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.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
it was entirely out of character for him. in all the time you’d been dating, and throughout the entire duration of your friendship before that, michael had never been the jealous type. he certainly wasn't one to hold onto resentment for long. he was the definition of understanding. he always handled conflict with a rare, quiet maturity, remaining patient and fiercely loving with you, even when things got difficult.
ever since yesterday, when you attended that studio session with him, the shift had been palpable. while he was trapped inside the recording booth, focused on the tracks with quincy and forced to play the part of a polite host to a room full of strangers, you had retreated to the far back. you’d spent the entire session giving your undivided attention to some man, someone michael didn't know, didn't recognize, and frankly, didn't care to learn the name of.
the sting of it had started long before that, though. you had been distant from the moment you woke up, offering him no kisses, no soft touches, not even a trace of the affection that usually acted as the glue between you two. watching you pour that warmth into a stranger while he stood behind the glass, hungry for even a glance from you, had been agonizing. it gnawed at him, turning his patience into something sharp and cold.
the moment you arrived home, he hadn't said a word. he had moved through the house in a stiff, controlled silence, wasting no time in the shower before dressing and abandoning the bedroom entirely.
now, he stood in the kitchen, the moonlight filtering through the window and catching the pale rim of his glass. he poured himself a drink of orange juice, his movements deliberate and quiet, the empty space beside you in bed, the space that should have been occupied by him, felt like an absolute void.
you sat perched on a barstool by the island, lips pressed into a thin, anxious line. your manicured fingers danced and swirled against each other, a nervous fidget you couldn't suppress as you searched for the right words, anything to thaw the ice radiating from him.
“michael.” you spoke, your voice barely a whisper, your eyes fixed on the rigid set of his shoulders.
“hm?”
he didn't bother to turn around. the only response was the steady, clinical sound of orange juice pouring into the glass, the liquid hitting the bottom with a hollow chime that only deepened the silence between you.
you inhaled, a slow, shaky breath that did nothing to settle your nerves.
“are you upset?” you asked. finally, he moved, shifting so his lower back rested against the counter. one arm remained folded tightly across his chest, acting as a barricade, while he brought the glass to his lips.
“what would i need to be upset about?” he countered. his voice was so flat, so utterly devoid of his usual warmth, that it made your chest physically ache.
“you’ve just… been off lately,” you murmured, trying to keep your tone steady. “you haven’t spoken a word to me since we got home.”
“have I?”
“michael.” you said, your voice gaining a touch of sternness, your head drifting to the side in genuine confusion. you were baffled. in the history of your relationship, you were rarely the one at fault. you took care, you were mindful, and you had never done anything to warrant this kind of distance. the disconnect felt like a puzzle with missing pieces, and it was starting to make you feel like you were losing your footing in your own home.
he knew you were confused. it was written in the genuine furrow of your brows and the way your eyes searched his, looking for an answer you truly couldn't find. he could see it, but he also knew that you needed to learn. there were boundaries, and sometimes, even you could be in the wrong.
“did i do something?” you questioned, your brows knitting together in that familiar, heart-tugging way. “can you tell me if i did? i want to know what’s bothering you.”
“yeah.” he sighed, the weight of the day finally audible in his voice as he set his glass down on the counter. “all day, you haven’t shown me any affection. at first, i thought i’d done something to upset you, but then we got to the studio, and instead of being with me, you were off roaming around, wrapped up in a conversation with some guy.” his tone was stern, but it remained laced with that gentle, underlying ache that was uniquely his.
you folded your lips into a thin, tight line, letting out a soft, defeated sigh.
“i’m sorry. i didn’t think i’d done anything wrong, i was just talking to him,” you gestured, your voice small. he shook his head, turning his back to you again as if the sight of you was too much to bear.
“nothing you do is wrong in your eyes.”
the words hit you like a physical blow, and you felt your heart crack. you slowly pushed away from the island, stepping up behind him. you reached out, grabbing his arm with a gentle, tentative grip, and turned him around to face you.
you peered up at him, your eyes beginning to glaze over. “okay, i’m sorry,” you whispered. he looked down at you, the hard set of his jaw finally beginning to soften as your hands slid down to hold onto his wrists.
“i shouldn’t have done that. i should’ve been with you,” you continued, your voice trembling slightly. “that wasn’t a smart move, and your feelings are valid for the way i acted.”
he inhaled faintly, the tension in his shoulders finally dropping as he exhaled. his palms came up to rest firmly on the sides of your waist, anchoring you to him.
“they are valid.”
“i know.” you frowned, your heart still stinging but the distance between you beginning to close. you reached up, cupping his face in your palms and leaning in to press a gentle, apologetic kiss to his cheek.
you lingered there for a moment, letting the warmth of his skin ground you.
“how can I make it up to you?”
but michael had other ideas entirely, and he was intent on making sure you forgot every other man in that room by the time the night was over. his way of "making it up" to him was a relentless, consuming reclamation of your attention.
he had you positioned on the bed, your legs pulled back and held firmly in his hands, his grip tight behind your knees as he kept you trapped in the center of his focus. the world had shrunk down to the friction, the heat, and the weight of him pressing you into the mattress. your chest was heaving, your body trembling and shivering uncontrollably under his deliberate movements, your hair a chaotic halo spread across the sheets.
you were so far gone, so completely blissed out, that your hands fluttered up to hide your face, a shy, instinctive reflex to keep him from seeing just how undone you really were. but michael didn't look away, he watched every twitch, every shiver, as he wrung the fourth orgasm out of you, his own movements steady and demanding.
your mind was a white-hot blur, stripped of any ability to form a coherent thought, let alone keep track of the passing time. your moans were no longer rhythmic or polite, they were raw, whiny, and wrenched from the very depths of your soul. your throat began to ache, turning raspy and hoarse from the intensity of the sounds you couldn't suppress. feeling a sudden, burning wave of embarrassment at the sheer hunger of the lovemaking, you shakily brought your hand up to your mouth, pressing your palm against your lips to muffle the sounds that were still spilling out of you.
whenever you tried to muffle yourself, michael’s pace only quickened, his hips angling with a precision that was almost cruel in how perfectly it found that spot deep inside you. your toes curled against the sheets, the knot in your abdomen tightening into a searing, white-hot ache that threatened to blind you, flashing bright spots across your vision.
“i know you got one more in you,” he murmured, his voice thick, gruff, and vibrating against your skin.
“do it for me, baby.”
he reached down, his long, slender fingers finding you with devastating accuracy. he began to trace slow, tender, agonizingly gentle circles over your overstimulated, hypersensitive center. the contrast of his rough, deep thrusts, measured and slow, against the feather-light touch of his fingers was sensory overload. every movement sent jagged, electric shocks coursing through your entire body, making your thighs clamp down around him, desperate to keep him exactly where he was. you were completely at his mercy, his rhythm dictating every gasping breath you took as he pushed you further, refusing to let you escape the intensity of the moment.
and you did. in fact, you had three more, each one shattering the last shred of your composure until you were nothing but a puddle of gasps and blurred senses beneath him.
but the moment the final wave crashed over you, the tension that had been clinging to the room evaporated. somewhere in the haze of that relentless, hungry lovemaking, michael had simply forgotten why he was angry in the first place. the grudge, which had felt like a mountain earlier that evening, had been dismantled, replaced by the heavy, sweet exhaustion of being completely and utterly his.
Ive been listening to this song lately…I had NO CLUE this beat went this hard. Every time I find myself underestimating Michael I swear I hear a song by him or find a fact about him that has me astonished all over again.
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.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
context: your P.I has found out some interesting news, except you don't know what this means for your relationship and your future, sending you down a confusing spiral that accidentally puts distance between you and Micheal....
content warnings: graphic sexual descriptions. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT EVER.
“Do you think anyone can tell?” I ask, dressed in a pretty mid-length baby blue dress with thin straps. I smooth my hands over my abdomen, where I now have a little bump. Though it really just looks like I’m bloated.
“No,” Michael murmurs, “you look good,” he glances over me, gaze lingering on my boobs, then drops to my stomach. I exhale, and my bump grows.
“I didn’t ask that, I meant, does it look like I’m pregnant?” I whisper at him. We’re stood in our dressing trailer, door closed. The make up team having just left after working on me. Outside we can hear the sound engineers figuring out the music. People talking, rehearsing, or whatever. It’s busy on set with all the dancers and background actors.
“No baby,” he chuckles softly as he slides up behind me as I'm stood in front of the mirror. He places those big hands on my small bump, leans down and rests his chin on my shoulder. He caresses the silk dress, smoothing his palms over my growing stomach.
At thirteen weeks, the bump is more noticeable if I fully relax and exhale. Which I’m not doing right now since I’m just about to get on camera again.
“You sure you’re still up to this?” He asks, looking at my reflection as I look at his, doe eyes gleaming. He's dressed in a black suit, matching dark rimmed hat. "S'a lot of moving around, long hours..."
"Well, I'm not gonna let another bitch do it," I snip back at him and he laughs, full and loud as he leans back from me. "What's funny?"
"Nothing," he grins, "You look good, let's go." He slaps my ass and I can't help the bashful smile that takes over me with a full blush. I slip on my heels and follow him outside into organised chaos. There are trucks everywhere, equipment being carried back and forth, dancers stretching. Michael takes my hand as he leads me through it all, heading to the main filming location.
He steps away to have a talk with his director and I move over to where a camera is waiting for me. I agreed to do a behind the scenes kind of walk through for MTV, with Michael's go ahead of course, and the small team sent to film it are waiting.
I have a quick touch up of powder before a light is blared in my eyes, and I switch on immediately, grinning as they hand me a mic and we get started.
"Hey MTV, I'm Daphne Jones here on the set of you rock my world the latest single from Michael Jackson's invincible album, set to release later this year. I'm, obviously, playing the love interest who really just has to strut her stuff and look hot, but more importantly, let me show you round set and see who we can find--"
I wave the camera forward, and they follow me around for a bit as I talk them through the basic story line. I'm half conscious of consistently holding in my stomach as much as I can, or angling my arm over it as naturally as possible. Despite being officially into the second trimester and it being safe to tell people about the pregnancy, Mikey and I wanted to keep it low key, if not completely private. So far, only my and his parents know.
At some point we bump into Mike again, and he's all professional and calm as I ask him a few questions about the song. I try really hard not to laugh at him as he answers, dressed in his outfit, hat tipped slightly. I'm biting my lip and smirking the whole time he's talking, and he's avoiding looking at me completely.
At the end of the mini interview, I press my palm to his cheek, "Thanks baby," I smile. He grins and nods, touching my hip before he dismisses himself. "Okay, who else can we find?" I say to the camera.
I wander away with them following me and we go in hunt of Chris Tucker. He has me snorting with laughter the whole of his interview, so much so at some point I have to tell him to shut up because I will wee myself. Everyone probably thinks I'm joking but... I'm not.
The time comes to get filming and the camera crew take a step back. I head over to where I'm needed, taking a deep breath and getting into the zone. I don't have any lines or anything but I am meant to look like a mysterious woman who's, at first, completely uninterested in Michael. When the camera calls for action, I wait for my cue, making sure not to get too into watching Mike do his thing.
We film for hours, stopping and starting repeatedly since neither Mike or Chris can keep a straight face whilst doing their bit. I think I walk up and down the same spot about eleven times before the strut I'm going starts to feel stupid.
Eventually we take a break and I'm speed walking back to the trailer to pee. I close the door behind me, and all but run to the little bathroom to relieve myself. When I'm finishing up, I hear buzzing. It's my cell phone that I left in my purse in here.
I rush over to it, checking out the little window covered with a slated blind to see where Michael is before I answer, recognising the number immediately. "Hello?"
"Daphne? It's me."
It's my private investigator, finally calling in for an update after almost three damn weeks. "What do you have?" I ask, getting straight to the point. I've been getting so antsy about figuring this problem out. Michael's stressed about it, so I hate asking him if he's made any progress with getting Lisa to sign those damn papers. Like we have a baby on the way, we want to get married.
"It's a lot. Can you meet?"
"I'm on location filming right now," I say, still staring out the window. "Can you tell me quickly?"
"I'd prefer to talk in person, I have a thing about never discussing private information over the phone."
"Oh my god, of course," I say slowly, glancing away from the window. Nerves curl low in my stomach, and I reflexively put my hand on my abdomen. "Can you give me a hint? I'll die of anxiety if not."
My P.I hums.
"On a scale of one to ten, how bad is it? Does it involve... him? my man?"
I hear a sigh and tense up. "It does, and it's perhaps an eight, depending on how you look at it."
I don't answer her. My heart pounds against my ribs. An eight? what the fuck does that mean?
"Daphne?"
"Yes," I whisper, breathing shallowly. It's bad. What if it's really bad? What if there is no divorce? what if they've been seeing each other this whole time? What if they actually have a secret child? What if he never planned on divorcing her and I'm just a surrogate? What if she plans on stealing my baby?
Oh my god.
"I can meet you tomorrow, if that's good?"
"No, I can't do tomorrow."
"This weekend?"
"Sure, fine." I'm staring at one spot, trying really hard not to listen to that little voice in the back of my head screaming at full volume. The door to the trailer swings open and I jump out of my skin, and actually yelp. I snatch my cell phone away from my ear and snap it closed, flushing.
Michael glances from my phone to me, and doesn't say anything for a second. "You're needed back on set."
"Okay!" I chirp, putting my phone back in my bag and walking away. I need to calm down. I can't look at him, not whilst my mind is spiralling down the most insane pathways.
"Who was that on the phone?"
"Nobody," I rush out, "my agent." I then add, because saying nobody makes absolutely no sense. I brush past him and walk back outside, towards where I'm needed, fluffing my hair as I do so. Michael trails after me, and I can feel his eyes on my back, boring holes into my skin.
We film until the late evening, I get out of my head slightly as I film some scenes with Michael. Being close to him just does that, calms me. The scent of his cologne, his voice. I have to be reminded several times to not make, as the director called it: "goo goo eyes" at him and act more mysterious.
When we wrap up for the night, it's close to midnight. I'm practically dead on my feet, wandering to the car that's to take us straight home. Michael could keep working through the night but from the looks of everyone, no one would want to or will.
He's quiet on the way home, looking out the window, chewing on his bottom lip. "Everything okay?" I ask, reaching over to touch his shoulder. He hums, but doesn't answer me. I don't push it, and actually end up passing out in the car a few short minutes into the journey.
By the time we get home, I wake up to Michael slipping his arm under my knees, and the other around my back. he lifts me, bringing me to his chest, and I fight a little smile as he carries me into the house and pretend to be asleep as he carries me upstairs and to bed.
He's gone straight into the bathroom when I sit up, door shutting. I think about following him in but instead I just wait. If he needs a minute to decompress after a long day, then I should let him have it.
I climb off the bed and fully exhale, relaxing my stomach. My bump juts out a little more and I strip off my dress and wander to the wardrobe to slip into something more comfortable. I move slowly, feeling tired, but want to stay awake, mainly because my mind is starting to wander and worry again.
What did an eight mean? Should I just ask Mike about it?
He pads in, half nude from the shower a few moments later, catching me staring at nothing, deep in thought. His presence breaks me out of it, but he only glances at me as I sit by my vanity, moisturising myself in vanilla body balm. Or I was, I stopped half way as I got lost in my mind.
He doesn't say anything, and instead changes into his pyjamas. Just those soft, loose dark pants that sit nice and low on his hips. I watch him, confused. My boobs look great in this nightgown, and he hasn't glanced them once. Especially considering they're starting to get a little juicier because of the pregnancy.
"What's wrong with you?" I ask, irritated in less than half a second.
"Nothing."
"Why aren't you talking to me?"
"I'm just tired, baby." He steps out of the wardrobe and into the bedroom. I screw the tub back on my body butter and follow him out.
"Is there something going on I should know about?" I ask. He pauses just as he reaches the bed and turns back to me.
"What?"
"You just shut down completely today out of nowhere, and you haven't even looked at my boobs tonight."
Michael flicks a look down at them. "They look great."
"Don't piss me off."
He laughs suddenly, but it's not with amusement. "Is there something I should know?" he asks.
"How'd you mean?" I ask, but the intensity of my voice dropped by half. I put my hands on my hips, flick my hair back and away from my face with a slight head toss.
"Your cell. Give it to me."
"Wh--" I begin, then pause. My heart starts racing, because apparently I haven't been as discreet as I thought I'd been. Leaving the room to check my voice messages, sending quick texts under tables, checking in with the P.I. It dawns on me then what he must be thinking. But I've deleted all the texts and calls from my phone log out of pure anxiety about this kind of moment. All except the one from earlier.
I turn back to my purse that's sitting on a table by the door and retrieve my cell phone. I hand it to him, and he just holds it, staring at me, waiting for me to, I don't know, try to rapidly explain that something isn't what it looks like. But when I don't, he sighs heavily, still holding on it, but lowering his hand so it hangs by his side.
"I'm not cheating on you, Mikey," I say softly, "if that's what you think."
He doesn't say anything, and instead just steps back and sits on the end of the bed. He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "Just take it," he mutters, offering my bedazzled cell phone back to me. I take it, and take a seat next to him.
"I'm not," I say earnestly, though I still feel immensely guilty from even keeping this thing from him because I worry that he'd get upset with me. There's that, and also the fear that I'm about to discover something he's been hiding from me and blow all this bliss up. "I need to..." I begin, not sure how to even go about this, "I want to ask you about something."
Mike rubs his forehead, looking so tired I feel awful even bringing this up, but he's obviously on edge, perhaps talking will help.
"Is there--" I stop, feeling so anxious about this that I suddenly can't form the right words. "Why won't Lisa sign the papers?" I say instead of something that doesn't sound like I'm blaming him. "Why is she still holding on?"
Obviously, it was the wrong thing to say. Mike's expression shuts down immediately, and he pushes to his feet. "I can't talk about this right now, Daph. It's late." He moves to the other side of the bed and climbs in. "We got another long day tomorrow, let's just go to bed."
I twist away from him so that he can't see my face. "Sure, okay," I say lightly, but tears are already welling up in my eyes. "Just gonna..." I trail off and get up, padding to the bathroom. I close the door behind me and put my phone down on the counter beside the sink, tears slipping down my cheeks. I brush my teeth, carefully deep breathing through my nose, attempting to calm myself down.
I get into bed a few minutes later and flick off the light. I lie facing away from Michael, staring into space. My body is exhausted, but my mind ticks away, hour after hour, until it's practically the morning, and only then do I fall asleep.
I wake to Michael leaving the room some hours later maybe, murmuring into his cell phone, "just give me a second," before the door clicks shut.
The weekend comes way too slowly. Things have been tense in our house, though it doesn't feel like either of us are trying to be mean. We're just tired from filming his music video, tired from all the emotional stress, and in general perhaps just not wanting to explode all over each other, so we've been tip toeing, small talking, and having no sex.
So on top of all that, I'm also frustrated, pregnant, and fucking tired.
One of Michael's guys comes with me to meet the P.I at the national park nearest the property for a brunch meet up. I'd left Mike a note on the kitchen table that I was off to meet the girls, who I'd be seeing after this so that it wasn't a complete lie again.
My P.I waits on the same bench I saw last time and I hesitate before approaching, nausea running rampant through me from the sheer anxiety burning me up from the inside out. When I finally take a seat next to her, she smiles, greeting me, and yaps about the weather before she takes a proper look at my face. "Right, sorry. To the point. Got it."
I just smile tightly.
She hands me a file from her bag, and I snatch it, then quickly apologise.
"Totally get it, don't worry," she chuckles. I open the file, barely breathing and read through what she's found. I'm practically shaking, until I get to the end.
"Wait, this is it?"
"So far, yes."
"She's broke? That's it?"
"He's been giving her a steady amount of cash for the last few years. Her and her mother. Something to do with the will her father left meant their access to the Presley estate and its finances has been tough. Michael-- I mean, uh, your fiancé, has been paying for, well, practically everything for the last four years. The houses. The cars. Both of her children's education..."
"What about the fucking ex husband?"
"He's refused to subsidise her because of infidelity. He pays for the kids when he can, but aside from that, kind of leaves her to it."
I sit there and think over this for a good long second.
"Is he still paying for everything?"
"Last payment was a month ago."
My left eye squints.
"Are they talking?"
"No, from what I found, the payments are coming from his estate, which is handled by his lawyer, not by him personally."
A low laugh comes out of me. I read over the documents again, making sure I understand it all. "Oh, you're fucking dead bitch." I whisper to myself, a rage so cool calm and collected taking over me that I even frighten myself. I quickly glance at my ex-cop P.I. "I didn't mean that literally."
"I understand," she chuckles softly. "Would you like me to keep digging for stuff?"
"Yes, of course," I say, then remember. I reach into my jacket pocket, which is actually one of Mike's big varsity jackets from the 80's, and I hand over a the envelope of cash I promised her. She thanks me, and we say our goodbyes. I keep the file, and return home to where I find the house empty. The note on the kitchen table is gone, and in its place is a big bouquet of pretty pink roses with a card that says: I love you, see you tonight.
I'm waiting to pounce on Michael that evening, sitting on the couch in the lavish living room, TV murmuring in the background. I drink sparkling water out of a wine glass, dressed in a silk pink robe with my nightgown underneath. I stare at my engagement ring in the low warm lighting, thinking long and hard about what I want to say to this man before he gets home.
I'll be calm, I'll be cool. I'll explain what I've done in a coherent, precise manner so we can discuss it like a normal couple.
"There you are." The sound of his voice brings me out of daze. I glance up at him. He looks from me to the file that's next to me on the couch. "What's that?"
"Why the fuck are you still giving Lisa and her damn mother money?"
Michael stares at me, eyes wide, and just freezes.
I hold up the file, then fling it at him. He catches it and glances down into it after opening it. "You... you checking on me?"
"No, I was checking on Lisa."
I can see it takes it him all of three seconds to piece together how I did it. "Daphne," he sighs.
I stand up. "I've been waiting for you to get your shit together and get that woman to sign those damn divorce papers for months, Mike. Ever since we started seeing each other you've been talking to me about that fucking divorce, only to find out, that not only are you not asking her to sign, you're giving her money!" I shout.
"No, no-- that's not true."
"Is it not?"
"I have asked her to sign, but... I asked her to sign in exchange for more money."
"Are you out of your god damn mind?"
"Yes," Michael sighs, "Yes, I want to be free of this so fucking bad so I can marry you, Daphne. I will give her all my money if I have to."
My fury disappears. Just like that. But I just stare at him. He puts the file down and walks around the couch to be in front of me, he ducks his head slightly to look me in the eye. "Is this who you've been talking to? A private investigator?"
"yes," I fold my arms.
Relief completely relaxes his expression, he exhales. "I thought you were cheating."
"Do not turn this conversation on me, you know damn well I wasn't."
"I kept envisioning one of the dancers."
"You're so annoying, actually." I snap, and flounce away from him, irritation coming back. But then I stop, and walk back to him after only a few seconds. "One of the fucking dancers? Seriously?"
"I don't know, it just kept coming back in my head. I saw how they all looked at you, every single time you went anywhere it was just all eyes on your ass. Every single time. It was driving me crazy."
I sigh, then really look at my man. He looks exhausted, but a little less worse for wear than he did yesterday. "You're working too hard and not sleeping, that's why you're crazy."
"Mm."
I move over to him, and smooth my palms over his shoulders. "You're all wound up, look at you," I purr, feeling love for this silly man swelling in my stomach and chest. "Who am I marrying?"
"Me."
"Who got me pregnant despite me being on birth control?"
Michael smirks. "Me."
"Who gets to fuck me every night?" I whisper, tilting my head as I look into those doe eyes.
"Me."
I hold eye contact, then I feel his hands gently touch my hips. I know he probably didn't really think I was cheating, but the fact he entertained it enough in his head for it to affect his mood makes me a little sad. Maybe he was having withdrawals from my touch.
I giggle at the thought, then lean up on my toes to kiss him. He hums into my mouth, holding me to him. I wrap my arms around his neck as he pulls me in close. It feels good to kiss him again like this, even though it's only been four days. It's been four days of tension, small talk and, like I said, no sex.
The body gets used to things. It expects routine. And my routine was Michael, every night, sometimes twice if we were both up for it. The sheer excitement coursing through my veins now at the thought of having him again? I can't even describe it.
He bends slightly, then lifts me. I wrap my legs around his waist, and as we kiss, he walks us carefully through the house, towards the stairs, then up to our bedroom. He closes the door behind us, all whilst our mouths mould together, lips locking, soft, needy moans wafting out of me.
I'm wet already, just from that show of strength at carrying me up the stairs, I'm ready for him. I lie back on the mattress, spreading my thighs, welcoming him into my embrace as he leans over me, capturing my lips again. But then my mind reminds me of something.
I pull back.
"You're going to stop giving that woman money."
"yes," Michael nods, kissing me again.
"I mean it."
"I know baby," he murmurs, and our mouths collide again eagerly before he pulls back, "I'll call my lawyer tomorrow."
"Good," and then I'm rolling us over, pinning him underneath me. I kiss down his throat, loving how he smells. My hips start grinding on him, needy for his touch, needy for him to be inside me already.
Michael groans as I kiss his sweet spot, licking against his skin and then sucking gently. He shifts beneath me, hands on my hips, guiding me back and forth against his crotch. "Daphne," he breaths.
"Yes baby," I purr against his throat, grinding on him a little harder, but slower. He moans softly, spreading his fingers against my ass and squeezing.
"I need you," he murmurs. I capture his lips again, kissing him eagerly. He kisses me back with just as much passion, sliding his tongue against mine. Desire hits me so hard that I can't wait any longer. I sit up, and begin undoing his shirt, but he gets impatient and sits up himself, pulling it off, throwing it to one side.
Then he's tugging my robe off, groaning at the sight of my cleavage sitting so pretty in my blush coloured nightgown. He bites his lip, cheeks flushing as his pupils blow even wider. "god damn," he murmurs, "they're even bigger than they were last week."
I grin, pushing them together in his face. He moans, breathing me in as he buries his face between them. "you smell so good," he mutters, reaching for his pants, undoing the button and zip. The lust haze descends over me in a thick cloud, and I bask in the praise Michael murmurs as he grasps his own cock, giving himself slow strokes as he kisses my breasts.
It's only for a few moments, but my whole body pulsing with need as he pulls the straps of my nightgown down, and the soft silk falls away from my chest. He reaches between us, between my thighs, and touches me. He licks his lips slowly as he feels how wet I am, practically dripping with need as he slides those long fingers through my slit. "No panties?" he asks quietly.
"I had expectations," I breathe, gasping softly when he slides his fingers into me.
"I love you so much," he murmurs, sliding his fingers out, then encouraging me up and onto him. I ease down, biting down on my bottom lip hard as pleasure tingles up my back immediately. I grind my hips back and forth on Michael's lap, moaning loudly along with my rhythm.
"I'm not gonna last long baby," he groans, watching me ride him, cheeks flushed, lips pink from our kiss.
I can't respond. I'm too excited, too eager. I'm rocking on his lap like crazy, one hand holding onto him for balance, whilst the other presses into the mattress behind me. My moans pitch higher, tingles rising from my toes. I'm not going to last long either, which either means this orgasm is about to floor me, or we're going to have multiple rounds tonight.
I keep going, rocking harder and harder, moaning his name and how much I love him, when my orgasm hits me hard. My vision whites out, but I'm grinning, trembling all over, gasping for air as I keep going.
Michael curses under his breath, eyes glued to my breasts, and completely heavy lidded it looks like he's in a trance. I beg for him to come softly, purring at him, rocking my hips slowly, pushing him deep, then teasing him out. "Keep doing that," he murmurs, holding my hips, digging his fingertips in. "Fuck," he mutters. I can see him tensing, ready to finish. It sends delighted tingles all over me, watching him reach that peak.
When he cums, it's hard, and I'm grinning, riding him slowly through it until he physically stops me because of how sensitive he gets. We knock out soon after, falling asleep mid conversation, with me curled into his side, and him on his back.
The next day, I make a call to the P.I.
"Could you do something for me?" I ask, leaning across the kitchen counter. Michael moves behind me, pouring himself tea as he watches me make the call we'd strategised on only minutes ago.
"Sure, what is it?"
"Tell me where I can find Lisa, and when. I want to meet with her."
____________________________________________
End notes:
Ooooo shit is about to go down!
I wrote this so fast you guys I actually frightened myself a little bit. I started off mad tipsy and ended up sober as hell, lmfao??? I saw an opportunity to return to Daphne c Michael land and i took it 😭😭😭😭
Anyways I hope you guys liked the chapter!! Please let me know what you thought🩷🩷🩷🩷
Tag list; @weasleylovers @slickdickwitchbitchh @twilightdance-minerva @tellybearryyyy @lotuspetalss @allihavetodoiisdream @mrs-dylanobrien265 @vivyoi @intoyouangel @inggu09 @yennabow @quietlyscornfulable @voicesinurhead @wildpandorasky @khxna @skiicoreee @romansbbg @lowbudgetdoll @enhapocketz @ilovolivegarden @18lkpeters @tojiswifeforlife @jurneeblogs @riahbadazz @bri0469 @whoscamila @sansonlygf @michaeljacksonfan01 @delictezz @linsdaypotter @emmyyy21 @lov3lylxvender @lanibuggg @tothosewholisten @kayybaereads @justfaefaeee @milfslut @muddyloserlia@baybeghoul @againitskarabarrow @chr0nically0nlinev @cherrytripper @unknwnbrii @escapefromrealitylol @alohaluz @aegoniipascal @mjlvr-25 @naty-sunshine — let me know if you’d like to be tagged!
#f1
#photography
#the amazing digital circus
#heated rivalry
