large hand cupping your face, tilting your head back so that you had to look up at him. The raw power he held over you was palpable, sending a shiver down your spine. "What do you want me to do?" he asked, his voice dangerously soft as he raised a brow, challenging you to push him further.

Your hand trailed up his thigh, brushing over his growing erection, feeling the heat radiating through his slacks. He groaned at your touch, his jaw tightening as you gave him a teasing squeeze. "You've been stressed," you murmured, your voice filled with a mix of sympathy and seduction, knowing full well the effect you were having on him.

Michael's eyes narrowed, his frustration evident in the way his breath hitched. "I know I have. I've been busy working," he replied, his voice strained as he fought to maintain control.

You leaned in closer, your voice a sultry whisper as you teased, "Lose the stress." Then, without warning, you turned around on the sofa, presenting yourself to him on all fours, your back arched provocatively. You glanced over your shoulder, meeting his gaze with a wicked smile, knowing exactly what you were doing to him.

Michael's control snapped. He moved in, pressing his body against yours, his arousal grinding into you as he wrapped your hair around his hand, pulling you back into him. He started to dry thrust against you, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body as his other hand settled on the small of your back, holding you in place. "I will," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "But you've been teasing me, and I think it's time for me to tease back."

His thrusts were slow, deliberate, each one pushing you closer to the edge as you felt your arousal pooling between your thighs, soaking through his slacks. The pressure of his bulge against your bare core was maddening, heightening your need with every movement, but he held back, refusing to give you the release you craved.

"You don't like when I tease you, do you?" he asked, his voice laced with a dark amusement, enjoying the power he held over you.

A soft moan escaped your lips, your body trembling beneath the weight of his touch, the heat of his fingers searing a path down your spine. "I do," you panted, the words coming out breathy, laced with the challenge you knew he couldn't resist. Glancing back at him, your eyes burned with a fiery determination, a silent dare that you knew would ignite something uncontrollable in him. The moment your words left your lips, you saw it—the final shred of restraint in his gaze snapping, his pupils darkening to pools of raw desire. His body, taut and coiled like a predator ready to strike, trembled with the need to claim you, to make you his in a way that left no room for doubt.

Michael's grip on your hip tightened as he pulled you back against his chest, the heat of his body searing into your skin. The press of his solid form against your back made your breath hitch, the raw power in his touch sending shivers down your spine. His lips hovered near your ear, his breath warm and teasing as it ghosted over the sensitive skin. "Keep playing with me," he growled low, the words a heated promise that made your knees weak, "and you'll get exactly what you're asking for." The threat in his voice was underscored by the flick of his tongue, tracing a tantalizing path up the side of your neck, leaving a trail of wet heat that made you whimper.

"Stop teasing..." you whimpered, the words slipping out involuntarily as you leaned into his touch, desperate for more.

His hand moved lower, the pads of his fingers brushing over the slick folds of your core, a featherlight touch that had your body arching into him, silently begging for more. "Payback, pretty girl," he whispered, his voice a velvet caress that sent a shiver straight to your core. "Can't I have a little fun too? After all, you came out here dressed in something only I should see." His fingers brushed over your swollen clit, the fleeting contact making you gasp before he pulled away, leaving you trembling and aching for more.

"Michael, please..." The plea left your lips in a breathless rush, the need coursing through your veins becoming unbearable.

In response, Michael's mouth found your neck, his lips brushing against your skin before sinking in to leave a heated, wet trail that burned with every touch. His hand traveled back up your body, his touch deliberate, almost possessive, until he cupped your breast, his thumb circling your hardened nipple. The contrast between the softness of his lips and the roughness of his grip made your head spin, your body aching with the intensity of your desire.

His kisses grew more urgent, a mix of soft and rough that left your skin tingling, the wet spots he left behind a mark of his claim. You could feel his teeth graze against your flesh, adding to the delicious torment, each kiss fanning the flames of the fire he had ignited within you.

"Where do you want to do this?" Michael whispered against your ear, his voice low and rough, sending shivers down your spine. "Do you want me to take you right here, on the floor, in the bedroom... or should we go out on the balcony?" His breath hitched as he nipped at your earlobe, "I'll have you screaming my name all over this city. Let them know just how good I can please my wife."

A needy moan escaped your lips, the thought of being at his mercy in the open air, the night sky above and the city below, sent a thrill through you. "I don't care," you breathed, your voice trembling with need. "I just want you."

Michael released his grip on your hair and breast, stepping back slightly as he commanded, "Stay here." The absence of his touch left you whimpering, your body yearning for more.

You watched as he strode over to the balcony door, the anticipation building in your chest. With a swift motion, he slid the door open, the cool night air rushing in to mingle with the heat of the room. The wind blew through his hair as he stepped out, surveying the city below. He turned back to you, his eyes dark and filled with intent. "Come here," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for disobedience.

You stood, your legs trembling as you walked over to him, the cool air brushing over your bare skin, sending another shiver down your spine. Michael's gaze lingered on you, his eyes drinking in every inch of your exposed body. He turned his head, glancing over to the piano, where your heels rested. With a calculated step, he walked over and grabbed them, bringing them back to you. "Put these on," he instructed, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I don't want your feet getting messed up."

You slipped on the heels, the cool leather contrasting with the heat of your skin, your body bare except for the tie still draped around your neck. "Michael, it's cold out there..." you said, your voice laced with a hint of apprehension as you looked out onto the balcony.

Michael shrugged, his eyes narrowing with a mix of challenge and desire. "I don't care," he said, his voice unwavering.

"But Michael, it's—" Your protest was cut off as his hand wrapped around your neck, his grip firm as he pulled you close, the sudden pressure sending a shock of arousal through your body. "I don't care," he repeated, his voice a low growl. "Either you let me fuck you on this balcony, or you're not getting anything."

You nodded quickly, your breath catching in your throat as you breathed out, "Yes, Michael..."

With a satisfied smirk, Michael released his hold on you, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched you walk outside onto the balcony. The cool air nipped at your skin, but the heat of your desire burned hotter, pushing away any discomfort. You dropped to your knees before him, the hard surface of the balcony pressing into your skin as you looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of need and anticipation.

Michael moved closer, his eyes fixed on you with a smoldering intensity that made the world around you seem to vanish. The city lights shimmered in the distance, casting a faint glow across the balcony, but all you could focus on was him—the way his body radiated heat, the way his breath hitched as you roamed your hands up his clothed thighs.

"Can I?" you asked, your voice soft but laced with anticipation as your fingers traced over the fabric of his slacks, feeling the heat of him beneath.

His response was silent, a slow, deliberate nod. His hand found the top of your head, fingers slipping through your hair in a tender, almost possessive caress. His eyes never left yours, dark and heavy with desire, as he watched you undo his slacks, the tension between you building with every second. You pulled the fabric down just enough to reveal the strained bulge behind his linen briefs, the outline of him achingly clear.

Your hand slipped inside, wrapping around his hard, throbbing length. The moment you touched him, you could feel the heat, the pulsing veins that ran along his shaft, each one a testament to the hunger coursing through him. His tip, swollen and slick with precum, glistened in the low light as you pulled him free, the thick skin taut over his aching need.

Michael's hand rested atop yours, guiding your movements as the two of you stroked him in unison. His chest rose and fell in heavy breaths, the tension in his body palpable as you flicked your tongue out, teasing the sensitive tip. The taste of him was intoxicating, a salty sweetness that made your body hum with anticipation.

"Mhm," you hummed softly, savoring the taste as you ran your tongue over the bead of precum that lingered on his tip. "You taste good," you murmured, your lips curling into a playful smile as you bit your bottom lip, your gaze locked onto his.

Michael smirked in response, his thumb brushing gently over your lip before watching it fall back into place. "Pretty girl," he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

As you both continued to stroke him, his length grew harder, the tension in his body intensifying with each movement. You could feel him throb in your hands, the need in him rising as you lowered your head and flicked your tongue around his tip, tasting every bit of him. Slowly, you took him into your mouth, sucking lightly at first, teasing him with the soft press of your lips as your tongue swirled around his length.

His hand tightened in your hair, a gentle but firm pressure as he watched you, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. The lights from the city bathed his face in a warm glow, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the raw hunger in his eyes. "Just like that, baby," he praised, his voice husky, strained with the effort of keeping control. "You're doing so good."

His words sent a flush of warmth through you, spurring you on as you took him deeper, your mouth stretching around him as you began to bob your head, taking him further with each pass. The feeling of his hard length sliding over your tongue, the way he pulsed in your mouth, filled you with a heady sense of power.

Michael's hands slid to the top of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he let you take control, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. Your lips moved down, inch by inch, until you had taken him to the base, your mouth full of him as your tongue traced the thick vein that throbbed along the underside of his shaft. You could feel the way his body reacted, the way he shuddered with pleasure as you pulled back, sucking hard on his sensitive tip before plunging down again.

His grip in your hair tightened, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he watched you, his eyes dark and heavy with lust. "Fuck, just like that," he groaned, his voice thick with need. The raw power of his desire sent waves of heat through you, your own body aching for him as you continued to suck him, each movement drawing him closer to the edge.

You felt him throb in your mouth, his body tensing as he neared the brink, but he didn't let go—his hands guiding you, his hips thrusting ever so slightly as you worked him deeper and deeper, your mouth and tongue driving him wild with every flick and swirl. The balcony seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the rhythm of pleasure, the quiet sounds of the city nothing compared to the heat that crackled between you.

The taste of him, the way he filled your mouth, was overwhelming, pushing you to give him everything, to bring him to the peak and feel him unravel completely in your hands—and in your mouth.

Michael's grip tightened on your head, fingers threading through your hair as he thrust harder, the slick sound of your saliva filling the air as it dribbled down your chin and onto your chest. Each stroke of his hips was forceful, deliberate, pushing deeper into your mouth until you could feel his tip grazing the back of your throat with every movement. Your eyes watered from the pressure, and you gagged lightly, the sensation sending shivers through your body as you held onto his thighs for balance.

"Good girl," Michael groaned, his voice low and thick with pleasure as he watched you take him, your lips stretched around his girth, saliva glistening on your skin. "This is what you wanted, right?" he asked, his eyes dark with lust as he looked down at you.

You nodded, unable to speak, your throat tightening around him as he thrust even harder, his pace quickening. The heat between you was unbearable, the tension building as he moved faster, his length driving deeper into your mouth, your body trembling from the intensity of it. You gagged again, the sound muffled around him as he pulled out slightly, only to ram himself back into your throat with even more force.

"Fuck, I'm close," he groaned, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he lost himself in the pleasure. You let your jaw go slack, relaxing your throat as much as you could, offering yourself to him completely, letting him use you.

Tears welled in your eyes, the pressure building as he moved with a desperate urgency, his hips bucking against your face, the muscles in his thighs tightening under your hands. You gazed up at him, your eyes watery, cheeks flushed, feeling every pulse, every throb of his cock as he neared his climax.

A heavy groan ripped from his throat, his body trembling as his grip tightened on your hair. "I'm gonna cum," he gasped, thrusting deep one final time, his cock buried in your throat as he released, the warmth of his seed filling your mouth in thick, hot spurts.

"Just like that, baby. Take it all," he whispered, his voice ragged with pleasure. You swallowed, your throat working around him as you took every last drop, your body shuddering with the effort as you didn't waste a single bit.

As he slowly pulled out, his breathing still heavy, he reached down and wiped your lips, his thumb brushing over your chin. Without a word, he eased his thumb into your mouth, letting you suck the last remnants from his skin, the taste lingering on your tongue as you gazed up at him, your lips still parted.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth and slid it between his own lips, sucking it clean with a satisfied groan. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. "Now get up," he said, his eyes flashing with renewed hunger. "I'm not done with you yet."

Michael pulled you to your feet with a fluid motion, pressing you tightly against him, your chest flush against his. His hands roamed down your waist, gripping you possessively as he gazed over your body. His lips parted slightly, his breath warm as his eyes devoured every inch of you before meeting your gaze, the heat between you palpable.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice soft but laced with need, as you reached up to gently brush a stray curl from his face.

A slow smile curled on his lips, his thumb grazing your cheek before he leaned in closer, the intensity of his gaze unwavering. "I love you more," he murmured, the huskiness in his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "But bend over for me," he added, loosening his grip on your waist. "I told you I'm not done."

With a playful glint in your eyes, you walked to the edge of the balcony, your heels clicking against the cool concrete beneath you. The wind picked up slightly, brushing against your skin as you bent over, your chest pressing into the thick, stone railing. Michael's footsteps echoed behind you, and the warmth of his presence filled the space as he came to stand behind you.

You wiggled your hips, teasing him, feeling his gaze burn into you. "You're such a tease, you know that?" he said, his voice thick with amusement and desire.

"I know," you replied, casting a coy glance over your shoulder. "I like what I do."

A low chuckle rumbled from him as his hands found your hips, gripping them firmly. "I can't stand you," he murmured, though the affection in his voice betrayed his words.

"Neither can I," you teased back, a smirk tugging at your lips.

Michael dropped to his knees behind you, his breath hot against your skin. His lips brushed over your folds, and you shivered in anticipation. "Wider," he commanded, his voice a low growl.

You obediently spread your legs further, your body trembling with anticipation. His hands roamed over the back of your thighs, warm and rough, before he flicked his tongue out, tasting you. The sensation was electric, sending a wave of pleasure rolling through you.

"Oh, Michael," you moaned, your voice trembling as you arched against the railing. His tongue danced over your sensitive clit, teasing and flicking, before he wrapped his lips around it, sucking lightly. The world outside seemed to blur as you lost yourself in the sensation, his mouth working magic against you.

His hum of approval vibrated against you, and you gasped as his tongue slid inside you, sending a shock of pleasure through your core. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped the railing, your head falling back as you moaned into the cool night air, the sound echoing into the darkness.

Michael's hands gripped your behind, kneading the flesh before bringing one hand down in a sharp smack that echoed through the night. "Fuck, Michael!" you cried out, the sting of his palm intensifying the pleasure.

Without warning, his fingers slid inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping slowly, each stroke deliberate as he watched you writhe beneath him. "You like that, don't you?" he asked, standing up behind you, his breath warm as it brushed against your skin.

"Yes," you gasped, your body trembling under his touch. The lights from the city reflected off the balcony, casting a soft glow across your face as you felt him press closer, his presence overwhelming.

Michael leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, passionate kiss, your moans vibrating against his mouth. The taste of him mixed with the remnants of your own essence, creating an intoxicating blend that made your head spin. His free hand roamed up your back, fingers curling around the tie still hanging loosely from your neck.

With a firm pull, he tightened the tie just enough to pull you back against him, the pressure making your breath hitch. "Fuck..." you breathed, the heat between your bodies reaching a fever pitch.

"You can take it, princess," he murmured against your ear, his fingers inside you now moving faster, thrusting with a relentless pace. Your legs trembled, barely able to hold you up as the pleasure built to an unbearable intensity.

"Michael, I'm close..." you moaned, your voice desperate, pleading as your body ached for release.

"Just a little longer, baby," he whispered, his breath hot against your neck. "I'm almost done."

You whined, your entire body shaking as you gripped the railing tighter, your legs quivering from the strain. The pressure was building, overwhelming, and you felt yourself on the edge, begging for that final push over. "Michael, please..."

He pulled you closer, his arm wrapped around your waist as you tossed an arm back, wrapping it around his neck, your body desperate for more contact. His breath tickled your ear as he whispered, "This is what you wanted, right?"

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and with a final thrust of his fingers, the tension snapped, and you cried out his name, your body convulsing as the pleasure washed over you in waves.

Michael held you firmly in his grasp, his strong arms anchoring you to him as your legs gave out beneath you. Your trembling body shuddered violently in his embrace, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as you struggled to remain standing. His grip was unyielding, his hands tight around your waist, ensuring you didn't fall apart completely as the overwhelming waves of pleasure continued to crash through you.

"Michael, please," you gasped, your voice cracking with the weight of your release. "I can't hold it any longer..."

His lips brushed your ear, the heat of his breath making you weak all over again. "Let go," he whispered, his voice dark and filled with a hunger that sent another shiver down your spine.

At his command, the last bit of tension within you unraveled like a taut string finally snapping. Your release rushed forward with an intensity that felt almost magical—like a spell, impossible to resist, cast upon you by the one man who knew your body better than anyone else. You moaned loudly, your voice echoing into the night as your release dripped down your thighs and his hand, soaking his fingers.

"Just like that, baby," he whispered against your ear, his lips grazing the shell of it, the warmth of his breath adding to the fire that still burned inside you. His voice was a smooth murmur, soothing and encouraging. "Let it all out for me."

Your legs shook uncontrollably, your knees buckling as the overwhelming pleasure took control of every muscle in your body. "M-Michael," you stammered, your voice barely holding together as you gasped for breath. "I-I can't take it..."

A deep, knowing chuckle rumbled from his chest, sending vibrations through you. "You can," he murmured, pulling his fingers out of you with a slow, deliberate motion, leaving you aching and empty. "And you will."

Your body trembled as he lightly pushed you forward, guiding you to bend over the balcony railing. The cool air hit your flushed skin, contrasting with the burning heat between your legs. His hand moved to the back of your neck, gripping it with firm but gentle authority. You whimpered softly as he released your neck, his fingers trailing down the curve of your spine, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake.

Every touch, every caress, felt electric, and the anticipation that followed each gesture made your body ache with need. Soft whimpers escaped your lips, your body responding to his touch with a fire that only he could ignite—a fire that would only be quenched by him.

Michael leaned down, his lips brushing against the curve of your cheek, his voice a low whisper in your ear. "You want more, baby?" he asked, his words dripping with sensuality. "Because I can go all night... and you know this."

You nodded weakly, your breath catching in your throat as you struggled to form words. "Y-Yes, Michael..." you whimpered, your body trembling with desire, desperate for him to fill the void he had created.

A satisfied smirk played on his lips as he stood back up, his eyes dark and filled with lust. "Good," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "Whatever my baby wants, she gets."

His hand wrapped around his hardened length, and you couldn't help but watch over your shoulder as he brushed the swollen, glistening tip against your soaked folds. The teasing, the slight pressure of his tip pushing just inside before retreating again, drove you mad with need.

"Michael..." you whined, your voice breaking with desperation. "I need you... Please."

His smirk widened as he teased you again, pushing just the tip in before pulling out, keeping you on the edge, building the tension inside you once more. "I know, baby," he whispered, his voice thick with control and desire. "And you're gonna get exactly what you need."

Michael's smirk deepened as he watched you squirm beneath him, your body aching for more, for all of him. The teasing had driven you to the edge, and now the burn of anticipation was almost unbearable. His eyes were dark and intense, his gaze locked onto yours as he let a slow drop of saliva fall onto his shaft, the slickness adding to the heat between you. "Be patient," he commanded, his voice low and authoritative, making your breath hitch.

You whimpered in response, your body trembling as you felt him slowly start to press into you. Inch by inch, his thickness stretched you, filling you with a deliberate slowness that made your heart race. The sensation was overwhelming, the fullness making you gasp as your walls squeezed around him, struggling to accommodate his size. Your body responded instantly, your muscles tensing as you moaned out, the sound raw and desperate.

He pushed deeper, each inch filling you further, until he was buried to the hilt, his length pulsing inside of you. "Damn..." Michael breathed, his voice rough with arousal. The sight of your bodies connected, his thick shaft disappearing into your slick heat, sent a surge of possessive pride through him. He stayed still for a moment, savoring the tight grip of your walls around him, his breath coming in heavy pants.

You tried to reach back, your fingers brushing his skin in a desperate attempt to pull him closer, to feel more of him, but Michael quickly caught your hand. His grip was firm, his eyes narrowing as he placed your hand back on the railing. "Move your hand," he ordered, his tone firm but laced with heat. "I'll move when I know you're ready."

His words sent a shiver through you, the tension building again as your body adjusted to the overwhelming fullness. Slowly, he began to move, pulling out just enough to make you feel the loss before sliding back in with a slow, deliberate thrust. His hands were everywhere—possessive, demanding, claiming every inch of your body as his. Each touch sent sparks of electricity down your spine, the sensation of his rough palms on your skin intoxicating.

Michael's grip tightened on your waist, his fingers digging into your hips as he adjusted your position, arching your back even further, opening you up for him completely. "Fuck..." he muttered, his voice thick with lust as he looked down at where your bodies met. The sight of your slick arousal coating his length drove him wild, a primal need taking over as he watched your body respond to him so perfectly.

Every inch of your body drove him wild, but it wasn't just that—it was the entirety of who you were that unraveled him. The tenderness in your touch, how your fingers would skim over his skin as if you knew just where he needed to be soothed. The way your lips found his, so soft and searching in moments of quiet, whispered love. And the way you looked at him—like he was your world, like nothing else mattered. Those moments had stitched themselves into his heart, every tiny piece of you becoming a part of him, and now, as he moved within you, he poured all that he felt into each thrust, a rhythm woven with emotion.

"Michael..." you whined, your voice trembling with want, "I want it all, stop being so soft."

His grip tightened on your waist, rough hands securing your body as he slowly slid out, teasing you with a deliberate slowness before driving back in with a powerful, unrestrained thrust that knocked the air from your lungs.

"Oh, fuck!" you cried out, your fingers scrambling for something to hold onto, knuckles white as they gripped the railing. Each thrust was forceful, his body pushing deep inside you until it felt like he was touching the very core of your being. Your legs trembled, and you instinctively reached back to grasp him, needing that connection, but he was quicker. His hand clamped around your wrist, pinning it to the small of your back, his fingers pressing firmly into your skin, owning you in that moment.

"Michael, I—" you whimpered, but your words faltered, lost in the overwhelming sensations coursing through you.

"Use your words, baby," he rasped, his voice thick with need. "I can't hear you."

"I can't take it," you managed to gasp, pleading, your breath hitching with every thrust.

His chest pressed against your back, the heat of his skin searing into yours as his thrusts grew more intense, each one a deep, visceral pulse. His breath was hot and heavy against your ear, lips grazing your neck as he whispered, "Yes, you can, baby. You can always take it."

His words sent a fresh wave of desire crashing through you, and you moaned, needing more, craving the fullness of him. The wind had picked up, stirring the night air, and raindrops began to fall, light at first, a gentle mist that kissed your skin. But then the sky opened up, drenching you both as the storm unleashed itself, the cool water cascading down your bodies. The rain slicked your skin, making every touch, every thrust feel even more electric, the friction replaced with a primal urgency. But Michael didn't stop. He wasn't going to stop—not until he was done.

"You feel so good, baby, so damn good," he groaned, his voice deep and raw. His arms wrapped around your body, pulling you closer as his hips slammed into you harder and deeper, the tip of him grazing against your cervix with every forceful motion. Your moans turned to desperate cries, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, your body shaking as his name ripped from your throat, the sound lost in the symphony of pouring rain.

The lights from the hotel and the city around you cast a shimmering glow through the rain, painting the night in streaks of gold and silver, the wet pavement gleaming beneath your feet. It was surreal, like the world had fallen away, and there was nothing but the two of you in that storm.

"Michael, don't stop," you begged, your voice barely audible over the pounding rain, reaching back to him, your hand tangling in his hair. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, his lips brushing your skin as he kissed and sucked at the soft, tender flesh, his groans vibrating against you. His hands moved, exploring your body, fingers tracing your stomach before gripping your hips once again, pulling you back onto him with an almost desperate need.

His body, slick and hot against yours, felt like fire against your skin, grounding you in a moment that seemed to exist outside of time. The rain poured down relentlessly, drumming on the rooftop, mingling with the rhythmic sound of your bodies moving together. The cool rainwater was a stark contrast to the heat between you, soaking your clothes until they clung to your form, heavy and almost suffocating, making you feel raw and exposed. The city lights blurred into a kaleidoscope of color through the sheets of rain, casting glimmers of neon pink, blue, and gold onto your slick skin, but none of it mattered. The only thing real was him—the way he touched you, how his body melded with yours in a primal, unyielding rhythm.

"I love you so much," Michael's voice was hoarse against your ear, a whispered confession as his hand slid slowly up your stomach, lingering over the curve of your ribs before settling around your neck. His fingers pressed lightly at first, just enough for you to feel the power behind them, the possessiveness in his grip.

Your moan was soft, barely audible over the storm, but the intensity behind it told him everything he needed to know. Rain fell on your lashes, blurring the city skyline before you, but Michael was crystal clear, his hair plastered to his face, strands falling into his eyes as he gazed at you with unrelenting focus. His clothes, soaked through, stuck to your bare skin, creating a friction that heightened the raw sensuality of the moment, every slick sound of your bodies coming together echoing through the rain-soaked air. You could feel your walls tightening around him, your body on the brink, but something inside you held back, not ready to let go just yet.

"More, Michael, more," you begged, your voice strained, teetering on the edge of desperation as his grip around your throat tightened. You needed it—craved it.

"You beg so beautifully, princess," he murmured against your ear, his breath hot, sending shivers down your spine. The low, teasing tone of his voice only fueled the fire building inside of you.

You matched his rhythm, your hips thrusting back against him, falling into perfect sync with each heavy movement. The thunder roared in the distance, splitting the sky with a flash of lightning that illuminated the dark terrace in a blinding burst of white. For a second, everything was bathed in light, and you both looked up, mesmerized by the storm's fury before your eyes met again, the tension between you more electric than the storm itself. Michael's grip tightened, pulling you closer, his lips wet from the rain as they crashed into yours, the kiss raw and hungry. You moaned into his mouth, the deep, throaty sound vibrating between your lips as your bodies moved together in perfect, frantic harmony. His tongue danced with yours, every brush sending sparks of pleasure racing through your body, as the storm outside raged on.

Your core burned with an unbearable need for release, and Michael, always in tune with you, knew exactly how close you were. His angle shifted just slightly, but it was enough. His length hit that perfect spot inside you, over and over again, until your legs trembled and your knees threatened to buckle beneath you. You kicked off your heels, your bare feet pressing into the slick, wet concrete as you finally let go, the release building inside you until it burst free like a wildfire.

Your moans were muffled against his lips as your body convulsed, trembling with the force of your orgasm, your release coating his length, warm and slick, down to the base. Michael wasn't far behind. You could feel him, his thighs twitching, his body tensing as he gripped your neck even tighter, pushing himself deeper, harder, with one final thrust that sent him over the edge. His release was hot, spilling deep inside you, filling you completely as he groaned into your neck. He continued thrusting through the aftershocks, his body shuddering as he milked every last drop of his release, your walls clenching and throbbing around him, pulling him deeper into the moment.

As your bodies stilled, you pulled away from the kiss, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. Rain drenched your faces, dripping from your hair and mingling with the sweat on your skin. "I love you..." you whimpered, your voice trembling. "I don't want to stop, Michael."

"I don't either, baby," he whispered back, his lips brushing against yours, his need for you still burning as he kissed you again. His hips moved faster, harder, sending you spiraling into a second climax. Your body trembled uncontrollably, your hands gripping the railing so hard your nails dug into the metal, while the other hand clawed at his rain-soaked skin.

Michael pulled back from the kiss, his eyes locked onto your lips as your moans caught in your throat. "Let it out, baby," he demanded, his voice rough with desire. "Let me hear you." His hand came down across your face, a sharp, stinging slap that sent your moans spilling out into the rain, echoing through the night as the storm roared around you.

He started to slow his pace, his thrusts becoming slower, deeper, savoring every last moment before he finally pulled out, watching as your combined essence dripped down your inner thighs, glistening in the faint glow of the city lights.

Michael stepped back, his chest heaving as he watched you lean heavily against the railing, your body spent, trembling with exhaustion. He sighed, running a hand through his soaked hair, his clothes clinging to him as the rain fell harder, turning into tiny pellets that stung against his skin. Without a word, he moved closer, scooping you up with ease and tossing you over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing. Grabbing your heels with his free hand, he turned and sprinted back into the suite, away from the storm.

The door clicked shut behind you both, locking out the chaos of the night as he set your shoes aside and bolted the door. The world outside was a distant roar now, muffled by the thick glass, but the tension still lingered in the air, thick and heavy. He carried you down the hall, your bodies dripping rainwater onto the polished wooden floors as he made his way to the bathroom, turning on the soft, warm lights.

Without a word, Michael gently set you down on the cool marble counter, his eyes scanning your shivering, trembling body for a moment before he turned and walked over to the bathtub. He turned on the water, watching as steam rose from the tub before adding bubbles, the scent of lavender filling the air, calming and soothing. His wet clothes hit the floor in a heap as he stripped down, leaving him bare and beautiful, every muscle defined and gleaming under the light.

He moved back to you, his hands steady as he helped you off the counter and guided you into the warm, inviting water. You sank into the bubbles with a sigh, feeling the heat soothe your aching muscles as Michael slid in behind you, pulling your body against his chest. The water rose around you, covering you both up to your chests, the warmth wrapping around you like a protective blanket, shielding you from the storm still raging outside.

As Michael settled behind you in the bath, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you tighter against his chest. His body was a fortress of warmth and strength, a stark contrast to the cool storm still raging outside the windows. The water lapped gently at your skin, the bubbles clinging to your damp hair as you let out a soft sigh, sinking deeper into his embrace.

"You okay, baby?" he asked, his voice soft, almost a whisper, but it held a trace of concern. His hands traced slow circles on your stomach, soothing the trembling that still lingered in your body.

"More than okay," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water. "That was... I can't even describe it."

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, vibrating against your back. "Yeah? You took everything I gave you like the perfect little princess you are." His lips brushed against your temple, and you could feel the pride in his tone, mingled with a possessiveness that made your heart race all over again.

Your eyes fluttered closed, savoring the feeling of his arms around you, the warmth of the bath, the way his voice sent shivers down your spine despite the heat. "I love it when you call me that," you murmured, turning your head slightly to press a soft kiss to his jawline. "Makes me feel like I'm yours."

He chuckled again, this time deeper, more primal. "You are mine, princess. You know that." His grip tightened around you, his hands moving slowly up your torso until one hand rested on your chest, the other trailing back to your neck. He held you there, not tightly, but with enough pressure to remind you who was in control. "I never want you to forget it."

"I won't," you promised, your voice a little breathless now as his fingers brushed over your skin, teasing you despite the calm of the bath.

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the sound of the rain outside now distant, a faint backdrop to the quiet intimacy you shared. His hand dipped back down to your waist, his fingertips tracing the curve of your hip under the water, making your breath hitch.

"Tell me," Michael said after a long pause, his voice low and commanding. "Tell me what you want right now."

You bit your lip, leaning your head back against his shoulder as your eyes half-closed. The feel of his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin was driving you insane. "I just want more of you," you whispered. "I don't want tonight to end."

His lips grazed your ear, a teasing warmth that sent a wave of heat flooding your body again. "More of me?" he murmured, his voice dark with amusement. "Didn't I just give you all of me out there in the rain?"

You smiled lazily, your body relaxing more against his. "You know it's never enough with you, Michael. I could drown in you and still want more."

He let out a low growl, the sound sending another shiver down your spine. "Damn, baby, you're making it hard for me to keep my hands off you."

"Then don't," you teased, turning your head just enough so you could meet his gaze, your lips brushing his as you spoke. "I don't want you to hold back."

Michael's eyes darkened as he looked down at you, his hand sliding back up to your throat, this time gripping a little tighter. "Careful what you wish for, princess."

"I know exactly what I'm wishing for," you whispered, daring him with a playful smile.

For a long moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable, his breath heavy against your cheek. Then, without warning, he surged forward, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was hungry, demanding, as if he couldn't get enough of you, like he needed to claim you all over again.

You moaned into his mouth, the heat between you reigniting in an instant, the warmth of the bath doing little to quell the fire sparking between your bodies. His hand stayed firm on your throat, his thumb brushing lightly over your pulse, while his other hand wandered under the water, teasing the sensitive skin of your thigh.

"Michael..." you gasped between kisses, your hands reaching behind you to grip his thighs as you arched against him. "Please..."

"Please, what?" he asked, pulling back just enough to murmur the words against your lips, his voice low and gravelly. "Tell me what you need."

"I need you inside me again," you whispered, your voice trembling with need. "I can't get enough of you."

A slow, wicked smile spread across his face as he shifted beneath you, positioning himself so that you could feel the hard length of him pressing against you under the water. "You're so greedy, baby," he growled softly, his lips brushing against your ear. "But that's okay. I'll give you exactly what you need."

Before you could respond, Michael's hand slid between your thighs, the warmth of the water only intensifying the sudden jolt of pleasure. His touch was deliberate, confident, parting your legs as he pulled you into his lap. Your breath hitched, a gasp escaping your lips as you felt him press against you, the anticipation building with every passing second. Slowly, almost teasingly, he pushed inside you, the water rippling in response to the agonizing slowness of his movements.

"Is this what you wanted, princess?" he whispered, his voice husky as his lips brushed your ear, the heat of his breath sending shivers down your spine. His words hung heavy in the steamy air, a dark promise wrapped in desire. "Is this what you've been begging for?"

"Yes," you managed to breathe out, your head falling back to rest against his broad shoulder. The world seemed to melt away as your body trembled beneath his touch, completely at his mercy. "More... don't stop..."

His hands tightened around your waist, a possessive grip as he began to move within you. The pace was deliberate, slow, but unyielding—each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. The soft splash of water echoed in the quiet, mingling with your breathless gasps, creating a rhythm only the two of you shared. Outside, the storm raged, lightning flashing through the windows, but it felt distant, as if nothing else existed except this—the closeness, the intensity, the moment.

Michael's lips found your temple, brushing softly against your skin. "I love you," he murmured, the words like a vow sealed between you. "I'll never stop loving you. Never."

Your moan was a soft, involuntary response, your fingers digging into his thighs, grounding you as you surrendered to him completely. The steady, unrelenting rhythm of his body against yours filled your senses, each movement an intoxicating blend of pleasure and intimacy. "I love you too," you whispered, voice trembling with emotion. "Always."

The night stretched on, the storm outside now a faint hum in the background as you and Michael moved together like two wild creatures, lost in your own world. His touch was insistent, his need palpable, and you gave in to every moment, every sensation, as he released his pent-up stress and you reveled in the pleasure that consumed you both. Time blurred, and all that mattered was the way he made you feel—wanted, loved, and utterly alive.