Love At First Fight (Michael Jackson Fanfiction)

..10..

The water runs down my body as I cum for the fourth time in the last hour. I had this ideal image of me relieving all sexual feeling towards Michael by getting off to the thought of him eating me out, fucking me from the front and back, and fingering me to the highest point my climax would go. But I still don't think it's going to stop me from soaking my panties as soon as I see him.

I lean against the wall trying to keep my legs stable enough to get myself out of this shower. After a few minutes I find the strength to drag myself out of the golden shower and dry myself off.

About two hours ago I called my brother to tell him I was in Houston. He seemed pretty excited, especially since he's been keeping up with Mum all by himself. After Michael told me he was flying out here to get me to "forgive him", I thought that was as drained as I could get. But I was wrong, which is a very seldom thing. My brother explained that Mums cancer had gotten worse. Therefore, she needs more treatment which just means that I am closer to taking out a loan than I've ever been.

In the past eight years I've never taken out a loan. I've always been able to pay it off, but the worse her cancer gets the more expensive the treatment gets.

While I was talking to my brother I cried, laughed, was irritated with him, and then cried more after we hung up. After walking around the suite with no specific purpose, I decided to take a shower, since the bath didn't really clean me like it was supposed to, and also because crying made me feel real crusty. So here I am, getting out of the shower, pending Michael's arrival.

I honestly don't know why his extremely sexy ass had to get on a fucking plane. He is so fucking extra. Besides, I don't need him anyways. I don't need a fucking man. They've all done me wrong in the past, so who's to say he won't do the same. I didn't even tell him where I am so I don't know how he's planning on finding me.

I walk out of the washroom, tying my long, wet hair into a messy bun. Looking in my drawers I decide to put on a pair of black, silk pyjama shorts along with a red Bon Jovi hoodie. I love this one. My Mum got it for me 4 years ago when she was up and walking around.... before the cancer had returned. She told me she bought it because she loves a good little Italian boy and his band. I laughed at that, knowing the only reason she likes him is because we share the same background.

I walk up to the mirror and look at my red eyes. Still? I would've thought the redness would've cleared up by now, but clearly I'm wrong.

My bare face looks okay.... I was bare faced in front of him when he gave me my chicken at my house, so this should be fine now... right?

I flop down on my bed, closing my eyes for what feels like a split second. I'm soon reminded that I'm supposed to be awake when there is a knock on the suite door. I groan, really not wanting to deal with his shit right now, and walk over to the door as sloppy as I can manage to walk. I just feel like being a jackass right now, so I walk sloppily, flailing my arms by my sides.

I swing the door open and smile, not letting it reach my eyes.

"Michael what are you doing here," I drawl sarcastically, "I had no idea you were coming," I throw my hands out to the side and they swing back to hit my sides.

"Good to see you too Jamie," he smiles, ignoring my lack of interest, "you look beautiful." He mumbles, giving me the elevator look.

"Okay, what's up? You flew out here to come and make me forgive you, so let's see it." I smirk, ignoring his comment.

"I just really wanted to see you and maybe hang out casually since we haven't really done that yet," he shrugs and I actually sense a hint of nervousness in him.