Carousel {Michael Jackson Love Story} [with NEW, additional chapter 6]

Chapter 8 - Night

The lights were off, the house was in darkness. I didn't pay attention to where we were going. Compared to the steam filled bath, the rest of the house must have been cold, but I didn't notice it. I felt the firm arms that carried me. I was aware of where his bare hands touched my skin - one just above the bent of my knees, the other one around my back - and of the warm, hard chest under the soft robe that they held me against. My fingers were caressing his face and neck. I kissed his wet hair, his cheek, the tender skin behind his ear.

We passed through a door into a hallway or maybe an antechamber. Through floor-to-ceiling windows, the lights of Neverland outside filled it with the shadows of trees and a bluish twilight. Somewhere in a far corner of my mind I noticed life-size human figures in various costumes lining the hall, their still shapes black against the windowpanes. But they didn't mean anything to me. Nothing meant anything to me - except Michael. I pulled his mouth to mine. He responded to my kiss briefly, then turned away. I pulled his face back to me. This time he didn't withdraw. His mouth was hot and deep. His steps slowed, then he stopped walking. I felt his grip on me tighten. His breathing escalated. Kissing became feverish. My hands were in his hair, playing with his curls. Then I stroked his jaw line, his chin, his throat, going lower, down to his chest, sliding my hand into the bathrobe and feeling his fast, heavy heartbeat.

He sighed against my mouth. "You need to let go of my head. I can't see where I'm going." His voice was strained.

"You don't know the way blind?" I whispered but loosened my hold on him.

"Right now I wouldn't bet on it." He still pressed against my mouth, but was forcing deeper, calming breaths now. "I really wouldn't!"

Still breathing heavily he resumed walking, briefly glancing down at where my hand was on his chest inside the robe.

At the end of the hall was a double winged door made of the same dark wood that had found use all over the Neverland main house. "That's my bedroom," he said, his voice low and suddenly husky. "Open the door."

I reached for the doorknob, turned it, and felt it click. For a moment I held it turned looking at Michael's eyes knowing that he had heard the clicking, too, and felt his fingers press more firmly against my skin. Carefully I moved the wing inward just so that the lock couldn't snap shut again, then slowly allowed the knob to turn back into its original position and withdrew my hand.

It stood open maybe two inviting inches; challenging; the dull light that was filtering through clearly visible against the dark wood.

Michael looked at the crack in the door. There was a movement in his mouth, then, with something between a smile and a laugh, he gave me a sideways glance, set his shoulder to the door and gently but surely forced it open.

He laid me down where a maid had opened the bed for him. My mouth was on his. Whatever might have been going on around me, I wouldn't have seen it. I didn't care. Pushing the blanket aside, touching his head and neck and shoulders, I pulled him into bed with me. I wanted him closer - he couldn't come close enough. The body under the robe was hard, all muscles tight. I undid the belt that held it and peeled it down his back and off his arms, revealing the beauty of his dark skin. I didn't notice the bathrobe slip off the bed and fall to the floor. Lying on the sheet that he had slept on the night before, I felt his bare, hot skin against mine as he lay over me. He was looking down at me, breathing hard, his soft fragrance filling my mind. Then he moved forward. His head and shoulders blocked out what little light there was. It became dark where I lay under him.

When I felt his presence, sweat rose on my skin immediately. His forehead touched mine, his eyes pitch black in the light that wasn't any. His hot breath hit my face. His tongue filled my mouth. The world stopped existing. If he hadn't known what he was doing on the carousel earlier that night, it was obvious that now he knew full well. A thin film of cool moisture covered the skin over the tense muscles in his back. I wrapped my legs around his bottom, holding him to me, my toes touching the sheet between his thighs. There was nothing else. Just us. Breathing. Kissing. Holding each other, and moving in the slow rhythm that he set.