He gets in the car and I sit on the other side as we are headed to our next destination. 

Michael cuts his eye at me. "I dont do well with the silent treatment darling. Besides, you are the one who needs to be punished, not me."

I say nothing. I cannot believe him. I did nothing wrong! He scoots all the way over right next to me and I just look out the window. 

"What did I just tell you? You heard me." He whispers.

He grabs my hair at the nape and pulls my head back. My heart starts beating. I should have just said something. I look at the front, but the chauffeur has rolled the window up, blocking us from his view. 

He comes to my ear. "I will not be ignored." He growls.

He breathes on my neck and slowly glides his warm tongue in a circle on my neck. I tense up and close my eyes. I feel like his tongue is... somewhere else.. its so intense. He nips at my neck with his teeth and I jump. He suddenly releases his grip on my hair and I open my eyes. I dont even know what just happened, but I really liked it. 

He sits up. "That got your attention."

He looks over at me and I pout a little.

He smirks. "You can wait. Now Im ignoring you."

The car stops and he pulls me out. I look around. Its an isolated place. Im not so sure about this. His guards are posted at the door as we walk into this creepy building. Just like Michael to pick the ugliest place to have a date. He opens the door and I see a dusty room filled with ovens, desks, and clay. 

I look at Michael. "Nice place."

He shakes his head. "I found this place last week."

I frown. How? We were together all last week! 

He runs his hand over a dusty desk. "It's a pottery studio. The owner said I could come in at certain times when its empty to make what I want."

It looks like it's empty all the time. 

He turns to me. "Would you like to make something with me?"

I smile. "Yes."

He smiles. It is so hard to stay mad at him! We walk over to the station and I look at all of the clay. 

I frown. "There arent any other colors?"

He chuckles. "You paint it after it comes out of the kiln."

I look around and point. "You mean the ovens. Right?"

He nods. He grabs some clay and puts it on top of what looks like a small table. 

"Sit." He says simply.

I sit down at the table and he sits down behind me, very close behind me, grabbing my hands.

"Are you comfortable?" He breathes in my ear.

Define comfortable. 

"Im fine." I say, obvious tension in my voice.

He presses down on the pedal with his foot, making the table turn. 

I smile. "What do I do?"

"Shape the clay. Any way you want."

I put my hands on the clay and it feels wet and yucky. I kinda like the feeling of it spinning through my fingers though. I start to shape the clay. I feel Michael pulling my hair back and I shiver a little. What do I want to make? I will make a vase. I shape it so it is fat at the bottom and narrow at the top. Just wide enough to fit the stems of the flowers. Michael helps me guide my hands to shape the vase. I really like this. It is so peaceful and intimate. I feel like we're connecting on another level. Considering we dont know much about each other, we need as much connection as possible. Michael starts to slide his hands up my arms and they are cold and muddy from the clay. 

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