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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 He was becoming more withdrawn, his stress accumulating like storm clouds, and even the brief moments before sleep had become silent and strained.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.