It was Jane's, who was my best friend, wedding night, and yeah I was happy for her, but I didn't know anyone else- so it was also hell. They'd said vows, kissed the bride, cut the cake, and all that jazz, but now it was time for the after party. Jane had ditched the long veil and gown for a white, hassle-free minidress. For a short time I'd danced with her, till, "hubby of the year," came to sweep her away. Then I'd attempted, and failed, to make light conversation with his family, siblings, cousins, parents, but the conversation dulled swiftly like a candle being blown out. Let's just say I wasn't exactly welcomed into the wedding celebration bubble. Jane tried, she really had, but I shooed her away.
"This is your night. Enjoy it!" I'd reassured, sending her off back to the dance-floor.
Now, I found myself planted by the bar, a sigh of boredom escaped me. Perched on a red leather stool, straw caught between my lips, I sipped my diet Coke slowly, watching the night drag on and on right before my eyes. Then a man strolled up, about 6ft, rocking a slick jheri curl, and sleek black Ray Ban Aviators, keeping his eyes private. He slapped each hand on the bar counter and the barman turned. A sly grin spread across his face and the mystery man returned the gesture.
"Alright, Mr. Jackson. You're looking sharp man." The barman eyed him, drying out a glass with a rag.
"Thanks Jerry," The mystery man flushed, embarrassed, but appreciative. "Just a water for me."
A water? I bit my straw so hard, holding back a laugh. The pair broke into chat again, but when the man was set down a water in a fancy glass with a fancy lemon in it- I lost it. The giggles erupted and I made no attempt to stifle them. His head turned quick, sharp.
"Is something amusing you?" Behind those sunglasses he was staring daggers.
"You come to a bar and order a water?" A rhetorical question which I chuckled through.
"And what have you got? Alcohol free?" His expression changed to a smirk.
That shut me up. "I'm driving actually, so getting drunk is off limits." I swivelled on the stool, distracting myself with my soda, feeling a little defeated.
Suddenly, I heard the thunk of his glass being set beside mine and I glanced up. He was leaning, back against the counter, looking cool as ever. Behind his glasses, his eyes were scanning me, roaming over my facial features, then dropping lower to my breasts, pressed secure against fabric, then my curves and the way my dress bunched a little at my hips. Fuck, she's a pretty thing.
"What's a pretty thing like you doing driving home?" He let his thoughts slip, mind spilling into his words.
"I didn't make the cut." It was blunt.
"Cut for what? A room?" Now he was the one amused.
I nodded, lips pursed in irritation, before sinking them back onto my straw. Studying the act, he was consumed by it, how my lips took the straw with such care, and how the faintest sliver of saliva glossed my bottom lip. God. Drawing his eyes away, he swallowed shakily and coughed, clearing his throat.
"Well," A smirk crept up, "a girl like you deserves an overnight stay. Come back with me."
"Uh-huh," I teased unconvinced, but slipped off the bar stool anyway.
Now, he stood tall, towering over me, I felt our gazes lock. This mystery man was handsome, neat in a black military style jacket, collar upturned, gold rimming the edge. His skin was a golden caramel, smooth, and those hands. Fuck, I need them on me. They were large, calloused, veiny and I knew they would swallow mine and my body. But I wasn't going to let him win that easily.
"Give me a reason I should?" I broke the tense silence.
But he didn't give an answer. Instead, his fingers dipped into the water glass, fishing out the lemon slice. Hand surprisingly steady, it was brought to my lips and I parted them, taking the slice between my teeth. The citrus teased my tastebuds, but I fought the urge to grimace in distaste from the sour sensation. His thumb brushed my bottom lip as I took the fruit fully, before spitting it back out in his hand. He discarded it, tossing it back into his glass, then without warning leant in and kissed me. It was slow, but sure, confident and deep, tongue sliding in, savouring the lemony flavour, licking it clean from my lips.
Once he pulled back, I nodded furiously, "Okay, yeah that's a reason."
Our hands intertwined, swiftly I was dragged away, past the blurring lights, past the weird stares, past the dance-floor and through to the hotel reception where the elevators lay. Impatient, all the buttons were pressed and we entered whichever one came first. Once inside I was pushed, and trapped in, against the mirror panels. The kiss came hungry now, desperate, tongue everywhere, tasting me, claiming my mouth.
"You-" I gasped for air and he pulled back suddenly worried it was too much.
I shook my head. "I was gonna say, you never told me your name."
Immediately, his expression darkened and a nastier smirk fell over him. "My name's Michael Jackson and you better scream it when I take you."
My breath hitched, but Michael silenced my air with another kiss, impossibly deeper, impossibly harder. I'd only heard the name in whispers, false tabloid- a myth stood true. Hands curling into his black shirt, I pulled him closer, our bodies pressed flush, my mind feeling dizzy as the elevator whirred higher. Ping! The doors smoothy opened, but there was no time to think with Michael. I was yanked so hard, nearly tripping over my heels, and he pushed me in-front of him, murmuring low a, "keep going." My heels sank deep into the plush cream carpet and when I went too far my wrist was swiftly pulled back.
"In here." Michael swiped the key card in a fluid motion and shoved me inside.
The door rattled and slammed with a loud bang, and I found myself standing awkwardly. Michael threw the keycard on the coffee table and sighed, running a hand down his face. To me he seemed tired, like he couldn't be bothered, but boy I was wrong.
Hesitantly, I spoke up, "um, are we go-"
"Get on the bed." Voice deep, Michael almost groaned, like just saying those words were getting him off.
I nodded eagerly and crawled onto the soft, plush goodness. He followed, removing his loafers, and sinking onto his knees.
"Shoes please pretty girl."
My stomach curled in anticipation and I raised a leg to his face. One hand clutched my ankle and the other twisted my high heel, popping it free and vice versa with my other leg. They were discarded carelessly onto the floor below- then I noticed it. The bulge in his pants, undeniable, obvious, and painfully straining against his slacks, like it about to burst free or pop his zipper.
"Come free me pretty thing." Michael's tone was soft, but commanding.
Hesitant, and nervously, I let my hands find his jacket first, unbuttoning each button, some of them giving a little squeak, each heightening the tension. Once done, he pulled his arms out, helping me remove it from his body. I repeated the process with his black shirt, but this time when his arms began to pull out of it, I placed my hands on his chest, making him pause. My eyes ran down his build, pale brown, slim, but toned, with a little trail of hair leading lower, and all the while Michael watched nervously behind his shades, biting his lip.
"Your skin.." I trailed off, eyes soft and wide.
His stomach dropped and self consciously he pulled his shirt closed, with my hands still inside, "It- it's gro-"
"It's beautiful." My eyes widened in awe. "You're beautiful Michael Jackson."
That broke him and he pressed a big warm, sloppy, but tender kiss to my mouth. My hands cupped his face instinctively, thumbs twiddling with the legs of his sunglasses.
"Can I see you, please?" I asked, pulling away.
Nodding faintly, he let out a shaky breath and slowly I pulled the shades off. Michael ducked his head straight away, but I coaxed him to look at me. He did and our gazes locked, his eyes sending a chill down my spine. They were hauntingly beautiful, a deep dark forest brown, piercing holes into my boring greyish tones. A silence fell over us and we just stared in fascination. He seemed so suddenly vulnerable, like no one had seen him like this.
"Okay, that's enough sweet nonsense," He laughed lightly and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, so he could whisper, "now i'm going to screw you so hard you forget your own name."
"You don't even know my name." I teased, fingers toying with his shirt collar.
"Oh I know you Y/N, now free me before I bust and stain these rented pants."
And then I was on him again, it was frantic- messy, deep kisses, tongues mixing, while he struggled to shake the shirt sleeve off his arm. Once off, my hands diverted to his belt, unbuckling it with a quick motion. The heat could be felt radiating off of him, like he was buzzing with excitement. Then the slacks said goodbye, Michael kicking them away with mega enthusiasm.
I was salivating at the sight of how heavy his cock looked in those tight black boxers, pre-cum painting the fabric. Low on my knees, I shifted them off of his hips and let them fall to his knees. His dick sprang up, missing my face by a mere centimetre. It curved, tip already pink and swollen, a smear of glistening fluid connecting it to the skin of his lower abdomen. The shit was big, thick too, with a vein which ran top to bottom, followed by ridges that screamed pleasure. My eyes scanned his length to the end and-oh my- there sat a wild tuft of black curls at the base. That shit's like Tarzan's jungle.
"Get your mouth around it pretty, come suck it." It lay heavy in his hand as it was guided to my lips.
My lips were parted and I was speechless, motionless.
"Did I say sit there and stare at it? No, I said suck it." Repeating himself, with frustration, he eased the tip into my mouth, my lips opening like a reflex.
I took him in my mouth, slow at first, but then it amped up quickly. Michael let out a small noise, and his hips thrusted instinctively, forcing my mouth to work, and when I gagged he just pulled back and shoved in again.
"Oh yes," A strained groan, "make those pretty sounds around me baby."
My hand rested on his tense thigh, giving me support, and I began to bob my head in line with his thrusts. The eye contact went crazy, his hands tangled in my hair, forcing me to look at him. Every other thrust I swirled my tongue around his tip making him quiver, and when his groans were tumbling out, Michael instantly pulled back.
"What? You can't handle it?" I teased him tormentingly.
His eyes darkened and in an instant, cock in hand, he slapped it against my cheek. I gasped, lips parted and he seized the opportunity, slamming his cock back inside of my mouth making me gag and my eyes widen in shock. He continued to pummel into my mouth, length lathering in saliva and when he pulled out, a strand connected my lips to his fat, swollen tip. I licked his slit and he visibly shivered, heat running down his spine. Cock in hand, he rubbed the tip against my lips, before stroking himself slowly, a few times, trying to control himself.
"You were there, weren't you?" I gave a wicked, teasing grin.
"Pretty," The nickname rolled off his tongue, "if I was, I'd have it all over your precious face by now."
"Mr. Big Shot." I muttered, rolling my eyes.
"What'd you say?" There was a fiery desire in his words, but I remained silence. "That's what I thought, get that dress off as punishment."
A chill ran straight to my core and I fiddled with the dress, but failed. "The zipper is stiff.."
A tsk left him and he pinched the bridge of his nose, almost in annoyance. "Well, then bend over."
I did as I was told, getting on all fours, the arch in my back perfect. His hands were rough, warm as he bunched my dress around my hips, eyes drifting down to my swollen folds, fluid seeping through my underwear.
"Damn," A mutter, followed by a low sigh. "You sure you want this precious? Can I?"
It was a rare moment where Michael actually switched off the tough guy act, but I nodded vigorously along with a, "Yes, please."
In a quick motion, a finger curled under the waistband of my panties and yanked them down. My flower was shining, dying to be touched- and he knew that. Just to taunt me, Michael slapped the head a few times against my purring clit, then my entrance, getting me worked up. My thighs were trembling from anticipation. Suddenly, and with no mercy, he slid into me, the stretch tight and overwhelming. I cried out, pressing my face into the pillow, while a grunt left him.
For a beat, he held himself there, letting me adjust, and when I finally lifted my head, he moved. Thrusts slow at first, but still as deep, they had me softly moaning already. One hand on my hip to steady himself, the other diverted to my hair, pulling me up so he could hear my honest sounds. The sound of skin on skin filled the room and goodness knows what the foot-fall passing by thought.
"Mi- Michael. I whined as he repeatedly filled me to the brim.
"Say my name baby," Commanded with a groan.
It was a struggle to get my words out. "Mike- Michael Jackson."
"That's right, pretty. Just like that- oh yeah."
He continued to rearrange my insides, cock repeatedly hitting climatic spots already. My walls stroked his large length, swallowing all that would fit, sending a flurry of moans spilling from my mouth. He grunted with every thrust, significantly sized shaft pounding deep inside. Warmth rushed to my lower abdomen and I clenched for some relief, however I was hopeless when face against his monstrous, cunt destroying cock.
His pace was merciless, the snap of his hips swift, fast movements sure to make me unable to walk. Michael felt his balls tingle, tighten ever so slightly as they made continuous contact which my skin. Smack! He slapped my ass harshly, the sting making my eyes prick from tears of pleasure. His hand smoothed the blazing red mark soothingly and I dripped around him, juices seeping out, coating his manhood. His cock twitched inside, ridges being stroked by my walls.
The heat in my stomach was coiling fast and I couldn't hold on for much longer. "Michael, please, I- I'm-"
Michael switched his grip and now had two hands on my waist, pulling my body to meet his, pulling the tidal wave closer and closer. My hands gripped the sheets, moans a mess, and I felt my walls clench. It was too much, his length, the brush of hair against my skin every time he entered, his whispered words.
"Let go for me, baby it's okay." With permission, I shattered around him, my flower erupting over his manhood. "That's right, make a mess over my cock- fuck."
Trembling, he moved through it, and when the pleasure became too much, seeping into my pores, I took a hand and tried to shove him, but he just chuckled with a grunt. Feeling my eyes roll back, with a final whimper, Michael reached his own high.
"Oh, yes- I- I'm-" And the rest was just loud, raw groans.
It felt warm, dick twitching as he painted my insides like a decorator. Our breath grew ragged, we panted in sync, and his body fell limp, collapsing against my back. I turned in his arms, facing him, both catching our breath, and I wrapped my arms around him in a tight embrace. Michael buried his face in the crook of my neck, air hot against my skin. We stayed like that a while, holding each other, letting the high fade, and when I brushed the damp curls from his face, he pulled out and I sighed feeling empty.
His body braced over mine, he pecked sweet kisses all over my face, causing me to giggle in return. Then, like a gentleman, he pulled my panties back up and smirked.
"You know, I could book us a lot more hotel rooms."
"Shut up," I rolled my eyes, slapping at his chest, but he just grinned.
Michael peeled away from me and grabbed his own boxers off the floor, re-clothing himself. We didn't say much after that, dare I say it was a little awkward, but in the middle of the night I was awoken by the rustling of sheets, and his arm shyly wrapping around my waist, snuggling closer. I felt his lips press softly against my neck and a small, "thank you Y/N," was murmured. That night I slept with a smile.
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