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I stop for a moment outside Michael’s door, my hand hovering, about to knock. I listen quietly for a minute, but I don’t hear anything coming from inside his trailer. It’s been a strange six weeks. This hasn’t been my first time as an assistant to a rather famous actor, but this is the first time we’ve worked together and barely exchanged a handful of sentences. Don’t get me wrong. Michael has been polite, professional, and even kind at times, but we haven’t exactly become best friend. Or even friends. Maybe not even acquaintances. Just sort of barely colleagues. Although this project is over, I have a feeling I may see him again, as I’m already know I’m working on his next set. Not as his assistant, but as an assistant to one of his co workers. I have to keep things cordial and easy going, since it really is a small business and I have no idea how many times I may bump into him again.
My heart picks up a bit faster, and I knock loudly on his trailer. I have no reason to be nervous. He’s always been kind to me, but he is a bit intimidating. There’s something about the way he takes up space in a room. He’s tall, and for this movie, he’s bulked up quite a bit. He’s all big shoulders, and a long, lean torso that narrows down to tight hips and powerful legs. Let’s be honest, I’ve been around good looking actors before, but never one quite like him.
I wait for half a minute, and then finally I hear footsteps and the trailer door swings open. Michael hovers above me, his crystal blue eyes squinting in the mid day sun. I’m standing on the steps to his trailer, and so I come up to about waist height on him. He’s already quite a bit taller than me, but now, I’m positively dwarfed by him. He looks down at me, and waits.
“Michael, I have some paperwork from the office, and I need your script rewrites.” I say, silently scolding myself for hesitating a moment too long. I can’t help it. He’s an imposing figure. He nods, and then holds the door open for a split second before turning and walking back into the dark trailer. I’ve worked with him long enough to recognize that that is him inviting me inside. I press my lips together, and walk out of the hot July sun and into his dark, air conditioned trailer.
It’s cool and smells faintly of cigarette smoke inside. Cigarette smoke and something else, something sweet and musky. Cologne or aftershave. It’s a surprisingly nice combination. I notice that he has the stub of a cigarette in his hand and he presses it into an ashtray sitting on the little table by the windows.
“Sorry. Trying to quit.” He says softly, glancing at me with a half smile. I shrug.
“It’s fine. It’s your trailer.” I take a step forward, looking around. I’ve been in here at least a dozen times and I never know what to do when I am there. He keeps it clean. A sweater sits on the back of one of the cushioned chairs. The television is on, but on mute. There’s a bottle of water and what looks like one of those green smoothies sitting on the table. It is an odd juxtaposition next to the cigarette ashtray.
“That is true.” He turns and without saying anything, pulls his shirt up over his head. I know my eyes nearly bug out of my head, but I simply take a half step back, and try not to squeal. The man is all lean, toned muscle. He’s tan from the excruciating Australian sun, and just a tiny bit dirty from the last scene they were shooting. His character is supposed to be an ex-con, lean, hungry, road weary. He fits the part quite well, especially standing in front of me in low slung, dark jeans, boots and no shirt.
“I, uh…” I stutter, thrusting the papers out in front of me. Today was the last day of shooting. I just need to get him this paperwork, return the company car to the office, and then I have two glorious weeks off til I’m on my next shoot.
“Thanks for all your help the past few weeks.” Michael says. He turns and I feel his eyes sweep up and down my body, taking me in. I shift and blink, then pull the papers back to my chest, crossing my arms. I’m surprised at his compliment, since I had started to take his somewhat cold nature to be because he was unhappy with how I was acting as his assistant.
“You’re welcome.” This is the most we’ve spoken.
“Do you work for Steven?” He asks. Steve is the producer, and one of my good friends. He got me started in the business, back when I was fresh out of college with a liberal arts degree and absolutely no direction. It started as a fun summer job, and now it’s become my life.
“Yeah, I sort of follow him wherever he goes.” I nod. Michael stares at me for a second and then he smiles. It’s a slow, easy smile.
“I’ll make sure to request you if I’m ever on a project with him again.” He turns his back, and I can see the stretch and widening of his muscles on his back and sides. His shoulders are so wide, and I can’t help but imagine grabbing them and holding on for dear life. I feel my mouth go dry. Ugh, it’s been awhile.
I don’t bother to tell him that I will be on his next set. I doubt he will even remember me. I’m sure he’s just saying it to be kind. He reaches into a duffel bag and pulls out a clean tshirt, then tugs it over his head. It fits him like a glove, skimming over his muscles.
“Thank you.” I say finally. “I…I just need you to sign these.” I take a step forward, put the papers on the small table. He takes a step forward to look at the papers and I can practically feel the heat coming off him. Michael flips through the papers, skimming them over. He smells like earth and sweat and something spicy and sweet.
“Do you have a pen?” He reaches up with his big hands and gently pats his chest and torso, as if there is a pen hidden between the thin material of his shirt and the taut skin underneath.
“Oh yes.” I remember that I’m holding one in my hand, and I set it down on the table. He looks at me again, a small smile on his face. I’ve seen him smile before—the really big, authentic smile, almost all teeth. The smile he gives me now is not that one. It’s smaller, more intimate and in a weird way, patient. It’s a strange way to describe a smile, but it’s as if he’s waiting. Patiently waiting for something. My mind flashes to the story of a wolf in sheeps clothing, and I involuntarily shiver. I take a deep breath and smile back.
“If…you could sign.” I say, hesitantly. He nods then and turns, takes the pen and signs his name a few times on the papers.
“Here you go.” He hands me back the pen and when I go to grab it, he doesn’t immediately let go. I tug gently and then wait.
“Thank you.” I say softly, waiting for him to let go. He tilts his head slightly. He’s staring at me now, and I watch as his eyes move from mine to a bit lower. My mouth or chin. And then a bit lower, to my neck, then perhaps my chest. I lick my lips. He is not being subtle at all, but for some strange reason I don’t mind. I feel glued to the spot—my hand nearly touching his on the pen, mere inches from that hard, massive body.
“No, thank you.” He says, his voice lowers an octave and I feel it go straight to my gut. He lets go of the pen and then he turns and walks away, toward the back of his trailer, obviously dismissing me. It takes me a second to collect my thoughts and make sure I haven’t melted into a puddle onto the floor, and then I scramble out of the trailer, out of the cool, sweet, smoky darkness and into the dry, hot, mid summer sun.
I am about ten miles down the dry, dusty barren road when the company car breaks down in a rather spectacular fashion. I can hear it sputtering, and it’s shaking as I drive about 17 miles an hour down the packed dirt road. This is the most remote location I’ve ever been on for a shoot, and for some godforsaken reason, they’ve given me the shittiest car to tote around. I am half way between bum fuck and nowhere when the car slows to an aching, painful stop and sputters out.
I sit, sweating and swearing in the car for a few minutes. Even with the windows down, I feel like I’m suffocating. I check my phone, and curse loudly when I see I have no service. Of course not. I’m in the middle of the Australian outback, in a shitty broken down two door, with nothing in sight but dirt and tumbleweeds.
I get out, yanking at my simple tank dress I threw on earlier. I stand outside the car for a minute, staring at it as if I will suddenly understand all there is to know about cars besides the fact that gas is good and there are a lot of parts. So it seems my only two choices at the moment are to walk the ten or so miles back to the location, and pray that someone is still there or stay by the car and pray that someone finds me.
Thankfully, a third option arrives, in the shape of a motorcycle that is roaring down the dusty road. I can see it come over the hill, and though it’s still quite far away, I know whoever is on that bike is my answer to all my problems. I just need a ride. Or perhaps someone who knows something at all about cars. I throw all caution and my college roommate’s voice warning me about ‘stranger danger’ to the wind, and I step out into the narrow road.
The motorcycle roars smoothly down the road, and for a split second, I’m afraid the driver isn’t going to stop. He barely slows down, and then passes me before coming to a stop and pulling off to the side of the road. I feel the hot wind blow by me as the motorcycle zooms past. I turn around, my heart ramming against my chest.
“Thank you! Thank you! My car broke down and I don’t have service out here…” I walk briskly toward the motorcyclist. I know absolutely nothing about motorcycles. I know about as much about them as I do cars. They have wheels and they can go fast. This one is sleek and almost black all over. It’s not huge and bulky, and neither is the rider on it. He has on a stark white helmet and aviator sunglasses, a white tshirt with a bold black stripe across the chest and jeans riding low on his narrow hips. Something about those hips seem familiar…
He stands up, straddling his bike, and then swings one leg off of it as he takes off his helmet. Oh shit. Michael.
“What kind of a car is that?” He facesme. I put my hands on my hips, taking a step back and bumping into the door. I look down, kicking at the dirt road with the tip of my boot.
“I have no fucking clue, I just know it doesn’t work.” I say, aggravated. Michael smiles then, one of those huge, teethy grins. I feel it hit me straight in the stomach, and I’m not sure if it’s the heat anymore that’s making it hard for me to breathe.
“Aye, aren’t we a little feisty.” He keeps grinning, and walks over to the car, popping the hood with one easy movement. I follow him around to the front, crossing my arms under my chest. I can feel the hot sun beating down on my bare shoulders, and a trickle of sweat running between my breasts.
“It’s a thousand degrees out here and I’m stranded on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. Yes, I’m a bit feisty.” I say, deadpan. He nods and shrugs his wide shoulders.
“It’s all right. You’re not stranded anymore. And besides, I like ‘em feisty.” I can’t tell if he’s laughing at me, but it makes me even angrier and I narrow my eyes at him. For the past month and a half he’s barely said a word to me, and now, suddenly, he’s practically oozing charm. I put my hands on my hips, leaning against the edge of the car. He’s looking into the hood of the car, checking things and pulling on things. I notice his big, rough hands, and the ropey, sinewy veins that go from his hands up his arms. Could it be any hotter out here?
“Do you know what’s wrong with it?” I ask. Michael takes his aviators off, slipping them into the neck of his shirt. He’s bent over the car, and he looks up at me with those sky blue eyes. they perfectly match the sky behind him—clear, blue and cloudless.
“It’s broken.” He grins and closes the hood. I groan and reach into the car, grabbing my bag.
“Thanks, you’ve been a great help.”
“I can give you a ride to wherever you need to go. Your car is going to need a lot of work.” He offers, putting his sunglasses back on and holding out the white helmet to me. I stare at him for a minute.
“This isn’t my car. It’s the company’s. I have to figure out how to get it back to the main offices. I’m going to have to find a tow, and wait for the tow, and then somehow get back to the hotel tonight…” I sigh, wondering what the hell I’m going to do. The office is another 20 miles away, and the sun is quickly making it’s way across the sky.
“It’s the company’s?” Michael scoffs and then chuckles.
“What? What is so funny?” I ask impatiently.
“Why the hell would they give you such a shitter—“
“Questions that really don’t have an answer, and aren’t helping me out at the moment.” I cut him off. The shoot is over, I don’t really have to be polite to him anymore. Not after he’s been somewhat cold and aloof for six weeks. I’m not sure he even knows my name.
Michael takes a step back, his head cocked to the side. He doesn’t move, he just seems to be staring at me. I can’t totally tell though what he’s looking at because he has his sunglasses on. His long arms hang at his sides, and he has this odd little smile on his face.
“Do you want a ride?” He asks finally. I cross my arms over my chest, feeling my breasts push up to the low neckline of my dress.
“Yes. Please.” I say softly. He nods and holds out his helmet again.
“Don’t worry about the car. I’ll have someone take care of it.” He waits for me to walk over to him. I take the helmet from him, and I’m surprised it’s heavier than I expected.
“It’s my responsibility.” I say quickly. He raises an eyebrow at me and leans against the bike.
“I’ll take care of it. Not your responsibility anymore.” He says easily. I swallow.
“Don’t get me fired.” I press my lips together. this elicits a loud, boisterous laugh from him.
“Honey, if I wanted to get you fired, it wouldn’t be for abandoning a piece of shit car.” He doesn’t smile, and neither do I. I shove the helmet down over my head, hoping it will hide the flush of my face. It’s hot…and so is he.
I climb on the back of Michael’s motorcycle. He starts up the bike and I immediately wrap my arms around his lean middle. My chest is pressed against his back, and I’m very aware that there’s only a thin amount of fabric that separates us. My breasts are tight up against his back muscles, and from this close I can smell the sweat on him. My dress bunches up around my thighs, and I wiggle slightly, trying to get comfortable. Michael glances back at me.
“Are you ready?” He asks. I nod and with that, we take off. Michael drives fast, in control, and without a care in the world. I hold on tight, wrapping my arms firmly around his midsection, feeling the hot summer wind blowing threw my hair. It occurs to me after we are riding for about 10 minutes that I have no idea where we are going. I didn’t tell Michael to take me anywhere, and he didn’t say what he had in mind. A part of me doesn’t really care.
We keep going for another 15 minutes, and the dirt roads start to turn slightly more structured. There are houses around, but only every few miles. We are still out in the hot, wide open outdoors, and it seems we are still in the middle of nowhere. I can feel my thighs starting to shake, as I’ve been gripping the motorcycle with them. Michael drives fast and a bit recklessly, and though it’s thrilling it’s also a bit nerve wracking.
We pull up to a low, ambling white house. It’s very modern looking from the outside, and seems to be only one story high. He slows down, cuts the engine on the motorcycle and stops in the drive way.
“Home sweet home.” He says easily, climbing off. I blink a few times as I pull off the helmet, sure I’ve got sweaty helmet hair. I push my hair out of my eyes and look around. It’s a gorgeous house, and it stands out amongst the reddish brown surroundings.
“This is your house?” I ask, getting off the motorcycle. My knees shake slightly as I stand. Michael nods and takes the helmet from me. He walks over to the front door, his wide shoulders moving with grace and athleticism.
“I’m just renting while we are filming.” He says over his shoulder. I follow him inside. We are greeted by a cool rush of air conditioning, and bright white surroundings. The front entryway opens to wide open space, high ceilings with wooden beams, and big, lazily rotating fans. Everything is white, sleek and airy, but not stuffy or super fancy.
“Wow.” I nod appreciatively. Michael is a stark contrast to all the white. His tan skin, his dark hair, his black boots. His white tshirt and icy blue eyes are the only thing light about him.
“Do you want a drink?” He asks, and he disappears through an open archway. I follow him, and find myself in a small but airy kitchen.
“Yes, please.” I say. He doesn’t ask what I want, but he pulls open the fridge and pulls out some sparkling water, limes and some sort of clear liquor.
“You’ll love this.” He winks at me, and then begins preparing our drinks. I watch him silently for a few minutes. He’s definitely confident, that’s for sure. He barely knows me and yet he’s completely okay with making decisions for the both of us. It’s not necessarily arrogance, just this complete, heady mix of confidence and easy, laid back recklessness. After a few minutes, he hands me a glass, full of ice and something fizzy and refreshing looking. I take a sip, and smile. It is delicious. Cold, citrus-y and just a bit sweet.
Michael leads me back into the main room, and then walks out through wide French doors to a covered deck. Under the shade, it’s a few degrees cooler, and there is a nice breeze. We can see far out over the flat land, and it’s a breath taking view. There are no other houses around. A few feet away there is a big, inviting looking pool. It’s an odd shape, and has river rocks lining the sides, and a water fall that is cascading down one side of the pool.
“This is gorgeous.” I say, having a seat in a chair next to Michael. He relaxes, his long longs stretched out in front of him.
“It’s not bad.” He grins at me and we settle back. We sit comfortably for a minute, though the fact that I’m at Michael Fassbender’s house, and I’m not totally sure why, has not failed to cross my mind. After a minute, he turns and looks at me, his eyes intense, the corners of his lips curled up slightly.
“Do you have some place to be?” He asks finally.
“Not particularly.” I say carefully.
“Want to go for a swim?” He nods toward the crystal clear pool. I set down my drink.
“I don’t have a bathing suit.”
“You don’t need one.” He grins at me and then stands up. In a flash, he’s pulling his tshirt up over his head. Next, his hands go to his jeans and he removes those quickly. He raises an eyebrow at me, and then turns in his boxer briefs and saunters out into the sun toward the pool.
“Jesus.” I whisper under my breath. I reach down and yank my boots off, and then take a deep breath and yank my dress up over my head. I’m glad I wore pretty underwear this morning, but it doesn’t cover much. A barely there silk bra, and tiny lace panties. I follow him out into the sun, and watch as he dives into the pool. I have no idea how my day just got so interesting, but I don’t give myself time to think about it.
Michael comes up from under the water and stands up. Water sluices down his bare chest, over his pecs and down his long, lean torso. He runs a hand through his short, wet hair and smiles at me.
“Come on in. Get wet.” His gaze is on me, and he doesn’t break eye contact. I smile and then jump into the pool. The water is cool and refreshing, and I instantly feel relief from the hot, dusty day. When I come up for air, I am face to face with Michael. He’s hovering over me, and I bump into his chest as I smooth my hair back from my face. He is radiating sex, and the tension between us is palpable.
“I don’t get it.” I swallow, taking in the sight of his smooth, golden skin and the hair that is lightly sprinkled on his chest.
“What don’t you get?” He asks, his voice low and intimate. I lick my lips.
“You ignored me for six weeks. And now all the sudden I’m half naked in your pool.” My eyes are wide, and Michael’s lips slide into a sly smile.
“I didn’t ignore you. I was just being professional.” He says easily, floating backward. I watch him and wait for more of an explanation. He laughs then, loudly and boisterous.
“The truth?” He tilts his head at me. “You look like a girl who can handle the truth.”
“Yes.” I nod.
“I was in a relationship. It was off and on, but it was sort of serious. I was being a good boy. And if I don’t stay focused…” He pauses and his eyes go to my chest. I’m wearing a teal blue, silk bra with no padding, and I know without looking that it has gone totally translucent, the outline of my nipples showing clearly through the delicate fabric. Still, I don’t cover my chest. There’s a sudden, heady rush that comes from knowing that he’s looking at me.
“If I don’t stay focused, then I tend to play.” He finishes his sentence, and his eyes are back on mine. Ah.
“So why are you allowed to play now?” I ask, dipping my shoulders under the water and swimming toward him. He stays where he is, his eyes tracking me.
“Because I’m no longer in a relationship.” His voice is rough and steady. I swim up to him, coming to a stop right in front of him. He’s low down, his chin dipping in and out of the water. I stand up, my chest coming up eye level with him. He lets his eyes wander over my breasts.
“That’s rather convenient. Because neither am I.” I say slowly. I watch as he looks at me, and then one hand comes out of the water. His hands are big and masculine. He reaches toward me, water dripping off his muscular forearm. I freeze, waiting to see what he’s going to do.
Michael trails his forefinger against my neck, my collarbone, then to my shoulder. It takes everything in me not to move, to be patient and see what he is doing. His eyes follow his hand, and his finger reaches my shoulder and pushes the thin strap of my bra up and off my shoulder. I feel it slide down my arm, the flimsy cup of my bra rolls down over my breast. His other hand comes out of the water, and he does the same on my other side. First the side of my neck, then to my collarbone, and then up and over my shoulder. My straps give way easily, traitorously, and I stand bared in front of him. His eyes move from my shoulders to my chest, and I swear to god, he looks positively starving.
I stay still, my breath shallow and quick. I can feel the sun beating down on my back, and the water around me is cool and energizing. The combination of the hot sun and the cold water against my nipples, makes them hard and puckered. Michael moves toward me, barely disturbing the water as he stalks through it. I feel hunted, like I’m being eyed up by a shark, waiting for a feeding frenzy.
He swims forward and stops mere inches from my chest. I’m still standing up straight, and the water comes to just below my breasts. Michael is crouched in the water, and he moves forward again, his eyes going up to mine. I bite my lip, paralyzed with lust. I can’t move, I can only wait and see where he is going to go.
I feel his hands come through the water, and reach forward, touching my hips. It is just barely, like a soft, watery kiss. It’s as if he’s steadying me, making sure I’m not going to float away. He moves forward then and I feel the wet, whisper soft touch of his mouth and tongue against my nipple. A shiver runs through me, and steady myself against his shoulders.
There is some strange perverse thrill in the fact that we’ve barely spoken to each other for the past month and a half and I’ve never even kissed him, and here he is, bent down over me, sucking and nipping at my breasts. I hold onto him, and resist the urge to pull him into me. He is taking his time, moving achingly slowly, teasing me with his mouth.
I want him so badly to just grab me and take me roughly in his hands, but he’s still barely touching me, his tongue lapping around my nipple, his fingertips mere pressure points on my hips. Oh god.
I can’t help but moan, and press my fingers hard into his shoulders. Michael suddenly stands up, coming to his full height. He’s probably a foot taller than me, and I’m suddenly reminded of his strength and vitality. I look up at him, my chest practically heaving with my shortened breath. He moves around me, running his hands over my hips and sides as he does and then he is pressed directly up against my back.
I can feel every muscle in his chest, I can feel his hot skin and his warm breath against my neck. He leans into me, slides his hands around my stomach and then up, cupping my breasts. He holds me in his hands, and I feel the ache between my legs get much more urgent. Michael pinches my nipples between his thumb and forefinger and I melt against the wall of his chest. He kisses my neck, licking and biting at my throat.
“Michael.” I say his name and it comes out like a plead. I’m practically begging. He smiles against my neck and then one hand dips down my stomach, then lower into the water and against my body. I moan as I feel him slip his hand just under the top of my panties. My bare butt is pressed against him, and I can feel him hard and heavy through the fabric of his wet, clinging boxers.
“What’s your name again?” He breathes heavily into the back of my neck, his breath hot and fast. Oh for fucks sake, he doesn’t even know my name. I’m not even insulted, it’s sort of funny. And at this point, I’ve completely lost my mind, so it doesn’t really matter what names are.
“Cate.” I manage. He takes me by the hips and I grind my ass into his crotch. He groans and I feel him lick the side of my neck, as if I’m sort of fruit and he’s tasting me. Tasting me for ripeness.
“Cate. That’s what I thought. I’ve never fucked a Cate before.” He growl is low into my ear, then tastes my earlobe between his teeth, sucking gently and nipping. I feel my knees give slightly.
“That’s charming.”
“Oh, so you like charming?” He says roughly.
“Does it really matter what I like?” I ask as I turn my head. I raise an eyebrow, challenging him.
“Fuck yes, it matters.” He answers, flipping me suddenly so I’m facing him.
“Oh.” I breathe softly. We stand, locked in an embrace for a moment. Our foreheads are pressed against each other, and we’re breathing heavy. I’m barely touching him though, my hands are pressed against his abs. He’s still holding my hips, as if he’s afraid I’ll swim away. Michael is breathing heavy, and I’m fighting to match him. The front of my legs are pressed against his longer, larger ones.
“Open your legs.” He says then. His voice is low and rough, as if he’s been yelling all day. He’s calm, and steady and speaks with such dominance that I don’t even hesitate. I move in the water, bracing myself up against the hard tiled wall of the pool and I take two wide steps. He fills the space immediately, stepping up against me, pressing his hips into mine. I can feel him, hard and unyielding, press against my hip and belly.
I can’t help myself, I moan softly, bucking my hips against his. Michael puts his hands on either side of me on the cement edge of the pool, then bends his knees slightly so his erection presses directly against the center of me. He rolls his hips and I nearly come undone.
“Make that noise again.” He says gruffly, and I can feel his arms tense at my sides.
“W-what noise?” I ask breathlessly. He rolls his hips again, then time jerking up slightly and holding steady. I moan, my head rolling back.
“That one.” He laughs, and smiles wide. I reach forward, grabbing onto his shoulders and pressing my fingers hard into his muscles. I need him. I need him now. I lift my legs, floating in the water, and wrap my legs around his waist.
“Fuck me. Now. Stop teasing.” I beg. I’m begging and I don’t even care. I will do anything to have this man inside of me. Michael stops laughing, suddenly, and then he is on me. His hot, hard body comes crashing against mine. His mouth comes down onto mine in a searing, heady kiss. His lips are perfect, and he grabs onto me, guiding me against him mouth. Michael runs his hands down my body and takes me under my thighs and ass and presses me to him.
His hands slide up my thighs. They are so big they cover most of my skin. He reaches between our bodies and then he roughly pushes my undies to the side. Though his movement is quick and decisive, his fingers touch me gently at first, tempting me. I cry out, arching against him as I watch him smile. He leans forward, his mouth, tongue and teeth all over my neck and shoulders. He bites at my soft skin, licking my collarbone and then moving down between the valley of my breasts. His hands come up fast, and skillfully.
He runs his hands over my breasts, cupping them and then grabbing on hungrily. His blue eyes are intense as he takes me in, and then he runs his hands over my shoulders, down my chest and yanks my bra to the side and the rest of the way off. I moan, feeling his fingertips rake over my sensitive skin.
His mouth comes crushing down over my nipple, one hand is cupping my full breast, a thumb deftly running over my already hard, aching nipple. His tongue works magic, licking and lapping, sucking and biting. I’m arching against him, pulling him to me as my back arches. I can’t stay still. I wrap my arms around his head, pulling him to me, and running my hands through his thick, short dark hair.
“Fuck , your tits are amazing.” He says against me. I wiggle against him, running my hands down his bare back, feeling every dip and bunch of muscle and sinew. He runs his mouth from one nipple to the other, then starts sucking gently on the swell of my breasts, underneath them and to the side.
I can’t help myself anymore. I run my hands down his chest, scratching my nails gently across his abs. He groans, and bites me a little harder, which makes me laugh for some reason. I push my hands down his stomach, to the front of his boxers. Michael groans, stops kissing me, and just stands, his arms braced on either side of my hips. We’ve moved to where the water is shallow enough, that it just barely grazes hips. He lowers his eyes, watching me as I touch him. It is ridiculously erotic, him watching me touch him.
He grabs my hand before I can take him, and he pulls me against his chest, and brings his mouth to my ear.
“Do you want me to fuck you here, or take you inside?” He asks. I only think for a split second before I hear myself answering.
“Inside.” I manage. Michael gives a short, terse nod and then he grabs me around the waist and climbs out of the pool, taking the steps off to the side. I squeal as he tosses me over his shoulder cave man style. In a few short seconds we are back inside the house. The air inside seems unnaturally cold, and I feel goose bumps form on my bare skin. Michael carries me down a hall, and I’m viewing everything upside down and from the perspective of his nicely formed ass. We make our way through a rather dark portion of the house and into what must be his bedroom. The shades are drawn, it is dark inside, though you can still see from the light coming in at the sides of the blinds. There is a huge king bed covered in pillows and blankets. Even though we are both wet, Michael sets me down on the bed and then he is crawling over me, covering me with his body. I push against him, suddenly needing to feel like I am somewhat in control. I push against his chest, and he eases up and flips onto his back easily. I climb on top of him, straddling his slim hips. His hands move to my ass, grabbing two handfuls and squeezing.
I move down so I am on his thighs, and I run my hands over the bulge of his erection. He’s wearing black boxer briefs and I can see almost everything. I barely hold on before pulling his wet boxers off his hips, moving so I can take them off his long legs. He hasn’t moved much. He’s lying in front of me like this perfectly sculpted Irish god, and I can barely think straight. My heart is racing, and for some crazy reason, I feel my mouth water. If there is hell, it’s where I’m going. I reach down, running my hand over him, taking him in my hands. He is hot and hard and impressive.
Michael grounds out a curse word, and then moves as if he is going to start ravishing me again. I put one hand against his stomach, stopping him.
“Let me.” I say softly. He stops moving, stops breathing, perhaps. He groans as I take him in my hands, and I feel a mix of power and lust rush through me. I pause wondering if there is any possible way to never forget a moment.
“Everything look okay?” He whispers into my ear, his voice teasing. I know that I’ve just been staring at him for the last few moments, but I can’t help it.
“It looked bigger on television.” I say with a grin, joking. Michael laughs good humouredly and then he is up off the bed, grabbing me by the shoulders and flipping me onto my back. I land softly amongst the plush bedding, and he quickly covers my body with his.
“You’ll pay for that.” He says with a grin.
“Mmm…make me pay.” I tease, my eyes widening. He shakes his head with a laugh, and then he reaches between us, touching me. I am still completely wet, and totally ready. He rubs against me, and I unravel against him. Michael moves, reaching over to his nightstand, and I make a little whining noise, grabbing at him when he leaves. He’s back in a second, rolling a condom down over his length. I watch him, and again get the feeling as if I’m starving, ravenous for this man.
He moves over top of me, grabs my hips and achingly rubs his cock against my folds, and toward my clit. I arch under him, my head pressing back into the bed.
“Fuck, come on.” I grind out, feeling a laugh caught in my throat. He chuckles and then leans down to kiss my neck. A second later, he pushes into me, and I think for a second that I may have blacked out. I can’t be held responsible for anything I do or say.
I grab onto Michael, my hips rising to meet his. He grinds into me, moving with the skill and precision of a man who knows what he is doing and has all the time in the world. I unwind around him, then tense back up, over and over as he thrusts into me. I dig my heels into the bed, pushing against him, resisting him though for the moment it is as if he is the only thing I will ever need. He growls into my ear, breathing hard as his arms bunch by my head. I grab onto his biceps, turning my head to the side and biting his arm as he makes it hard for me to remember my own name.
“Oh god,” I breathe as he lifts himself onto his arms, giving himself for leverage. He reaches down, grabbing my leg under my knee, and pulling it up toward my chest. He’s suddenly so deep inside me, and touching all the right nerves, that I see stars.
“Is that good?” He groans, reading my reaction. I watch as his torso moves against my thighs, watching the long, hard length of him move in and out of me.
“Oh fuck…yes.” I can barely say the words, and they come out breathy and disjointed. We move then, and he lifts me around the waist, and pulls me on top.
My hands come down on either side of his head, and we kiss, our mouths hurried and desperate. I roll my hips against his, and this time Michael is the one groaning. He grabs my hips, holding me steady for a few seconds. I sink deeper on him, and I sit up. His eyelids are heavy as he watches me, moving on top of him. He watches me like I’m some sort of show, and I don’t mind at all. I lean back, giving him a good view. His hands come up to my sides, and then brush over my breasts.
I lean forward, finding his mouth again and kissing him. Michael pushes his hips up to meet mine, and then he’s moving quickly, grabbing my hands and holding them behind my back. He holds me still with one hand around my waist, the other grabbing my wrists. He pushes up into me, fucking me hard. I fall against his chest, hardly moving, letting him take me. I can’t even describe the power of him, the way he pulses against me.
I can feel my orgasm climbing, reaching the ultimate height. I press my face into his chest and shoulder, not even bothering to hold back my cries and moans. I bite him, as he thrusts into me, and then he suddenly releases my arms, but not my hips. He wraps both arms around my waist, and holds me hard against him. I hold myself up on my arms, feeling the tips of my breasts brush against his chest, and then I am lost. He keeps moving as I orgasm, shaking around him, my legs giving out as my hands bunch into fists in the bedding by his head. I collapse against his chest and he slows down, his mouth against my neck.
“You are fucking delicious.” He growls into my ear, and then drives into me. I tighten around him, lifting my head and kissing him hard, pushing my tongue into his mouth.
Michael is groaning into my ear, and though his pace has slowed, he is still intensely focused on me. I can barely sit up, and he rolls us again so we are on our sides. He continues moving his hips, and I wrap one leg around him. He reaches forward, grasping my breast as we move together. I’m still shaking slightly, recovering from an earth shattering orgasm, and I can tell he is close. He’s rolling his hips fast and hard into mine, and I’m quivering with each thrust.
“Yes, yes…” I cry.
“You are so goddamn sexy.” He groans and then he suddenly moves away, sitting up, kneeling in front of me. I’m gasping, quivering, and sort of in some sort of lustful shock as I watch him pull the condom off with one quick movement. I move toward him, slinking across the bed as he takes himself in his hand, stroking powerfully. He watches me, his eyelids lowered, his eyes intense. The muscles across his chest and stomach tense, and without thinking or second guessing I come up onto my stomach and I take him in my mouth and hands. Michael bucks against me as I take the length of him into my wet mouth. He curses under his breath, and then pushes his hands gently into my messy hair.
I grab his thighs, taking him in my mouth, rolling my tongue over the plump head of his cock as he pulls in and out. He groans loudly, and then he grabs my shoulder, and I feel him start to shudder. I grab onto him, stroking the length of his shaft with my hand, and pressing the flat of my tongue against him as I feel him come into my mouth. He groans roughly, his hips jerking against me as he orgasms.
He few seconds later, he falls down onto the bed, dragging me against him as he does. He pulls me to his chest, wrapping those strong, agile arms around me. I nestle into the crook of his body, and Michael leans over, kissing me.
We are quiet for a few minutes, but to be honest I’m already wondering if he is ready for round 2. I run my hands over his chest, and down his stomach, then wrap my hands around his still mostly hard cock. He opens one eye, watching me with an amused look on his face.
“You’re insatiable.” He says with a laugh. I laugh into his chest and then run my hand up and down, teasing the length of him.
“Come on, Fassbender, don’t disappoint me now.” I joke. He opens his other eye and then growls, pushing me onto my back. He hovers over me, searching my face with those blue eyes.
“It’s too bad we waited til the last day working together to do this.” He murmurs. I laugh.
“That’s all your fault.”
“Mmm, well, let’s hope our paths cross again.” He reaches down, pressing a hand between my legs. I respond immediately.
“I have a feeling they will.” I grin and then let out and giggle as he starts kissing his way down my stomach, and then lower.
“There’s only one path I’m worried about for the moment.” He says with a groan, and then his head disappears between my thighs. My giggles are quickly replaced by moans and groans, and I wonder when it will be a good time to tell Michael that I already know I’ll be assisting on his next film that starts shooting in two weeks.
Maybe I won’t. Maybe I will just show up one day after work and ask him if I can get a ride.