Cherry Bomb (A Michael Fassbender Fanfic)

7: The West End House

An angry knock at my door startles the both of us. Michael sinks down below the sheets as I yank them up to my neck. Raegan bursts in, her eyes searching my room.

"Yes?" I ask her, annoyed with her already.

"Have you seen Michael?"

I shake my head and fake a yawn. "Nope, sorry. Why?"

"Hmm. I ran into an old friend of ours yesterday and I wanted to let him know." She steps into my room and closes the door. I silently pray she ignores the pile of clothes next to the bed.

"Oh yeah? Who?" I giggle as Michael's fingers slide across my rib cage. The ass. Not a good time!

"Sorry, I didn't mean a friend of yours. I mean mine and Michael's. You probably wouldn't know them. They were more a friend of mine. Anyway. When you're done getting yourself off, you should probably pick up your room a bit. It's kind of rude when you're a guest, Frankie."

My jaw drops. "I wasn't... Rae, I'm not masturbating..." My cheeks are burning and I'm pissed at her assumption. "And I always tidy up once I'm out of bed. Not that it's any of your business."

Rae's eyebrows arch and she smirks. "Sure." She takes another look around my room before she finally opens the door and leaves.

Michael yanks the covers down the second the door closes. "Air... need... air..." He gasps dramatically, climbing up over me. I can't help but giggle. He gives me a gentle kiss. "Fuck her, Bean. Now focus on me." He nuzzles his scruffy jaw against my neck, trying to help me forget my anger.

But instead of playing along with him, I give him a slight shove. "Not now, Fassbender. She's looking for you and you know she won't rest until she finds you. You better get dressed."

"You're bossy. I like it," he growls and pins me to the bed, his hands gripping my wrists above my head.

I sigh, pretending to be completely uninterested. "Please get dressed and get out of my room before you're caught."

"I don't care if I'm caught." He lowers his face to mine. He watches my lips, his tongue tracing along his own.

"Then why did you hide from Rae?" Michael's eyes meet mine and he gives me a little smile before he sits up.

He climbs off the bed and reaches for his shirt, pulling it on. "It was just instinct."

"Or shame," I mutter under my breath as I sit up, hugging the sheet to my chest.

Michael steps into his jeans. "What was that?" He smiles, waiting for my reply.

"...Or shame," I say a little louder.

"Shame?" He buttons his pants and fastens his belt.

"Yes. Shame. As in ashamed to be caught with me. In my bed. Where we obviously had sex."

Michael freezes, his lips parted, words unable to form themselves. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, like he's appalled by what I just said. "Frankie, what? No, that's not it at all!" He drops to his knees next to the bed and takes my hands. "I felt like a teenager about to be caught by my mum, Frankie. Like I said, it was just instinct. Please stop putting yourself down like that."

I'm embarrassed. I'm sure I sound needy and whiny, which is unlike me. I will never make a man feel obligated to defend his reasonings or emotions. That's mainly the reason my ex-fiancé and I parted. I felt a shift in me that just didn't feel like me, if that makes any sense. I began to feel lonely when he wasn't around. I hated wondering who he was with and when he would be home. I had no reason to be worried or even jealous, yet I was. And I couldn't help it. If he wanted to distance himself, then maybe what we had wasn't love. I wasn't going to fight for someone who didn't want to be around me. If he loved me, I wouldn't have been feeling that way. So I broke it off before it became much worse. I'd like to say that he took the news rather well, but the look on his face, almost shock, still kind of haunts me. Did I do the wrong thing? Had I broken someone's heart? Long story short, he apparently never saw it coming. But I didn't like who I was becoming and I knew it would only get worse after marriage.