Michael didn't join me at the graduation party for obvious reasons. Let's face it. People would go completely ballistic and award him with both the 'Prom Queen' and 'Prom King' titles at once, even though it wasn't prom. And they'd surely make up a whole bunch of other titles as well, and make him feel embarrassed and awkward all night. And if that wasn't enough, they would probably even force him to teach them how to moonwalk. Then again, if he kept his disguise on... Me hanging out with a rather handsy 'eighty' year old when everybody else is twenty-three or twenty-four would most likely be frowned upon. Therefore, he stayed at the hotel while he waited for me to come back.
"Ahh! I missed you, babe. I was beginning to wonder if you went to stay at your aunt's place instead."
Michael opened his arms and hugged me tight as soon as I entered his grand suite.
"As if there is anywhere else I'd rather be than with you?" I retorted with a pout. "If it wasn't for you forcing me to go to that stupid party, I would be here all night, and I..."
"Are you drunk?" he chuckled and studied me over the bridge of his nose, and it seemed clear that he'd already drawn his conclusions.
"No, I'm not," I snorted and rolled my eyes. I'd never admit to him how much I'd drank or why. That would be my little secret.
"Okay, maybe I am a little tipsy, but that's all."
Michael kept giggling and pushed a few strands of my hair away from my face. It was first then I realized that I hadn't given my hair one single thought the last couple of hours. Me, the person who usually was a neat-freak when it comes to that topic. Okay, maybe I was drunker than I thought. But I had my reasons.
"Oh, my God. I probably look like a plane crash," I mumbled and tried to find the nearest mirror.
"Mia," he protested, when I snuck past him. "Babe, you look fine. Now tell me, did you have a good time?"
I let out a relieved breath when I saw that I actually didn't look half bad.
"Yes, I did."
"And...?" he pushed and made a hand gesture.
"You know... Probably the usual at parties like that. I don't know, because I've never been to one before. But people were drunk, loud and obnoxious, just as expected. And two girls made it their mission to get into JB's pants."
"What?" Michael exclaimed, laughing.
"Oh! And Frida made out with Rowan."
"No, no! Rewind, please. Let me hear about the two girls and JB, so I can tease him about it for the rest of his time working for me."
I squinted at him.
"You make it sound like he's gonna quit."
"Oh. No, he isn't, but he has mentioned going back to working for his dad. He's actually a building constructor, and his father has his own company."
"Really?" I asked, surprised.
"Yeah, but never mind that. What happened with the two girls?"
"Two girls and a guy, actually."
I smirked and Michael laughed out loud.
"A guy?"
"Yup. It turns out that Yak, Rowan's Asian friend, is gay, which totally makes sense because I've never seen him cast even a brief glance at anything with boobs. But you should have seen how his eyes bulged when he saw me walking in with JB! The boy went totally stupid. And stupid with big letters, too."
I told him more about that and a few other things that happened at the party too, but none of them were especially funny to anyone else but those who were there. Still, I had his fullest attention and then some.
"God, my feet are killing me," I groaned when I was done.
"Then why aren't you sitting down yet?"
Michael grabbed my hand to escort me to the couch. But I had other plans...
...that went straight south when I lost my balance and fell right on my nose. It was lucky I landed on the soft leather cushions, but my pride was hurt badly enough.
"Ouch," I mumbled, and tried to get back up. And it didn't help that Michael was laughing so hard he had to hold his stomach. So much for trying to act sober.
"Are you alright?"
"Never been better," I said solemnly and made a dumb salute. But just as I was about to stand up, I was pushed back down and Michael grabbed my legs and started taking off my heels. And even though I did my best to camouflage a sigh of bliss, it escaped, and Michael chuckled and shook his head.
"I don't know what it is about you girls and these torture instruments," he mumbled and held up one of my brand new Jimmy Choo, Romy 100 glitter pumps with four inch heels. I grabbed it and pouted.
"Don't talk about them like that. You'll hurt their feelings," I muttered, then squealed when he poked my waist.
"And you, my lovely lady, are unbelievably adorable when you're drunk."
"I told you, I'm not drunk! I only had one or two drinks."
"At the size of double pints?"
I slapped his chest and glared at him, without being mad at anyone else but myself.
"Whatever," I mumbled. I had an agenda, and I needed something to spice up plain old Mia, the prude one that never challenged herself. Because tonight I was planning on going all in on my so-called revenge after Michael messed up my hair and threw away my hat. But I was so nervous about how he was going to react that I was close to chicken out already before I started. If the plan failed, I would have both Frida and Ruby's heads on a plate. That much was for certain.
"Do you have a tie?" I asked innocently.
"A tie?"
"Mhm?"
"I'm not sure, actually. I only brought the silly bow tie I wore at the ceremony. I hate wearing ties."
I pouted a little.
"Too bad, because you look ridiculously handsome when you do."
He looked down and bit his lip, suddenly a bit shy, and I lost myself for a moment. Then I remembered my plan and tried to come up with a backup plan.
"Yes!" I exclaimed, and snapped my fingers when I thought of the perfect solution. Michael raised one brow and lowered the other, while his big, brown and gorgeous eyes followed my every movement. Then his pupils dilated when I pulled up my dress, just enough to hook my thumbs to the waistband of my stockings. And his jaw dropped to the floor when I not so elegantly wiggled myself out of them.
"W-what are you doing, babe?"
I was too busy examining the tiny hole on the heel to reply. The box it came in surely said 'long lasting guarantee'. Lies.
"I mean, if you're horny, you could've just said so," he chuckled, and the heat rose to my cheeks.
"Sit down," I ordered, and tried to sound strict.
"On the floor?"
"No, on a chair or something."
We looked around in the room and found a desk chair. Perfect.
"That one. But you need to undress first," I said, and Michael's face lit up.
"I like where this is going," he mumbled, and pulled out the chair to stand in the middle of the room.
"On a second thought, don't undress."
"And now I changed my mind. I don't like it anyway," he muttered.
"I want to be the one doing it."
"Ups! Changed my mind again," he snickered, and waited for me to start. And with shaking hands, I opened button after button and removed his shirt. But when I started pulling at his t-shirt, I stepped back with a horrified gasp.
"Oh, no! I was supposed to call Benjamin at the party! I completely forgot to do it. Oh, he's gonna be so mad."
Michael leaned on the back of the chair and looked unamused.
"No, he's not."
"Yes, he is."
"No, he's not, because he's busy doing what I want to do right now. Screwing his girlfriend."
"Ew! Why did you have to say that out loud?"
He shrugged.
"It needed to be said."
"Did not. And how do you know?"
"Pure intuition."
There was something about his half grin that made me unsure if he knew more than what he said. But after squinting at him for several seconds, I decided not to comment on it.
"And what does your intuition say about what I am going to do now, hm?"
His grin grew wider.
"I have a pretty good hunch."
"Oh, really?"
"Yup. You see, I have this device that comes in handy in situations like this."
"You do?" I asked, growing more and more confused.
"Yup. And right now it's giving me all the right signals."
"The right... Huh?"
He looked so self-satisfied that I wished I could wipe away the way too wide grin from his face. I was supposed to be in control here. Not him.
"It's pointing North, almost like a compass."
"I..." I started, but ended up shaking my head and rubbing my temples. "I'm too drunk for this."
"Ha! So you admit that you're drunk?" he exclaimed triumphantly.
"I didn't say that."
"Yes, you did. And the compass I'm talking about is..."
He grabbed my wrist and pushed my palm against his groin, and my brain suddenly clicked.
"...my cock."
"Of fuck..." I moaned way too loud, and Michael chuckled into my ear. Then he let go of my hand and dug into his pocket.
"But before we start on that, I wanna do something."
I nodded with my mouth open, and I tried my best not to drool. But it was hard, oh so hard, not to stare when he'd finally moved my focus to where he wanted it. His very prominent mid-section.
"Give me your hand," he said expectantly, and slowly I did.
"Only if I get it back," I mumbled, an old joke my dad used to tell when I was a kid. It wasn't even funny, yet Michael giggled while he slipped something on my finger.
"Aaand there. Right where it belongs."
I let out a high squeal when I recognized the new promise ring we'd picked out the week prior. The same day as my doctor's appointment.
"It's done?"
"Perfectly fitted for your finger only, and engraved."
"It's engraved, too?"
I didn't want to take it off, but I was too curious not to.
"Aaaawe," I whined happily when I read the words 'I'm yours, babe' inside of it. Then I quickly put it back on, threw myself around his neck and kissed him. Then I regretted it and pulled back, even though he didn't seem to mind much.
"Hmm... I think I can tell what you drank tonight," Michael said, acting like he was in deep consideration about something really important.
"Sex on the beach."
I must admit that his suggestion wasn't that far off, because that had been my favorite the handful of times I'd drank.
"Nope. Guess again."
"What? You've increased your repertoire?" he exclaimed, and added a dramatic palm to his chest as well. I pinched him.
"I had a Cosmo... Well, technically I had two, because I stole Frida's before she ordered both of us a new one. And then Ruby gave the bartender a recipe for a cocktail called Fluffy Duck. Something with rum, cream and orange juice."
"Sounds nauseating," he commented, and I wasn't sure how to respond. Was it? Or maybe I only liked it because I already was quite tipsy when I tasted it?
"Mia? Earth calling?"
Michael snapped his fingers in front of me to make me focus.
"Oh. Where were we?" I asked no one, because my hands had already found the hem of Michael's t-shirt and pulled it over his head. Then I threw it somewhere behind me, before I unbuckled his belt and was about to throw that somewhere too, when I started comparing it to my stockings that now were hanging over my shoulder.
"Maybe..." I mumbled to myself, and stepped behind him while I bit my lip. The different suggestions Frida and Ruby had come up with suddenly seemed boring. Now I got a better idea.
"Hands in the air, sir. You're under arrest."
I heard Michael groan when I formed my hand and pointed it against his back like it was a gun, followed by a silent hiss when I spanked his ass.
"Mmm... Feisty. I like that," he murmured, while I kept deciding on whether to use the stockings or the leather belt. I went for the softer choice.
"Well, you better do as I say then, because now it's time for a body search. A very thorough one."
"Yes, ma'am," he replied promptly, and his eyes were glowing with expectations. He watched me step around him and remove the rest of his clothes. Then he started laughing when his dick sprung out in the open when I took off his boxer, and poked my eye.
"Sit on the chair, Mr. Jackson!" I commanded as strictly as I managed, while I blinked away a tear to see what I was doing. I didn't sound very convincing, but he did as he was told anyway, although in a very giggly manner.
"And hands behind your back," I added, and did my best to secure his arms with my stockings around his wrists, so he couldn't move. The considerate Mia was glad the corners on the back of the chair were soft, so he was comfortable. The other Mia was wondering how the hell she got punched in the eye by a penis.
"What's on your mind, pretty lady?"
If only he knew. If only I knew...
"Okay, so here's the thing. And I'm gonna say it right away so I don't chicken out, because this is something I've never done before and probably will never do again, and if so, most definitely not sober. Because you're gonna sit there...and watch...while I'm using you as my sex toy."
Oh, my God! I said it out loud! Please, someone come bury me.
"Holy f..." Michael exclaimed in disbelief. Then he blinked his eyes a couple of times to make sure he heard right. "I-I mean... Yes, ma'am. Your wish is my demand."
He growled something under his breath, but I was too nervous to really pay attention. I just did as Ruby had instructed me to, and put on some sexy music on my phone and started stripping out of my clothes. The problem was that there was only one piece of clothing except for my panties. Not even a bra, because it was integrated with the dress. And as soon as the shoulder straps lowered enough for my nipples to peek over the fabric, I felt like there was not much else to tempt him with. But I did my best shimmying my shoulders combined with a light version of twerking, and it seemed to do the trick well enough.
"Do you have any idea how sexy you are right now?" Michael said after a while, and his voice was labored with desire. And as a response I rolled my hips and shook my ass a little extra. Then I slowly leaned forward and stroked my legs all the way down to the floor and back up to my thighs, before I repeated the movement, only with my panties gliding down together with my hands. And Michael's reaction was not disappointing.
Encouraged by the aftermath of the alcohol and the unmasked appreciation from my boyfriend, I grew bolder and stepped around him with high strides while I let my index finger trail across his torso from shoulder to shoulder. And he literally held his breath when I leaned forward to whisper into his ear, causing my boobs to dangle in front of his face.
"You're not so bad yourself, mister."
Then I placed my palm on his dick and squeezed ever so gently.
"Aah... Christ," he moaned together with some obscurities, obviously loving it. He was more than ready, and I could feel his heartbeat pulsate under my hand, along with the bead of moisture that slowly leaked from the tip.
"There is a rule, though," I said in a hushed voice, and I could see his Adam's apple bob up and down when he swallowed. He was sweating.
"You are not allowed to cum tonight."
"Oh," was all he managed to say, and his voice was gruff and deep.
"Yes, so when I stroke you like this, you need to tell me when you're going to cum so I can stop."
He nodded and straightened his shoulders a bit, trying to keep his cool. But when I sat down on his lap with one leg on each side of his thighs, he had to take deep breaths to calm himself.
"Promise," I pressed.
"I promise to tell when I'm about to cum."
So, driven by want, I started grinding a little. Then I adjusted my position slightly, so his bulge hit right on my clit, and I grinded more. My hands went up his neck and into his hair, and my head fell back and my eyes closed. But I kept grinding him until I was so wet and needy that I needed more.
"Promise," I asked again, and Michael repeated his answer. Then he held his breath when I slowly sank down on him. I cursed a little when it felt like he was gonna tear me apart, but it hurt in a good way. Way too good. So good that I found myself riding him like a true cowgirl riding her stallion, only minutes after. But Michael made me slow down.
"Open your eyes, babe. Look into the mirror."
At first I didn't understand what he meant. But then I turned my head and found the perfect profile of us, and I blushed like I was watching hardcore porn. Because in many ways it was.
"Isn't that sexy? Us making love on a chair?"
"Fucking," I corrected. "I'm a bad girl tonight, and we're fucking."
The darkness in his gaze was evident, but his lips curved into a smile. I knew he had tried to lure out that side of me for a while, and here it was.
"Well, then. Play it dirty, babe," he growled. So that's what I did. But I couldn't stop after the first orgasm. Not the second, either. It was just too damn good. And I didn't even care that Michael was begging for me to show some mercy.
"I'm gonna cum if you don't slow down, Mia. I'm serious. Fuck!" he groaned. I could see he clenched his jaw, but he couldn't take his eyes off of me. And the few times he did, it was only to look at ourselves in the mirror.
"Mia! Babe!"
Ah, to hell with revenge and all that shit. I wanted to feel him when he tipped over the edge. I wanted him to fill me with his load, and on purpose this time. I didn't care anymore.
"Shit! I'm cumming. Now! Get off!"
"Never," I moaned, and gave him the last push he needed.
"Oh, my God..." he groaned, when the first wave hit him. I watched his face transform from one of utter despair to total bliss, and he closed his eyes and panted into the air. Perfect. He was perfect. We were perfect. Everything was perfect. And when we slowly came down from our peak, he chuckled in disbelief.
"I came inside you, you know that right?"
"Yeah," I smirked. "I wanted that."
"So we're safe now?"
"I think so."
"Then what are you waiting for? Untie me so we can continue."
I giggled and bit my lip, and I noticed how strange it felt when warm liquid dripped out of me and made my thighs sticky. His cum. But I did as he said and watched him stand up, still not fully flaccid.
"But first I want to know something. What made you decide to do this? Don't get me wrong, I loved every second of it and I hope to God you'll do it more often."
I blushed and stared at the carpet where a tiny, milky white drop made a barely noticeable stain.
"It was supposed to be a revenge," I finally admitted, and Michael tilted his head in question.
"A revenge?"
"For messing up my hair at the ceremony. I was gonna keep that hat on, but..."
"You did all that just because I messed up your hair?" he exclaimed, laughing.
"Yeah, but..."
"You just signed a deal, babe. I'm gonna mess up your hair every single day from now on. Starting now."
I screamed when he ruined what was left of the classy hairdo I'd made such an effort to complete to perfection.
"You! Stop that!"
"Like you said; never!" he laughed and did it again.
"Michael!"
"That's right. Scream my name," he egged, and pulled me after him toward the bedroom.
"Bastard!" I growled, not really meaning anything bad. But just as I landed on an ocean of pillows on a soft mattress, I had to make one last fake attempt of a threat.
"You better know that next time I'm gonna use the belt instead of stockings. Whether it's to tie your hands or to spank your ass is your choice, but I promise the latter will be painful."
But Michael landed on top of me and grinned mischievously.
"How about handcuffs?"