“But Y/N, it’s my birthday!” Michael whined, gently stomping his foot.
I groaned loudly in response, not answering his repetitive question of; “can I please come in?” To be completely honest, I was extremely horny. All I wanted was him.
But the mist of the hot shower encased the room. Although the mirror was blurred, Michael still saw the shadow of my naked body through the limpid shower curtains. Michael stripped down, leaving a trail of clothes behind him. He entered the shower.
He gasped softly as the first droplets of water hit his chest. I could practically feel his gaze on my bare back, hair plastered to the nape of my neck. He wraps an arm around my waist, and pulls me back towards his body. My back meets his chest. I gasp softly to the skin on skin contact, and the feeling of his hard on against my butt.
His warm palms knead my breasts, squeezing lightly. His fingers continue on by encircling my nipples, teasing, tweaking, squeezing, but his fingers were literally magic.
I let a small moan get past my lips, and I can practically feel Michael’s smirk. He trailed a finger to pull a strand of hair away from my neck, and pressed a kiss there. His left hand trailed painfully slow towards my core.
A single finger traced the length of my clit, his skillful fingers working against me. He gently pinched my already swollen clit, before rubbing in small figure eights. His hot breath fanned over my neck, causing goosebumps to rise, even in the hot water.
His short, but skilled fingers pushed into me, feeling nothing but the wetness that had came from me. It had nothing to do with the water that encased us. His lips grazed my jaw, before hovering by my ear, a smirk on his face.
“Tell me who made you this wet, baby girl.” He whispered raspily.
“Y-you.” I choked out, feeling his fingers perfectly hitting my g-spot with each thrust of his fingers.