AN: Hey so, uh, smut. angry-ish sex? cunninglingus both m+f, p in v, multiple o's, creampies, being *ahem* overheard. Minors DNI, like deadass don't
The limo ride to Michael’s hotel was a suffocating vacuum of silence.
Expensive leather. Dark windows. City lights cutting across their faces in passing streaks. The faint hum of the engine beneath them.
Bill drove without comment, eyes fixed forward, pressing the button for the partition to give them the kind of privacy that felt almost louder than interruption.
Sasha sat on one side of the back seat with her arms folded, one leg crossed over the other, purple skirt riding high on her thigh. Her mouth was slightly swollen from kissing him in the alley, her body was still hot with anger, want, and the awful realization that both feelings had started to look too much alike when Michael was involved.
Michael sat across from her with both hands in his lap, his chest rising and falling beneath each measured breath as he watched her.
His eyes burned darker than she was used to seeing them, his jaw drawn tight, one hand curling against his knee as though he were holding himself in place by force.
More than anything, he looked like he had a hundred things trapped behind his teeth and already knew she would not let him finish a single one.
Sasha stared back, chin lifted.
Michael’s mouth parted. Then closed. He bit his lip, and for one second the sight of it almost pulled her clean out of her anger.
She moved before he could finish.
One moment she sat across from him. The next, she was straddling his lap, her knees braced on either side of his hips and both fists twisted into the front of his shirt. Her mouth came down hard over his, crushing the words before they could become an apology, an explanation, a confession—or anything worse.
She did not want his lies. She did not want his truths. She did not want his apologies. Not right then.
She wanted the part of him that did not know how to speak without making her feel too much.
Michael made a low, startled sound against her mouth before his hands found her hips on instinct. The kiss turned rougher, messier, neither of them gentle enough to pretend it was anything other than the earlier frustration finally finding somewhere to go.
His palms slid down her curves and dragged her closer, his fingers tightening with enough hunger to pull a gasp from her. Sasha answered by winding one hand into the hair at his nape and tugging just hard enough to make his breath catch. The sound that left him was strained and helpless, and it tightened something low in her stomach.
He pulled back only enough to breathe.
“Let me speak,” he said, voice rough.
“No.” Her mouth found his again. “Just shut up.”
She kissed him harder, one hand at the back of his head, keeping him close because she knew if she let him talk too long, he would say something that would either soften her or break the rules she was barely holding together.
Michael tried once more, but the fight drained from his words before it left his body. He kissed her back like he was still angry, still sorry, still desperate to prove something neither of them had agreed to name.
His hands remained controlled enough not to hurt her, but not enough to disguise how badly he wanted her. They traveled slowly up her back, palms spreading over her curves as he pulled her closer and deepened the kiss, his tongue meeting hers with the same stubborn challenge she had given him.
Sasha felt his breath catch every time she shifted against him. Felt the tension running through his arms, the restraint trembling beneath his touch as though it were only barely holding.
Then the car stopped. Sasha pulled away at once.
Michael’s eyes opened slowly, unfocused for half a second before he realized she was already moving.
She climbed off him, smoothed her skirt down, and stepped out of the limo like she had not just left him wrecked in the back seat.
Behind her, Michael sat there for one suspended moment, breathing hard, shirt rumpled, mouth red, expression somewhere between disbelief and torment.
Then he followed, wiping his mouth, eyes trailing up and down her body.
Fuck. He was frustrated. Pissed that she was walking away from him again. Annoyed that she wouldn’t let him say what was sitting on his chest.
I think I’m falling for you
The hotel lobby was polished, quiet, and discreet in the way expensive places became when they knew who they were protecting. No one stared too openly. No one approached. Sasha walked ahead of security and him anyway, heels clicking against marble, shoulders back, every inch of her daring him to say something.
She reached the elevator first and pressed the button.
Michael came up behind her a few seconds later, moving like a man on a mission.
Sasha felt him before he spoke.
The heat of his body behind her. The frustration still clinging to him. The fact that he had not forgiven her for leaving him in the limousine, just as she had not forgiven him for what happened in the alley.
When the elevator doors opened, they stepped inside with security. The space should have cooled things between them, but Michael stayed close enough for Sasha to feel his presence at her back. He did not touch her. Not at first. He only leaned slightly nearer, his voice quiet beside her ear.
“Don’t walk away from me again,” he said. “That’s twice tonight.”
Sasha’s gaze shifted to his reflection in the polished elevator doors.
Part of her heard the hurt beneath his words. Michael could be intense, jealous and stubborn—especially when his feelings got tangled—but he had never made her feel unsafe. Even now, there was more strain than anger in his face, as though he had spent the entire evening swallowing things he did not know how to say.
Still, there was something new in the firmness of his voice. His patience had worn thin, and for half a breath, watching him struggle to hold onto it sent an unexpected warmth through her.
Then, because she was Sasha, she pressed anyway.
“Whatever, Michael.” She held his gaze through the reflection, one brow lifting. “You giving orders now?”
His eyes narrowed slightly just as the elevator reached his floor.
The elevator doors opened, and Sasha started toward the hallway.
Michael reached for her before she could take more than a step, his fingers closing around her wrist just firmly enough to stop her. There was no pain in it, only impulse—one last attempt to keep her from walking away from him again.
Security continued ahead without looking back, giving them privacy with the practiced ease of men who knew when not to notice.
Sasha lowered her gaze to Michael’s hand. Then she looked up at him.
“Careful,” she said quietly.
Something shifted in his expression. The word reached him immediately. His fingers loosened, regret crossing his face before he could hide it.
Sasha could have pulled away.
They remained there in the muted hallway, both of them breathing harder than the moment should have required. Michael’s thumb brushed once over the inside of her wrist, the gesture no longer meant to stop her. It was tentative now. Apologetic. A silent question he did not seem brave enough to ask aloud.
Sasha held his gaze for another beat before stepping closer.
He released her wrist, pulled the key from his pocket, and let them into the suite.
The room was dark except for the city glow spilling through the windows. He closed the door behind them, and the quiet that followed was different from the limo.
There, silence had been tension. Here, it was inevitable.
Sasha turned to face him.
Michael stood near the door, still holding the key, still looking at her like he was trying to decide whether to apologize again or touch her.
She made the decision for him.
“Don’t talk yet,” she said.
His hand flexed once around the key.
The moment the door to his hotel clicked shut, she knew she might have pushed him too far.
He listened and then took a few steps forward pressing himself onto her body. Grabbing her waist he spun her around and pushed her against the heavy mahogany door. The impact wasn’t gentle like he normally was, but it was exactly what Sasha wanted…no needed.
Her eyes locked onto his and she let out a sharp gasp. Gone was the gentle, caring Michael who took her smart ass comments with a smile that made her want to get on her knees and stuff her throat with him until she gagged. He looked feral, his pupils blown wide, his breath hot against her skin.
"You wanted to make you regret dancing with that guy?" he said, his voice a low, dangerous rasp. "You wanted to see what happens when I lose my patience?"
Sasha smirked, her hands sliding up his chest to grip his shirt.
This would be a fun time.
"I don’t know Michael, you seemed so concerned with how close he was on me at the club. His hands on my hips, my back to his chest, the way he leaned in to whisper a joke while we-"
That was the breaking point. He groaned, a sound of pure frustration as he crashed his mouth onto hers.
It wasn't just a kiss; it was a claim, he needed her to know she was his.
Sasha moaned into the kiss, her fingers digging into his shoulders, pulling him closer until there wasn't a millimeter of space between them.
He broke the kiss just long enough to shove her skirt upward, the fabric bunching around her waist. His large hand slid under her lace panties, his fingers diving straight for her soaking wet pussy while he stared into her eyes.
Two fingers plunged inside soaking for him while his thumb found her clit and pressed hard, grinding his palm against her, making her back arch off the door and moan loudly.
Outside, security heard her cries and pretended not to.
Back inside, Michael was pumping his fingers with a fierceness of a man being angrily edged all night. "You're so fucking wet for me baby," he hissed, his voice dripping with possessive triumph.
"Oh god shut up," Sasha gasped, her head tossing back against the door. "Just...fuck me, Michael. Stop talking and fuck me."
He didn’t listen, instead opting to do both, “No, I’m going to both fuck you and talk, you wanted to push my buttons baby. Here we are. Now you shut up and take it.”
He kept his fingers deep in her and started to undo his pants, his hard dick springing free, pulsing with a bead of precum at its head.
While he stroked himself he watched how she moaned, how she titled her head back, the way she had one hand in her hair the other on his arm as he quickened his motion.
He could tell she was close, hell he could smell it. He pressed harder on her clit and hit the soft spot he knew would unravel her.
“Fuck fuck yes right there fuck.” She yelled, hips grinding on his fingers.
He could let her come, he could feel her grip his fingers, her juices flowing down quicker.
He took his two fingers and sucked her juices off and then placed his thumb in her mouth letting her taste herself. “I’m sorry? Were you close?”
She squinted at him, her chest heaving up and down “Fuck you.”
He smirked and grabbed her waist before kissing her, sucking on her tongue, smiling at how she huffed into his mouth, pulling back with a grin, "Happy to oblige baby."
Kissing her again, he walked them into the kitchen before bending her over the counter, smacking both of her cheeks and plunging into her, fully bottoming out.
"Fuck Michael!" Sasha screamed, her eyes fluttering shut as her gushy walls stretched to accommodate him. He filled her completely, hitting her spot with a force that sent sparks through her entire body.
Once again, security heard her cries and ignored it.
Michael groaned, his face on the back of her neck, his teeth grazing her skin before he began to pump into her with a rhythmic intensity, each thrust slamming her against the counter.
He was fucking her with a raw, jealous hunger, trying to erase the memory of any other man's touch from her skin.
“Ye- yes please go faster.”
“No you’re not in control Sasha. I’m gonna take my time.”
“And you’re mine.” She groaned at his words putting her face in her forearms at the pleasure, the torture, the agony of him wanting to claim her in this heated moment.
“Aww what’s the matter? You don’t like me saying that? Tough. Ain’t that what you said to me earlier?” He chuckled darkly.
Sasha kept moaning but didn’t answer him.
“I said ain’t that what you said girl?” Sharply slapping her ass once while his tempo quickened. He grew angry at the present memory of her telling him they were just dating.
His grip tightening, his hips snapped harder as her moans increased.
“Nah girl, tough remember? Take it. You wanted me angry here I am. Wanted me to fuck the memory of that guy dancing with you away? You got it. Whatever my wildcat wants right?” His thrust became more erratic, more powerful, more taxing on her in the best of ways. He folded her arm behind her back, slamming into her deeply as her orgasm creeped up her spine, tingling its presence over her body.
"You always feel so fucking good," he moaned, his voice breaking. "This pussy is mine. Say it." He moved his hips in a circle, teasing the spot making her moans turn into whimpers and whines.
Sasha was lost in the sensation, her pussy clamping tight around his dick, milking him with every thrust.
"I'm... fuck..." she whimpered, though the power struggle still flickered in her eyes.
Michael’s pace accelerated, his thrusts becoming shorter, faster, and more desperate. He could feel her walls pulsing, and decided to let her have this one, hearing her moans and whines as she unraveled around him.
He didn't give her a moment to recover. Instead he bent over her heaving body, still inside her, hand caressing her hip. “I didn’t hear you say it.” Then he slowly began to stroke her, dragging his length against her sensitive walls causing her to gasp and whimper.
He continued his deep and slow strokes, unraveling her anger bit by bit, making her want to claw at the counter and run away but he had her body pinned. The side of her head met the cool counter and she looked back at him, his face a work of concentration, his bottom lip tucked into his teeth.
It felt too good to him, the wetness dripping from her core to her thighs, coating him by proxy as he kept the slow tempo, sharpening his thrust. He looked at her face, taking note of the sharpness that once inhabited her eyes fading away with every stroke, her mouth parting and gasping for relief.
She was always so pretty, no matter what, but this vulnerable and fucked out state of her was one of his absolute favorites.
Tonight wasn’t supposed to go like this, he was supposed to woo her, dance with her, come back here and ask her something important.
He wanted her to be his girlfriend.
That’s kind of hard to ask when you’re having semi angry sex.
He changed his pace, tenderly holding her hips, grinding his own into her, pulling out fully before deepening his angle to make her cry out.
He knew she wanted rough and hard but right now he needed her to feel every single inch of devotion for her he’d been holding back.
Seeing her grip her hair out of need made him chuckle a bit as he continued the torturous slow pace, hearing her whines for faster as he snapped his hips a little more, causing her to arch more as her juicy ass bounced against him.
Before long, Sasha let out a loud, piercing moan as her second orgasm hit, her internal muscles squeezing his dick in rhythmic waves.
The feeling pushed Michael over the edge, he let out a low, animalistic roar, his body stiffening as he blasted hot, thick loads of cum deep inside her, filling her to the brim.
He stayed buried in her for a long moment, both of them panting, his seed dripping on to the ground. Michael slowly exited her, leaving her sprawled on his counter catching her breath. He kissed the back of her neck, his voice returning to that soft, persistent tone she both knew and cared for.
“Now can you listen to me?”
Sasha let out a breath that might have been a laugh if she had possessed enough air for one. Her cheek rested against the cool surface, red curls mussed around her face and clinging damply to her temple.
The heavy, exhausted silence that followed their first encounter didn't last long. The "no" still hung in the air, a challenge that Michael couldn't ignore. He looked at Sasha, her breathing uneven, her skirt bunched up around her waist, her skin flushed, and the possessive hunger returned, sharper than before.
He didn't want her just satisfied; he wanted her completely spent for him.
“Fine, have it your way.”
He lightly gripped her arm and pulled her away from the counter, leading her toward the sprawling, living area, pushing her onto the plush, oversized velvet sofa, her legs splaying open. He knelt between her thighs, his eyes locked on her wet, swollen pussy, still leaking.
He leaned in, his tongue darting out to lick a long, slow stripe up to her clit causing Sasha to let out a sharp, jagged moan, her fingers tangling in his hair, trying to pull him closer. Michael was relentless. He buried his face in her, his tongue swirling aggressively around her clit, sucking the sensitive nub into his mouth while his fingers slid deep inside her, mimicking the thrusts of his dick.
He licked her clean, tasting her arousal, his tongue flicking rapidly against her. Sasha was thrashing against the velvet, her hips bucking as she neared another peak. Just as she began to scream, he pulled away abruptly, leaving her shivering and desperate.
"Please," she whimpered, her legs shaking. "Michael, please."
"Not yet," he commanded. He stood up and gripped her waist, not wasting a second. He spat into his palm, lubricated his thick shaft, and drove himself back into her with a heavy, singular thrust.
This is what Sasha craved, this close intimacy, rough but real, full of passion with every push into her core.
Using the arm of the couch as leverage, he pressed into her more, his bottom lip bruised by his relentless biting, sweat dripping from his forehead onto her as he kept his pace deliciously sharp.
Sasha’s nails dug into his side, her moans of his name rolled off her tongue as if she was reciting a poem of lust just for him. He loved the way she whined his name, the way she looked up at him with her lust filled eyes, her lips swollen but he couldn’t resist kissing them again and again as his hips snapped against her.
Every kiss felt like fire and earth, rage and passion, desire and need. Sloppily their lips continued their struggle for dominance, their moans growing louder in each other's mouths.
Michael started to fall apart, the feeling of her was overwhelming, he knew she didn't want to hear it again but he had to say it.
“Oh baby, I’m so sorry. I’ll never say that to you. I promise.” he said against her lips before moving to kiss her neck.
“I know baby, I know.” she moaned back, tears forming at her eyes because of how good it all felt. She didn’t care that she slipped up and said a pet name, he more than deserved it for all he was giving her, apology included.
That's what he needed to hear, an almost acceptance from her was as good as a full acceptance.
Moving her legs onto his shoulders, he began to hammer into her, the sound of their bodies colliding—the wet, slapping noise of filling the room. He was relentless, his pace frantic, driving his dick deep into her guts, making her gush at the friction.
She was sobbing with pleasure, her head tilted back, her tits bouncing with every thrust. He held on to one and squeezed it, his thumb rubbing her nipple while he continued to fuck her senseless.
He felt her internal muscles begin to spasm again causing him to accelerate, his thrusts becoming short, piston-like strikes that hammered her cervix. Sasha sank deeper into the couch, her face pressed against his shoulder as her body shook in a massive, prolonged orgasm that left her breathless as she screamed his name loudly.
Outside the door, his security team fiddled with their watches, pretending they heard nothing.
Michael followed a second later, groaning as he filled her once again, his body shuddering with the force of his release.
He let her catch her breath for only a moment before he pulled out, the wet pop of his exit echoing. He sat back on his heels, his dick already beginning to stir again, fueled by the adrenaline of their power struggle.
They stared at each other for a moment, the silence filling the room once again.
Sasha looked up him up and down, a smirk playing on her lips. She crawled toward him, her movements slow and provocative, until she was kneeling over him, face to face with his dick.
She reached out, wrapping her hand around his pulsing shaft, guiding it toward her mouth, taking him in, her lips tight, her tongue swirling around the pulsing mushroom head.
She sucked him with a hungry intensity, her eyes looking up at him, challenging him even now. She used her hand to stroke the base, her mouth creating a vacuum that made Michael hiss through his teeth, his head falling back.
Michael's head fell back, the pleasure of her mouth making him week in the knees. He let her continue her actions for a few moments before feeling like he was going to come again.
“Sasha, fu- oh my gosh I’m going to come if you keep on.”
She kept taking him in, deeper if possible, holding onto his ass for better leverage. He in turn gripped her hair trying to move her but she increased her force, pushing him over the edge to come down her throat moaning her name loudly.
Again, security pretended they heard nothing. Except one who pointed out it’s been over an hour.
“Just saying, it’s kind of impressive.”
Back inside, she gulped down every bit he reluctantly gave her, milking him dry before releasing him. She laid back on the couch looking satisfied with herself as he sank into the cushion on the opposite side. Both of their chests heaved up and down, spent from their sexual escapades.
“I accept your apology,” she said with a sly smile.
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