Life, Love & The Forbidden

Wish You Were Here

Michael heard Sara smile down the phone accompanied by a small laugh. Her voice had been scared, shaky and childlike but his soothing masculine drone had made her perk up and forget her father. She was scared, Michael got that, but why he didn't know. All he knew was Sara and Governor Tancredi seemed to be fighting an awful lot nowadays, mainly because of him.

"I could meet your father if you'd like," Michael offered down the phone line. He sat in his room on the edge of his bed, the dark grey cordless receiver pressed to his head longing to be close to her. His clothes were the same as earlier, albeit slightly more ruffled and dirty than when he put them on this morning. The scent of vanilla lingered on his shirt, reminding him of Sara.

"No thank you," Sara laughed. "But thanks for offering," she said sincerely, leaning into the phone. Sara sighed as a short silence fell between them. Sara heard a commotion on the end of the phone accompanied by some heaving panting on Michael's part. She grinned. "What are you doing?" she enquired in a murmur, pressing her lips closer to the mouthpiece, her eyes flicking towards the door in case her father tried to get in.

"Taking my shirt off," he replied innocently, his own face growing wide with a wry grin. Michael's panting continued as he pushed himself back onto his bed and rested his half naked bulk against the headboard. The cool air of his room swept over his skin and his hairs prickled and his nipples hardened.

"Really?" Sara teased excitedly, her voice still low and secretive. Absently she climbed onto her own bed and laid her head back on her puffed pillow.

"Really," Michael sighed, his voice like a drizzle of honey down the phone line. Sara's body reacted to him like a well-trained puppy, coming to life as she wiggled on her bed. Michael gulped as he heard the zip of her hoodie slide open painfully slowly. He pressed his eyes closed, imagining her beauty spread out before him while his legs twitched on his bed covers.

Sara let out a moan of pleasure at his flirtatious remark that sent Michael's body racing. His heart pounded faster, his blood pumped harder and his groin tingled. Michael rested a sweaty palm on his abdomen, rubbing his soft fingertip over his line of hair that grew up from his pubic area. "Do that again," he commanded her with a whisper, his breath hardly allowing him to construct the words clearly.

Sara smiled and bit down on her bottom lip enjoying his helpless pleading. Complying she let out a soft moan as she rubbed her tiny hands over her own stomach and down further, exciting her erotic centre when she brushed the material of her underwear against her clitoris. Sara arched her back off the bed and pushed her hips into her hand, gasping down the phone.

Her groan was enough to send Michael over the edge and he snaked his hand under his waistband and into his boxers. He closed his eyes, imagining her dainty figure writing under his gaze, touching herself with one hand while the other clasped at the bed sheets. Michael wrapped his big hand around his straining erection and stroked it gently, wanting the feeling to last as long as possible.

"Sara," he breathed heavily, licking his lips as his image of her undressed itself. "What are you doing?" he said hoarsely, his hand dragging itself lightly up his length hardening it further.

Sara discarded her hoodie, sending it to the floor with a silent fall. She brushed her hands lightly across her breasts, teasing her nipples into hot peaks beneath her clothes. She breathed into the phone, hot air condensing on the mouthpiece. "I'm..." she staggered as images of Michael invaded her mind. "I'm imagining you," she said drunkly, swallowing hard as the Michael in her mind, already topless, tore his belt from his jeans.

Michael thrust gently into his hand, swallowing his own excess saliva that had formed in his mouth. "And I'm touching myself," she blurted out in a whine that Michael found intensely erotic. He gripped his throbbing member harder, fighting back the urge to spill his seed at her words.