"How do you know if we will work out again?" I ask, forcing myself to remain strong.

His almond eyes seemingly glisten before he takes another step closer. Even in the muted light of the moon, I can see the love he's trying to show me.

The love that is only for me.

"That's the beauty of it... We don't know. That doesn't mean we don't try." He reasons, lifting one palm to cup my jaw.

"What if I hurt you, what if you hurt me?" I whisper shakily, subsequently molding my jaw into his warm palm.

"Then we'll keep trying... Just say what you've been trying to deny Jesse. I'm not leaving until you do." He whispers, his voice and breath dangerously close.

"I'm scared..." I admit, drawing in a sharp breath once his lips are on mine.

The answer, right there. I can't deny and I can't pretend any longer. I'm not afraid, worried maybe, but never afraid. I'm sure Michael and I will find a moment or two where we just can't stand each other. I'm sure we'll argue and bicker like children, but I know that we won't stop loving each other. I know we won't give up.

We can't give up.

At one point, I would have never thought I would be here. I would've never imagined myself in this place in my life. I wanted something different of course, that was the original plan-right? But plans don't always follow through, but doesn't mean that these plans will be doomed to vain-right?

The night I took that man back, was the very night I had an epiphany. Of course I was trained to be a starlet. My father's soul desire for me was to have everything my mother threw away. And although my career is hanging by a thread, I felt that-in that moment with Michael-I found the one thing I knew that both my mother and father wanted, love and happiness.

So when the question arises-as I know it will-I will tell whomever it may concern that this little dancer still twirls and sashays to her own beat; a very happy beat. I'm content with my life and anxious for the future-finally.

"Mmm...Smells good in here..." He lulls, his movements slow as he enters the corner kitchen.

Today is one of those days that I woke up and felt on top of the world. It could be that in less than a month I will be on a full fledge path to wedding rings and vows. It could be that I'm nearly five months pregnant. Whatever the verdict for my elation is, it has definitely set a blockade against any stresses of the day; I like it.

"Well, I thought about us not actually eating what you request to be in a fridge each and every time we check into a new hotel..." I direct, adding nutmeg to my home-made, blueberry wheat pancakes."And decided to play nice and whip us up something."

I'm not much of a kitchen expert nor a cooking expert for that matter, but I have learned a thing or two about the trade. I think most of my influence came from witnessing my dad slave over such simple meals like chicken-alfredo or even pre-mixed waffles; his shortcomings of those cuisines pushed (forced) me to learn for his benefit and most importantly mine. I also give credit to Misses Jackson herself.

"You have feed my boy. He may not like 'Soul food' anymore, but he needs some nutrition. That darn processed food ain't nothing like a nice meal from the heart."

I initially laughed off her comment, but when her stiff smile remained, I quickly gulped down my amusement and nodded in agreement. I even told Michael about that encounter, in which he burst into wild cackles, claiming that she was just "Kidding" and "Don't take it to heart"; she wasn't kidding.

Therefore, by the drive of this harmonious aura of mine, I woke up fairly early this morning and decided to make use of the fresh and organic ingredients provided in the modernized corner kitchen of our suite.

"Well my dear, everything smells good so far. I just hope my stomach agrees when I taste it..." He teases, his lips somehow finding a spot on my neck to nibble on.

I playfully shrug him off before his arms could link around my waist. This man can't make toast, without setting off the smoke alarm, but has the audacity to chastise and ridicule my cooking skills; unacceptable.

"What?" He chuckles, trying again; his lengthy arms finding their comforting place around my waist. "You know I love when you cook."

Rolling my eyes playfully, I continue my pancake-making venture, ignoring the low mumbles coming from the risqué man behind me. I swear Michael's libido is higher than mine. I've been meaning to ask him about that, as I see it is important that we voice our concerns, I've just been a bit hesitant. I don't even know how to approach him with such a question.

"What's on your mind, girl? You spaced out a bit there..." Michael interrupts my labyrinthine thoughts; sticking his index finger into my batter.

This man has gone mad.

"Michael, seriously?!" I groan, snatching the bowl of batter from his side of the counter.

He shrugs like a kinder before licking his lips in satisfaction. I swear sometimes I feel like I'm dealing with a child, rather than a thirty-five year old man.

Lord, help me.

"I'm sorry, but that is some good ass batter, mama." He moans, wiping his hands on a paper towel.

The lack of amusement must have finally registered, as soon as his eyes met mine; he frowned and mumbled a low "sorry". Of course this caused me to frown as well. I don't want to argue with Michael. We are a few steps closer to our wedding and we've been frustrated enough; there's no need to add arson to a diminishing flame.

"I'm sorry, baby. I-"

"Tell me what's going on. You were just happy." He sighs, turning to lean his back against the counter.

I tuck in my lips and inhale deeply. I don't know how to present a concern without having us both walk away in frustration. I want him to be able to voice his needs freely, and I should be able to do the same. But, that has been my biggest problem; trying to meet halfway in the communication category.

"I want to talk." I exhale, daring myself to meet his gaze.

He nods then glances to the surrounding walls before exhaling heavily as well.

"We have an entire hour before Nutty wakes up. I'm all ears."

With that, I nod and take another moment to inhale and exhale as I pleased before mirroring him; with my hands crossed over my chest-here goes nothing.

"I'm going to be very blunt with you Michael. Okay?"

"I think that's best." He simply smiles.

"Are you? Um... Am I? Shit." I sigh out in frustration.

Michael raises a highly amused eyebrow, obviously enjoying my stumbling and mumbling. Michael isn't the bluntest person in the world, but he has been a hell of a lot better at expressing himself than I have lately.

"Babygirl-"

"Why are you always... horny? I mean your drive is way worse than mine when I was pregnant with Noah. Am I not understanding something here? Or am I not doing something? Do you want more? Mich-"

"Woah, Woah, slow down, mama. Where is this coming from?"

I shrug my shoulders halfheartedly. I may be being over analytical, but aren't all women are? I want my family happy, I want my partner happy; so if I'm not doing something or enough of something, I want to fix it.

"Thailand and Israel, you were pretty excited in more ways than one. Your suggestion about me wearing leather? Michael if those aren't signs of a man wanting more... Do explain what all of that means." I stress, uncrossing my arms from over my chest, only to cross them again a second later.

For a silent moment, his eyebrows lower in confusion. When that moment surpasses his need to contemplate, he glances at me with his infamous, mischievous smirk. As much as I want to know what he is thinking as of this moment, I want him to take this just as seriously as I am; these "problems" need to be solved-now.

"My turn to be blunt..." He lulls, lifting himself away from the counter; his eyes prying over mine as he approaches slowly. "I have a terrible, terrible addiction. It's like an itch that needs to be scratched..." He continues, finally making his way in front of me.

"Michael... I'm-"

His index finger wags itself teasingly, silencing my sentence all together. His eyes remain on mine, although I'm sure in between my suddenly nervous blinking, those intensified almonds flickered elsewhere. I swear this man never ceases to make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up; it's safe to say I'm pleasantly-anxiously, anticipating his next move.

"I have this woman, that triggers this addiction. I try to be sane about it... but I want it, I need it. I just have to wait until she's willing to give me that dose." He entices, licking his lips in compensation. "But she's shy about it... All I'm trying to do is bring that out of her so I can feed this addiction. Is that so bad, mama?"

I shake my head, no profusely. That isn't bad, not at all. The man isn't a teenager with testosterone that fens on sensual pleasure, he's just a simple man trying to persuade his partner to come out of her corner; I think I'm ready for that.

"So what can I do?" I nearly whisper.

"You tell me. I'm not trying to control anything here; I just want you to use that pretty little voice of yours. You know I aim to please, but I can't please without a proper aim." He smirks, as if his sentence was the answer to a scientific breakthrough.

I want to give him "aim", but I don't know how. Although this topic of conversation was initially brought upon by my accidental misconstruing of Michael's sensual hints, I know this applies to more than our intimate life. I've always held back, I don't know why.

I always took it as me having the comfort of just going with everything and hoping that my opinion is thought of in the process. I've done this for years, and I guess it has become a habit; a habit Michael is apparently adamant about breaking.

"I want you to please you... I want you-"

"Forget about 'pleasing' me for a second. What does Jesse want?" He encourages, reaching out to un-cross my arms. "What are her needs? She's in control, not Michael."

Point taken.

"She needs to feel complete." I quickly reply, biting down my lip in contemplation.

"In what ways?"

"Physically and mentally" I admit, my eyes slipping away from his gaze.

One of his hands finds my chin and gently guides me back to him. A supportive smile flashes before it diminishes just a quickly. I understand how difficult it must be to try and teach a thirty-two year old woman how to act her age. I want to be as strong and sexy as he often times describes me as, but I simply don't know how. I know it frustrates him, because it frustrates me.

So here I am, forcing myself to not cower away from this man's gaze. As intensified as it might be, I know it's all rooted from encouragement and passion.

"Tell me, right now... what do you want me to do for you? I don't care if it's physical or verbal. Tell me how to please you." He stresses, his hand falling from my chin.

"I want you to take control-"

"I can't do that for you, babygirl. If you want something done, you have to tell me how to do it."

With that, a heavy sigh is released and my conscience screams for me to take his words for the wise. My own conscience has become a bigger pain with this problem. My conscience knows he's right, now I'm left in a corner to believe as well; Dammit Michael.

This "therapeutic" session has taken a whole new road. He's asking for a lot, and I'm trying to process it all.

Seemingly noticing my frustration, Michael's smirk returns and he licks his lips one last time before making another attempt to coax me.

"Here, I'll go first..." He begins, stepping dangerously close to me; leaning into my ear as he balances each hand on either side of my waist. "If I had the chance, I'd have you on this counter, kissing up these caramel legs of yours. I'd have your little behind begging for mercy while I take my precious little time feasting, like it's my last meal. I wouldn't give in though, because I love hearing those little cries. And you want to know what else I'd like... I'd like if you'd show me a few of your lollipop tricks, taking your slow-"

"Tum-tum!" A little voice whines, emerging from the corner of the kitchens entrance.

Michael growls the inaudible in my ear, leaving a burning kiss on my neck before detaching himself completely. He turns around to the obviously hungry toddler and proceeds to greet and coo at him as if he wasn't mentally blueprinting his dirty desires. Meanwhile, I remain frozen, enchanted by his bluntness and to be quite honest; incredibly horny.

But instead of sulking about my highly aroused imagination, I pose a brave face and turn around to fulfill the request of my darling little boy. Not saying this will be easy, not with Michael giving me "the look" every time I turn back to glance at the two interacting.

Lord, help me.
_________________

"So you called me just to ask me about pleasing your fiancé?" He reiterates, the amusement of his voice clearly hinted in his sentence.

I'm desperate.

Since Michael's and I little exchange this morning, I have been terrorizing myself with ways I could counter. I mean the man left me high and, well, ready; that's not resonating well with me. I know it was innocently done, but with him giving me these lascivious glances and even going as far as gesturing a few things, he has left me with no other choice other than to deem his earlier words as anything but innocent.

Therefore, I called a friend with a similar brain; Gabriel Douglas. Yes, he is a man that prefers both sexes, but nonetheless he is still very much so a man. With that being stated, he was the first name that came to mind as an aid for my problem; so far he hasn't done much "aiding".

"No. I just, God Gabriel if you're going to be an asshole, I'm hanging up." I huff into the telephone, glaring at the receiver as if it could project my agitation for me.

I'm met with unmoved chuckles as he nullifies my threat completely. He knows I need him and has clearly taken advantage of that acknowledgement.

"Jesse, Jesse, Jesse... You crack me up little one, already acting like a damn bridezilla. Cursing while speaking the good Lords name; shameful." He chortles, releasing an exasperated sigh before continuing. "I'll help you be the vixen for that sexy beast of yours. All you'll need is a gift card to Victoria Secret and a nice trip to Rick's Toybox!"

I face palm myself.

Why did I even bother?

"I am not going to a sex toy shop! What in the hell is wrong with you!" I hiss, glancing around the suite for any sign of a wandering Jackson.

Upon deeming the coast as cleared, I slump my upper body across the kitchen counter top and release a well overdue groan; I give up.

"I'm just kidding! Calm down! Jesus woman. Look, your hubby-to-be is right, just tell him how to clean that pipe and he'll do it right. I can't tell you how to please him, I mean I could but that would lead to dirty thoughts which would most likely have me end up Alex and Jasmine-less." He chuckles one last time. "All I'm saying Miss Edmond is that you know how to do this, you're just over thinking it. The man loves you either way."

I nod to no one in particular, Gabriel is right. I know how to tell Michael, I've just been afraid. I have once again over analyzed the situation; about damn time Gabriel made sense.

"You're right..." I sigh out in relief.

"I know I am. So when you are 'doing him by', try not to 'keep it in the closet'. You are so stingy with the details. It doesn't kill a man to know if Michael Jackson can really use those hips!" His chuckles return.

"And I'm hanging up now!" I giggle, not giving the man time to recover from his cackling fit.

He's so corny for that.

Just as I'm returning the telephone onto its receiver, his voice makes putty of my amusement, causing me to freeze instantaneously; I've been caught.

Dammit.

"Hey, babygirl. Who was that?" He nonchalantly trails into the kitchen.

Stay cool Jess, stay cool.

"Oh! On the phone? That was Gabriel." I smile, inwardly hoping he wouldn't question any further.

But who am I kidding, it's Michael.

"Gabriel? Well, how's he doing? What's his gossip for today?" He continues his casualty, strolling right up to me.

I maintain my smile, trying to maintain eye contact as well, because the moment my eyes wander elsewhere, he'll raise even more suspicion; I don't need that.

"Oh you know, the usual. He told me about a few sexist articles in the news today and even told me about Jasmine's new interest in ballet."

It isn't farthest from the truth. Gabriel and I did chat about his life in New Jersey; of course our conversation essentially trailed elsewhere. But, Michael doesn't need to know that.

"That's nice... anything else?"

"No."

"Yes?" He challenges.

"No..." I force, still smiling sweetly.

Oh, he isn't buying this one bit. Instead of chuckling or uncovering the hidden details completely, he nods and mumbles to himself before taking my hand in his.

"Let's take a walk."

It definitely isn't a question. I follow suite, trotting behind him like a kinder as he leads us into the spacious living room. Honestly, this brisk little walk is enough to make me want to spill like a carton of milk in a elementary cafeteria; he seemingly knows, I might as well tell him while I can.

"Michael-"

"It's okay... I heard. I didn't mean to get you riled up, girl. I'm sorry." He smiles, setting us down on the leather love seat.

I silently nod; Gabriel's advice and even my own relaxation swirling in my head. I need to tell this man how I truly feel. I want to take baby steps, but enough of these steps so that he can follow.

Here goes everything.

"I only want you to take charge because I feel safe. I love feeling possessed. When you grab me, touch me, kiss me, the way that you do I just get this surge. Yes, sometimes I don't always say it, but it's only because Michael, baby you leave me breathless. I don't have to feel greedy because you feed it, Michael. You feed it and it feels so damn good. God... I don't know if I went too far-"

"Not at all, babygirl... go ahead, tell me more." He breathes; his eyes slowly but surely dilating.

The feeling is definitely mutual.

"I feel powerful. I feel the most powerful when you are playing with me. I don't need to scream orders because you already know what to do. That's the physical completion I thought I lost, but I have it and, baby it feels good." I admit, the heat from earlier returning with full force.

I can't contain it any longer.

Without giving him another word or even allowing him a word, my body finds its rightful place; straddling his as my lips make up for every fallen word. The churning in my stomach drives the insanity within my actions. This man does so much to me and even more so for me. We've been through so much, and with us being on our last leg of the race; my emotions are at an all time high.

I need him.

"Where's Noah?" I mumble between kisses.

Cornered between meeting my lips, kiss for kiss and trying to jog his own memory of the whereabouts of our toddler, Michael groans aloud before forcing himself to pull away for air.

"Napping, I think." He finally responds, only maintaining a few seconds of air before I steal his lips again.

His palms make themselves comfortable on my lower back, falling gradually as he begins to slowly rock us. Once they find their acclaimed place on my behind, I let out a quickly silenced moan; I can't take this man.

"You sure?" I interrupt again.

"Checked ten minutes ago." He matches my hasty questions.

With that knowledge, I allowed my hands to lose themselves within his jetted mane, moaning at his curious fingers as they climb the waistband of my jeans. I know this is wrong, especially with our child being in a room over, but I need this; sometimes Jesse has to be a little greedy.

"Michael?"

"Hm?" He hums against my neck, his teeth making a snack of it as his kisses linger.

"I will try to be quiet... I promise." I moan, already finding my hands fumbling with his belt.

He lets out another deeply rooted groan before his hands follow suit with mine; hungrily snatching my cotton sweater above my head and onto the cherry wood tile. Words are lost between our pleasant frustration, burning kisses and longing touches being the sovereignty language to speak.

This is heaven.

"I know, babygirl. I know..." He growls, his greedy hand slipping itself inside of my jeans; swiftly finding my bud.

"Oh my..." I mew, burrowing my head into his opened neck as my hips instantaneously moved along his presented rhythm.

"Damn, Jess... It's been that long?" He growls, moving his hand expeditiously until two slender fingers find my core.

Heaven on earth, beloved paradise, ecstasy; no, those won't do. Ravishing? Oh yes, ravishing. The simple bliss of feeling fulfilled after a period withdrawal is absolutely ravishing. The unkempt desire of want and longing is a power within itself. I love the paradox of it all. Never do I ever think to realize how much I need this, this closeness I have right now.

I missed this.

His tongue graces the outline of my jaw, his sweet whispers plague my ear; I need more. Those two slender fingers make themselves at home, causing me to crumble on the inside until finally I combust; biting into his exposed shoulder as a means of silencing myself. Even then he doesn't stop.

Releasing a painfully pleasant groan, he continues mercilessly, whispering encouragement "for just one more." And just as if my body has a mind of it's on, I hold on for another power trip, returning weak moans of my own.

"Baby... I-I can't...." I finally whimper, quickly returning to my burrow in his neck.

But he ignores me and continues; his fingers playing mindlessly with my core; leaving to play with my folds just to distract me before their inevitable return. It isn't until I'm quaking and damn nearing crying for mercy that he whispers one last thing: "Let me have it". That was everything I needed for my body to fully convulses and call off the pleasurable torture.

"Damn, mama..." He smirks, retrieving his hand.

I watch him breathlessly, my eyes following his every movement as he raises that same hand to his lips. It didn't even help that his eyes were fully concentrated on mine; he's such a tease. But it's when he takes his time to lick and suck on every single one of his fingers; moaning out in satisfaction, that I damn near convulse again; this man will be the death of me.

"You taste just as good as you feel." He groans, licking his lips, slowly, for added effect.

He can't just do this to me; it's not legal.

I'm not given a second more to pout before his hands are at again, making use of the hook of my bra. One second; my bra is lifelessly hanging from a nearby standing lamp. Another second later; his lips and teeth are kneading at my Hershey's, earning hitched breathing on my part.

This man's tongue is magic. So expertly can it move across my body, anywhere on my body, and earn a righteous moan. A lick could send me to heaven; a lingered latch could get me through the gates. The man himself is a magician and I can't help but behave like a spoilt brat when he performs his tricks.

I need more.

"Michael..." I whimper, allowing him to knead the other resting nipple. "I need more... please, baby."

Slowly he releases my nipple, his palms firmly pressed within the arch of my back. I catch a glimpse of his eyes, taking notice of the completely darkened orbs. I even take note of the beads of developing perspiration; he's absolutely beautiful.

Many dream and fantasize about being in my place. Even a simple word would not serve the justice needed to describe the beauty of this man. As always, I'm rendered speechless.

"Where else do you want me to go, girl?"

"Inside." I simply whisper, taking initiative for myself; allowing my hands to make quick work of loosening his trousers for me.

Without another word, Michael aids me in the process, managing to finish disrobing me in the mist of it all. I couldn't even help but whine once he paused to ensure that I follow the instructions of his "Quiet game"; I had to promise to keep all noises to a minimum or our session will be cut short. After reluctantly agreeing to it all, he put me to silence and himself to work.

With steady hands, he guides me onto him; whispering his own caged groan as I find my settlement pleasing.

"Oh..." I finally gasp, falling into his realm.

Sinking back into his world, after voiding the ride for so long, brought back the surges and pleasure; full on. There is no time for mercy when I'm on the ride. My head can sway as it pleases, my eyes can roll as they may, but the pleasure remains the same.

Our hips connect perfectly; nothing is ever rushed. My palms tenaciously cling onto his shoulders as he takes me on yet another trip.

I even close my eyes just to take it all in. I have stars in my eyes and I've found the galaxy in his. Even when he coos for me to refrain from voicing my complacency of his wonderful effort, I never fail to find other methods of showing him. He needs to know that the way he fills me is something beyond me.

But then there are his grunts; those damned beautiful growls of passion that makes me fall apart completely. I'm a victim of his assault and a very proud one at that.

"God, Jess..." He whimpers, pressing into my back firmly; guiding me along his quickened pace.

"Oh! Mmm!" I finally jerk, still being carried along his rhythm; my forehead securely tucked within his neck.

At this point, I'm completely exhilarated, but dazed all the same. I've had my buzz, but he keeps coming. I'm limber, but too stubborn to give up. If he wants to linger, so will I.

Slow thrusts upwards equate to hasty thrusts outwards. Silenced moans equate to nail clawing. Breathy grunts equate to a shaken Jesse. I've been to the mountain top and he's steadily climbing the steep; I'm gratefully enjoying the journey.

"M-Michael... I can-"

His lips silence mine, and then it happens. Warmth feels me and his animalistic groan lifts me higher. Our foreheads meet, and our hearts fight for release in our chests. Our bodies mold into each other with the satisfaction of a release well earned.

Every single time is different from the last. And every single time I'm left with the conformation that no one can ever make me feel the way this man does; no one.

"Thank you..." I finally breathe after an easy, silent moment.

His palms cup my face gently, leading him to place a gentle peck on my lips before staring at me mutely.

"I love you, Jesse Rose." He whispers, pecking my lips again.

I take my own personal silent moment and drink in his lips, enjoying the lasting taste of myself. And when my moment is over, I find his gaze and smile.

"I love you too, Michael Joseph."