tùmblr:imagineaworlds
Reader's POV
Downstairs, trumpets from the jazz music were blaring loudly and the floor was shaking from the dancers tapping their feet to the beat. They are celebrating a wedding. Not just anyone's wedding, but the Tommy Shelby's wedding. He finally married his beloved Grace, and this night was the celebration. Upstairs, though, I'm sitting in my bedroom across from Tommy's cousin, Michael Shelby. Both of us are drinking and smoking, but neither of us gave a thought to the Tokyo Isaiah gave us earlier that day. Ever since Michael had moved to Birmingham, he wasn't one for formal occasions, he only likes the parties where we go out drinking all night and come back early in the morning and fuck until we were tired. This night, though, Tommy made me promise that Michael and I won't do anything loud, or even anything that could embarrass Grace in front of all of her family and friends.
I never understood why it was that I have a bedroom in the Shelby home and not Michael. He spends enough time here, and in my room particularly, that it makes sense that he has his own room. Yet, every time I ask Tommy about it, he tells me to fuck off. And as we sit on the couches in my room, I half expected Michael to make a move once we had walked through the door, but he didn't. We just sit in silence and he watches me. With every puff of smoke he takes, his eyes stay connected with mine. He loves to breathe the smoke back into his nose, and he knows it turned me on when he does that. He knows it, and he abuses that knowledge.
And as I rub my legs together, trying to hide the wetness forming in my panties, I whimper unwillingly at the feeling. Michael cocks his eyebrows at me, though he continues to stay silent. As I continue to shuffle uncomfortably on the couch, trying to get some friction without him catching me, Michael does it again, this time with a purpose. Taking a puff of smoke, and as he lets it out, he sucks it slowly back in through his nose. I groan, "Michael, stop it."
"What is it, darling?" he asks innocently, keeping a straight face. "Is it the smoke?" I inhale sharply. "Does it turn you on?" Michael hums happily as he taps his cigarette against the ashtray in front of him then moves closer to me. "Are you wet for me?" he asks as he takes a seat next to me. The couch cushions curves under his weight. My heart is beating fast, I feel like it's about to leap from my chest, and the pool in my panties is quickly growing as Michael gets closer to me, cornering me at the end of the couch. By now, he is practically on top of me and my legs are resting on the couch on either side of his body. Michael leans in close, his lips nearly on my neck, and I crave for his touch, but he won't move. He sits there, above me, taking in my scent. I smell strongly of the perfume he had bought me for the wedding.
I go to reach for his hair, "Touch me, please," I beg.
His lips graze my neck as he smirks, but when my hands tangle themselves in his curls, he pulls away quickly. I whimper at the distance. "Bed. Now." Michael climbs off of me and lights another cigarette after taking a swig of whiskey. "Take your clothes off," he commands. I don't hesitate to run for the bed and climb on top of the silk sheets. Taking off my dress, Michael does it again, taking in the smoke through his nose and I feel my eyes roll back at the thought of the things he is about to do to me. "Take everything off."
I take a slow breath, trying to calm my heart and the butterflies in my stomach. Somehow, even after dating Michael for so long, he still makes my skin sensitive at the thought of him and he makes me nervous beyond compare. But I do as I am told, taking off my undergarments. Firstly, my bra, then my socks, and lastly my underwear, spreading my legs for him. In his suit pants, a tent is forming as his boner welcomes the sight.
"Fuck," Michael groans as he removes his tie and nears the bed after setting down his still lit cigarette and glass of whiskey down on the table. "Put your hands above your head, love..."
