Chapter 5 – Michonne

Michonne: I'm not gonna be able to party tonight…I've got a thing

Sasha: What thing? Ew a Mike thing?

Michonne: No. And if he shows up at your party, just tell him I'm home sick

Sasha: What kind of fuckery is this? You finally chucking the deuces at dry ass Mike?

Michonne: I'll tell you later…

Sasha: Is this about the sheriff?

Michonne: Girl bye…I'll tell you later…just cover me with Mike ok?

Sasha: Alright… have fun…and do everything that I would do…and I mean EVERYTHING!

"Did you find a swimsuit?" Rick asks, pushing his cart over to where I'm standing in the middle of the junior's section at Target looking for some last minute attire for our day together.

Laughing at Sasha's text reply I have to admit that my feelings are all over the place. On one hand I feel like a rat fink for blowing off her party, spending the day with Rick, and not telling Mike about it. On the other hand, there is real excitement coursing through me at the thought of doing something so spontaneous, and maybe a little naughty. I tried not to tip my hand to let Rick know this, but I'm so curious about him, about having him to myself for a whole day that he can probably see straight through my thinly veiled attempts at hiding it.

After this morning's breakfast, I get the feeling that I'm slowly starting to put together who Rick Grimes is, and if I'm honest with myself, he is the most intriguing man I've ever met. When I came at him with some hard questions, he didn't flinch or get defensive, or even try to turn it around on me. He's confident, purposeful, and mature. When he said he was done with Lori I believed him. I didn't want to, because that makes it so much easier to dismiss him. To brand his attentions as just a part of some horny, fetish laced conquest. But, no, I don't think that's what this is at all. Not anymore.

Rick is the real deal. His self-awareness and earnestness regarding his own flaws, and those of the people around him is breathtakingly refreshing. Hearing him talk about Morgan and what happened to him, and how badly he wants to fix things in King County, turned me on in a wholly unexpected way, and one that I can identify with. One of the main reasons that I want to get into law and politics is to help change things, not just for my city or state, but for black folks, women, girls, anyone who has ever felt marginalized really, and seeing this desire in Rick too is…exciting. I suspect that he really is a good man, and a reluctant leader, but one who is not running from or shirking the responsibility of doing the right thing. No, Rick is the guy who runs towards the fire to save people, instead of running from it hollering for someone else to put it out. I like that. It's sexy as hell. It's part of the reason that even though I'm scared as hell about what this could mean, how it might set the fluttering butterflies in my heart free to lavish in this feeling and burn down past expectations, I'm deciding to take this small leap with him, and see where it goes.

I hate to compare them, but the qualities that I'm finding so enticing about Rick, are wholly absent in Mike. Even now, watching him stroll through Target with that cowboy strut, pushing a cart, I'm getting domestic flashes of a future like this. Us, together, coming to Target with the intention to pick up 32 rolls of toilet paper, but walking out with $100 worth of things we never knew we needed or intended to buy. Mike hates shopping, and would never spend more time than absolutely necessary to walk the aisles browsing, and going through the clearance items on the end caps. I don't know if it's fair to consider shopping habits when making life altering decisions, but if I am, score one for Rick, who has already spent over thirty minutes in Target, my happy place, with no complaints.

"I can't make up my mind on which one. It's between this red one piece, which I kinda like because of the cutouts over the stomach, or this orange bikini. What do you think?" I ask, holding up both choices.

Bouncing his gaze between the two, he squints a little then shrugs and declares, "Get 'em both."

"I can't afford them both, Rick. And I don't need them both, so it's impractical to buy them both."

"You don't have to pay for any of this stuff. I got it."

"What? Rick, you don't have to do that. I may not be pulling in those big bank deputy dollars, but I have money."

"I'm not pulling in those dollars either." He laughs. "But you don't ever pay when you're with me. And, I asked you out today, so you let me take care of it. Ok?" Taking each swimsuit from my hands, he tosses them into the cart on top of the hot dogs, burgers, buns, chips, and drinks already there.

"Ok, boss man. What else do we need?"

"Nothing else that I can think of. I think we're ready to roll."

"Oh wait, what about flip flops? If we're going somewhere we need swimsuits we need flip flops." I remember, pulling the front of the cart to direct him towards the shoe section. Immediately finding a pair of simple gold ones hanging on the wall along the back of the department, I drop them to the ground to try them on. "What do you think? They can go with both suits, cause gold is neutral, so that's important, right?" I ask him, modeling the shoe to get his opinion.

"Uh, yeah I guess. Get more wear out of 'em. Makes sense." He nods his head, and runs his hand over and through his hair, completely clueless as to what I'm talking about, but game to have the slightly ridiculous conversation anyway. It's cute that he's trying at all, instead of huffing and sighing to indicate his impatience. If he keeps this up, we'll be ready for marriage by the time we hit the register.

"Cool." I grin, feeling like I hit the jackpot on some $3 sandals. "You need a pair too to go with those ugly shorts you picked out."

"Were they ugly? They have flowers on them, aren't flowers ok?" He asks, scratching at the scruff covering his cheeks and chin. He hasn't shaved in maybe a day or so, and it looks so good on him. The way the shadow blankets his square jaw, and frames his lips is very enticing, and gives his almost too pretty face a dash of gruff masculinity.

What's even better is that he seems completely unaware of how handsome he is. He may be self-aware socially, and confident, maybe even slightly cocky, but I don't get the sense that he understands how attractive he truly is. Again, comparisons are unfair, but Mike knows he's good looking. It's not a bad thing, more of an observation. Mike uses his looks in a purely shallow manner to gain an advantage over people, to sway their opinions, to get what he wants. Rick appears so unassuming regarding how hot he is, that he probably never even considers to use it. Or maybe he does. He's definitely gotten me trapped in those blue eyes more than once. Either way it's not overt, and well, given his probable obtuseness to it, I don't always feel like I have to give him praise for it, be on the lookout for when he might be using it against me, or be thankful that he's gracing me with it. Actually, his lack of awareness makes me want to mention how handsome he is even more.

Reaching up to his face to help him with the scratching, I use my nails to run them through the short stubbly strands. At first Rick pulls his head back a bit, probably in shock at my actions. But he doesn't pull away fully, and instead stands stock still, breathing steady as his eyes focus down his nose, watching me.

"That better?" I ask, slowly withdrawing my hands. Instantly he lightly grabs at my wrists, circling them with his long fingers. The woodsy talc fragrance he seems to always wear is missing today, replaced by a slightly heavier scent, one with a bit more bite to it, its top notes hinting at a moderate splash of musk and sage. Enveloped by the scent, I steal a long inhale, appreciating the affect.

"Yeah, that's better. Thank you." He nods, then kisses at the pulse erratically thumping through each of my wrists. "It itches when it's growing in. I usually keep it cut when I'm working."

"Oh. It…um. It looks good on you. I've never seen your face like that, but…it's good." I tilt my head each way, as though I'm assessing the handsomeness of a face that I have already deemed ungodly in it's attractiveness. Reluctantly he releases my wrists, and dropping my head, I then turn back to the wall of flip flops, making an attempt to break up the intensity of his stare. I head towards the end where the men's shoes are. "What size shoe are you?"

"Uh, an 11. I don't really wear sandals though, so you don't have to look for me. I'll just go barefoot."

"No, you need them. What if you hurt your foot stepping on something? And you can't wear cowboy boots everywhere, Rick."

"Can't say that I don't try though." He rasps under his breath in a self-deprecating manner. Grabbing a pair of basic brown flip flops, I toss them down to the ground for him to try on. "I gotta take off my boots to try these on? Can't we just assume they fit?"

"Nope. Sit, cowboy." Finding a little bench, he begins tugging off his right boot, and sock. "Yeah, you definitely gotta loosen up a bit today. No more boots ok?"

Shoving his foot uncomfortably onto the flip flop, getting the little nub situated between his long toes, he flexes them as if trying to get used to the feeling. "I don't like the way that thing feels between my toes. That don't feel right."

"You'll get used to it."

"I don't know how to walk in these things. Can't I try those other ones with no thingy between my toes?" he nods his head towards a pair of plastic slide ins.

"Only if you're 80 years old, Rick." I laugh, seriously concerned about his lack of style and flair when it comes to non-cowboy attire.

"Alright. Well, they fit. Can I put my boots back on now? At least until we get to where we're going?" He pleads, gathering his disregarded boot and sock.

"Yeah ok. I'll take it easy on you."

"Thank you. Everyone isn't as stylish and pretty as you are. It's gonna take me awhile to get used to playing dress up. Matter of fact," he says, stopping for a moment to reach out to me, his large hands wrapping deftly around my waist. "I need your help getting my boot back on."

"Oh!" I exclaim, shocked by him easily picking me up and placing me on his lap. "Rick, you're always picking me up!" I playfully slap at him. "And, you probably put these boots on everyday by yourself. You don't need me."

"You're wrong, I do need you. Come on, pretty girl, help me pull it up." With one arm firmly wrapped around my waist, the heat of his chest to my back, I lean over to pull up the boot.

"There, you happy now? You know you didn't need my help with that!" I grumble, trying unsuccessfully to scoot off of his lap, but his arm is still holding me snug to his body.

"Nah I didn't, I just needed a reason to get you here." He admits softly in my ear, his hand rubbing freely across my abdomen. Sensing his chest bulking behind me, on a deep inhale he continues, "You always smell so good. What's the name of that fragrance you're wearing?"

"Uh, it's um… uh, Be Delicious by DKNY. You like it?" I stutter, thrown off by the slight pressure of his nose and lips so close to my neck and ear.

"I do like it. It smells sweet, like fruit or something. Makes me want to taste you, see if you're just as sweet." He admits on a broken moan.

"Shit. We should get going and get our day started." Not loosening his hold on me one bit, I call his name to rouse him out of his apparent daze. "Rick?"

"Yeah?"

"Shouldn't we be leaving now?"

"One more sec. That damn perfume is definitely delicious." He groans, easing his arm from around my waist, and holding to my hips while he helps me up. "Let's get going."

Pushing the cart away from the shoe section and towards the front of the store where the registers are, he has once again taken my breath away with the strength of his flirting and teasing. I stay back a little to gather my wits about me, and shamefully to watch him walk with a side to side gait that has his knees turned outwards like he's moseying up for a duel at the OK corral. Sighing in appreciation, I admire the snug fit of his jeans, and how they hug his tight little butt and firm thighs.

Calling my name, he's swiveling his head looking for me, and finding me steps behind, gives an amused snort. "What are you doing back there?"

"Nothing. Checking out the view is all."

"Ah ok. Objectifying me like I'm a piece of meat. Got it. I'm alright with that though. Please continue."

Rolling up to the checkout register we begin unloading our cart onto the conveyor belt. "Oh my god they have the king sized Kit Kats! I've gotta grab one." I squeal, finding my favorite chocolate candy bar.

"Kit Kats? You seem like more of a Reese Cup girl."

"I like 'em both, but Kit Kats are the way to my heart, man. I'm getting two."

"Shit. The way to your heart you say? Just grab the whole box then. Let's just seal this deal now!" Swiping the whole box from the checkout lane rack, he adds it to our pile of snacks, swimwear, drinks, flip flops, and sunscreen.

"Thank you, cowboy. This is a good start." I tease, rubbing my hands together at the prospect of getting my hands on the sweet candy bars.

Ringing up our items, the middle aged, female cashier joins in the jovial laughter between us. "You guys are a cute couple. Real playful. My husband and I have always been like that too. You gotta have laughter. I always say, if you have a good time together, make each other laugh, then that's always a good start for a long relationship. By the looks of you, I think you guys will make it."

"Thank you! I completely agree. Don't you, honey?" Rick says, sliding his arm around my waist, and pulling my body close to his. He lays a big kiss on my cheek. It's not the first time he's kissed me on the cheek, and it's not the first time I've gotten the accompanying tingle from it either. But, this is the first time that I allowed myself to unabashedly enjoy it, and wished it was on my lips instead.

Not wanting the good feelings between us to end, completely caught up in the moment, I ease up on to my tiptoes and lay a kiss on his cheek in return. I can tell that he is caught off guard by the pinkish blush coloring his handsome face, and the way his eyes pop open wider, showcasing those baby blues. "Yep, I agree too, sweetheart."

"Is this your house or what?" I ask Rick, looking over the mid-sized lake house that we are pulling up to.

"Kinda. My granddad left it to me and Jeff, but since Jeff is overseas in the army, it's mostly mine for now."

"I love Lake Lanier. I would just live here all the time if I could. My parents used to bring me all the time." I wistfully reminisce, thinking of those happy times when I was a little girl and my daddy was still alive. "My daddy and I used to fish, and my mama would cook it up. Only if my daddy cut the head and scales off though. Mona Kelly can only handle fish filets."

"I could see you being a little girl fishing out here. We used to that with my dad and granddad a lot too. I would like to do it more, but with the extra shifts it's hard to do."

"But you already have a house, this house. Do you really need to keep working so hard and saving to buy another of something you already have?" I question, not understanding his logic around not just living here.

"Nah. I need a place of my own, that's all mine. Bought with my money. Where I can make my own rules, with no interference."

"Where do you live now?"

"I have an apartment in the pole barn on the back of my parents' property. I pay rent, and it's good so I can still help out on the farm when needed, but it's not ideal."

Jumping out of the truck, Rick rushes over to my side to once again open my door for me, and help me out. Since this morning I have noticed that he never allows me to open a door for myself. Ever. Just like when I mentioned to him that I could pay for my own stuff at Target, he scoffs at the idea of me opening my own door, admonishing me for even having the thought. Even now, as I head around to the bed of the truck to grab some of the bags from our shopping trip, he shoos me away towards the front door, and won't permit me to carry any bags. Rick Grimes definitely has the southern gentleman thing down.

Opening the door to the house, we are met with a stale odor. Dust is disturbed by our entrance, and our movement about the house, sending it dancing around, illuminated by the bright rays of sun breaking in through the windows.

"Sorry about the dust and the smell. I haven't been out here in almost a year I think." Rick walks into the kitchen directly to the back of the house, and drops our bags on to the wobbly wooden kitchen table. Waving away specks of dust from around his face, he takes a brief survey around the room.

Unloading the bags, I find the swimsuits and toss Rick's his way. "Where can I change?"

"You can change in any of the bedrooms upstairs. I'll change in the bathroom down here, then head out to the docks to get the boat together."

"Boat?"

"Yep. So hurry up!" Rick takes his trunks and turns to head away and down a hall, I presume to get changed.

Once I'm upstairs in what appears to be the master bedroom I try on the red swimsuit first. It's nice, and with the cutouts over the stomach area, it really shows off the definition of my abs. But when I try on the orange bikini, I know this is the one I should wear today. It's a size smaller than what I needed, but I really liked it, and it was the only one they had left so I took a chance. With string ties on each side of the bottoms, and triangle cups that barely contain my moderately sized breasts for the top, I think this is the one that will drive Rick wild. Checking the back, the minor coverage is almost giving off a thong effect, and I have no doubt that I will get the desired response.

Rick has made it no secret that he likes my ass. I have caught him numerous times checking it out. Especially last night in my tight fit, skinny jeans. It's probably not right, but I do get a certain thrill from him being so interested in me. It makes me feel powerful, in charge of my sexuality. It's a completely different feeling from how things are with Mike where it sometimes feels like we are doing some sort of orchestrated dance. But, Mike never seems overwhelmed by me, or fascinated in the same way that Rick does. There is a perfunctory duty to the way Mike approaches sex and intimacy with me, so there is a deep seated desire inside of me that wants to explore truly unhinged passion. Rick is so enamored, and he hasn't even had a taste yet, hasn't really touched me, but I can't wait. Tingles and goosebumps break out all over my body at just the thought of it.

A minor sense of some initial hesitation about all of this crosses my mind, but I submerge it. I've made up my mind to give this day, this attraction a chance, so I'm not going to continue to second guess everything. Instead I am just going to go with the flow, and for once in my life do what feels good instead of what someone else tells me is right. What's the worst that could happen?

Slicking on some red lip gloss across my lips, I put my hair up in a bun, and admit that I look damned good. Eager to see Rick's reaction, I head back downstairs and towards the back of the house through the French doors and out to the patio. In some Hawaiian printed swim trunks, Rick is loading up a nice sized boat with a cooler, and the food provisions we got from the store earlier.

With the brightness of the day it is difficult for me to fully make out the details of his form, so I head down to the docks to get a closer look at him, and what he's preparing for our day together. Approaching, I can see the broad expanse of his back, muscles bunching and contracting, already reddening in the bright noon day sun. His long legs and tight thighs are covered in fine dark hair, leading down and over his rounded calves. Bending over to hoist the heavy cooler over to a spot near the rail, his biceps bulge and contract with the strain imposed on them. Stopping his activity, he appears to be taking a moment to survey his work.

"Ahem. So, we're going boating today?" I ask, approaching the boat, docked at the end of the pier. Rick turns to me, and presents a picture from the front that is even more enticing than the one from the back. Though his hips are lean, his chest is broad, also covered by a sprinkling of the same dark hair that's on his legs and arms, leading down into his trunks. Hands on his hips, anchored by veiny tanned forearms, I finally have his attention, and the intensity of his reaction to me glows brightly in the cobalt blue of his eyes that he slowly run up and down my scantily clad body.

"Damn." Is all he says.

"Is that a good damn, or a bad one?" I ask, curious about his verbal reaction.

"It's a uh…a good one. Shit, I almost don't trust myself with you right now. Damn, Michonne." Running his hand vertically down his face, he almost has a pained expression, and internally I'm loving it. I know I look good, and the way I'm standing, with my perky breasts jutted forward, a slight dip in my back to emphasize the sloped curve down to my ass, it's all intended to elicit the exact response I'm getting. Good.

"You going to just stand there and stare, or are you going to help me on to the boat, cowboy?"

"Yeah. Yeah! Come on." Grabbing my outstretched hand, he guides me closer, and picks me up, his hands tucked under my arms to bring me over. Placing me gently to the ground, my body slides down his, breasts grazing across his chest. Nostrils slightly flaring, I can hear the deep cadence of breaths he's taking to calm himself. "The orange swimsuit was a good call." He utters, his eyes locked onto the sight of where my cleavage is pressed hotly against him.

"You think so? It's a little small though, right?" I take a small step back. On a 360 turn I give Rick a good look at me, hearing his breath catch at the sight of my ass in the too small bottoms.

"No. It's… it's good." He rasps, swallowing down any other thoughts that seem to be forming behind the heated glare he's giving me.

"Great! Thank you for buying it for it me, Rick." Leaning in to him, I thank him with a soft, innocent peck to his chiseled and bearded jaw. I'm throwing down a mean tease, and I have to give Rick credit, he's being a total gentleman, and not falling back on any kind of aggressive or overly forward behavior. His restraint is commendable, but that's not really what I want now. Not now that I've decided to see this day through.

"You're welcome." He offers on a sigh, closing his eyes as I walk away to inspect the boat.

"You've never been to Europe?"

"Nope. Went to Mexico a few times on spring break, Canada once with my dad, but that's it."

"Wow. You should go one day, before you start that family you were talking about earlier." I remind. Reclined on the couch cushions that line the side of the boat, I'm sitting across from Rick, snacking on a cluster of grapes. Seated in the chair in front of the steering wheel, he's sipping from a bottle of water, fully engaged in our conversation.

We've spent the day on the lake, lounging, eating, asking and answering questions, devouring every bit of divulged information about each other. While his eyes have steadily feasted on me throughout the day, I suspect that our blunt discussion earlier at the diner has somewhat discouraged him from getting too close now, and as a result he's keeping our conversation steered to fairly benign topics. It was never my intention to scare him away, or douse whatever flame was building between us, not really. I just needed to get some certainty around this crazy thing. I needed to know that he wasn't trying to satisfy some itch for black girls he may have. Vacillating, being a wishy washy back and forth person has never been my style, but he makes me feel uncertain of myself. Of the way he makes me feel, of what it is that he could possibly see in me. I don't want to, but I'm questioning it all, even though I'm wildly attracted to him. None of this makes any sense.

A modicum of despondency has set in now though, thinking of how this was a wasted opportunity. I've pretty much thrown in the towel on the flirting and back arching in favor of just enjoying his company. Rick really is fun to be around, and he's extremely easy to talk to. So easy in fact that I told him about my one encounter with tequila, when Sasha and I snuck some from her parent's liquor cabinet last year. I was totally embarrassed to admit that not only was I shit faced off of one shot, but that when I woke in the morning, cotton mouthed, with a splitting headache, I had also apparently peed myself. Rick thought it was funny, and even though he's a deputy, offered no legal judgment of Sasha's and my pitiful, and illegal drinking choices.

"Maybe. I don't think that having a family or kids will stop me from being able to do anything. I fully intend to enjoy myself, my wife, and my kids. Happiness and fulfillment are not mutually exclusive from a family life; those things don't have to exist independent of each other."

"I don't know. I have heard that the party is pretty much gonna be over once I'm married."

"That's only if you marry the wrong guy."

"It's all but decided at this point. I think I've got the right guy, though. I'm sure Mike and I will be fine."

"Is that right?" Rick asks, hands folded tightly together, hanging between his widespread legs, as he leans over, bringing his face closer to mine. Scrutinizing my face, jaw tightly clenched, he seems to be searching my face for the truth in my words before I'm even able to answer.

"Yeah. I assume you have come to a similar conclusion as well." I gesture towards him. "We've been out here on the water for hours, and you haven't even sat on the couch with me."

"Hm."

"That's all you got to say, cowboy?" Sitting up, and turning towards him, I'm goading him now, trying to get him to do something. Rick needs to make a move on me or let me go. Right now his whole look is tantalizing, offering up something it appears that I cannot have. Sun kissed, his skin, pulled taut across his sinewy muscles, is a golden tan. While his desire may have waned, mine has not, but if it's a losing battle at this point, I need him to just say so. My experience with men is not extensive at all, with Mike being my only real boyfriend and the only man I've ever had sex with. So my tool belt for how to handle Rick's hot then cold turn is limited. Hence me falling back on a rather immature tactic, one I'm not proud of, but I'm employing nonetheless.

"I like listening to you talk. Watching your lips. Even if what you're saying is bullshit." Easing down from his chair, Rick is now sitting on the floor of the boat in between my legs. Knees bent, his his arms rest there lightly, and a small smirk covers his lips. He's completely unbothered, and well, I think my plans have pretty much failed until I realize that he thinks my comments are untrue.

"What?"

"You heard me. It's bullshit. You came out here in that bikini, teasing me. Hell you probably picked it to tease me. And I'm a man, I like a good tease, but I also like to fuck, and I know you're not ready for that. I'm trying to be respectful, to give this thing a chance to be based on more than just sex, but now I'm wondering if that isn't exactly what you want, Michonne. You want me to fuck you, pretty girl?"

"I want you to do something or take me home. You got me out here, and before you were laying down some heavy game, cowboy. But, now I think you have no follow through. That's cool, maybe our first and last date is over?" I spit. Tilting my head to the side, my eyebrow quirked, I feel as though I have laid out a challenge to Rick, one that he has no choice but to respond to. Whichever way he decides will dictate how we move forward. I'm done guessing.

Reaching out to me, he places his strong hands on either side of hips, and pulls me to the edge of the couch. Wordlessly, Rick's hands are grasping me tightly, in a firm squeeze of my ass. All the while he has yet to break eye contact, and its got me aroused, squirming in his hold. Watching him, waiting, he turns his head and kisses the inner fleshy part of my thigh. His kisses turn into light nips and suckles, setting my body aflame. Removing his right hand from my ass, he runs it smoothly over my abdomen, then up to my breasts, firmly squeezing at the small orange triangles of the top covering each.

I can't speak, I can't move. Short staggered breaths are escaping my mouth as I'm making a last ditch effort to control my response to his ministrations. But there is no use, as Rick drags his large hand back down my abdomen, using his thumb to shift the crotch of my bottoms to the side.

Tearing his gaze away from mine, he momentarily stares at my pussy lips, and the wetness of my arousal surely evident. "Is this what you want, Michonne? Or do you want me to stop? It will kill me not to taste you. But, I will stop if you want me to. I'll take you home, and we can forget about this whole thing. Try to anyway. Tell me what you want, pretty girl."

Still kneading my ass with his left hand, I can feel him subtly pulling me forward. Biting down on his bottom lip, he raises his eyes back to me, waiting on my answer. Licking and biting on my thigh again, the sensation of falling, of careless weightlessness is overcoming me, and all I can think about is the pleasure I might find from his mouth. I've never had this done to me before. Mike said he doesn't like the taste, and that it's not necessary for either of us to enjoy sex. I've also never given him head, so it all feels so foreign for this handsome man to be here, between my legs, offering me some unknown pleasure. Near bursting from the thought I nod my head, giving my consent, and on a broken gasp I offer, "Please, Rick."

Gently, Rick unties each side of my bikini bottoms, watching intently as the front of them falls over to reveal my slick pussy to him, open to his exploration. Like he's unwrapped a present meant just for him, a wide appreciative smile covers his face, and he utters on a raspy groan, "Thank you."

His left hand is now pressed to my back, and with his right, he runs it over and in between my breasts, urging me to lay back. With my back now arched, and my shoulders resting on the couch, Rick takes me leg and tosses it over his shoulder. Light pressure is applied to my back, thrusting my core closer to his face, and I'm met with the warm wafting blow of his breath across my mound.

"You have the prettiest pussy I've ever seen. Dear God, Michonne. Look at you, baby." He whispers on a long sigh, then pushes his finger inside of me, opening me to his exploration. Thrusting and twisting, he adds another finger and I'm exalting in the tightening pleasure that's building deep within. Quickening his pace, an obscene slosh of my juices is heard against the wet smack of his fingers within my core. Withdrawing his fingers, there is an immediate sense of loss. Guiding my gaze down towards him to see what has caused him to cease, I witness him placing his fingers in his mouth, sucking my juices from his digits. Watching him raise my thigh higher on his shoulder, he begins licking up and down each of my pussy lips, then in between, using his tongue and nose to nuzzle through my folds to reach my clit. The sensation causes me to crumble, to fall apart and sink into the cushions of the couch. The pressure of his licks intensifies, and I can faintly sense and hear a throaty hum of vibrations coming from him as he feasts on me.

I've never known a feeling like this, so erotic, so sensual, I've lost complete control, and my groans and moans leave my lips on a wanton plea for more. "Please, Rick! Oh my God, more!"

In a wordless response to my demands, I can feel Rick's tongue pushing, thrusting forcefully at the entrance to my canal, to my opening where his fingers were. Closing my eyes to the dazzling thrill, I'm writhing and desperately shoving my pussy onto his face. Helping me to sit up, he places his hand at the small of my back and lifts me to a sitting position. With both legs over his shoulders, and my ass supported by the edge of the couch, I'm wide open for him to continue ravaging me. With long licks from my hole to my clit, ending in firm nibbles of the sensitive nub, thin quick pants are falling from my lips. Worked into a frenzy, I'm grinding my pussy against his lips, and tightening my thighs around his head. Eyes clamped tightly shut, I'm reaching my climax, a place I've never truly been. My heart rate is speeding up to match the tightening clench and contraction of my sex. Tension is at an apex, and the pain pleasure mix is a shocking delight.

Leaning back from me, he's panting, attempting to capture a breath, while he's massaging my thigh. "You taste sweeter than I thought, Michonne. You are delicious." He claims, rubbing his free hand down his beard, licking my scent from his lips. Dipping his middle and ring fingers inside me, he's methodically digging and twisting again, a slow syncopated rhythm to his movements. All the while he never takes his eyes from me. Enjoying the way he's driving me even crazier while I ride the descending wave of my orgasm, Rick smiles a wicked grin, and removes his fingers once again. Groaning at the loss of his fingers inside of me, he brings them, slick with my essence to my lips. "Taste how intoxicating you are, pretty girl." Opening my mouth slightly, Rick inserts his wet fingers past my full lips. A fire blazes in his eyes while he watches me suck them, moaning around the digits. Flitting my fingers across his scalp, through the fine shortened strands of his slight curls, he closes his eyes, and bites down on his pink bottom lip. "Fuck…"

Wrapping his arms around my waist again, Rick drags me down his torso to set me on his lap, his rock hard cock resting on my abdomen, nestled between us. Finally opening his eyes, those prismatic blues are a darkened hue, teeming with unsatisfied lust behind them. Lax in his hold, my arms over his shoulders, I'm not experienced enough to know what to do next, but I know that I want him to feel as good as I do. Without thought I grab a hold of his dick, tentatively wrapping my fingers around the thick, weighty girth of him. He's hard in my hand, and I can feel a beating pulse coursing through the throbbing veins.

I have never had sex where I was on top, and the uncertainty of how to proceed must show through in my halting tugs of his dick. A rough breath passes through his lips, and he wraps his hand tightly around my own that's now tugging in a more aggressive up and down pace. Biting and licking at my neck, my cheeks, the sensitive skin along my clavicle, Rick brings his rosy succulent lips to mine with a suction that draws them into his wet mouth. Vigorously he's roaming the inside of my mouth with his tongue, sucking and biting on my sensitive lips.

Rick's kiss is unlike any I've ever had, carnal in both its intense hunger and greed, and I can hardly withstand the passion he's unlocked within me. It's causing me to ache inside, desire and need driving me to reach for my own soaked sex, slicking my fingers with the sticky, viscous fluid. Unable to control myself, finding my own touch insufficient, frustration clouds my face. "Please, Rick! I need… I-"

"I'm trying to be good here, Michonne. I'm…" He shakes his head, as if the thought of not fucking me is causing him physical pain. "Only if you want to."

"Please…"

"Don't say it if you don't mean it."

Nodding my head, and removing my hand from his cock, I move them both to my heavy breasts. Taking a hold of each, I thrum my nipples, attempting to massage away some of the anguish of needing to be filled by this man. This handsome beautiful man, who has spent the day feeding me, floating across the small bobbing waves of the lake, as he asks me to tell him about my most trivial thoughts, hungrily absorbing each as though they were the most precious and treasured of secrets. Who has spent the day sharing with me some of his favorite memories of fishing with his dad, granddad, and brother, on this same boat. The same man who told me how hard he cried, completely broken by the death of that same grandfather. And of course, the man who respected me enough to not attempt to coerce or take from me something that he clearly and desperately wants.

Yes. I want this man. More than anything.

"You want me to fuck you, Michonne? I need you to say it. Tell me to fuck you."

"Rick…"

"Tell me to fuck you, and I will. I will make it so good for you, baby, just say it."

"Fuck me, Rick. Please-"

Instantly my words are cut off, drifting down into a shallow gasp, by the dull prodding of his dick's blunt tip against my entrance. With a sharp urgency lacing his words, Rick commands, "Lift up on your knees a little, you're tight as fuck." With his arm wrapped stiffly around my back, he assists my lift. Repositioning his dick, holding it tightly at the base, he uses his vise like grip on my waist to drag me down, and impale me on the length of him. Again a ragged gasp lingers on my lips, and is quickly joined by a growl of pleasure from Rick.

"Gotdamn you're tight! Oh fuck, baby!"

Now firmly seated atop him, with light airy breaths skimming my lips, and on to his, I'm frozen and unsure how to proceed.

"Babe, you've got to move. You're so tight, it's killing me if you don't."

"Ok… I just don't know… I've never… I'm sorry."

"You're perfect. I got you, baby, just hold on."

Lacing my fingers together at the nape of his neck, I do as directed, and hold on. With his hands in an unyielding grip at the back of my head and around my waist. Slowly and deliberately Rick is guiding me up and down on top of him. A stable creeping sensation is crawling up my spine, transmitting pleasurable spikes throughout my body.

"Oh god, oh god…" I chant, the only words I can gather while being pummeled from below.

"Mhmmm… You feel so good. Too good!"

Safe in his hold, Rick rolls us over in the tight space on the boat's floor. Settling snugly between my thighs, he begins a slow roll of his hips, followed by a quick and sharp pump. In a continuous rhythm, Rick's hard body covers my own, both sticky from the humid heat dancing above the water, combined with the vigorous slapping and writhing of our bodies against each other.

No longer able to tolerate the zinging pleasure, I stiffen in place, legs and arms wrapped tightly around him. Another orgasm, this one even more intense than the other, sends my head and heart soaring high and past the waning sun above, accompanied by a visceral mewl of pleasure.

Seemingly aroused by the tension of my orgasm, Rick follows shortly behind, a loud growl announcing his cum's arrival with a swift series of lunging drives. Balancing his leanly muscled frame on his elbows, he hovers above me, a rapid grin curling his lips upward. It's a smile made up of the stuff of every sappy, sugar filled love song I've ever heard, and I hope to God he can recognize the same in the weak one I'm giving him back. Leaning in to kiss me, I greedily accept his tongue, still hungry for the thrill of our fiery connection. My bun having come undone, Rick begins regathering the loose strands to tuck them back together in the lopsided remains atop my head, and places a series of small wet kisses at my hairline.

"You're so damn beautiful. And amazing. And smart. And sexy." He says, with each proclamation topped off with an accompanying kiss somewhere on my face.

"You're kinda alright too." I tease, rolling my eyes at the ridiculousness of how insufficient those words are to express how I truly feel right now.

With the water creating a slow bob of the boat, coasting heavily atop the lake's waters, I can't imagine anything that could ruin the quiet perfection of this moment. Rolling to his side, removing himself from inside of me, his leg still possessively thrown over mine, a grave flash runs across his face, alerting me to something being amiss.

"I uh, I forgot to use a condom. I'm sorry, that's never happened to me before. Ever."

"What!?"

"I'm so sorry, Michonne. I didn't bring you out here for this, for our first time together to be like this." He apologizes, a sincere look of regret in his eyes, now cast somewhere in the sky above the boat.

"It's ok. I've been on the pill since I was 16. It helps regulate my periods. We should be fine, though I wish I'd been more careful. It's just never happened before with Mike-" I explain, while my hands rub through the hairs spread over the expanse of his wide chest.

"I don't want to hear his name on your lips again." He looks back down to me, his voice tight and serious.

"Rick-"

As if his ears were burning at the broken off mention of his name, my phone, still resting on the couch beside us, glows softly in the pending darkness. Retrieving the phone on my behalf, Rick gives it a quick glance. Recognition covers his face as he hands it to me, and I see Mike's name and a message emblazoned across the screen.

Mike: Where are you?

With the silence created by Mike's untimely text hanging heavily between us, Rick's voice finally breaks through. "So, are you going to tell him? Or should I?"