So, I had an idea and I hope you like.

Richonne Secret Fantasy

Senior accountant, Michonne Buchont looked down at her lettuce and tomato salad and sighed, "No dressing, no bacon bits, and no croutons? When did my life become so boring?" She pushed her bi-focal, horned-rim glasses back up the bridge of her nose and smoothed a hand over her locs pulled back into a severe bun. Another huge sigh escaped her lips as she peered over at her colleagues, who were just as bland as she.

Andrea, Maggie, and Sasha sat at the next table, all similarly dressed in white cotton blouses, tan or blue vests and loose fitting skirts. No makeup, glasses and their hair tied back so tight, one or all of them should have a headache. Instead of eating, they each had an accounting ledger in front of them, trying to get more work done before the end of the day.

Loosening the top button of her white, long sleeved blouse, she stared off into space. As her mind emptied, Michonne's gaze locked onto the blue, azure eyes of Rick Grimes, her fellow accountant. He sat at a table near the front with his carton of milk and egg salad sandwich, facing her. His neatly trimmed, graying beard and his gelled hair lay smoothly against his nicely shaped head, parted in the middle. She stared, mesmerized when he opened his mouth over the edge of his carton, that plump, pink bottom lip cupping the white, triangular cardboard to catch every drop. Her eyes widened as her attention dropped down to his Adam's apple as it moved up and down with each sip.

Michonne glanced over to his hairy forearms. Tanned and muscular, she noticed a vein running up the length of his arm. Staying on her visual path, Michonne finally made it back up to his face. Rick had finished his milk when their eyes met. Rick dropped the plastic butter-knife he was about to use to cut his sandwich, startling Michonne out of her reverie. Blushing over what she thought were wicked thoughts, she broke contact and focused on her fork hovering over a ripe, limp tomato. Michonne couldn't get those beautiful eyes out of her mind.

'Hmm…if he got rid of his pocket protector, those god-awful tweed slacks and took that pomade out of his hair…he wouldn't be half bad.'

Michonne's imagination took her to a world where Rick wore nothing but a pair of silk boxers…

Michonne found herself inside a bedroom decorated in different shades of red. From merlot darkened walls to crimson window treatments. Naked, she lay on silken sheets covered with fluffy pillows that complimented the room, her limbs closed modestly. Standing at the foot of the bed, wearing nothing but black silk boxers, was Rick Grimes, her gorgeous and shy co-worker. He stood there quietly with his hands on his hips, watching her. Instead of slicked back hair, curly locks covered his head, the back longer, making her hands itch to thread her fingers through its softness.

She stared back silently as Rick walked around to the side, reached down and placed Michonne's wrists up toward the headboard.

He whispered in his deep Southern accent, "Trust me?" She nodded as she whimpered incoherently.

Once he secured her hands with a silken cord, he sat next to her and ran his hand through her loosened, cushy locs and said, "Open your legs, Michonne, and keep 'em open. Stay like that or I'll stop the whole thang."

Rick covered Michonne's eyes with a satin blindfold. Low music began playing in the background. Unable to see, she had to listen for his movements and guesstimate where and what he was going to do next. Trembling with nervousness, Michonne's breathing became shaky with excitement as she heard a rustling sound to her left.

Her toes and fingers clenched in anticipation when she felt the first touch. A light brush whispered along one side of her neck, then across to the other side, to travel a path between her breasts. Her back arched…

Rick didn't speak, though, she could hear his breath increase as he slowly moved what Michonne perceived to be a feather, up and down her body. The light touch encircled her nipples, refusing to give her the satisfaction of directly touching the hardened nubs. When he reached her thighs, he repeated, "Do not close 'em, or I'll stop."

Michonne nodded her head that she understood.

The soft plume stroked down her flat abdomen, sliding along her inner thighs, moving ever so closer to her most sensitive bundle of nerves of her body. A sharp tingle shot all through her as he pets her sensitive, pouty labia. She used everything within her being to keep from closing her legs. She let loose a low moan.

"Please, Rick…I don't think I can take anymore!" She gasped.

"You can." Rick continued to pleasure/torture the bashful accountant.

Michonne's throbbing increased with her arousal, all she needed was two more seconds.

Rick stopped right before and chuckled, "Let's calm you down a bit, shall we."

Frustrated, Michonne groaned, "Son of a bitch," as her head turned toward the sound of a cap being unscrewed, and again squeezed her fingers and toes together in apprehension for what came next.

The next thing she felt was the warm, moist pressure of Rick's mouth as he kissed her softly on the lips. "Are you okay?"

A whispered, whiny "no", was all she could muster, as she tried to catch her breath.

The next touch surprised her… Rick rubbed a mysterious liquid onto her breasts. Coolness, first caressed her engorged nipple. The more he stroked, the more heat spread from Michonne's torso to her thighs. She savored its sweet scent as he continued his sensuous onslaught. Inflamed, her burgeoning flesh became tighter and tighter, her muscles straining.

Just in time, Rick gave Michonne merciful relief. He kneeled between her legs and with the same finger and mysterious liquid; he slid said digit right down between her pouty, feminine lips.

The quiet CPA from Room 203, screamed. Her locs flung back against the pillows as her back arched off the mattress.

Her body had been waiting for this moment. Naughty, debauched pride overwhelmed her with the thought of Rick watching as he slid his finger in and out of her pussy.

With all her shyness thrown out the door, Michonne implored huskily, "Rick, my beautiful Rick, please fuck me and don't let all this go to waste."

His warm body was a comfortably welcomed weight as he pressed down on her. Without hesitation, Rick thrust and filled Miss Buchont's tight, inner core with ease. His cock hardened more in reaction to her wetness and heat. He released her wrists, allowing Michonne to glide her fingers through his lustrous, curly dark locks.

Gibberish was the only language Miss Michonne Buchont spoke at this point, as he reached for her hair and pulled…

SMACK!

Startled out of her daydream, Michonne jumped, "Wha-"

Still in a daze, she peered up at her boss, Mr. Phillip Blake, standing over her lunch table. The fool hit the table again to get her attention. "Glad to see you back, Miss Buchont. I don't know where you were just now, but I wanted to tell you good work on Shane Walsh's audit report. I also wanted to make sure that you turn in Hershel Green's medical equity financial statements before you leave today."

Michonne shook the erotic haze from her brain and was coherent enough to answer. "Yes, sir. I will have the report on your desk, pronto."

Michonne had to place her secret fantasy to the wayside, so she could concentrate on the important report that she needed to start and have completed by the end of the day.

Senior analyst Richard Grimes spied on his co-worker as the shy and quiet, yet beautifully sensuous woman nod her head to the chief executive of their accounting firm.

'If only I had the nerve to ask her out. What would she say?'

Taking a bite of his boring egg salad, he contemplated…

Rick's erotic thought placed him sitting on a pile of colorful, soft pillows of various sizes. The colors ranged from deep dark blue to blazing fiery red. While he waited, he looked around and saw mesh netting hanging from the ceiling, encircling his bed. Excited, he realized he was in a Sheikh's tent from his favorite novel, Arabian Nights.

The surrounding candles lit up suddenly and the golden flames danced to the music of Adam Levine's Lost Stars.

A small water fountain gave off the sound of soothing bubbles to his left. Relaxing against the pillows, he waited in anticipation for his queen to arrive. Placing his hands behind his head, Rick sank deeper into the cushiony softness. He heard the door open and watched a vision of loveliness walk in.

An iridescent figure appeared before him, covered from head to toe with silken scarves the colors of the sea, from cobalt blue to aquamarine green. A dreamy vision glided in front of him, with only her dark brown, voluminous eyes showing. He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger to make sure that what he was looking at was real.

The music changed to another sultry, slow tune. She raised her hands above her head and started to sway predatory hips to the provocative rhythm, sashaying around the room for him. Those seductive hands never stilled. Rick's eyes followed her shapely figure from one side to the other…bending at the waist, soft hands sliding over long legs, luscious ass, and supple belly. Each movement of her fingers, dutifully and slowly, peeled away scarves, revealing glowing, dark skin, giving him the urge to taste every exposed, satiny, lickable flesh.

Each time she moved closer to Rick, her perfume wafted past his nose, causing his arousal to increase. He wanted to stop the show and grab her…pull her down…have his way with her. Rick didn't do it. He was curious to what was going to happen next. He sank more comfortably into the pillows and sipped the glass of wine that sat on the side table, poured just for him.

Rick's silk boxers began to feel tight, forcing him to adjust his dick, though, he would feel a lot better if he just took them off. He sat up quickly and sucked in a jolted breath, as he watched Michonne's body fold sumptuously down to jingle the bells on her ankle bracelet.

He watched as graceful, golden-tipped fingernails drifted from delicate gold painted toes to glide along delicious, ebony skin…pause, then settle on her luxurious hips. For every hip dip, his indubitably hard member matched with a twerking movement. The distraction forced Rick to move his hand smoothly past his elastic waistband and clasp the nine inches of hard, pulsating male flesh to hold him still. His grasp tightened around his cock, stroking it as a pearly drop began to leak from its tip.

Rick swiped his hand over his face as moisture beaded his brow, his curls sticking to his forehead. She sauntered over to the right side of the bed and set her foot next to his thigh.

His secret fantasy's gold, toenail polish twinkled in the candlelight.

Rick reached out and gently held her ankle to keep her from moving away, while she gently swayed to the slow tune. A light, floral fragrance surrounded him as she drew closer. He wanted to lean forward and run his tongue along the inside of her knee, and then nibble his way up her inner thigh.

Rick sensed and saw that due to her arousal, she could barely stand.

Before he had a chance to fulfill his urge to taste, frustration touched him when she danced away. She whispered, "Lie back." She removed the rest of the scarves to show more of her legs, belly, and shoulders, but her face remained obscured. Except for the eyes, and from what Rick had seen in them, his first assessment was correct.

"Yea, go ahead and tease me all you want, Michonne. You'll be ridin' my dick soon."

He chewed the inside of his mouth, "You have a problem with that, Michonne?"

He heard a sharp gasp come from behind the veil before she said in a hushed tone, "No Rick, I don't have a problem."

The smell of her arousal spiced the air surrounding them. He growled, "I'm gonna fill that pussy, so be ready."

His queen danced her way to Rick's feet and sunk down onto her knees. Kneeling between his legs, those beautiful hips continued their sensuous movements to the music. She placed her hands on his calves and slowly smoothed a path up his thighs. She grasped the band of his silken shorts. Rick hissed as he raised his ass and let her slide the silky fabric off his hips, the delicate threads adding more sexual tension to his aroused member.

She caressed him gently with one supple hand while pulling the scarf away from her face with the other.

All Rick could do was stare at Michonne Buchont's luscious lips. He watched in fascination as Michonne's tongue skimmed across her plump, lower lip to slip wetly over the top…could not take his eyes off them.

Rick found himself drowning in a sea of dark, amber brown. Imagining what those lips were going to do to him, he was taken aback by his lover's smooth hand transition. From cupping his balls to swiftly grasping the wide width of his dick.

Rick whimpered.

He watched her tongue appear again, inching closer to dip, then give a long, slow lick…

"MR. GRIMES!"

Rick blinked as a single tear fell down his cheek; the sultry scene disappeared and was replaced with the bright, monotonous green of the cafeteria. He cleared his throat and answered with a high-pitched "Yes?"

'Let's try that again, Rick ole boy…'

He brought his mind and his body to the present. Clearing his throat again, he responded with a deeper, "Yes, can I help you?"

Mr. Blake stood before his table and was vying for his attention this time. "I said, I need you to team up with Miss Buchont for an upcoming project. Her last assignment will be complete by end of business today, and I want you two to start working with a company called 'Desus Bliss Magazine'. They are a medium-size editorial company, with a sales range that runs in the millions. They're shopping for a new accounting firm and I secured an appointment with our company. I want my best accountants on this.

"I understand this will be your first assignment together. I want you to go over to her table right now and introduce yourself. Keeping Desus happy will take the both of you working together as a team. And if that means you need to spend after-hours together, then that's what you'll have to do."

Normally, Rick barely tolerated the green-eyed bastard, but not today. "Yes, sir! Right away, sir!" Rick hopped up and went over to Michonne's table.

Those familiar, brown eyes looked up at him in wonder, "Hi, I'm Rick. Do you mind if I have a seat?"

THE END