Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
synopsis: michael working on his new album âbadâ has him occupied all day, everyday for weeks on end. as his wife, youâre rightfully frustrated in more ways than one. so, when you hear a female voice in the background during a phone call to the studio â you canât help but want to claim whatâs yours.
warnings: sexual themes, smut, 18+
Hayvenhurst had never been this quiet.
Usually, the large mansion was filled with noises of laughter, joy and, more often than not, pure ecstasy from you and your husband.
However, as of late, Michael had been occupied from early hours of the morning, to late at night, when he would trudge home in an exhausted state, curl up against your slumbered frame and fall asleep. And, by the time youâd be waking up, he was already gone. You understood that being the wife to a global superstar had its perks and drawbacks â and when it came to writing and producing an album, the drawbacks were more prominent.
It was late on a Saturday night when you found yourself more bored than usual.
Maybe you were overthinking it, or maybe it was because you hadnât seen, heard from or touched your husband in 3 days. 3 long, excruciating days. Michael usually would call, but it seemed the concentration and focus the album needed was at the centre of his mind.
So, you had situated yourself in front of the television â a movie youâd already seen twice playing in front of your tired eyes. Barely focusing on what the actors were saying â you drifted off to a place where your husband was. Picturing him sat beside you â warm, salty popcorn in a bowl and a freshly squeezed orange juice in hand, giggling away at a movie he loved.
The soft smile that had crept onto your face slowly sank away into the depths of despair at the reminder your man wasnât here, and you had no idea when youâd next see him.
You knew you could see him if you really wanted to by paying Westlake Recording Studios a visit, but, Quincy Jones was a perfectionist like Michael, and any unnecessary distractions this close to finishing the album were not permitted to enter the studio.
And you were definitely a distraction to Michael.
Despite being a busy man, whenever you did spent time together, by God did he make up for lost time. That man would spend 50 days and 50 nights making up for any time youâd spent apart by showering you in irrevocable affection to show you just how much he missed you too.
With an exaggerated yawn, you glanced at the glistening gold watch around your wrist, one Michael had gifted you for your 4th wedding anniversary. Mumbling about the time, the numbers 20:38 stared back at you.
âTime to get ready to sleep alone, againâ You thought to yourself.
Sighing dramatically, you pushed yourself off the couch, switching off the television and dragging your tired feet towards the stairs. The house was always eerily dark and quiet at this time of night, especially being alone, leaving goosebumps down your arms as you reached your even quieter bedroom.
A wave of sadness hit you as you observed your cold, dark and pitiful bedroom â once filled with glistening low lighting, a bottle of Champagne and love-making all night, giggling with your other half. Now, the total opposite.
And the worst thought of it all â even when the album was finished, you knew heâd be touring, and youâd either be stuck at home alone permanently or living on the road for the next year. Either way, youâd do anything for Michael â which agitated you even more.
There was no one better â he was the one for you, the one you promised at the alter that youâd be there, sickness and in health, for better and for worse. This was the worse they were referring to. You loved him more than life itself to ever leave him â itâd break your heart more than this loneliness ever would.
For now, youâd wait for his call. Sit around all night, yawning and rubbing your tired eyes â awaiting a call that would never come, before succumbing to sleep and kicking yourself in the morning for not staying up for him.
Brushing away the negative thoughts that corrupted your mind, you trudged to the bathroom, deciding a floral scented body cream to flood your nostrils would hopefully cheer you up. Grabbing the large bottle, you squeezed a small amount out of the tube â rubbing the delightful smelling cream into your arms, your eyes locking on the phone on your nightstand.
âIf he didnât call by 10 oâclock, youâd call.â You decided, knowing that the next hour would be spend watching the time, feeling as though watching paint dry would be quicker. But, what else would a viciously devoted wife do?
Once your body was slicked with the fanciest lotion Michael couldâve possibly bought, just because, you slipped under the covers of your four-poster bed, the Emerald green, satin bedsheets sliding over your skin like water as you settled down.
21:05, Check the clock.
21:18, Sigh irritatingly at the ceiling.
21:25, Rest your eyes for a moment to pass the time.
21:29, Surely at least 10 minutes had gone byâoh, no, just 4 minutes!
"Oh, fuck this." You mumbled to yourself, ignoring the 21:34 on the clock metaphorically screaming âYouâre weakâ at you as you picked up the phone and dialled the number to Westlake Studios.
The sound of the phone ringing droned on throughout the room â your nails tapping impatiently on the handle, your bottom lips being gnawed on as you waited.
"Hello, Westlake Recording Studios, this is Susie, how can I help?"
"Hi Susie. Iâm sure I donât need to tell you why Iâm calling, huh?" You chuckled into the phone, knowing your voice was recognisable by now.
"Oh, good-evening, Mrs Jackson," She replied, a smile evident in her voice, "Let me check with Mr Jones that heâs available, okay? Give me a sec, sweetie."
"No problem."
A rustle, a click and the sound of the hold music indicated Susie, the receptionist at Westlake, was calling Quincy Jones to make sure your husband wasnât knee deep in a song. Knowing your husband, he probably was.
Click! "Hey, sweetie, just gonna connect you now."
Butterflies erupted in your stomach like a lovesick teenager at the confirmation you were about to speak to your husband, having to bite back a smile at the thought of hearing his sweet voice.
Click! "Baby?"
Oh, Lord, it was better than you imagined.
You sighed a sweet relief, "Oh, darling, itâs so good to hear your voice." You admitted straight off the bat, "Hi, my love."
Michael laughed, a smile that hurt your cheeks creeping up onto your face, "Hi, sweet girl, are you okay?"
"Iâm so much better now Iâm talking to you." You spoke, clutching the phone in two hands in desperation, "Mikey, I miss you so much."
"I know, baby, I miss you too." Michael agreed, "Iâm coming home tonight, so donât fret that little head anymore, okay?"
"Really?"
"Yes, really, my baby, I canât wait to hold you." His voice as sweet as sugar, echoing in your brain like an addiction begging to be tended to, "My beautiful wife all alone â makes me so sad."
"So alone." You pouted, craving to be babied, "Need you so bad, Mike." You whispered.
Michael breathed out a laugh, your grin deepening as you pictured his flustered face behind the phone â blush creeping onto his face at your suggestive words, "Oh, darling." He whispered, "I love you, I hope you know that."
"I love you so much more." You sighed, "The house is so quiet and boring without you."
"I know, I know. Iâm sorry Iâve left you for so long â things have been hectic here. Yâknow how Quincy gets when the albumâs nearly finished, he just gets so excited and just wants to make that push to the finish line without stopping."
"I know." You mumbled, toying with the phone cord, "I just canât wait to have you all to myself."
"Wonât be long, baby. Only a few hours."
"Mm, I canât waiâ" "Mikey, come back, the album wonât finish itself!"
Silence filled the room as your eyes widened, the smile wiped clean off your face as the reality of what you just heard hit you.
A female voice â calling your husband the nickname you have for him, beckoning him back to the studio. A voice laced with an undertone you didnât like nor want to hear the other end of the phone knowing she was with your man and not you.
Absolutely the fuck not.
"O-Okay, Coming!" Michael called out, "Baby, I gotta go."
"Who was that?" You pressed, your eyebrows knitted together.
"Oh, just another producer. Iâll speak to you later, okay? Donât wait up for me. Love you."
Click! Beeeeep!
Your jaw dropped, moving the beeping phone away from your ear as the line disconnected. You blinked, in utter shock at the conversation that just occurred in your ear without even a second to process.
Your brain ran a mile a minute as you replayed the scene in your head. An unfamiliar female voice, with a suspicious tone, calling your husband back to the studio, then being hung up on after being told to not wait up for him, ending with the âIâ missing from âI love youâ, had you spiralling as you placed the phone down.
The silence that consumed the room was deafening â your heart beating out of your chest as your mind ran away with itself.
Michael, tired, lonely, and equally as sexually frustrated as you, alone with a musically talented woman whoâs investing in his career and spending more 1-on-1 time with him than you, could easily lead toâ
Youâd never picked the phone back up quicker, speed dialling the Studio back, the mortifying thought of anything happening clouding your judgement, your foot tapping impatiently against the floor, now sitting on the edge of your bed cautiously.
"Hello, Westlake Recording Studio, this isââ
"Hi, Susie, itâs me again. I need you to connect me with Michael again right now please." You rushed through gritted teeth.
"Oh! Hello, again, I thought I already connected you, sweetie?"
"You did. But, I need connecting again, please. Now." You pleaded, your shaking fingers pinching the bridge of your nose.
"Let me check with Mr Jones, okay? One second."
Click! Before you even had chance to plead her to just put you through, the hold music sounded again. Groaning as you flung backwards onto the bed, phone still pressed to your ear, you could feel the anger growing inside you.
Click! "Hey, honey, Iâm afraid I canât put you through. Mr Jacksonâs very busy right now."
Could worse words ever be spoken.
"Okay, I appreciate that, Susie, but I must speak to my husband right now."
"Iâm sorry, Mrs Jackson, thereâs nothing I can do."
"Please. Let me just speak to Quincy, Iâm sure heâll let me speak to him."
"Iâm sorry, but Mr Jones has just left for the night, so Mr Jackson is with one of our other producers who has left me with strict instructions to make sure Mr Jackson has no distractions. Goodnight, Mrs Jackson." Beeeeep!
You placed the phone down once more â the beeping subsiding as you stared off into the distance, zoning out as the recollection of the past few minutes clouded your mind.
Heâs in there, alone with her. Not even Quincy was there anymore. Your heart was in your throat as you remained perched on the end of the bed, chest heaving in pure adrenaline â visions of your husband doing things he shouldnât polluting your thoughts.
How he didnât even notice how concerned you sounded when asking who she was made anger and jealousy bubble in your chest. Knowing that youâd been dying to see Michael for days, not counting the past few weeks, months and even years heâs been busy working on music where youâve missed out on marital business because of his work â and now she was getting to spend alone time with him without even having to lift a finger?
Furious didnât even cover half of it.
Michael didnât know what he was walking into when he pushed open the door to the Hayvenhurst mansion, sighing tiredly. It was just past midnight, his eyes were heavy and his feet were dragging against the floor as he trudged through to the kitchen, expecting an empty room to make himself a warm glass of milk and head up to bed, to hold you as promised.
What he didnât expect to see was you, in a long sheer gown, feathers on the edges, barely covering the matching black and baby pink lacy lingerie set that adorned your delicious body. Your tits pushed up perfectly, and your hips, waist and glorious legs all on display, with your hair perfectly groomed and a glass of wine in hand, stood on the opposite side of the kitchen island.
His heart jumped into his mouth at the sight of you â in shock of not expecting you to be there and the vision of your beautiful body on full display for him.
"Baby, wow, you lookâ wow, incredible." He breathed, taking in the sight of you as a took a swig of your wine, "What are you doing awake? I told you not to wait up."
You didnât answer straight away â just stared at him, taking sips of your wine as you remained in constant eye contact with him. After a few seconds of silence, Michaelâs eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.
"Honey, you okay?"
"Do you like what you see, Michael?"
Michael breathed out a laugh, "Like? Baby, Iâm in love. You look breathtaking."
His eyes never left yours as you sauntered your way around the kitchen island, slowly heading towards him, your high-heels clicking against the floor.
"I called you back, did you get the message?"
"Sorry?" Michael questioned, utterly confused at your words.
"Earlier. I called you back â did someone tell you I called again?"
Michael scratched the back of his neck, puffing out air as he thought, "Uhh, no. Sorry, honey, I was really busy."
You hummed in response, standing before him, eyeing him up and down, "So I was told. Something about a new producer not wanting you to be disturbed, hm?"
"Oh, yeah, thatâs Ester, sheâs great. Been helping me and Q with the album." Michael innocently complimented, a smile on his face as he looked down at you, "God, baby, I canât get over how amazing you look. I just wanna touch you all over."
You brushed past him before he got a chance to grab a hold of you, a waft of your sickly, addicting perfume clouding his nostrils, "Come get me then." You beckoned, heading towards the stairs, your gown traipsing behind you.
Michael trailed behind you like a predator to prey â his eyes glistening in desire at the sight of you, your plump ass and curvy thighs on perfect display as he practically crawled up the stairs like a rapid dog behind you.
"Come here, darling, wanna touch you so bad."
"Patience, Mikey." You dragged out the nickname, "Gotta catch me."
Playfulness glistened in his eyes as you turned around, walking backwards up the stairs slowly, as if assessing the threat that crawled slowly behind you, his eyes never once leaving yours.
After making it up the stairs without being âcaughtâ, you waltzed into the bedroom with an aura radiating off you that Michael had never seen â your hair bouncing as you walked, along with the wobble of your perfect ass, which he couldnât help but stare at, his cock twitching in arousal.
Michael remained behind you as he watched you slip your gown off, letting it fall of your body sensually, your half naked body now fully exposed to him. A shaky breath left his lips at the sight of you as you crawled onto the bed on all fours â your hips swaying while looking back to meet his eyes.
"Fuck." Michael groaned under his breath, his gaze not daring to look away from your frame, contorting into sensual positions.
You slid slowly onto your back, your arms holding you up and your legs pressed together, your eyes never leaving his own blown out ones â observing as his chest rose and fell quicker as he anticipated your next move. Fulfilling his undeniable need, you slowly parted your legs, revelling in the gasp that ripped from his throat at the sight of your crotchless panties, your gushing cunt exposed to him so suddenly.
"Oh, baby." He sighed, falling to his knees at the edge of the bed, his eyes locked on your glistening pussy.
"Is she pretty?"
"Mhm, the prettiest pussy Iâve ever seen." He mumbled, barely listening to you as he gawked at you.
"No â Is she pretty?"
Thatâs when it hit him â the reason you were awake, the outfit, the wine, the questions. It all finally clicked in his head what was going on.
"What? Ester?"
"Yes, her." You spat, a foul look on your face, acting as those even referring to her tasted vile in your mouth.
Michael breathed out a laugh, "Baby, no. Not at all. Never in a million years. Sheâs my producer." He answered, a playful smile on his face, "Enough of that â let me taste this sweet pussy that Iâve missed so much."
Leaning forward in attempt to press his face between your thighs, he was met with a forceful being stopping his path.
Your shoe â the heel pressing firmly on his forehead, stopping him in his tracks.
"Ah, ah, ah! No touching for you, Mikey." You teased, "Or is it only her thatâs allowed to call you that?"
Michael groaned, a hint of a pathetic whine threatening to blend with the gruff of his voice, the severity of the situation really setting in for him now.
"Babyâ"
"No. Beg."
"Honey, please," He wasted no time, his eyes meeting your own challenging ones from between your legs, all of his wrong-doings becoming apparent to him now he was being denied your pussy, "I donât know why she called me that â that name is reserved for you and you only. You, my beautiful, loving, perfect wife. Not her." He rambled, his eyebrows curved upwards in despair as his voice threatened to break, desperation dripping off him more than the slick from your wet pussy at the submissive sight of him, "And I am beyond sorry at the fact I didnât say âI love youâ, I was in a rush and I didnât think. But, I shouldâve thought. How dare I deny my gorgeous sweet little one the words of my true love. And I shouldâve answered your second call, and I shouldâve been here to begin with. I hate leaving you alone for so long, but Iâm an idiot husband, please, please, forgive me."
You stayed silent as your high-heel, the Armani ones heâd bought for your birthday, still remained pressed against his warm forehead. His puppy dog eyes, now a silent plea of desperation as he looked at you, his face a complete wreck at the pure fact that he was being denied your glorious pussy.
"Hm." You spoke finally, lowering your foot off of his face, "I suppose Iâll forgive you."
"Thank you, thank you, thank you." He chanted, grabbing a hold of your ankle, craving any sort of touch at this point.
"If."
"Yes, baby, anything." He rambled, "Anything â just let me feel you, please."
His obvious built up sexual frustration was manifesting itself in the most submissive, pathetic manner youâd ever seen â his voice cracking and stuttering as he begged you for physical contact.
"You let me use that pretty mouth and cock of yours until I decide youâve made up for it."
He couldâve cum on the spot at the pure erotica that left your pretty pink lips, swallowing hard as his cheeks flushed, trying to ignore the way his cock throbbed in his boxers.
"Jesus, sweetheart." He breathed, "Youâre killing me over here."
"Is that a yes?"
"Yes, absolutely, 1000%, yes."
"Lay down then."
Michael wasted no time doing what you asked. Usually, he would dominate in the bedroom, and he knew deep down the second he slid his achingly hard cock into your tight little cunt, that youâd submit to him that millisecond, but right now, heâd humour you â secretly enjoying letting you take the reigns for once, especially if it meant getting to devour your pretty pussy.
You crawled up his body, before hovering over his face, your legs either side of his head â your clenching cunt just centimetres above his eager mouth that had him twitching in excitement at the thought of the taste of your sweet pussy, one heâs missed for so long.
"Lemme take care of you, sweet girl. Make everything alright again." He promised, two firm hands coming to grab a handful of your shaking thighs.
Without giving him a second to prepare, you lowered your pussy down onto his face â both of you moaning at the feeling of one another after so long.
"Oh, Michael." You cried out, your hands flying to the headboard above your bed, as his tongue wasted no time in delving between your lips.
His tongue slithering its way around your quivering sex â the tip of the warm muscle swiping over your throbbing clit, eliciting the most needy, pornographic whine from your lips. Michael couldnât help but smile into you â knowing the dominant act was going to wear off pretty soon with that way he was devouring your cunt like his last meal.
The erotic noises that filled your once depressingly quiet bedroom had Michael twitching uncontrollably in his pants â his cock screaming to be freed as you began rocking your hips back and forth on his face, moaning like a bitch in heat at the feeling is his nose nudging your sensitive nub.
"O-Oh, baby, yes! Yes, God, baby, so good." You whined, your voice a high-pitched strain of undeniable ecstasy as you rode his face.
Michael was in heaven â after weeks of not even seeing you naked let alone having his face stuffed full of your pussy, he couldnât be stopped from devouring you even if anyone tried. He didnât even care that his dick was begging to be touched â he wanted, no, needed to be forgiven, to make things right. Prove to you that you were the only woman he needed in his life.
A devilish hand slid up your thigh to grab a handful of your ass, earning a moan of delight into your pussy as Michael sucked your aching clit. Nearly buckling over at the vibrations of his noises â you hunched over, knuckles turning white as you gripped onto the headboard for dear life at the feeling of his swollen lips wrapping around your clit like his life depended on it.
It was only when two of his long, slender fingers dipped suddenly into your hole, reaching such depths so quickly that you came on the spot â crying out deliciously as you coated Michaelâs face in your juices.
"Michaelâah! God, yes! Donât stop!"
Your hips rocked back and forth faster than before, denying him of oxygen, not that he cared, but prolonging your orgasm as his slicked nose repeatedly abused your extremely overstimulated clit.
Lifting off his face with a whine, your legs threatened to collapse before Michael caught you, two strong, reliable hands holding your waist and legs before they gave way. Michael picked you up with a smile, before laying you gently on the bed beneath him.
"Youâre such a good girl for me, baby." He whispered, leaning down to press a sweet, gentle kiss on your forehead, cheek and nose, "Did so good for me."
You hummed tiredly, looking up at him innocently â one side of your bra strap had fallen down in the bustling of your orgasm, revealing your rounded left breast, your erect nipple on show for him, as well as your now dripping wet pussy one buck upwards away from meeting his thick bulge as he situated between your open legs.
He knew your dominatrix act would let up after he made you cum.
"Look what you did to me, sweet girl." Michael revealed, guiding your hand gently to grab a handful of his despicably hard cock, a loud gasp ripping from your throat, "So fucking hard for you baby. Missed feeling you cum against me so fucking bad."
"Mikey." You whined, irresistibly desperate beneath him.
"Fuck, I only love it when you say it, darling."
You wrapped your arms swiftly around his neck, pulling him down to connect your lips in a fiery, needy, frantic kiss. You hummed into his mouth, the taste of your tangy release still evident on his tongue. Michael kissed you with a burning passion that had you rubbing your legs together once more â the feeling of irrefutable arousal radiating off you like heat.
Michael, without needing to be told, freed himself quickly from his boxers, hissing into your mouth at the contact of his warm hand around the base, guiding it towards your slick cunt.
"Legs up, baby." He mumbled into your mouth, not daring to break the intense kiss.
Michael hummed in pure delight at the feeling of your heeled feet wrapping around his waist and forcing his hips closer to you â his leaking tip now colliding with your clit.
Michael cursed under his breath as his positioned his cock at your hole, his hands shaking at your sides, as he pushed in slowly. The feeling of his pulsating tip, dribbling with anticipatory pre-cum, stretching your pleading pussy had both of you crying out in euphoria â your moans already growing louder before heâd even filled you to the brim.
"Oh, my fuck â this pussy is to die for, Jesus." Michael whined as he pushed further into your tight cunt, inch by inch, his cock stretching you so perfectly.
Once bottomed out and fitted perfectly into your abused cunt â Michael began to set a brutal pace. One that you seeing stars and moaning beyond control underneath him â your sharp nails dragging down his muscular back as he ploughed deeper.
"Mhm!, Mikey, right there!" You gasped blissfully, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he slammed perfectly into your G-Spot, brushing your cervix perfectly.
Michael was a piece of string held taut and being sawed at â ready to snap at any given moment. You hadnât had sex this good in months â the build up frustration and lack of communication had you both needing each other like water in the desert.
"M-Michael?"
"Yeah, baby?" He panted above you, leaning down to press a kiss against your cheek, and down your neck.
You whined, "Pass me the phone."
"What?"
âDonât stop. Just pass me the phone."
Michael obliged reluctantly, unsure of where this was going. He reached over, his thrusts slowly slighly, one handed to grab the phone, handing it back to you.
"Dial her number."
Michaelâs face drained of colour as his thrusts slowed to a stop, which earnt him a slap on the ass from behind, like a jockey on a horse, "Donât stop, I said. Now, dial her number."
Michaelâs swallowed thickly as he searched your face for any sign of humour, but your knitted eyebrows in pleasure paired with your oh so serious eyes had him reaching over to the phone and dialling Westlake Recording Studio.
This late at night had the calls connecting directly to Michaelâs studio, Susie long gone, and the only person left in the Studio, was the one person you wanted to answer the phone the most.
"Hello, Ester from Westlake Studio speaking."
A wicked smile flickered over your face as her muffled voice filled your ears. You took the phone from Michaelâs hand, sneaking out from under him, pushing him onto the bed and climbing on top of him, guiding his slicked, hard cock back inside you â now riding him just how you knew he loved. Michael strained a loud moan that threatened to escape his lips.
"Hello?" Her voice sounding more confused at the rustling and whispering on the other side of the phone.
You handed the phone back to Michael who eyed you confusedly. His only instruction was the word âSpeakâ that you mouthed at him, before lifting your cunt off his throbbing cock and bouncing straight back down, his cock nudging your cervix perfectly now.
"H-Hi Ester, itâs M-Michael."
"Michael? What are you doing calling this late?"
Michael looked at your fucked out face for answers â as your beautiful frame and gorgeous complexion stared right back at him, your wedding ring glistening in the moonlight as you grabbed a handful of your tits, he knew exactly what he needed to do to make things right.
"Iâve decided your actions at the Studio are wildly inappropriate and disrespectful to my wife." He started, his voice huffed as he bucked his hips up into you, "Using a personal and private nickname that is reserved for my wife and my wife only isâah, baby! unprofessional and calls for immediate dismissal."
"What? A-Are you firing me over a nickname?"
"Yes, e-exactly." Michael breathed, "My w-wife is the most important thing in my life, and anyone who upsets her will beâo-oh fuckâbanished effective immediately."
Michael positioned the phone to be held up with his shoulder as he gripped your hips â slamming upwards into your tightening pussy, forcing your moans and whines to grow deliberately louder.
"What the fuck? Are you having sex?"
"Pack your stuff and be gone by tonight," Michael breathed, biting his lips momentarily at the sight of your tits bouncing as he fucked up into you, "And never disrespect my wife again."
Not even bothering to hang up, knowing the embarrassed woman on the other line would, Michael threw the phone onto the floor and thrust up into your drooling pussy like he had seconds left to live.
"Oh, Michael, I love youâI love you so so much. Thank you, babyâmmhm!!â thank you, youâre so good to me!"
"I love you, sweetheart, god, Mâlove you so much."
With a tentative hand crawling down your body to rub tight circles on your clit, to the way it made you clench around his twitching cock â the both of you came with a strangled cry.
"Yeah â cum on my cock, baby, give it to me." Michael coaxed, a whine following shortly after as he forced his cock as deep as it would go before letting his much needed release fire up inside of your oh so willing cunt.
Whining on top of him, juices flowing down his length, coating his tightened balls, your orgasm subsided and you crashed onto his chest, heaving as he, too, came down from filling your cunt up to the brim with his hot seed, before slipping out as he softened.
His gentle hand came up to caress your head, the other taking a hold of your left hand, lifting it carefully to display your wedding ring to the both of you, the 24 Carat gold rock glistened in front of both your eyes, a smile creeping onto your face as it remained a reminder of your dedication to one another no matter.
"This will get you anything you want and more." He admitted, "Just say the word and Iâll go to the ends of the Earth for you, darling."
You peered up at him, your eyes a hazy, fucked out mess, "Will it get me a week alone with my husband?"
Michael smiled, pressing a kiss to your jewelled finger, a boyish giggle leaving his lips before he spoke, "Iâd have to check with Quincyââ
no cause truly⌠itâs gotten to a point where all I think abt is how handsome michael is. like genuinely, the most attractive man ever and itâs not just abt looks. like yes, heâs beautiful but his mannerism, his personality, his voice, his intelligence, etc. oh brother, I am cooked. đŤŠđŤŠđŤŠ
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
tags: mature era!michael, female!reader, sleepy flirting, innuendos of smut if you squint, domestic intimacy, soft michael, insomnia, established relationship
summary: after another exhausting week of press, performances and sleepless nights, michael quietly slips out of bed unable to come down from the adrenaline of fame. when you wake to find him missing at 3 a.m., you discover him downstairs making tea beneath the soft crackle of vinyl music and moonlight spilling through the kitchen. what starts as a sleepy check-in quickly melts into quiet confessions, gentle touches and a lingering kiss that leads to more.
note: 18+ mild suggestive themes so minors keep scrolling, wrote this while half asleep so itâs very fitting also this is my first time writing something suggestive so if itâs bad donât yell at me
disclaimer: this is a fictional story created purely for entertainment purposes. while it may reference real public figures, events, or time periods, all situations, relationships, dialogue, and portrayals are imagined and should not be taken as factual representations of real individuals or real-life events. any similarities to actual people or occurrences are entirely coincidental and part of the fictional narrative.
the soft wind whispered as it passed through the open balcony doors, the white sheer curtains blowing gently and the pale moonlight illuminating the room.
it had been a long week of michael doing press and interviews, on top of recording and performing. the poor man never knew how to take a break, despite reminding him many times.
your body slowly turned to your other side of the bed, reaching for that familiar warm embrace that helped you fall asleep in the first place to find the spot empty. this caused you to fully open your eyes, taking a scan around the room. he wasnât anywhere to be found. the clock read 3:00 a.m. you sit up on the edge of the bed, fixing the borrowed silk button up from michael and slipped on your slippers.
your hand held onto the railing that trailed down the stairs and led to the living area. to your surprise, there he was, standing in the kitchen barefoot with his silk robe, glasses low on his nose with a quiet vinyl crackling from the living area and a pot for tea on the stove.
âhoney?â you whispered to him as you stepped closer and wrapped your arms around his back.
âoh hi darling,â he turned around and wrapped his arms around you in return, âiâm sorry, did i wake you?â his voice low and raspy due to exhaustion, he moved a small strand of hair out of your face.
you pouted and shook your head, âno no.. i couldnât feel you in bed so i got a bit worried.â
a soft smile spread on his face. he found your concern adorable and wholesome, âiâm okay, baby,â he reassured you, âjust couldnât sleep.â you nodded in understanding. the tea kettle started to whistle, which caught michaelâs attention.
while reaching behind you to grab a mug, he absentmindedly placed a soft kiss on your forehead before tending to the tea, âwould you like a cup?â he asked, pouring the boiling water into the mug.
âiâm okay, sweetie, thank you.â you gently sat up on the counter next to him, âwe can share yours.â you added and gave him a sweet smile.
he nodded then moved to stand in between your knees. you brought a sense of comfort and warmth that he was so infatuated with, he was already feeling more at ease now that he had you near him.
you then asked him, âwhatâs got you up so late?â
âjust⌠everything. i hate nights like these because i never fully come down from that adrenaline rush.â you nodded as you listened to him speak so softly, his hand now resting on your exposed thigh, rubbing it occasionally as it comforted him.
you massaged your hands softly through his hair as he continued, âit gets really lonely, even if i am surrounded by a bunch of people.â he said.
âtheyâre just not you. i feel like i can totally be fully relaxed when itâs just you.â he added, which caused the biggest grin to display on your face.
âi know, my love. i can see how exhausted youâve been,â you sighed and took a sip of the tea from his mug. the sound of the music playing in the other room was the only sound to be heard.
âjust take it easy the next couple of days, okay? i mean it.â michael was painfully distracted from your plump lips now wetted from the tea as you spoke. both of his hands now rested on the sides of both of your thighs, rubbing them up and down. he was so intoxicated by you.
âmy eyes are up here, mister.â you took your index finger to lift his chin slightly, a sleepy grin spread across his lips as he let out a quiet breath through his nose, almost embarrassed at being caught staring so openly.
âcan you blame me?â he murmured softly.
his thumbs continued their slow movements against your thighs before one of his hands slipped just slightly beneath the hem of the silk shirt hanging from your body, fingertips brushing against warm skin absentmindedly.
âyou should be asleep,â he whispered, voice rough and low.
âyou werenât there.â you answered quietly.
michael stepped closer until he was fully standing between your knees, his forehead gently resting against yours for a moment while his hand slid beneath your chin, tilting your face toward him.
âcâmere,â he whispered. âdonât sit all the way over there.â
a soft laugh escaped you as he guided you closer to the edge of the counter, his hands settling more securely against your waist now. the scent of tea and his cologne wrapped around you so warmly it made your heart beat out of your chest.
âyou worry too much about me,â he said quietly, eyes flickering between yours and your lips.
âsomebody has to.â that earned another tired smile from him before his gaze lingered on you again, heavier this time. more affectionate and wanting.
the vinyl muffled softly from the other room while his fingers traced lazy patterns against your waist beneath the silk fabric. â will stay up with me a little longer?â he asked.
you nodded almost immediately, causing him to smile against your forehead before pressing a slow kiss there, pulling away momentarily.
neither of you spoke for a second too long. something in the air between you changed subtly.
âwhat?â you whispered, noticing the way he was looking at you now.
ânothing,â he said, though his voice didnât quite match the word.
his gaze flicked down to your lips again as he leaned in slowly to collide them with his in a leisurely, careful kiss. it was soft at first and unhurried, like he was still half asleep following instinct rather than thought.
your hands never left around his shoulders, fingers laced in his hair at the nape of his neck as the kiss deepened. he couldnât help but gently squeeze the soft skin of your thighs, it was one of his favorite parts about you. and how kind your heart was to him.
his touch had gotten you riled up at this point and there was no way you were going back to sleep now. you softly hummed into his mouth as his hands crept up your bare skin underneath his shirt you had on, and to be honest, seeing you in that only turned him on even more.
âcome back to bed with me..â you whispered to him and with no hesitation, he grabbed you from the countertop and swiftly carried you back to your shared room, pushing the door closed with his foot.
the rest of that night was filled with skin to skin, ruffled sheets and both of you sleeping soundly together, his arms never leaving from wrapped around you.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
WARNINGS: sexual themes , fem!reader , riding , sweet talk
âitâs so prettyâŚso beautifulâŚâ michael sighs out at the world. perfectly framed through the open balcony doors, billowing curtains, a fairytale fantasy made real just for the two of you. it wasnât lost on you that heâs gotten to see this all his life, all the time. you finally understood why he could never get sick of it.
staring out at the calm blue night, the city lights, the hills and the paintings it couldâve made, your heart fluttered, taken over by all of its coolness, its beauty. and him, of course; tangled bare in each other, in the lushness of the hotel bedding. it felt like a most magical reverie.
you look out at the night, pressed cheek to cheek like in the old starlet movies, your eyes glinting with the nightâs stars in them. he watches with soft eyes and presses his lips flat to your cheek, kissing there.
âeverything with you is like a dream.â your eyes meet, his sharp brown tinted blue in the moonlight. when he laughs, you cross his shy giddiness with a giggle of your own, emphatically repeating yourself: âi mean it! everything.â
he smiles, his youth springing from him the way it did when he was a boy. âit all means so much more to me now that i can share it with youâŚâ
the sweetness rolls out of his mouth and through your body like a field of flowers in the wind and his earthly hands run along the softness of your back, the comfort he nurtures silently goading you to kiss him. your arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling your naked chests together. lips come together like theyâd been made for the otherâs, a gratitude escaping both your throats as it would in prayer. itâs beautiful like this, so right. the most perfect getaway. days of remarkable sights, local music, disguises to fool the public. nights of feasting; on the gorgeous food, on each other. youâd already gone a couple of delicious rounds this evening, you were practically bathed in the residual love.
your kiss deepened, and so did his need. that familiar heartbeat below, searched for reprieve. you look at each other, lips parted and glistening. silent permission meets a new look of want.
âcan youâŚrub it on yourself?â he asks in a voice so low one might mistake it for timidness, but you know better. his desire, so ripe, awash over him. excitement heats your body instantly as you take him, hard and thick in your sweet hand, gently between your legs. oh⌠you moan low at the contact against your curls, rolling the slippery head taut against the bud of you. he lets out a long, savory sigh.
âdo you like it?â you whisper shakily, eyes full with something caught between shame and surprise, arousal coloring your face all the same.
michael purrs in assent, teeth sunken into his lip, hips gyrating. âi love it. i love it, baby.â
you slide easy against him, warmer and warmer as he pulses harder, a delicate pang of need getting hotter against your body.
âthatâs it, thatâs it, baby, get it wet,â he utters under his breath, his guiding hand squeezing the flesh from your hip, the contact between your eyes never breakingâŚthose darling brown eyes, round and wanting, laying all he needed on you with a mere twitch of an eyelash, long, pretty, and fluttering. you buck a little faster, totally blissed.
his breath quickens and his hand moves to cradle your lower back, almost stilling you completely. âyouâre so beautiful,â he murmurs, voice breathless and lustfulâovercome with it. âcâmereâŚcâmere.â
you rock up onto his thighs and he slides his fingers between the two of you, his skin and knuckles growing sticky and wet. you raise your hips, chest meeting his chin, then lips as he kisses the bone along your sternum.
he rubs himself against the soft, slippery ache, beckoning you to take it again. with a whine you sink down wantonly, his eyes still trained on you diligently. love evident in the tenderness. your face contorts divinely, soon full to the brim with him, nestling perfectly along every pulsing vein. his name leaves you in a quivering moan and he kisses your jaw lightly.
âthatâs it, darlinâ.â he nods, bodies becoming one in the darkness. âwant to see you come again.â