M—VERY mature at times
**one quick spanking in bed
Sometime after 6:30, I woke to use the restroom, and after stumbling back into the bedroom, I stripped off my dress and then worked on undressing Michael. His feet were still on the floor, so I easily took off his shoes, socks, and then pulling off his belt, I unfastened and unzipped his pants, tugging them down his legs. I slid off his underwear next, and unbuttoning his shirt, I carefully pulled it off one arm before lifting his other arm and slipping it from the shirt as well. I was exhausted by the time I finished. He was nothing but dead weight because he was, indeed, dead to the world passed out. Cuddling back up next to him, I fell right back to sleep.
I don’t think I even moved until I woke up shortly after 3:00 PM. Even my eyes ached. I had to bat them several times to get them to open. When I did, I was greeted by a most beautiful sight: Michael’s smile.
Title: The Client Always Gets What They Want
Link to the story on AO3: The Client Always Gets What They Want
M—in fact, VERY M. :-)
In no time, we were naked again on his bed. He lay on his side, facing me, and I lay on my back, my right leg over his waist, my right arm around him so that he rested his chin on my shoulder.
“Show me,” he whispered against my ear, his breath heavy, eager. “I want to watch. Show me what you do with your fingers when you think of me.”
I, of course, turned bright red, more from excitement than embarrassment.
“I will touch myself, too, if that eases your nerves. I’ve done this so often thinking of you,” he smiled, kissing my arm, my cheek.
Against the back of my thigh, I felt him, his hand moving, bumping against me. I moved my hand between my legs, and his eyes lowered, following each move of my fingers.
“Are you wet? Thinking about how close I am to you, how I am going to do whatever you ask?” he asked me before lowering his mouth to my breast.
I nodded, my fingers moving back and forth, faster over my clit and then down inside me.
“Outside and inside,” he commented while rubbing his cheek over my nipple. “Do you want to switch over…touch me while I touch you?”
Again, I nodded, but before I could move my hand to him, he lifted my fingers and licked my wetness from them. He then lifted his to my mouth to wet them before he slid them into me.
“Your fingers are…so thick, so long,” I panted and rocked against his hand. “I love them inside me, the way you move them.”
He smiled at my words, at my hand gripping his erection.
“Do you want me inside you now? My cock, not my fingers?” he whispered next to my ear.
I nodded, and as soon as he started to remove them from me, I flipped right over to my hands and knees.
“Yes…that’s what I love, eagerness. Eagerness to get what you want. And knowing my cock is what you want,” he explained and moved to his knees behind me. Michael rubbed his hands over my ass, squeezing it, rubbing them down my thighs, between them. “Put your chest against the bed, darling.”
As I did, he lowered his mouth between them as well, licking me. Involuntarily, my legs widened for him, and he groaned his approval, showing it to me by sucking my clit until I was gripping the bed, rocking against his face, cumming from his tongue and lips.
“Oh, you certainly do want my cock,” he mumbled, kissing over my ass and then across my back as he pulled me back up to the support of my arms.
“OH, Michael, please…please give it to me. Just like this, from behind me. I cum so hard this way,” I explained, biting my bottom lip and looking back at him.
After I again opened my knees wider for him, he slowly slid his thick cock inside me. He moved slowly at first, his body barely moving at all. His one hand lifted from gripping my waist to playing in my hair.
“Pull it,” I begged and rolled my hips. “Move a bit faster. Deeper.”
Wrapping my hair all around his hand, he tugged lightly. “Harder?” he asked, pulling just a bit more.
“Yes…cock, too,” I directed from in front of him.
“Good, girl,” he mumbled, sucking in his breath. “Tell me just what to do, just…what you like.”
His other hand lifted to my shoulder for support, and I gasped as he lifted deeper inside me.
“Too much?” he paused all movements.
“OHMYGODNO…don’t stop,” I begged.
He continued then just as I directed, moving slower, faster, anything I asked. Many minutes later as my body tensed, his followed suit, and just as I came, he did as well.
Michael got up to smoke, and when he returned (after sweetly washing his hands, brushing his teeth, he cuddled up beside me. And we talked. And talked. Hours passed, and the room began to darken before he asked me if I were ready to eat again. I slipped on one of his t-shirts over my pajama pants I brought from my flat, and he slipped on pajama pants, too. He did not bother with a shirt. Downstairs, he talked as he searched through his fridge for food.
“Ah! I do have eggs,” he laughed. “Sound ok?”
Smiling, I nodded again.
He winked and broke the eggs into a bowl. “So, tell me things…”
I laughed. “Things…like…”
“Crazy things you have done,” he answered, reaching into the cabinet for a skillet.
I watched him for a minute while I thought. “With…what, friends? Or in bed?”
“Or in bed with friends,” he added with another wink.
Giggling, I climbed up on one of the bar stools. “Hmmm. Well, I…once I accepted a dare to streak across the front lawn of my college campus,” I told him.
His eyes widened. “Really now? Day or night?”
“Noon on a Tuesday,” I answered smugly.
“Shit, that was brave,” he laughed and nodded his admiration. “What else?”
Biting my thumb, I thought again. “My best friend in eleventh grade dated the projectionist at a local theater so we could sneak in and see movies for free.”
A look of shock on his face, Michael gasped. “YOU are a REBEL…”
I giggled and shrugged my shoulders. “I…eh…never mind.”
“What? Tell me,” he stopped right in the middle of the kitchen.
“I…well, one weekend when my parents went away, I smoked pot and drank all weekend with that same friend. I was sick for a week, and my mom NEVER knew…”
“NOW, we are talking,” he laughed and reached over for a high five. “I knew you were a woman after my own heart. So what do you like to drink?”
“Jack and Coke,” I answered accepting a cup of tea when he handed one to me.
He stood there, mouth ajar. “Are you shitting me?”
I shook my head and walked over to the fridge for creamer.
“Jack and Coke is a BADASS drink for a woman your size…”
Standing back upright after finding it on the third shelf, I shrugged my shoulders again. “Yours? What do you drink?”
Michael paused before answering, “It might be easier to say what I don’t drink. I…well, actually, I don’t think I have met a liquor I didn’t like. Wait. Peppermint Schnapps. That stuff is shit. My favorites? I love Guinness. I love single malt whiskey, vodka, tequila. Rum is…meh. Not something I choose.”
“Dogs…or cats?” he asked, changing topics.
“Dogs, definitely. I wish I could have one here, but it’s just not the right thing to do with only a few years here, probably,” I sighed. “I love on and play with our neighbor’s every chance I get.”
Cutting up fruit, he nodded his understanding. “I’m just gone way too much with filming and press and all. Sucks. Favorite ethnic food?”
“Anything you’ve ever done that you wish you could undo?” he asked as he put bread in the oven to toast.
I swallowed hard. I had to. If I didn’t, it would keep gnawing at me. “Well…yes…I…think I might have mislead you about something.”
He stopped in the middle of the kitchen, looked at me, and blinked.
I wanted to run away, to vomit. “It’s about…Joe.”
“Joe?” he asked, licking butter that dripped down his thumb.
“The guy I was seeing…”
He just stood there again.
“I inadvertently mislead you, I fear. I said that I had only been dating him briefly. That’s not really the truth…I have no idea why I said that…”
He did not move; he did not blink. I don’t think he was even breathing.
“Actually, I had been seeing him for three years when I came over. But…I haven’t heard from him in six months; I haven’t called him either, so…”
Michael walked over and kissed me. “You didn’t have to clear that up, but…thank you for thinking enough of me to do so. I appreciate that. My relationships are all in the paper, and that sucks. It will suck for you, too, as soon as people get shots of you. Probably already did at the restaurant today. Does that…bother you? Scare you?”
“No,” I answered almost immediately after I chewed the piece of pineapple he handed me.
Leaning down, he kissed me again. “Good…now, grab a plate.”
We continued talking while we ate, and not long after we finished, Michael sat back in his chair and said, “Know what we should do? WE should go out tonight. Want to? To a club?”
I lifted my eyebrows and picked up the dishes for us; he stopped me before, but I was going to help. “Now, THAT sounds fun.”
“Drinking, dancing?” he asked as I carried them into the kitchen.
“Perfect!” I called back. “But…and I hate to ask this again…I will have to go home. I didn’t bring a dress and heels. I didn’t even THINK about needing anything stylish like that.”
Michael had his cell phone in his hand when I returned and collapsed by him on the sofa. “No worries. I’m going to use a car service; the driver can take us there first.”
I looked at him uncertainly. “You DO know it will take me a bit to get ready.”
He smiled and brushed my hair back behind my ear. “Do you want me to take you home first and then pick you up for the club?”
Hesitantly, I nodded. In NO way did I want to leave his side, but it was a much more realistic plan. “Do you mind? I can grab a taxi if it is easier…”
“It is no problem at all. Let’s get dressed, and I will take you and then pick you up at what…11:00? Does that work?”
No, it didn’t work. I did not want to lose hours from the time I had with him. “Wait. Aren’t there…stores right around the corner from here? Dress shops and the like?” I asked, sitting up with the start of an even better solution.
“Well, I will just go buy a dress and shoes!” I suggested with a smile.
He smiled even wider. “LOVELY idea. Want to go alone? Or do you want company?”
“Come show me what you want to see on me,” I grinned as I began to walk up the stairs to his bedroom.
“Nothing…that’s what I want to see on you. Not ONE bloody thing,” he laughed, tagging along behind me so he could dress, too.
Less than two blocks down the road, we found the perfect store.
And as I looked through the aisles of dresses, Michael walked behind me, silent, just watching me shop. “Have you seen anything that you like?” I asked over my shoulder with a smile.
He raised his eyebrows. “I have seen one or two… want me to show you?”
While I flipped through a few near me, he walked away and then returned, one in hand. “This…this is a dress,” he smiled, handing it over. “Is that the right size?”
Checking the tag, I smiled. “Perfect…”
“Try it on for me?”
Holding the dress out at arm’s length, my eyes widened. “Um. Woah. It is REALLY short.”
“Ummm…” I bit the inside of my lip.
Michael played with my hair and kissed my forehead. “Just try it on? If you don’t like it, we will put it back on the hanger and never mention it again.”
“Oooooook,” I hesitantly agreed.
I walked over to the salesgirl to find a dressing room. Michael followed closely behind me.
When I saw my reflection and then saw the look in Michael’s eyes, I knew he was right: it was THE dress for that night. And when the salesgirl held up THE perfect shoes, I knew I was set.
But Michael slid one more item up on the counter: a pair of very sexy black panties. “That’s all I want you wearing under the dress…just those black panties,” he whispered in my ear, reaching around me to hand his credit card to her.
"No no no, I’m paying," I shook my head and tried to reach the card, but his arms were much too long.
"My treat now, your treat later," he whispered again, causing my heart to sink right to my feet.
Holding hands as we walked back down the street, he asked me more than once if I were ok with the dress. He repeated that he wanted me to be comfortable, to have fun. I had no doubt that I would.
Back at his house, I grabbed my things to shower in the downstairs bathroom so that he could shower and dress upstairs. It worked out well as we both were on our own schedule. While I was still putting on makeup, I could hear Michael in the kitchen fixing himself a drink. I did not make myself go slowly, but I certainly enjoyed knowing he was waiting on me. And I wanted the smoky makeup, my red lips to be perfect. Checking the mirror twice before walking out, I took a deep breath and turned out the light.
His back was to me, and just that view snatched away the air from my lungs. His hand in his pocket, he was looking out the window, and all I could do was stare up and down his body. I believed the gray suit was perfection on him. When he turned, I knew it was.
He stared at me; I stared at him. It was if we were seeing each other for the very first time.
“Hi,” I said finally, unhurriedly walking toward him, allowing him to see each movement of my legs.
“Hi,” he whispered back with a crooked smile. Shaking his head, he added, “You… look… painfully beautiful.”
“Painfully?” I laughed and then covered my mouth because I had.
“Painfully, yes. PAINFUL because I can’t have you. I can’t walk you right over to that sofa and fuck you until you can’t walk. I can’t hold the sides of your beautiful face while you suck me. I can’t put my face under the hem of your skirt and lick you through those lacy panties. Yes… painful,” he explained as he played with a piece of my hair.
My heart thumped in my chest at his words. “Well…not yet, anyway,” I smirked, reaching up to his tie, tugging at the knot he had so carefully tied, loosening the sides, and pulling it off him before walking toward the door when the bell rang. “Car’s here,” I called over my shoulder and turned the doorknob. By the time I had it open, he was behind me, pressing against my exposed thigh. And then I knew for certain the type of fun he had in mind.
The club was mayhem when we arrived. Colored, pulsing lights were flashing; music was blaring; people were impatiently queuing for nearly a block to try their best to get inside. As soon as the car pulled up, Michael stepped out, opened my door, and we walked right up to the doorman who was waiting with wide-open arms. “Mr. Fassbender!” he bellowed as he closed them around Michael’s body. “Wonderful as always to see you.” Smiling and nodding at me, he unlatched the velvet rope, and we stepped right through.
Inside, Michael spoke to, hugged, and patted quite a few people, including the bar owner, while we made our way toward the back of the club and the VIP rooms located there. More than once, people stepped between us, but even with Michael’s long legs and with the high heels on my feet, I somehow kept him in sight. Stepping into one of those rooms, he leaned down to the bar girl, gripped her arms, a tip in one of his hands, and said, his voice straining above the music, “A bottle of Jack and keep the soda coming.” She nodded, and as she walked away, Michael extended his arm so I would take his hand.
With that, he led me to the crowded dance floor where we actually had to slide between bodies to find a place. It was insane. I had never been to a club THAT packed, that frenzied. And somehow, there in the middle of the madness, Michael and I danced and danced and danced. We walked back and forth to the room to drink and so he could smoke, and soon after, we would wind our way back to the floor. The more he drank, the sexier he danced. Normally a very touchy-feely person anyway, he quickly became more of one, lifting my arms around his neck, rubbing his hands up and down any exposed skin of mine at all: my back, my arms, the sides of my thighs, the backs of them. Grinding against my body, he stared into my eyes and leaned down to kiss me… and I mean, really kiss me…more than once.
By the fourth time we escaped to the side room, to what equaled four large, potent drinks for me, I was well on my way to being drunk. So of course, I drank another. “Holy shit, I am having a BLAST,” I announced and then giggled at my slur.
Michael nodded, lit a cigarette and blew the smoke away from me. “Good,” he smiled, his eyes heavy from the alcohol. “Have I told you how beautiful you are, Emma?”
I felt myself blush.
Walking to me, he gripped my shoulders and looked into my eyes. “You are one of the most beautiful women I have ever met. EVER. And I have fucked a LOT of women.” Pausing when his words hit him, he laughed so hard that he had to hold his side. “I did not mean that. Let me try again. And I have MET a LOT of women. I have. And you are so beautiful. I could just sit and stare at you all day. Well, while I was resting from ravaging you, of course.” Michael picked up his sixth and sipped. Having watched him pour, I knew how strong each of his drinks had been, too, and they were MUCH, much stronger than mine. “I…I gotta go to…you know…piss,” he laughed again. “I will be…don’t go anywhere…”
I promised I wouldn’t.
Taking the chance to text Rachel, I filled her in on everything, including the dress, the panties, and the club. She wanted to see, so I took a quick shot of the crowd and then a selfie, sending them both before Michael walked back into the room.
“Here, I want a picture,” I laughed, somewhat stumbling over furniture between us.
Michael nodded, leaning in from behind me. In the first one, his eyes were closed, but he had THE most precious, HUGE smile on his face. In the second attempt, he buried his face in my hair so that I could not see him at all. In the third one, just before I clicked the button, he stuck out his tongue and licked up my cheek.
“MICHAEL FASSBENDER!” I screamed and stomped my foot. “I want a good picture of us BOTH looking super sexy dance clubbing hot.”
He sat down on the sofa then, pulling me onto his lap. Snuggling behind me, he held up the camera, making sure, first, that everything was perfect. My head rested on his chest, and we both smiled in unison. It was, by far, one of the most romantic pictures I had ever taken. And I instantly treasured it. In fact, I immediately sent posted the picture right to my Twitter account JUST in case it somehow was deleted in my drunken stupor.
When I, still on his lap, slipped my phone back in my purse and smiled up at him, he held my face and kissed me. And that was it: the beginning of one of the hottest make-out sessions I had EVER had in public. Michael’s hand went straight between my thighs, and his fingers tickled there, lifting slightly higher with each pass until they reached the edge of the panties he had chosen for me. Tracing along the lace, he allowed one to slip under and find my wetness. There, it slipped inside me just as his tongue slipped inside my mouth.
“Oh, god, that feels amazing,” I gasped when I tilted my head back and he added another. Pressing against his lap, rocking my hips, I held his hand in place so he dared not move it.
He pushed my hair back with his mouth. “OhEmma … Iwanttomakeyoucum,” he whispered against my ear, licking my neck, sucking it as his fingers moved in and out of me. I could feel his erection under my ass, his fingers showing me his urgency as well.
Pulling down the strap of my dress with his other hand, he cupped one and then my other breast. All the while, beside my ear, he panted, told me again how beautiful I was, how sexy, how amazingly wet and tight I was around his fingers. As my body shuddered, he also whispered that he could not wait to get back to his house for more.
But we weren’t finished dancing yet.
Minutes later, we were back on the dance floor, but all I could think of was how he made me feel, how much I wanted what he pressed against my thigh, my ass.
Only when the club closed did we get his coat and head out to meet the driver. Michael could hardly stand, and I, especially on my heels, was no better. Three times he tried to light a cigarette, but he couldn’t meet the flame. Taking the lighter, I somehow steadied it for him, and he finally succeeded at his task.
Pulling in the smoke deeply, he exhaled and pulled me to his side; looping my arms around his waist, I leaned against him as he leaned against me. Luckily, George did not take much longer. I think I must have blacked out a bit because I don’t remember the drive home. I closed my eyes for one second, and the next, Michael was rolling out of the door, nearly plopping right out on his drive way. We did not have much more luck walking up to the house and certainly not up the stairs.
Once inside his room, Michael collapsed on the floor. I pulled off my shoes, throwing them aside as I crawled to him. “You ok? Hey, Michael. You ok?” I asked, tugging at his jacket.
That’s when he started giggling. And that, of course, started me giggling.
“Yeh,” he answered finally. “I’m ok, baby…I’m fine…” Pushing himself up, he hauled himself up on the bed and lay there on his back, his feet still on the floor. “I’m ready.”
Clumsily I lifted to the side and stood there over him, my hands pressing on either side of his body. “Ready for what, Michael?”
He motioned for me to come up there with him, and I crawled up, resting on my knees over his waist. He motioned for me to rise higher, and when I did, pulled me over his face, doing exactly what he had said earlier in the evening: he had his face under my dress. Softly, he kissed over the front of my panties, accomplishing that part of his plan as well.
“That feels…SO good,” I whispered and pressed against his mouth. “Let me, let me…” I mumbled, turning then so I faced down his legs. I rubbed his thighs and then reached between them, unzipping his fly. “Oh, I want that…I want THAT.” Moving just a bit farther, I licked the precum off the tip, and lowering my mouth down him, I felt him moan his approval between my legs.
By the time I stood up to lose my panties, my jaw ached from his girth. Shimming them down my legs, I crawled right back up his legs.
“I want that,” I said again, smiling as he pushed up on his elbows.
“It’s all yours, baby…have it,” he slurred, his head falling back on his shoulders as I did.
Slowly, I took him into me, my hips rocking me down him inch by inch. And I didn’t say a word. I just took all I could.
Michael reached to pull down one side of the top of my dress, exposing my breast. His hand lifted to caress it, and soon, he rose up, sitting on the side of the bed. His hands moved to my ass then, clutching it, pulling me faster against him.
“OH…OHHHH,” I screamed, feeling myself quickly approaching orgasm from his deep, steady thrusts.My nails dug through his shirt and into his shoulders, his biceps.
“You’re going to make me cum,” he smiled under me. “Do you want me…to cum…do you want me to? Deep…deep inside you? So tight around me, baby. Want me to do that?”
“OHYESIWANTYOUTO…I want to make you cum like you make me…” I gasped, my body shaking, jerking over his. “OHGODTHAT …RIGHT…RIGHTTHERE!”
Michael pressed his forehead between my breasts, and after I lifted and lowered a few more times, he grunted through his release. Exhausted, we collapsed together on his bed, still dressed but too drunk and too spent to care.
I would think that posting the link would be fine but the main mod is on holiday so let me check with her.
When I opened my eyes again, it was shortly after 1:00 PM; my entire body ached. And I was alone. I could hear the water in the bathroom, so I knew Michael was in the shower, and I also knew that I desperately need to take one as well. Stretching, I stood and padded my way in there with him. His back was to the door, so I quietly stepped in and kissed across his shoulder blades.
His body jerked in surprise at my touch as he turned to look at me. “Good morning,” he smiled, leaning down for a kiss. “Did I wake you?”
I shook my head. “Just woke up a minute ago. Have you been awake long?”
Michael shifted so I was under the water. I wet my hair and then extended my hand when he held up the shampoo bottle. “No,” he said, capping it again and setting it down. “Not even fifteen minutes.” I absolutely loved to have my hair washed, even by my stylist, so feeling Michael’s hands was certainly a pleasure. After, he lathered his hands and ran them over my chest and back. I was not going to be left out of the cleaning festivities. I did the same to his body.
I wake up stretching, my limbs protested loudly. I open my eyes to be greeted by an unfamiliar room; I smell eggs and toast wafting from the kitchen. I’m in Michael Fassbender’s flat, while Michael Fassbender cooks breakfast wearing nothing but boxers.
“Hi.” I say rigidly. I can’t believe this is happening.
“Morning Gabi- girl. Why’d you sleep out here last night? There was plenty of room in the bed, you know. Plenty.”
“Uh, yeah. No thank you.” I reply, leaning on the kitchen door frame.
He grins up at me, cheekily. Then, he sweeps breakfast off the stove and slaps it down on plates sitting on his island, beckoning me with a single crooked finger.
I’ll be away until April 8th. Desi will be keeping an eye on the blog for me until I return since I’m not sure how much time I’ll be able to spend online.
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M—QUITE Mature this time
Michael exhaled deeply and smiled at me. “Sorry, I made a BIT of a mess,” he grinned shyly. “I’m…going to get a towel. Right back.”
Unabashedly, I lusted after him as he walked around the room completely, gloriously naked.
Returning, he gently wiped himself from body, my palm, my wrist. Taking a step or two toward his bathroom again, he tossed the towel into the room. He then grabbed sweatpants and a tshirt from a drawer and dressed, much to my great disappointment. When he turned, he laughed as I lay there, propped up on my elbows, watching every single thing he did.
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