The Boss (A Michael Jackson FanFiction)

The Boss..38..

"Your room?" I ask slowly as a frown forms on my face. "You want me to sleep in your room....in your bed....with you?"

"Since the master suite is my bedroom, Tamera," Michael replies just as slow. I know he's doing this purposely. He loves annoying me. "yes. Although, I wasn't exactly suggesting we sleep, babe."

I roll my eyes, completely catching his drift, as I sigh. "Michael, I was just in the hospital. I have a mild concussion."

"I know this."

I fold my arms defiantly, "Do you also know that sex would not be smart to have at this point?" 

Michael thinks for a second, scoots closer to me, and I lean away as he grins. "Is your mild, barely there, concussion what's really holding you back from doing what you really want to do with me, Miss Stewart?"

"No," I state, straight-faced, staring into his enticing eyes. "As I've told you before, Mr. Jackson, you're gonna have to make up for the ways you've previously treated me. You're gonna have to do a hell of a lot of kissing up to get in these lace panties, sir."

"And I'm trying to." Michael smiles as he looks down. "Wait--you're wearing lace panties?"

"By screwing me?" I ask back, ignoring his asinine question.

"Sex is a healer, Tamera." He explains with a wide smile. "Many studies have shown that sex relieves pain, boosts your immune system, boosts your self-esteem--"

"Well, you'll be boosting your own self-esteem tonight, buddy." I mimic a handjob as I scoot to the edge of the couch to stand.

"What are you doing?" He asks as I stand from the couch.

He gently pulls me to sit on the couch again as I frown. "Standing up."

I look at him crazy, because what the hell does it look like I'm doing?

"For?"

"Michael," I groan. "I'm tired. I'm sleepy and I would really like to get in a bed."

"Fine. You can come to mine."

"Michael, I'm not--"

"You will be sleeping in my bed tonight, Tamera. That's final!"

"Excuse me? I don't know who you think you are, Mr. Jackson," I glare as the anger leaves his eyes and fill mine. "but you are not the boss of me. I am not Jackson Towers, your record company, my apartment building, nor any other pieces of property you may own. I am a human with my own mind and I make my own decisions. Therefore, I do not have to do as you say just because "you say so"."

Michael's eyes lower, desire fills him, and he licks his lips. Oh shit.

"While I do not own you, Miss Stewart," His voice is low and sensual and he has my full attention. "and I'm not professing to wanting to, this is my house and I own it. For that reason, here and anywhere else I may choose, I am the boss. As long as you're in my house, Tamera, I am your boss. You will be sleeping with me in my bed and you will enjoy it. Capisce?"

A fire deep within my core ignites and spreads as I just stare at him staring at me.

I know I should be objecting to this, him, and his tone. Which isn't the nicest. However, right now I am anything but pissed.

I'm turned on.

Turned on by everything him.

What the hell is wrong with me?