The Way She Wants It (Michael Jackson FanFiction)

..40..

"Michael," I moan as the water cascades over us, "Mmmm," I hum as his fingers massage my scalp. 

"Does that feel good, baby," he asks, running his lethal fingers through my hair. 

"Yesssss," I moan, making Michael chuckle, pressing his thick erection against my ass. 

"If you moan again, I'm going to take you right here," he growls against the shell of my ear, sending shivers down my spine. 

"You already have, love," I grin, leaning against him as he continues to massage me into ecstasy, "But what's one more, right?" I giggle, making him hum with satisfaction.

"Girl, I'll never get tired of you. I could go for a hundred more just in tonight." 

"You mean this morning?" I ask, "It's almost four in the morning, Michael," I sigh as he runs the conditioner through my hair, "You really don't find washing my hair difficult?" I ask, making me sense his smile. 

"Of course not," he scoffs, "Girl, I have the nappiest hair. Yours is nothing, comparatively." 

"I've had people tell me my hair was too difficult to deal with, or too curly, or too big." I sigh, closing my eyes again. 

"Your parents?" Michael asks softly. 

"You guessed it," I mumble, rolling my eyes inwardly. I haven't thought about my parents this much since I was with them, "Especially since I'm basically white. People go wild when I tell them I'm not mixed." I sigh, making Michael laugh loudly. 

"Oh yeah? How many people have thought you were mixed?" he asks, still grinning as he rinses my hair of the conditioner. 

"Everyone I've encountered," I sigh, shaking my head, "As soon as anyone sees me with my hair down, they think I'm mixed. It's the curls, and how big my hair gets. Everyone thinks I'm mixed." 

"I didn't," Michael says proudly, making me smile widely. 

"I bet," I nod as he turns me to look at him, "You're not like most people, Michael. You can look past the curls to see who I really am." I wink, making him grin before he kisses my lips. 

"Where are you from again, babe?" he asks, kissing my lips again before pulling me against his muscular body. 

"Canada?" I smirk, jokingly, making him lightly spank my ass, "Michael," I moan at the sensation, making him grin cockily. 

"I know that, babe, but I mean what's your background? What's your ancestry?" he asks, kissing me again before grabbing a handful of my ass. 

"Well, my Mother is white trash," I say, turning down the corners of my mouth, making Michael suppress his smile, "Like, white, white trash. She's Scottish, British, and French, but there's nothing royal about that bitch," I scoff, making Michael smile, "And then my Father is Syrian and Egyptian. I heard Lebanese a couple of times, but that was never clarified, especially since Syria and Lebanon are so close to each other." I explain, as Michael watches me with admiration. 

"I love you, Bee," he sighs lovingly, making me reach up on my toes to kiss his lips longingly. 

"I love you, Michael," I grin, kissing his lips again, before starting a nice, long make out session. 

"Damn, Bee," he groans, reaching down to rub my sensitive clit as we lace our tongues together. 

"Michael," I moan into his mouth as he rubs me into pure bliss. 

"Should I make you come like this again, or should I give you all of me?" he asks, slipping a finger inside of me, making me arch my back, pressing my stomach against his.