Author: Courtney

Email: MsDawCreek@aol.com

Rating: NC-17 all the way baby! Definitely a PWP story

Category: Michael and Maria

Disclaimer: No, I don't own them! If I did would I be allowed to subject them to this? Please.

Distribution: Yeah, sure, if you want it. Just tell me first.

Author's Note: If I slept more I would not be so crazy, but I don't so I am. I am well aware that the premise of this story stinks. It's not about reality people. Please keep that in mind. Thanks ;-)

Dedication: This *has* to go out to the "grits and iced tea girls" on RAC. "In the name of hominy!"

Maria sat up in her seat and rubbed her eyes. She looked out at the rain-slicked road and mumbled to the driver beside her, "Where are we?"

"I dunno, some place called Weston, Georgia," Michael replied as his eyes remained on the road ahead.

"We're in Georgia?" she asked.

"Yep, for about the last half hour."

"How much further?" she wanted to know. They had been driving all day. Michael had gotten some kind of information about a sighting on Saint Simons Island off the coast of Georgia, so of course Maria had been conned into making the trip with him. She knew she should have said no, but thoughts of so many nights without him made her decide to blow of college for a week and tag along. Besides, being alone on many a dark, secluded highway and inside many a cheap motel room didn't sound like too tough of a week to her.

"It'll take at least another day," he replied. "I'd say we are six hours away, easy. And the rain is picking up so I think I'll just stop at the next motel if that's okay?"

She nodded. "But, I'm hungry. Can we get something to eat first?"

He looked at his watch and replied, "Well, we probably can't make check in at any motel if we don't hurry. How about I drop you off and go find us something while you get settled in?"

Maria nodded and they drove on. A few minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of a tiny roadside motel and both got out of the car. Once they'd gotten a room and taken their bags inside, Michael left to go find them some dinner as Maria stayed behind to wait.

She sat her suitcase on the bed and unzipped it, then started riffling through. The dream she'd been having just before she woke up in the car had her thinking. She'd been hungry, so it had involved food, but she'd also been thinking about what had taken place in the motel room on their last stop, so she had more than food on her mind. All she knew was that it had something to do with wrestling and cheese grits and that she was really glad that Michael couldn't drive and dreamwalk at the same time.

Pulling several items out of her suitcase, she found what she was looking for. It was black, sheer, and guaranteed to make this one rainy night in the middle of nowhere that Michael Guerin would not soon forget.

* * * * *

When he came back from his trip to the Waffle House, the only place open within fifty miles, Michael was met with an empty room. "Maria?" he called as he set the Styrofoam containers on the tiny little pressed wood table and closed the door behind him to shut out the downpour that raged outside. "You here?" he asked.

"In the bathroom," she replied through the thin door separating them.

"Oh ok. Well, I got breakfast food. I'm not sure what some of it is, but it smells pretty good," he called back.

"Okay, I'll be out in a sec," she responded.

He nodded, though she couldn't see him, then sat on the edge of the bed to kick off his shoes before starting to strip out of his wet clothes. He was down to his boxers and was lying back against the pillows with the TV remote in hand when he heard the bathroom door creak open.

"You know, this sucks. There's nothing on this television but bass fishing and reruns of Hee Haw epi--" his complaint was cut short when Maria stepped around the corner and into his line of sight. He dropped the remote and his mouth hung open as his eyes grew as wide as saucers. He gulped. "Um . . . Maria?" he squeaked out.

She gave him the sexiest grin he'd ever seen before reaching over to grab the remote and turn off the TV. She set it back on the nightstand, then looked back at him and said, "Hi Michael."

Oh. My. God. He was going to die. Right here, right now, in this low-rent motel bed in the middle of Bumfuck, Georgia. He was going to die because that . . . that . . . *thing*, whatever it was, that Maria was wearing was going to give him a heart attack!

"Where . . . um . . . how long have you had that . . . uh . . . outfit?" he managed to ask. He winced inwardly at the squeaky sound of his voice and thought, Smooth move puberty boy. She didn't act as though she noticed, she just kept that sexy grin on her face and kept looking at him like . . . like . . . like she was ready to eat him for dinner. God, she's hot, he thought.

"I bought it a few weeks ago," she replied slowly. She reached down and took his hand in hers, bringing it up to rest on her hip over the sheer fabric of the just-below-the-thigh length outfit she had on. She was wearing matching sheer, black panties, though they obviously weren't designed to cover much. Apparently the people at Frederick's of Hollywood had some global plot to kill every man in America by making their heads explode. Michael was sure his would at any second.

"Do you like it?" Maria purred as she moved his hand up and down over the fabric covering her hip.

"God . . . yeah," he breathed as his eyes raked back and forth over her barely clad body. His heart was beating so fast that he could head it drumming in his head. Five more seconds and she's gonna have to scrap me off the ceiling, he thought.

"Did you say you got breakfast?" Maria asked then.

"Wh-huh?" he asked, his brain not able to process this question at all.

"Food," she said.

"Oh, uh, yeah. Table," he stammered.

She grinned and removed his hand from her hip. He released a little groan and she winked at him. "Be right back." All he could do was nod as he watched her slink over to the table to retrieve the boxes he'd brought in. A few minutes before he'd been rather hungry himself, but not anymore. How on earth could this woman think about food NOW? Jesus, he was not going to last through this night . . .

"Grits," she said as she turned back to him with one box in hand.

"What?" he asked in confusion.

"Grits . . . the stuff you weren't sure what it was. It's grits," she said.

"How . . . how do you know that?" he asked as he tried to get his mind on what she was saying and off what she was wearing.

"My grandma was from Tennessee," she replied. She sat on the bed beside him and opened the box, then stuck a fork into the hot and gooey yellow mush. "Here, try it. They're good," she said as she held up a forkful of grits to him.

"Ugh," he replied as he looked at the food.

"What? Mr. I-Put-Tabasco-Sauce-On-Birthday-Cake is turning his nose up at something?" she said with a giggle. He relented then and opened his mouth to let her shovel in the bite of food. He swallowed it, but with a very sour expression. "Not impressed, huh?" she asked. "Oh well, that just leaves more for me." He took note of her mischievous grin and wondered what exactly she was up to.

"Close your eyes," she purred softly.

"Huh? Wh . . . Maria . . ."

"Just do it, you'll be glad you did," she promised. She gave him a meaningful look and all he could do was obey. His eyes slide shut as he waited for what was to come next. The feel of something warm and gooey on his chest made him gasp.

"Keep them closed," she warned. He did as he was told.

She spread the mixture all the way down his chest, stopping at his navel. He shivered at the feel of her hands as she slid them back up his sides. He could feel her moving over him and held his breath as he awaited her next move. She was straddling his hips, his already massive erection pressing into her ass. He groaned. Then, she leaned over and he felt her lips and tongue start licking the mixture off his chest and he gasped. "Ohhh! Maria . . ."

"Be a good boy and keep those eyes closed," she warned. He nodded obediently. Not seeing her was making this even more exciting, if that was even possible.

She kissed her way down his chest, licking and kissing as she went. She reached his navel, removing all traces of the mess she'd made of him and looked up at his face. He was obviously enjoying this immensely. His head was thrown back, his eyes squeezed shut. She smiled at the sight of him.

She had moved down a little further on his thighs in order to reach all of the spots she was going for and was now sitting with her ass on his legs just above his knees. She could see his erection straining against his plaid, flannel boxers and couldn't resist the urge to run her knuckles over the hardened flesh.

"Uhhhhh God!" he moaned.

"A little sensitive are we?" she asked with a grin.

"Maria . . ." he moaned. Just hearing her name said in that way from his perfect, kissable lips made her nipples harden through the sheer material that covered them. She reached up to touch her breasts and groaned.

Michael's eyes opened at the sound and he was met with the sight of Maria, her hands cupping her breasts as she threw back her head in ecstasy. He moaned right along with her and she looked back at him.

"Naughty boy, I told you to keep them closed," she chastised.

"Maria . . ." he breathed as he looked down at her, his eyes wild with desire. She couldn't resist him. In one swift move, she changed positions until she was lying flat against him, her breasts straining against his chest and her leg brushing firmly against his boxers. "Oh God . . . Maria . . ." he said again, then pulled her roughly to him for a deep and thorough kiss that sent a rush of heat through her entire body. He had both hands on her ass, sliding further and further beneath the sheer scrap of material covering her there.

His tongue plunged in and out of her mouth as his hands moved all over her body. She felt him everywhere. She was completely on fire. When he finally reached one hand into the front of her panties, she was beyond holding back.

"Michhhhaeelll," she moaned as he plunged first two, then three fingers inside of her. He moved slowly, then faster, slow, then fast. His thumb joined in the act, stimulating her clit as he continued to kiss her breathless. "Oh God . . ." she cried as he increased the pressure and speed once again. She was almost there when he suddenly flipped her over, bringing her to rest beneath him. She gasped in surprise, then looked up at him. "God, don't stop," she pleaded.

"It only gets better," he promised. He took the edges of her negligee into his hands. "This has been fun, but it's time to get rid of it," he advised. In one swift move, he pulled the garment off and over her head. "There, better," he said as he looked down at the woman squirming below him in only her sheer, black panties. Her skin was flushed and her chest was heaving with desire. Her eyes begged him to finish what he'd started. She didn't even need to ask.

Lowering his head to her breasts, he swirled his tongue around one nipple, then the other, paying neither the attention she longer for and drawing forth another strangled groan as he moved his mouth further down her body. She reached up to cup her breasts again, but he brought his hand up to stop her. "No, not yet. Just lay back," he instructed. Maria groaned in frustration, but did as he asked. Her hands fell limply at her sides. Michael continued his journey down her body.

When he'd reached her navel, he looked up. "You know, I'm kind of hungry," he told her.

"You're . . . wh-what?" she heaved.

"I'm in the mood for something sweet," he continued. She watched as he got up from the bed and returned to the boxes on the table. He opened one and pulled out a small plastic container. "Syrup, blueberry," he said. "For the pancakes. But, I can think of better uses for it." She inhaled sharply as she watched him open the container. She felt the cold, sticky substance on her stomach and watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Michael lowered his lips back to her skin.

She felt his tongue lave her skin, licking up the gooey syrup as it swirled over her flesh in moist circles. She arched up against him, wanting him more and more by the second. "Michael, please . . ." she groaned. He finally lifted his head to look at her and smiled naughtily.

When she felt him begin to lower her panties, Maria tossed her head to the side and moaned into the pillow. She could feel his breath on her skin, his hands on her hips, his body pressed to the lower half of her own. She quivered in anticipation. When he finally lowered his mouth to her, she cried out and her whole body arched upwards.

Michael's hands moved to plant her hips more firmly to the bed as his mouth continued to move over her. She thrashed about beneath him, thinking to herself that she had never realized just how talented a tongue this guy had. But what a helluva way to find out! She wasn't sure if it was an alien thing, or just a wonderful coincidence, but she really couldn't care less at the moment. She could feel a coil winding tighter and tighter within her with every sweep of his tongue and she just knew that at any second it would snap and she'd be completely lost forever.

"Mmmm," he mumbled against her as he continued the very intimate kiss. The vibration of his lips on her flesh finally pushed her over the edge. She practically screamed as she came, clutching at his hair with both hands and grinding her head back against the pillows.

She guessed she kind of blacked out for a second, because the next thing she knew he was lying beside her and cradling her heaving form against him. "God, Michael, that was . . . that was amazing!" she said breathlessly.

"I'm glad you thought so," he answered, then bent his head to capture her lips in a long, slow kiss. She could taste herself mingled with a hint of blueberries and maple on his tongue. The combination was intoxicating. When they finally parted, she was smiling. "What? I know that look, you're up to something," he accused with a grin.

"Something you'll like, I promise," she replied.

"Want to share this little secret?" he asked.

"Oh, I definitely want to share," she grinned back. He watched as she moved down his body again, stopping as she came to his boxer shorts. "These have to go already," she said as she carefully lowered the material over his straining member. He watched glassy eyed as she removed them and tossed them aside. "Now we can get somewhere," she told him with another grin. He could only watch and wait as she lowered her head slowly, slowly, then, finally, he felt her. Her warm, wet mouth encompassed him and he groaned loudly.

"Oh Marrriiaaa," he drew out as she drew her tongue slowly down then back up the length of him. "God, yes," he hissed as he threw back his head. She continued, circling her tongue over the head of his penis, then taking all of him into her mouth once again. "God, stop," he cried desperately.

"What?" she suddenly sat up and looked at him.

"You have . . . to . . . stop . . ." he stammered. "Can't . . . wait . . ."

She smiled as she understood. "Me either," she replied, then moved back up to straddle his hips again. Within a moment she had positioned herself over him and sunk down onto his hard shaft. They both groaned as they settled into the position. Maria stilled for only a moment, then began to move.

They were both groaning, grinding into one another. The rain outside was beating against the windowpanes, but they hadn't even noticed. They were too caught up in each other.

"Yes, yes," Maria moaned as she drew closer to the edge.

"Oh, God, yeah," Michael said in reply as he, too, neared completion. They both gave a simultaneous moan as they climaxed together, letting the waves crash over them both before Maria fell down into his arms.

"Michael, God . . ." she said as she struggled for breath.

"I know . . . wow," he replied. "So, are you still hungry?" he asked.

She giggled a little and planted a kiss to his chest. "A little . . . but I think we should wait until they're serving lunch."

"Why's that?" he asked curiously.

"Because, I don't think I can ever look at breakfast food the same way again," she grinned. He laughed and pulled her close for another kiss.

* * * * *