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"I love you," He tells me in between kisses and my eyes fly open before I'm pulling his head out of the crook of my neck.
"No, you don't." I glare at him before walking further into my room and I stare out of the window seeing the fans screaming his name. If only they knew he wasn't in his room and was instead, in my room trying to fuck me. I close the curtains so we don't end up on Entertainment Tonight because that's the last thing I need. The last thing we need.
"I do love you." He wraps his arms around me and kisses my cheek, trying to convince me that those three words he's saying are true.
Lies, lies, and more lies. How many other women heard these lies from him and believed it? Probably too many to count.
I turn around, cupping his face with both of my hands, caressing his cheek softly, cooing, "You don't have to lie to me, Michael."
"Why do you always think I'm trying to deceive you?" Has he ever made me think otherwise? He's always been playing these mind games with me and now that we've gone this far, he wants to stand here and lie in my face.
"Because you are. Since when has sleeping with other women meant love? Just tell me I'm your favorite fuck and get on with it," I respond with gritted teeth, feeling myself grow angrier at the fact that he's trying to sell me this lie.
"Girl, I'm trying to tell you how I feel-" I cut him off by putting my hands up, saying, "I'm not doing this with you."
I'm heading to the bathroom to take off my makeup so I can go to bed and forget about this, but Michael is behind me, popping his gums. "I could have anybody I want, but I'm here trying with you! And here you are being over-emotional about everything. You should be happy!" Has he lost his damn mind? Is this man on drugs? He has to be because he's not making any sense to me.
The soft-spoken Michael Jackson front that he put on for the world has fallen because he has the damn nerve to put some bass in his voice talking to me. I spin around to look at him and he's standing there with an attitude like he's the one being done wrong.
He's absolutely right! He could have anybody he wants so why is he bothering me? Go be with whoever it is you want instead of trying to be in my pussy all the time.
"Oh, I get it! I should be kissing the ground you walk on because you're here with a nobody like me. What the hell was I thinking?" My mouth is like a faucet the way that it's running and Michael's face falls at my words as he's making his way towards me.
Once we're eye to eye, I look past him but he firmly grabs my jaw to make me look at him. "Hear me and hear me good when I say you're not a nobody," He says softly and I gently move his hand off of my face.
Staring him dead in the eyes, I ask, "Then who am I to you, Michael Jackson?"
PSA!
We're now getting to a point in the story where things are going to escalate so let me forewarn you: this story is based on rumors that may or may not be true. Many of the rumors have been exaggerated for this story and all interactions between the characters are purely what? Fictitious.
There is physical abuse written in this story and explicit sex scenes so if that makes you uncomfortable, you can skip over it or just move on to the next story. <3
I do not own the rights to any of the pictures, lyrics, and music used in this story. All characters and events in the story, even those based on real people, are entirely fictional. There are moments that allude to statutory rape and child sexual abuse which does NOT involve Michael, but it's there. Had to hit yall with that end credits type of gig. Michael was a real nigga, but his character in the story is not how he truly was so miss me with the messiness. Let me reiterate that Beyoncé and Michael's character portrayal is NOT how they truly are, or were, in real life.
Enjoy MUNDANE because this is going to be a long one.
