NOTE: Contains mature content. Discretion is advised!

Michael had definitely been taken by surprise by the sight of Amy, but it was no surprise to him that she displayed extreme natural beauty even under the mask of makeup she had applied. Amy had opted for a light smoky eye with soot black and violet, which perfectly outlined the shape of her intensely-colored almond eyes. Her eyelashes were full and black, mascara combed neatly so that they fanned out gracefully. Amy applied tinted lip balm to give her lips a rose tinge. Her long, golden curls were brushed and neatened, and her outfit consisted of a strapless body-con dress that was hot pink with the sides adorned with black lace. At the waist, the dress was cinched by a faux belt that crossed like a X and was stitched where it zipped up. Michael was speechless upon seeing her, and when they left the house, they walked to his house next door and stepped into the car; he even held open the door for her.

She had not thanked him—I don't want to be thanked, he thought as he walked to the other side into the driver's seat. Just before sticking the key into the ignition, Amy's voice stopped him.

"Where are we going?" she questioned.

"Wherever you want," Michael said; he took a few glances downwards, alternating between her intense, cool eyes and her heaving bustiness at the top of her sweetheart neckline.

"Hm, did you forget that I was new to town?" Amy sneered."I know you are," he replied, taking in her image and ingraining it in his mind as his heart raced. "Want to get food? Get a drink? Go for a ride?"

All depends on what by you mean by a ride, she thought—suddenly, his eyes widened, a sparkle in their clear, olive-green color as he chuckled.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"Eighteen," Amy said.

"Sure you're not lying just to get somewhere with me?" he joked.

"C'mon, what makes you think that?" she asked.

"I was joking," he said, turning the key and fixing the gear to back out. "Let's go somewhere nice."

The drive to the heart of San Francisco was less than twenty minutes, and the two participated in small talk before reaching their destination—a small restaurant with good food at reasonable prices. Once they came in, a host sat them to a double-seated booth, where Michael saw the top of Amy's dress nearly come down under the weight of her ample bosom; she fixed it subtly, and they were given menus and drinks—Michael had paid for both of them to get beer, and Amy still had her fake ID from San Francisco. Once she showed it to the waiter, the young man just shook his head and looked down at the table—once they received their beers, Amy took the bottle and drank a sip from it.

"You like beer?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's okay," she replied.

"So why'd you move?" Michael asked.

"My sister goes to school here," Amy said.

"College?"

"Yeah."

"But what about you?" Michael questioned, sipping his beer in a generous gulp. "Do you go to school?"

"Hell no," Amy snickered. "I graduated this year."

"I was good in school," Michael said, leaning back in his seat as the waiter brought them menus. Amy looked down and flipped the cover as she kept it flat on the table. "You?"

"Huh?" Her eyes looked down at the list of appetizers and pictures of gourmet dishes shown on the inside of the glossy double-panel menu.

"How were you in school?" he asked.

"Uh…I don't want to talk about it," she said coldly. "I guess I'll just have a salad. Everything looks disgusting on here."

"I'm getting a burger with fries," the young man said.

With a single glance, he looked over at the waiter, who came over and took their orders; Amy looked across the table and took in Michael's features. He was quite handsome, his manly features radiating dangerous magnetism as she examined him. She watched him sip his beer, his olive-green eyes glancing at her as he put it down and put his forearms and elbows on the table to lean forward comfortably. His shaggy, short flaxen hair only slightly brushed his forehead, and his jawline was defined and cut like glass. Amy's heart fluttered slightly, but looked down to dodge his gaze. Maybe Clara is right, she thought, if I just give him a chance. He's actually kinda hot.

When the food came, Amy had been texting a friend in San Francisco on her smartphone; she had no answer for one of Michael's questions. When she put it away, she took a rabbit-sized bite out of her salad and took another gulp from her beer. Michael took a bite of his burger and just looked at her, her sapphire eyes smoldering like the embers of a fire as she took a breath.

"What are you thinking about right now?" he asked her. Random, she thought.

"Why do you ask?" Amy asked, staring right at him.

"You intrigue me," he stated. "That's why."

"Hm, is that all?" Amy smirked, her almond-shaped, sapphire-colored eyes staring at him.

"No, that's not all," he said, taking a bite of his burger. "Look at you. You're hot."

"Hmm…" Amy's voice seemed to purr, staring over at him with her eyelashes batting up and down gently. "You know it."

Michael just looked at her, chuckling as he washed a swig of beer down his throat; Amy was extremely beautiful—long blonde curls, almond-shaped sapphire blue eyes framed by graceful black eyelashes, a straight, perfect nose, shapely pink lips; his eyes travelled lower to take in the image of her thin neck, her heaving bust spilling over the top of her dress, her small waist and what he could see of it—perfection, he thought.

The distraction caught up to him, and before he knew it, they had both finished their food. Paying the bill, he left a generous tip for the waiter as they left for his car. Amy had opened her own car door and got into the passenger seat; Michael had not started the ignition just yet, for he wanted to take another long glance at Amy to admire her beauty. Once she caught him staring at her, she looked from the phone she was texting on and raised an arched eyebrow slightly.

"What are you looking at?" she asked softly.

"You," Michael replied boldly in a voice that was too gentle to be real.

"Where are we going next?" she asked.

"I was thinking we could go to my place," he suggested. Amy took his cue to heart, but didn't quite say anything to reject his advances—I haven't had dick since San Fran, she thought, why the hell not?

Meanwhile, Cordelia had just returned from grocery shopping when she saw Clara interacting with Violet. She carried a few bundles of groceries held in large, brown paper bags to the kitchen when her adopted daughter and the ghost followed her to the final destination in the house.

"What did you buy?" Clara asked.

"Oh, just some stuff," Cordelia smiled; she then proceeded to look at Violet. "Why, hello there."

"Hi," Violet answered, her honey-brown eyes looking up at the witch.

"Cordelia, this is Violet," Clara said.

"Hi, Cordelia," the ghost said.

"It's nice to meet you," the older witch said with a smile as she adjusted her graying blonde hair. Violet simply did not answer, but the older woman noticed Amy's absence. "Hey, where's your sister?"

"Someone knocked at the door," Violet explained.

"Who?"

"The neighbor," Clara said, taking out a few things from one of the bundles of groceries. "Michael's his name, I think. He wanted to see Amy, so I sent her out on a date with him."

"Oh, Clara, why?" Cordelia asked with a mix of frustration and bewilderment, putting a few boxes of cereal up in the open cupboard.

"She needed to get out of the house. She's been sitting around ever since we got here," Clara argued politely.

"She went by herself, though," Violet said.

"I hope she's not doing anything stupid," the dark-haired witch said. "We need that like a hole in the head."

Michael had checked the whole house for his grandmother before making his lascivious attack—without warning, he pinned Amy against the wall in the hallway most adjacent to his bedroom and crashed his lips onto hers; surprisingly, she returned his heated, fervent passion as his hands seemed to grip her small face.

"Hm-"

Her eyes expanded once she felt his fingers trail from her delicate jawline to the length of her neck, squeezing gently as his tongue darted in and out of the hollow of her throat. Amy stifled a breath to return his kiss, whimpering with worry as his grip on her neck grew tighter. When he let go, she felt herself being forcefully pulled into him, his arms snaking around her waist as her heaving cleavage nearly popped out at the top of her strapless bodycon dress. He looked down and bit his lip, giving a lustful growl as their eyes met.

"Michael, what are you doing?" she asked breathlessly, feeling a familiar swell of pleasure building up in her chest. "My dress is going to pop off the top."

"Isn't that the idea?" he purred, caressing her face softly as he gazed down into the sapphire orbs that had captivated him so. "By the looks of this dress, they want to come out and play."

Amy let out a short "ooh!" as she was pulled against Michael once more; behind her, his hands were tailing up and down her back in search for the zipper, and when he found it, he tugged it down just enough for her generously large bosom to break free from the stretchy, firm fabric. At that moment, he reached both of his hands down to the curve of her rump, squeezing roughly as he proceeded to lift her high enough for her to wrpa her legs around his waist. From there, he carried her to his bedroom and closed the door behind him, practically tossing the gorgeous blonde on the bed.

He proceeded to remove his shirt and unbuckle his pants, watching as a half-naked Amy gasped at his physique—he was indeed muscular, but more on the lanky side with thick shoulders. He kept his underpants on, but watched Amy as she looked up at him with fire in her intense blue eyes as she took off her dress and tossed it aside. She slid off her black strappy heels and allowed them to thud against the soft carpet as he approached her.

"Hm…I want you," he said, kneeling on the floor before her as she sat on the edge of the bed. He hugged her waist firmly as he proceeded to bury his needy face snuggly between her full, creamy breasts. Whatever perfume she had been wearing had excited every sense in his body, and Amy could feel the peaks of her rosy buds getting harder.

"Oh, Michael…" Her gasps came in waves, feeling his lips kissing her skin as they found their way to one perfect, perky, pink nipple. Not only did he run his tongue along it, but he sucked it so hard that Amy nearly screamed in pain.

"Ah…ah!" she exclaimed. "N-Not so hard…M-Michael?"

"Shut up," he commanded as he hissed a groan through his teeth. "I want to enjoy you."

"Hmm…you're an animal," she panted, opening her legs. Just when she parted them, Michael's hand slipped between her thighs to allow his fingers to feel the crotch of her panties—they were soaked right through, begging for his attention.

"Hm…so wet…" he muttered, "…I…I need it…"

"Oh…b-but first…uh…please let me suck your cock?" Amy begged boldly as her eyes smoldered up at him.

"Oh yeah," he stammered, standing up and pulling down his underpants.

Amy's eyes opened wider and her jaw dropped at the sight of his length—he had to have been eight inches easy, and it stood up proudly and erect, ready for action as he neared her. As Amy raised her hand to stroke the heavily-veined, throbbing spear of flesh as she took the tip into her mouth without hesitation. Michael just shuddered in pleasure, his member agonizingly longing for more as she ran her tongue along the underside of his shaft. Without further hesitation, he dug his fingers into her hair and held her head, thrusting in deeper so she could take more. Amy began to gag involuntarily from the stimuli, so she tried to relax her throat just like she had done so many times to accommodate more of his swollen love muscle.

"Ah…ah…ah yeah…" he muttered. "Take it all, baby. Take it all."

"Ngh….ngh…" Amy's gagging became more vocal as he held her head in place, thrusting in and out rapidly as his cock throbbed in sync with his heartbeat.

"Oh, you're throat's so tight, princess," he cooed. "I can't take it…oh my…oh baby…"

At that moment, he let go of her head and finally allowed her to breathe, but a thick string of saliva connected her rosy mouth with his soaked erection and tears from gagging ran down her face; her eyes were beet red but sparkled blue at him.

"No ones ever…gagged me like that before," she said.

"Put your ass in the air," he commanded. "I want to see."

Michael saw that she was rather slow in her movements, so he forcefully turned her over on her back and opened her legs, tearing her panties to the side in order to expose her silken wet petals and her tighter hind hole. Feeling vulnerable only made Amy drip wet, getting some on her thighs as he leaned in to lick it up before proceeding to her inviting pink slit. He gave her round, juicy cheeks a few teasing slaps before smirking and running his tongue along her wet folds.

"Ah…oh my god…" she moaned.

Michael's rough fingertips forced themselves into the flesh of her hips, feeling the outline of her pelvis as he squeezed firmly, continuing to lap at her honey. It continued to drip on his tongue, prompting him to stiff it out and slide it into her entrance—Amy gasped, a wave of pleasure coming over her as she felt him grip her tilted hips tightly in his grasp.

"Ah!" she exclaimed. Michael moaned softly, digging his tongue deeper into her before pulling out and giving her most sensitive part a few long, agonizing flicks with a flat tongue. Just when Amy moaned in pleasure, it became ecstasy when he slid two fingers into her hard and fast.

"Ah!" she exclaimed. "P-Please fuck me? Please?"

"No," Michael responded crossly. "I'm not done with you yet."

"C'mon! Please! It hurts," she said in a low-sounding moan. "You're too rough with me."

"But you like it," he said with a sinister smile. "I know you do."

At that moment, Michael had spread her vaginal wetness up to her tight, small hole just above her soaking entrance, forcing his two fingers into her gripping hole and making her whimper in pain.

"Stop! Ow!" she whined.

"Shut up," he told her.

"No! This hurts! At least wet your fingers first?" she begged.

"It's tight," he sighed. "I'd love to pound the hell out of it."

"Can't you just pound my pussy? I need that more! Please!" she exclaimed.

"Hmm…you're hot when you beg," Michael smiled.

Standing up straight and smacking her ass cheeks even harder than before, Michael stroked his throbbing eight inches before positioning the sensitive tip against her entrance. His first thrust was hard, fast, and enough to make Amy's eyes roll to the back of her head—why is he so rough, she thought. In the meantime, his fingers were clutching her pelvis, tilting it just enough so he could hold onto the fragile bones.

"Ah!"

"Don't move," Michael commanded coldly. "This feels so good, princess."

"You're huge," she whispered under her breath. "Oh, please go faster?"

"Oh yeah," he smirked, smacking her butt cheek so hard it turned strawberry red. "You like it? Huh?"

"Oh yes!" she cried out, gripping the bed sheets. "Oh…deeper…"

He picked up the pace, administering powerful thrusts that were with force and dexterity, gripping her hips as her dripping sheath swallowed him whole—he was drowning in the epitome of pure carnal bliss as Amy shouted in pleasure.

"Oh my god…! Yes! Yes! Ah…!"

"Oh my god…A-Amy…" he muttered. "I don't think I can hold on anymore."

"Ah! I'm close, too…!" she screamed. "Give it to me more! Pound me!"

Now he was beginning to become fiercely animalistic, leaning down and gathering Amy's long blonde curls in his hand as he tugged. Amy jerked her head back, tears in her eyes from the excruciating rapture her body had betrayed her for. She could feel him throbbing inside her, reaching a spot that had not been stimulated in a while, making her scream and cry out in ecstasy. His lips had French-kissed the base of her neck and her shoulders as his fervent thrusting led to a white-hot spurt inside her, feeling her walls convulse spasmically around his throbbing member before he pulled out. Amy groaned softly, collapsing down on the bed before her as she felt his white-hot fluid spill out of her. In the midst of her ecstatic delirium, she felt a pair of hands gently turn her on her back, and when she turned her head to the side, Michael's olive-green eyes stared down at her.

"Amazing," he said, "with the most beautiful woman in the world."

"I've never done it like that before," she whispered, her intensely blue eyes leaving scars in his soul as they penetrated right through him.

"So you have done it?" Michael asked, looking into her eyes and moving a stray curl away from her forehead.

"Loads of times," Amy snickered.

"How many?" he asked.

"How the fuck should I be able to remember?" Amy asked. "Besides, what's it to you?"

"Like I said at dinner," Michael began, "you intrigue me. I just want to know how many people my princess has been with before me."

"Why do you keep calling me that?" she asked, annoyed with him.

"Because you are a princess," he smirked. "My princess."

"I never agreed to be committed to you," Amy sneered. "Don't push your luck."

"You will," Michael smiled, a sinister gleam in his pearly white teeth. "You're perfect for me, and I'd kill anyone who would try to take you away from me."

"What?" Amy asked suspiciously. "Don't talk stupid. I don't want to hear it."

"I'm not talking stupid. I'm dead serious," he said. "Dead serious."

"Oh, c'mon," she said as she shook her head. "No one owns me, Michael."

"I never said I owned you," he implied. "I said you're my princess. You're my girl, now, Amy. I feel something for you, something special, something I've never felt before."

"That's what they all say," she said quietly, a hint of sadness in her voice.

"No," Michael said. "It's what I say."

A/N:

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