Don't Walk Away (A Michael Jackson Love Story)

Chapter 17: Secret Comes Out

It was already dark out by the time Michael returned. I looked up over the top of my book. "How was the studio?" I asked.

He crawled across the bed to me. "Very productive." He leaned over, cupped my chin in one hand, and kissed me ever so lightly. "But I missed you."

I clutched the lapels of his jacket. "Can we just have a night alone tonight?"

He gently brushed my hands away. "Maybe another night," he said uncertainly. "I'm really tired."

He left the room to change out of his clothes. When he came back, he was still wearing a shirt. I frowned. "You okay?"

Mike nodded. He pulled the covers over both of us.

I feigned sleep until his breathing slowed. The fabric of his shirt separating us really bothered me. I unbuttoned his shirt slowly, watching his face for any signs of him waking.

I peeled back his shirt, kissed his chest. He sighed. My eyes were drawn to his arm. There were small spots of lighter skin scattered near his shoulder. I traced them lightly with one finger.

I knew what this was. Vitiligo, the pigment-destroying skin disease that ran in his family. His grandfather had it. "Oh no..." I pressed my lips to the light blotches.

Without another word, I pushed his shirt further off him. Nestling into his chest, I closed my eyes and listened to the lulling sound of his soft snores.

"Lily." The voice addressing me was Michael's. I opened my eyes to see him over me. His shirt was buttoned again. I sat up. "Yes?" I rubbed my eyes.

Mike didn't look at me directly. A muscle feathered his jaw. "What did you do last night?" he questioned precisely.

"What do you mean?" It couldn't hurt to play the innocent card.

"My shirt was open and you were practically on top of me, the only night I allowed you some space."

"I just don't understand why it was necessary to have a shirt on. It's almost summer, so it's not like the room is cold. Stop keeping secrets from me," I said simply with a shrug.

"I'm not keeping secrets," he hissed.

I held up my hands in denial. "There's no need to get so defensive. But you could at least stop hiding your vitiligo from your best friend," I retorted.

Michael's face flushed angrily. "That's personal, and you had no right..."

"I had every right!" I snapped. "You could have told me. It's nothing to be ashamed of." I threw the covers aside and stood up.

Michael's gaze traveled over my body and clouded a little. I glanced down, remembering that I was still in only my bra and underwear.

"It's ugly. And it's only gonna get worse," he muttered. "I was going to tell you.

"When?" Tears pricked at my eyes. I blinked them back.

"I-I don't know." He chewed on his lip."I'm sorry."

"You should've told me when you found out," I choked out, crossing my arms over my chest.

Mike approached me. He took one of my hands and kissed it. "I know." His kisses grew more urgent as they moved up my arm to my chest. My breath hitched. "I don't think this is the ti--"

"You wanted me so bad last night. Don't complain," he cut in. He nipped at my neck softly.

"Guess I shouldn't complain." I held his head in my hands. "Ohh, god."

"Your skin is so soft," Michael whispered. He pulled my bra strap off my shoulder, replacing it with his lips. He worked his way back up to my neck.

"Make love to me," I sighed.

He silenced with another kiss. I moaned into his mouth.

Mike unclasped my bra. His hands

explored my body. "I want you. Right. Now," he murmured.

"Then do it," I dared in a barely-audible whisper as I unzipped his pants and pulled them down.

Michael removed the rest of his clothes hesitantly. I immediately pressed my lips to his vitiligo spots. He took my face and kissed me to distract me.

"I love you so, so much." And with that, he entered me. I bit back a scream as a white-hot stab of pleasure washed over me.

He repeated his smooth hip-rolling. "Oh shit, Michael!" I cried out.

He grasped my hips and rolled onto his back, bringing me on top. I pressed down against his body. He devoured my lips as if his life depended on it.

Michael flipped back over. I let out a moan louder than ever. I was pretty sure everyone in the entire hotel could hear me. At this point, I didn't care. In this moment the universe was only us and this bed."I'm gonna come."

"No...not yet," Mike whispered. He was gazing at me in that way he always looked at me. It was as if he was taking everything in. Learning. In any other situation, it would've intimidated me.

This frustrated me. I didn't understand how he could be so calm, while I was practically going insane trying to control myself just a little. The only sign of him enjoying himself was the thin sheen of sweat glittering on his body.

I threw my head back and closed my eyes. "Baby, I'm gonna--" I cut myself off with another moan. He started up again with the neck kisses.

My body began that tell-tale shudder. "I can't hold it any longer," I gasped.

"Then come with me, Lily," he coaxed. As if I needed convincing. I let go of every inhibition and screamed in ecstasy. "Michael! Oh, Michael!"

He released everything as I did, and collapsed on top of me. "Shit..." he exhaled.

"We need to do that more often," I giggled breathlessly.

"How about right now?" Mike kissed me hungrily with renewed energy that came from seemingly nowhere. The performer's stamina was kicking in.

My eyelids fluttered closed as he moved down my body, leaving not one inch of me untouched. I was lost in this intoxicating combination of love, lust, and pleasure.