The Way She Wants It (Michael Jackson FanFiction)

..15..

"Mmm," I moan into his mouth as we lace our tongues with familiarity, "Michael the food is burning." I mumble as he places rapid kisses down my neck. My legs tighten around his waist, creating contrast with my words, "Michael, the food is burning," I repeat, this time letting out a giggle as he's pulling the sash of my robe. 

"So am I baby," he growls, rolling his tongue around my left nipple, "So. Am. I." 

"No, seriously," I smile, entangling my fingers in his hair as I tilt my head back, "I need to take it off." 

"Your robe?" he smirks cockily, running his hands up my bare thighs. 

"No, asshole," I laugh, finally deciding to put my hands on his shoulders to push him away, "Michael, come on." I sigh, as he pulls his mouth away from my bare breasts. He looks over my body before letting go of my legs and helping me down from the counter. I tie my robe as I turn to the stove and take the food off of the burners. 

Michael's eyes follow me as I brush my damp hair out of the way and start to wipe down the stove. I sigh softly as I feel his presence coming closer to me. 

"You're so sexy," he mumbles, wrapping his arms around my waist. I giggle softly, an uncharacteristic moment of mine, and lean my head back into his broad shoulder. 

"Stop," I smile uncontrollably as he goes to untie my robe again. I place my hands over his, looking back into his eyes, "I would like to eat first, Michael." 

"So would I," he winks suggestively, running his hands down my front. 

"I'm serious," I murmur, still smiling, "I haven't eaten all day. Can you just let me finish cooking?" I ask rhetorically, knowing I will do what I damn well please.

"Ugh fine," he groans, placing a kiss on my shoulder before pulling his arms away from me.

So I make dinner and it is great. The whole time Michael stared at me, making comments about how great I was during the performance and how complimenting me on my looks and my mind.

But I'm not stupid.

I know when someone wants some ass.

Do I want to give Michael some ass?

Fuck yeah I do!

But he doesn't really know that.

"Wow, you're a really good cook," Michael mumbles through a mouthful of my sausage penne.

"Thank you," I smile, taking a sip of my water, "My grandmother taught me." I sigh, looking down at my half-finished plate. I probably shouldn't eat the rest of it, so I just decide to sit back in my chair.

"Why aren't you eating?" Michael asks, after a eating a few more mouthfuls.

"I've had enough," I murmur, looking down as I fold my arms.

"You should eat, you had a big day today." He suggests, putting down his fork. I look up at him through my lashes and shake my head.

"I'm not hungry anymore," I lie, batting my lashes.

"Don't lie," he furrows his brows before leaning back in his chair and folding his arms like I am.

"I'm not lying."

"Why aren't you eating?" He asks, ignoring my statement, "You need to keep you energy up for this tour." He lectures me as if he's my father or coach or something.

"I do keep my energy up. I just don't think it's a good thing to eat a lot before bed." I scoff, rolling my eyes, "I eat a lot at breakfast and less as the day goes on."

"Why?" Michael smirks, "Do you think you're going to get a cramp when you go to bed?"

"Only if I'm fucking someone." I retort, and his eyes narrow as he leans forward.

"Do you like making me jealous or something?" He asks, folding his hands together on the table.

"No, I just tell you what I know you're trying to find out." I scoff, crossing my legs.

"Why would I want to know about you having sex with other guys?" He snarks, squinting his eyes at me.

"I don't fucking know, you're just always all up in my business, boy." I roll my eyes as he shakes his head.

"Maybe that's because I'm interested in you." He mumbles, looking down at his hands that are now in his lap.

"Don't even," I grit, pointing my finger, "You say you want to make a track with me. Then you invite me over to your house, talking about how you want me and how you think I'm interested in you. Then you get jealous when I go and talk to Justin. And then you don't call me for two months and then randomly show up at the first show of my tour!" I start to yell, "Tell me why Michael? Why the fuck would I think you're interested in me when you can't even fucking show it!" I shout, standing from the table.

"I told you! I didn't want any distractions!" He shouts, standing as he ignores my other statements.

"Don't give me any of that shit!" I yell, taking my dish over to the counter, "What was the real reason you didn't call me?!"

"What do you mean?!" He yells back, but I can tell that he's lying about something.

"What do you mean 'What do you mean?!'" I scoff, folding my arms, "What's the real reason you didn't call me." I eye him as he stands with his arms folded. He flails his arms at his sides as I wait for a response. I raise a brow, still waiting and he chuckles unamused. 

"You can't believe what I tell you?" he smiles, still unamused, "Why do you have such a hard time believing me?" he shakes his head, and I know he lying from the lack of eye contact. 

"Oh please, don't feel special. I don't trust anyone. How can you in this fucking business?" I roll my eyes, starting to clean the plates, "I know you're lying to me. I'm not as dumb as the press says I am. I know something is up." I shake my head, rinsing all of the dishes and leaving them in the sink. 

"Abby," he sighs, walking over to the island where I'm rinsing my dishes, "Why don't you trust me?" he asks sombrely. 

"Because you're fucking lying," I laugh, this time I'm unamused. His eyes shift as I look up at him and that is all I need for conformation, "Okay, you can go. You know you're way out, I assume, since the door is right over there." I scoff, pointing to a doorway that's in sight. 

"Abby," he sighs again, stepping closer to me, "I really wanted to spend time with you tonight." he says in a pleading tone. 

"Tell me why you weren't calling me and then I'll decide if you get to stay or not." I grit, shutting off the tap water aggressively. His eyes shift again as he scratches the back of his neck.

"Fine," he murmurs and my heart clenches. 

Shit he actually was lying.

"Well," he starts as he rocks back on his feet, "I just..."

"Spit it out," I sigh after a few seconds of silence. 

"Janet told me," he mumbles, finally making eye contact with me. I furrow my brows, cocking my head forward. 

"What are you talking about?" I ask, squinting my eyes. 

"She told me about you and her," he murmurs, shifting his eyes away, "You two were in a relationship."