(18+) The Guest (Complete)

Ch. 15: Shower and towels

I have no idea how I managed to sleep after being so angry, but I did. Part of it was probably jetlag and traveling. But I couldn't ignore it anymore. It was the pregnancy. I was so hormonal that I couldn't control my mood swings whatsoever, which was as frustrating as it gets, since I was supposed to get to know Michael. Not show him my ugliest side and push him away. And right now, I looked absolutely horrible.

We were originally planning on going sightseeing with LaVelle, Cris and Travis, so I was wearing jeans and a simple top, that now was so wrinkled it looked like a worn out t-shirt. And my hair... It looked like a hippo had tried to make a nest in it. And hippos don't know how to make nests. Not to mention my non-existent makeup, that eventually disappeared into a towel since it kept painting my cheeks black. But I guess it was no point in trying to look nice anyway. I was a mess and I couldn't hide it. And I'd made Michael's life a mess, too.

I didn't know what time it was, but it was dark outside and all the lights were off. And even though I was afraid to wake Michael up, I needed to use the toilet. So I tiptoed to through the living room and tried not to crash into any furniture. And I succeeded. I was relieved that I actually could walk to the bathroom like a normal person, without ripping the door off its frame and crash against the porcelain. But a check in the mirror confirmed my suspicions. I looked hideous.

I contemplated whether to take a shower or not. Would it disturb Michael in his sleep? Was he sleeping? Was he even there? I didn't see him on my way to the bathroom, so who knows.

"You're such an idiot," I whispered to myself, thinking about the fact that I'd seized Michael Jackson's bed all to myself. No, his entire bedroom. And now he was probably sleeping on the couch, if he didn't get another room. I felt bad. But at the same time it was his fault, because I wouldn't be here if he didn't talk me into staying, and brought my belongings here without even asking if it was okay.

Shower it is. The temptation was just too strong. And when the warm water embraced my body, I hummed silently in bliss. I covered my entire self with soap to make sure I got properly clean, then rinsed it off before I put conditioner in my hair. Hotel conditioner... Or was it? It looked awfully expensive to be a hotel product, even though this was their finest suite and probably had nicer brands than regular rooms. We had that at St. Martinez, too. And if it wasn't, I'd expect to see the original soaps stored somewhere. But I didn't. Oh, well. I got clean and I felt refreshed. And after rubbing my skin and hair dry with a towel and brushing my teeth, I suddenly got aware of two things: I didn't have any clothes. They were all in my suitcase next to the entrance. And I refused to put my old ones back on. But what was worse; the bathroom door wasn't properly closed! How could I forget to close it? And why didn't I lock it?!

I scolded myself while I wrapped a dry towel around my body. Then I picked up my clothes, and walked as quietly as I could over to my suitcase. Michael didn't leave. He was laying on the couch, and whether he was sleeping or not was impossible to say. Should I wake him up and tell him that he could have his room back? Nah. It could wait until tomorrow. He probably didn't want to sleep in the bedsheets I'd been using, anyway. And I would personally make sure they got replaced with new ones early next day.

With two clicks, the suitcase opened, and I cursed silently when I heard Michael stirr behind me. But when I saw that he was still laying on the couch, I started breathing again. And I searched through my clothes more with my fingertips than my eyes, before I found a tank top and a pair of shorts that I could sleep in. But just as I closed the lid and stood up, I felt a pair of hands being placed on my hips before I got pulled against a body.

"Michael!" I gasped.

"You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"Feeling better?" he asked with a voice so groggy and deep that my entire body shivered. And his proximity didn't make it any better.

"Y-yeah... I'm sorry I woke you up," I stuttered, almost afraid to make any sound.

"I wasn't sleeping," he said, and moved closer. He lifted his hand up to my hair and pulled it a little. And I could feel more than hear him exhale against the skin on my neck, as he slowly lowered his head. My heart had stopped beating in my chest long time ago, and all my nerve censors were on high alert. It was like he'd cast a spell on me.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," he said lowly. Then he placed the first soft kiss on my shoulder, and I exhaled shakily. Was he even aware of the effect he had on me? No one had made me feel like this before. Ever. And when his warm lips created a slow trail of kisses up my neck, I couldn't fight the moan that forced itself out through parted lips. He hummed and smiled against my skin in return. Then he let his hand that was gripping my hair, wander down my arm and back to my hip. And on its journey it created billions of goosebumps not only on my arm, but on my entire body, all the way down to my core that by now was burning with lust.

I blushed and was glad he didn't see it. This was so intense I almost didn't dare to blink. Then he snaked his hand over my stomach and in between the folds of the towel. And I inhaled sharply when his finger pads tickled my skin there, before I released it in a long sigh. He made me feel so good. And now I was too consumed with desire to stop him from seducing me. So when his hand searched upward to my chest, following the curve of my breast, I tilted my head a bit to give him better access to my neck. His kisses grew more passionate and hungry, and the moment his fingers reached my nipple, the towel loosened and fell down to the ground. I was naked.

"Gorgeous," he mumbled, before he pinched my nipple to make it more erect. And I moaned helplessly when I felt his thick manhood poking between the crevice of my butt cheeks. Only the thin layer that was his cotton boxer divided us, and I could feel a cool, wet spot on them. He was leaking precum. And now he started to thrust his pelvis with such a perfect amount of pressure, but so agonizingly slow that I cursed. It was insane how much I wanted him.

"More," he whispered, but I just moaned when his left arm coiled around my waist to pull me impossibly closer. And the friction against his member increased enough to make him whimper a little. Then his right hand wandered downwards to the area that was throbbing for him. And both of us moaned when two of his fingers touched my womanhood.

"Oh, my God," he mumbled, as he spread my fluids along my folds. He tickled my entrance a little, before he started massaging my little bud that already was pulsating and swollen. I cursed again, and he groaned out loud.

"Say my name."

I just hissed through my teeth and moaned when he rubbed me harder. But when I didn't obey, he stopped and removed his hand somewhat.

"W-what?" I asked in a complete daze, blinking my eyes into the darkness.

"Say my name," he repeated in a demanding tone, and sucked on my neck until I groaned. And at the same time he gave me a real good jerk.

"Michael!" I gasped, and I heard him hum in acknowledgment before he continued rubbing me again. And just to push me further up the ladder to my climax, he sunk his two fingers inside me and curled them up to hit exactly on my g-spot. Then he gave me a few intense strokes, before he continued to rub my clit again. Needless to say, I cursed like a drunken sailor. How did he develop skills like this? He must have a lot of practice. He probably did this on a regular basis, and with a new girl for every place he traveled when he was on tour. I was just another one in line, and that was exactly what had brought us into this mess in the first place.

"Michael, I..."

But he kept kissing me and rubbing me, and urged me to let him bring me to orgasm.

"Michael, no."

He slowed down a bit, probably to make sure he heard right, and I quickly removed his hands and freed myself from his grip. Then I picked up the towel and the clothes that were sprawled around my feet, and left him. And as soon as I closed the bedroom door behind me, I sunk down on the floor and let my tears flow.