Never say to pineappletiems "LOL What if..." because she will demand that you write it, whether you intended to or not. She's sneaky. But I love her. xD
She gives a yelp when she feels the door handle pressing painfully into her back and his hands on either side of her waist, keeping her boxed in. "Wait, ow, Michael..."
He grunts something into her shoulder, his fingers blindly searching for the zipper to her skirt.
He breathes her name and slips his hands under her shirt, her heated skin smooth under his touch.
"No, Mi-" She grunts in frustration when he presses up against her, her back arching uncomfortably to avoid the handle. She lays her hands flat against his chest and pushes him away. She sees the confusion and anger and fear flash across his face; after all, he doesn't really like when she takes initiative.
She smirks, cocks her head to the side and puts one hand in the center of his chest, pushing him gently back to her bed. Her skirt falls to the ground and she steps out of it, watching as his eyes darken even more. She loves that she can still make that happen, that she can still turn a guy on with minimal effort.
His knees hit the comforter and he falls back, bouncing slightly on the mattress. He props himself up on his elbows as she crawls over to him, her fingers nimbly unbuttoning his shirt, laying it out to the side. She can make out the muscle definition under his white vest: his abs, his pecs and she remembers the fireman she dated in college. How he knew how to touch her, how to kiss her, how to make her scream at his will.
She swallows down a dry throat, a shudder running down her spine as a particular session comes to mind, but when she's suddenly flipped over, she's back in the present.
Michael covers her mouth with his, his tongue darting in and out, swirling against hers. He pushes her shirt up and pulls it from her, kissing down her jaw, her neck, her breasts.
She gasps when he licks her nipple through the lace of her bra, his hand squeezing the other.
Her stomach quivers under his lips as he kisses, nips, licks his way down her body. Her breath is shallow and quick when he drags her underwear over her legs, stroking his hands over the soft skin on his way back up.
She closes her eyes tightly, waiting for the moment he touches her, licks her. God, she can't wait.
"Ignore it," he murmurs against her thigh, the vibration moving straight to her to her center.
"...What?" she breathes, the ringing phone only now penetrating her consciousness. "Oh. Yeah."
He smirks as he leaves wet kisses up her thigh, trailing his tongue over her skin and up her stomach.
She could almost scream when he moves away, completely bypassing the area where she wants to feel him more than anything. She bunches the bed covers between her fingers as she cries out, "Shit!"
Michael looks up at her.
"Er... that damn phone!" she says in a panic. Michael had never gone down on her before, just danced around the region and made her ache almost painfully. She had given him blow jobs in the past, hoping that it might make him want to reciprocate, but still nothing.
"Ignore it," he says again, lowering his head back to her breast.
She flips them over and straddles his waist as she smiles. "It won't take two minutes." She picks up the receiver from the shelf by the headboard and pulls it to her ear. "Hello?"
"Foster," answers Cal's gruff voice, and she fights the instant heat that runs through her body. "Sorry to call you at home, but you weren't answering your cell."
"No," she swallows. "No problem, what's up?" She shakes her head at her dismal attempt to keep her voice light.
"The Andrews file, I can't find it."
She swallows a gasp as Michael runs his fingers down her body, letting one find her clit.
"Oh God. I mean, erm, I couldn't save it properly," her eyes close tightly, her hips beginning to sway in the same rhythm as his finger. "I, er, I had to save it on the-the S drive."
"S drive... ah, got it. I'll phone the tech guys tomorrow and get them to take a look at the computers. Loker's been complaining about... something or other too."
She can feel the tingles of her orgasm rising through her thighs, making her stomach clench in beats when his finger circles just there. "Mmhmm! Good idea. I've got to go," she says quickly, blindly slamming the phone back into the dock. "You were enjoying that," her voice rasps.
"A little bit, yeah," Michael smirks. "Looks like you were, too."
She groans, throwing her head back when he presses deeply onto the small mound. She shuffles down his body, moving her ass so she can feel him right there. He grunts her name as he grabs hold of her hips with both hands and lowers her on to him.
Her tongue darts out, her teeth bringing her lower lip into her mouth and biting down.
"God..." she moans, her hair falling over her shoulder as she leans forward. She lifts up and crushes back down on his cock, the friction sending warmth straight to her fingertips.
They find a rhythm, the speed quickening, the heat intensifying. "Harder," she breathes, his hands massaging her breasts.
He lifts his hips off the bed, thrusting up into her with a force that makes her whimper. He moves one hand to the bed, supporting himself while the other travels back to her clit, making her cry out at the unexpected contact.
So close, so close.
His fingers move in little circles across the bud and God she's almost there, almost there.
He keeps brushing over a particularly sensitive spot, so she covers his hand with hers and guides him as she whispers lower, her voice deep and husky.
"Oh God, there!" Her eyes snap open, the tension almost unbearable as she rides him and his fingers to her orgasm. Almost...so close...
She focuses on the phone on the shelf, losing all of her breath when she notices that the receiver isn't anywhere close to being on the dock. The line could still be open - someone could be listening right now. Her orgasm hits, and she screams one thing: "Cal!"