23. Michael

MICHAEL

H er pussy convulses around my fingers, nearly sending me over the edge with her.

Alice shakes against me, her wetness practically dripping down my hand.

I want her.

I want to take her.

Withdrawing my hand, I help lower her off my shoulders until she’s standing on her own two feet.

Leaning back, I look up at her.

Shirt torn down the front, heaving tits on display.

Skirt tucked up, exposing her panties and glossy slit.

Face flushed from an orgasm that I gave her.

She looks completely satisfied.

But then the shine in her eyes reminds me why I came up here.

I came here to apologize. To tell her I’m sorry for making her cry on my show. The show that she’s a contestant on.

Fuck.

Unaware of my spiraling thoughts, Alice looks down at my lap. “Do you need to…?”

Yeah, I fucking need to.

But I shake my head.

“I can’t.” I give my head another shake. “I’ve done too much already.”

Her hands jerk up to her chest, covering herself.

“It’s not like that,” I try to explain, the sudden hurt in her eyes killing me. I ignore the pain in my knees as I push myself back up to standing. “I don’t mean it like that, Alice.”

She bites her lip and nods, but she won’t look at me.

My phone rings from my pocket.

“Shit,” I snap, sure it’s my manager. He’s the only person who calls me, and he’ll keep calling until I answer.

Laughter filters in from the hallway, followed by the slamming of doors, then silence.

This is my chance to slip out of here unnoticed, and I need to take it—before I take her .

Feeling a piece of my soul rip free and jump toward Alice, I take a step back.

“This isn’t over,” I say, hoping she’ll believe me. “This just can’t happen right now . Tell me you understand.”

She keeps her head tipped down, but I hear her whisper, “I understand.”

Needing one more touch, I re-close the distance between us and press a kiss to her hair. “Sweet dreams, Baby Cakes.”