Chapter 1: First Meet
by: charrrmed
Michonne Evans hopped out of the Uber before it came to a complete stop and hustled to the restaurant. She glumly mulled that this would be one more thing for her to sulk about while she laid in bed later tonight. Not that she didn't have other things to think about, but she was late for a meeting with Rick Grimes, CEO of Grimes National: the largest privately owned trucking company in the United States. She was on the precipice of solidifying the largest merger that her firm had ever handled. If she succeeded in convincing Rick Grimes to part with a lot more money, she could potentially gain the firm a hot new client: Grimes National.
That usually happened. Companies who were on the other side of her firm's services usually came a-knockin' after they saw her or her partners in action.
She had a stellar reputation, and she had worked her ass off to make her name part of the company name. The pièce de resistance had been when she on-boarded the company that she was representing tonight: Greene Cargo.
Lately, however, she had been off of her game. She had lost two clients. They weren't high profile by any means, but the losses stung nonetheless. She'd made rookie mistakes and overlooked red flags. She blamed it on her recent breakup. Which she found even more pathetic.
But she couldn't think about any of that now.
She reached out and caught the door to Perry's Steakhouse & Grille just before it closed behind a quintuplet of departing patrons.
It was her first time in the restaurant, and she immediately changed her frantic and irritated mood to match the ambiance inside: quiet, subtle, composed, and relaxed. And money. She knew money, and she made money. She knew her shit, and she was here to talk Rick Grimes out of 50 million dollars.
Could she do it in one sitting?
She lived for this. The richer they were, the more thrill she got out of it.
She put the jittery energy aside and settled into sixteen years of experience. Her strappy heels clicked on the oak wood floor as she made her way to the hostess. She got sidetracked by a mirror to her right and veered off to examine herself a final time.
She was wearing a long, flowy maxi dress. The white bounced off of her smooth dark skin, and the mustard yellow and navy blue accents gave the dress eccentric character that she liked. It had a wicked split that started above the middle of her left thigh.
She was by no means employing tricks. She didn't need them. She just loved the dress, and she'd worked long and hard enough that she could now wear whatever the hell she wanted. Besides, unless it got very gusty inside of the restaurant, she would be fine.
Her locs were pulled into a high ponytail, and she ran her fingers through the curled strands until she reached the tips and let them swing, feeling them brush the middle of her back. She ran delicate fingers over the thick gold chain around her neck and smiled when her three gold bracelets caught the soft light and twinkled.
She wore natural makeup, nothing that popped out. She wanted her outfit and jewelry to do the talking, so she'd kept her makeup neutral, down to nude brown lipstick and gloss. She was fine, if she did say so herself, which made her four-month old emotional and mental funk even more annoying.
But she wasn't here to navel gaze. Her large navy blue clutch in hand, she glided back to the hostess, the dress billowing behind her.
"Hi. I have a meeting with Rick Grimes."
"Okay, your name?"
"Michonne Evans."
The young woman scrolled through the iPad and found her name. "Mr. Grimes is already here. This gentleman will show you to your table."
A young man, a little shorter than her Andre but sporting the same high top fade stepped out on her left. "My name is Lucas. Please follow me."
Michonne walked slightly behind him as he led her to where Rick was. Of course Rick was already there. She was twenty minutes late! She had texted to warn him but still.
As they walked, she took in the restaurant. It was an open floor plan, the rooms separated by burnt-orange curtains, which were all currently open. Despite the full house, the conversations were hushed, even the laughter. She liked it. There were tables small enough for two and tables big enough for sixteen, all covered by two sets of table cloths, one off white and the one on top brown.
She wondered why all of these people were here on a Thursday night, but she didn't spend too much time on it.
Lucas led her to the carpeted area and then to a private booth for two. There were curtains on either side of the booth, in case privacy was desired. There were about five tables in the room. The booth's curtains were red, and the booth itself was a cozy brown.
"Here you go," Lucas said. "Your waiter will be right with you. Do you need anything?"
"No. They don't give you any trouble about your hair, do they?"
Lucas smiled, which made him look even younger. "No, they don't."
"Good. My son wears his hair like that. Thank you."
"Enjoy your evening."
She sat in the booth, remaining on the edge so that she could easily stand to introduce herself to Rick, and turned her head to watch Lucas walk back to the front, suddenly missing her son. She made a note to call him tomorrow, even though they'd spoken that afternoon.
She faced forward, and the sight before her made her pause and take special notice. Rick Grimes. She knew what he looked like from searching the internet. He was standing in profile now, talking on the phone. He wore a crisp white shirt that was untucked, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He had one hand in his pocket. She recognized the brand of watch he wore, because she owned one: Vacheron Constantin. He had good taste. And good, veiny forearms. His skin was tan, which made her wonder if he spent a lot of time outside. That would be better than the alternative: tanning booths. He looked too attractive to be a regular at tanning salons.
Rick was done with the insufferable conversation. "Hey, Eugene. Eugene. Fix. My fuckin'. Transition team. You do realize that without a good team, we're fucked, right? I need a team to make sure everything runs as smooth as possible when this merger goes through. I need people in place. Okay, then fix it. I want options by the time I land tomorrow. I'm hangin' up now. Bye."
Rick followed through and ended the call. He took a deep breath and released it, hoping to steady his irritation. He hated Eugene. He hated his voice and his mannerisms. At nearly sixty, Eugene was too old to have such sniveling ways. When the he was good, he was good, but when he wasn't, Rick wanted to ask him why he was alive.
Maybe he should call for a mediation between him and Eugene. These feelings weren't healthy.
He discarded the mediation idea. He liked hating Eugene.
He began to return to his table and stopped in his tracks. A beautiful woman was sitting in his booth. Her hands were stacked under her chin and her lips were parted, beautiful lips, he decided when he glanced at them. She was watching him.
She sat up straighter, which forced him to recover. He needed to tell her that the table was taken. He was meeting with an accountant. And then it occurred to him that she probably was the accountant.
She didn't look like his accountant.
He continued the short distance to the table, hoping that his hesitation had not been obvious. She stood and held out her hand.
"Mr. Grimes. Michonne Evans."
"Rick Grimes," he said, impressed by the firmness of the shake. "And you know that. You just said it. I'm sorry," he said, chuckling.
"It's okay. For all you know, I could've been waiting for Frank Grimes. Speaking of waiting, I'm sorry again for being late."
Rick realized that he was still holding her hand and let go. "It's alright. Please, have a seat. To be honest, I barely noticed, because I was stuck on a phone call for…"
He settled into the booth and pulled out his phone to look at his recent call. "Twenty-five minutes. And there's your text."
Michonne hadn't expected such a prominent southern accent, despite having learned that he was born and raised in Georgia, where Grimes National's headquarters was based. He also was a lot more handsome in person. The harsh flash from the photographers' lens did not do him justice. He also had not been photographed in a while, because nothing existed of him with this haircut: closely cropped, a very short high top fade, with the hairs growing in on the side. He also had a neat salt and pepper beard. She almost made a sound of approval.
"And here I thought it was bad news that you didn't respond," she said.
"Sorry. I was dealing with bad news of my own."
"Is everything okay?"
Rick sighed. "A bunch of b.s. that I'm confident will be taken care of by the time I get back tomorrow."
Or heads will roll. Michonne didn't need him to say that part. The promise was in his steely blue gaze.
Rick flexed his neck and said, "Bad time for me to have stepped down as Chairman of the Board. But I'm here now. How was your flight in?"
"Good. Zero turbulence."
"First class?" he asked with the hint of a smirk.
Michonne grinned. "Yes. First class. Thank you for the offer, but…I had it. Do you usually fly in your counterparts?"
"Only when I care that I'm inconveniencing them." And seeing her now, he would've funded her flight, her hotel, and her meals if she'd agreed. He glanced at her left hand and didn't see a ring. Not that it mattered. Much. After all, they were here to conduct business. Nevertheless, it was nice to sit across a beautiful woman.
"I would've been inconvenienced either way," Michonne said.
"Yeah, but Chicago to Atlanta ain't the same as Chicago to Dallas."
She shrugged. "An extra hour on the plane. Doesn't bother me. Besides, booking it myself means that I get to stay here through the weekend. I've never been to Texas before, and audit season is very soon, then tax season is after that, so I'm going to enjoy this while I can."
"We have a second office here, so I came to check on the operations. I squeezed in two more days, because my daughter goes to University of Texas at Austin. Like you said, audit season is coming. Fiscal year's ending, reports are due, planning for next year, the whole nine, so I thought I'd take advantage of something good while I can."
"How old's your daughter?"
"Eighteen. She's in her first semester. You don't know this, but it is a big deal that I waited until October to come see her."
Michonne chuckled. "I'm sure she appreciates that."
"And I have a son who's twenty-one. He's been studying in Spain, and he's starting to talk about staying there after graduation, and that's…not a possibility I can handle."
"Hey, you know what? We raised them to be comfortable, and confident, and well-adjusted enough to make those decisions."
"You have kids?"
"One. A boy. He's 19 and studying at the Pratt Institute."
"I've never heard of it."
"It's a private school in Brooklyn that mainly focuses on art and design."
"An artist," he said, impressed.
"Like his mom. Except I didn't study it. And I don't really want him to either. He's majoring in graphic design, and I'm trying to guide him to the school of architecture," she said as she cupped her hands and moved it from one side to another.
Rick chuckled. "You just said that we raise them to be confident enough to make those decisions."
"That only applies to you," she quipped, and he laughed harder.
Their conversation was interrupted by the waiter, who looked to be in his early 30s.
"Good evening. My name is Whitaker, and I'll be your waiter tonight. Can I get you started with drinks and appetizers?"
"Oh, I haven't even looked at the menu," Michonne said as she grabbed it.
"That's fine, ma'am. I can wait here, or I can come back in a few minutes."
"Whichever works best for you," Michonne said with a quick glance at him.
"Sir, are you ready to get started?" he asked Rick.
"I'll wait for her. I'd like to pay for this dinner, by the way," he said to Michonne.
She looked at him and smiled.
Rick wanted more of it. "Is that a yes? Order whatever you want."
"I take people seriously when they say that."
Rick gestured to the menu, signaling for her to have at it.
Michonne twitched her lips and returned to the menu. "Do you have something in mind for the appetizer?" she asked him.
"The shrimp cocktail."
"I'll go with that."
"Would you like one for the table or two?" Whitaker asked.
She looked to Rick for a decision.
"One," Rick answered.
Michonne began running her hand over the necklace as the waiter took down the order. Rick found her fingers distracting, the way they smoothed over the metal. He wondered how strong her grip would be, wrapped around his throat and his-
"I'm going to skip the soup and salad," Michonne said contemplatively. "I'll have the prime New York strip, rare."
Rick nodded in approval. "You know how steak should be eaten."
"My parents think I'm a monster."
"I'll have the same thing but with the bone in," he told the waiter. "I called two days ago to make sure it'd be available? Rick Grimes?"
"Yes, sir. I confirmed with the chef that we do have it."
The sides were served family-style, so they had to choose together.
"I was looking at the macaroni & cheese," Rick said.
"That's fine and sweet sriracha brussels sprouts?" Michonne offered.
She got a frown for an answer. "Oh, come on," she encouraged.
Rick liked her voice a lot. It was smooth and melodic. He signed. "Fine. Don't be surprised if I hog all of the mac & cheese."
"Uh, you can't do that."
"Is Cabernet Sauvignon alright with you?" Rick asked her with a big smile.
"Yes and a glass of water with lemon, please," she said to the waiter.
"I'll buy the bottle, and I'll also have water with lemon," Rick told the waiter.
"I'll bring the drinks and appetizer right away," the waiter replied while collecting the menus.
Michonne watched him walk away. "What did he say his name was?" she asked Rick when the man was out of earshot. Her heart jumped, because Rick was watching her.
"Whitaker," he answered.
"I bet they hired him for his name alone. Okay, let's get down to business."
Rick sighed internally. He did not want to get down to business. He wanted to learn more about Michonne Evans. He wanted to experience more of her humor. He hoped that her business acumen was as impressive as her looks and personality were so far.
"Maggie is very interested in your offer to buy Greene Cargo, but the price isn't right yet."
Rick burst into laughter. "Wow. You weren't kidding when you said let's get down to business. You don't wanna ease into it?"
"I think we've done enough easing," Michonne said, smiling.
Rick nodded. "You're right. Coy has its place."
"You know, I'm surprised that you're not here with your accountant."
"I know the numbers. I pay her well enough to tell me what they are, and I actually pay attention."
Michonne was impressed. Her reaction, however, was to shake her head. "On behalf of all of us in the profession, thank you."
Rick smiled. "Trouble?"
"Investment with no return," she answered. "My time is valuable, and there is no sense in me giving you advice if you're going to ignore it and then turn around and need my help to rescue you. A client that we have," she elaborated with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I'm trying to convince my partners to drop them."
Michonne's partner was Jacqui Prescott. Rick had done his research, too. Jacqui and Michonne were a force together, representing many companies with which he was very familiar. Michonne had spent a decade rising through the ranks. The company now bore her last name. It used to be called Prescott & Co. Now it was Prescott, Evans, & Co. Apparently, Michonne had not wanted to be lumped in with everyone else. From what he'd been told about Jacqui Prescott, that had to have been one hell of a fight. Now that he'd met Michonne, he was interested to hear how she got her name on a thirty-six year-old company. He knew that took grit.
"A new year is around the corner. New beginnings, right?" Michonne asked.
"Right," he answered. "Which is exactly my mindset for this merger."
"I'm assuming that, like me, you didn't come to this decision lightly," she said as she leaned forward on the table. "Rick, you want to acquire a company with a fleet of 19 planes. You're getting all of them, plus relationships with the agriculture and food, automotive, and healthcare industries that Greene Cargo's cultivated over the last seventy years. You're literally getting the sky. And you're offering two hundred million for it."
"The company's worth 375," Rick said as he mirrored her position.
Michonne liked the way he pronounced five. "That's the hard line valuation. You're not thinking about the blood, sweat, and tears."
"Oh, come on," he scoffed as he leaned back.
"I'm serious!" she said as she mimicked his position.
"Let's talk about why Greene Aviation wants to sell. Right?" Rick asked. "They didn't conform to the environmental standards after the laws were updated. They cut corners. They cheated. Greene wadn't so green, and the EPA came down on 'em hard."
"Maggie wants to sell," Michonne enunciated slowly, "For the same reason that you want to buy. It is potentially a worthwhile endeavor. If you can increase the price by 50 million."
"Excuse me?!" Rick balked. "I am keeping her on as an advisor. She's going to get a salary and benefits on my dime. I'm putting some of her people on my transition team as soon as this merger happens: more people getting paid. That factors into the price."
"I don't like that word: advisor. It's so flippant. It's stripped of everything she and her family have done to make Greene Aviation attractive to you. Things that will be at your disposal if this merger happens. Things that I think you acknowledge by inviting her to be an advisor and putting some of her people on your team but that I think you're leaving out of the price. You've rightly realized that having Maggie on board will make Grimes National's venture into the air cargo business easier. The bottom line is that you need to do more than invite her to advise you and use her people, Rick. You need to pay her for the nice, cushy setup you're getting: an established company, with an established fleet, with established connections. What the Greene family has done with Greene Aviation is going to save you a lot of headaches."
Rick was going to respond but was delayed by their waiter.
Whitaker set the waters down. The tension between the pair made him uncomfortable, but he wasn't sure that the sudden silence that fell when he appeared was laced with malice. The restaurant didn't get a lot of arguing patrons, but it was always awkward when conversation suddenly stopped. He put down the shrimp cocktail as well as two small plates and asked if he could get them anything else. When Rick said they were fine, he gladly left, barely hearing Michonne's thank you directed his way.
"Do you mind?" Michonne asked Rick as she gestured at the cocktail.
"Please," Rick answered. He watched her put half of the shrimp on her plate, his focus once again on her slender fingers, painted with a clear gloss. A smile tugged at his lips. He liked this conversation, although he hated being told what to do. Well…in certain instances. Something told him that, in another, freer context, he would enjoy Michonne telling him what to do. He wondered how bossy she could get behind closed doors.
Or curtains. He looked at the plush red curtains that were currently letting the other patrons into their business. Not that anyone was paying attention to them.
Frankly, he was surprised at how much his thoughts were veering toward sex with Michonne. This had never happened to him during any of his previous business dealings. He didn't worry, though. It wasn't like anything was going to happen. Then again, he wouldn't be upset if something did happen. He was sure that she was as much of a mature adult as he was.
"Are you smiling because you're starting to see things my way?" Michonne asked.
Rick's pulse quickened, but he remained outwardly composed. Placing four jumbo shrimps on his plate, he said, "I'm smiling because I have options, Michonne." He dipped the shrimp in the red sauce and took a bite.
Michonne had known that he was going to counter with that at some point, because she left no stone unturned. That was why the mistakes she'd made with her last two clients bothered her so much.
"Are you talking about Cargo Executive?" she asked. "Have you heard the rumors that Jadis plans to change the name to Jadis Executive? A fifty-year old company and ever since she took over as CEO, it's been up and down. She's erratic, and you'd probably end up with no merger at all. And then there's Conway Express. Negan would be a thorn in your ass and an albatross around your neck. Chances are he wouldn't want to just advise; he'd want a controlling stake."
Rick nodded slowly, very impressed. "You do your homework."
Lifting one shoulder, Michonne said, "I'm sorry if you expected less."
"So you know Jadis and Negan. We run in the same circles, but we've never met before," Rick wondered with a tilt of his head.
"I don't know them personally. I'm adjacent to that circle," Michonne explained. "I'm very connected in the accounting world, and, like you said, I do my homework. But I don't think I told you anything about them that you don't already know. If I did, then I'll be disappointed, because I walked in here expecting more. You do have options, Rick, and, so far, you chose the right one."
Rick grinned as he fingered the brown tablecloth. Michonne seemed like the right one. The right one to do more than talk business with. He was glad that he hadn't met her at some party, or award ceremony, or crowded dinner. He was happy to have her attention all to himself.
"I want to be in the air," he stated. "That's the next step for us. I see a board meeting in my future," he said, sighing. "I'll see about getting you your money."
A wave of excitement coursed through Michonne, and she privately delighted in it. This feeling never got old.
"You said you stepped down as Chairman not that you were pushed out, so I'm sure your opinions still carry a lot of weight."
"And I intend to keep it that way," Rick said. "I stepped down, because I wanted to strike more of a work-life balance, but I don't want to ever distance myself from the board. Speaking of which," he transitioned as he folded his arms on the table and leaned forward again, "Can we get back to a normal conversation now?"
Michonne's excitement turned into giddiness. Their conversation has had a flirtatious tone since he sat down. Just a tone, though, just enough for them to be able to deny everything, just enough for her to question if she was reading into things. But he just implied that their non-work conversation was about the life part of his work-life balance. And she definitely wasn't reading into the current expression on his face.
The conversation became more and more flirtatious when they moved from the appetizer to the entree, and it reached another level when Michonne commented on his watch during desert.
"I was admiring that earlier," Michonne said, indicating with her chin.
Rick looked at his watch and then laid his wrist on the table. Michonne cradled his hand, and he shivered like he was touch deprived.
"Vacheron Constantin," Michonne said in a perfect French accent, her mind split between the watch that she was looking at and how warm his skin was. She wondered what it would be like to be covered in that warmth. "I have a dark brown one with a pink gold crown. I like big watches. I have my eye on the one that tells you the phase of the moon, for my birthday."
"When's your birthday?" Rick asked.
"February first." She looked up and found him watching her again. It had been a long time since a man made her feel so excited. "What?" she asked smiling.
"I wanna ask you somethin', but I don't know if it's appropriate. Actually, considering why we're here, I know it's inappropriate."
In Michonne's wildest fantasy, he would ask her to go back to his hotel room right now. On one hand, the fantasy made her feel desperate. It had been that long since she even talked with a man who excited her. After leaving a two-year relationship and an eleven-year marriage prior to that, she was beginning to believe that her expectations were unrealistic.
Nevertheless, she pushed through the feeling of shame and said, "There isn't much you could ask me right now that would be inappropriate."
"Are you seeing anyone?" Rick asked with bated breath.
Michonne moved her hand up his hairy forearm and caressed her way back down, grinning when his skin tightened with goosebumps. "No, I'm not," she answered as she met his eyes.
When she reached his wrist, Rick turned his hand over, and she started drawing circles in his palm. The attention stoked his arousal. He decided then and there that he wanted to end the night with her.
"You?" she asked.
"I'm single," Rick confirmed, and he closed his hand around hers.
Rick paid for the dinner with his company's credit card. The waiter put the wine bottle into a tan linen bag and tied it with a navy blue bow.
Michonne and Rick figured out that they were staying pretty close to each other. Rick's hotel was a five-minute walk from the restaurant, and Michonne's was about a ten-minute Uber ride.
Rick interlaced their fingers when they walked out of the restaurant. Whereas he was confident about how he wanted the night to end, the October air had a sobering effect on Michonne. It smelled like rain. It was dark out now, but she imagined that the clouds were heavier than they had been earlier. By the smell of it, they were ready to release at any minute.
She started thinking about power dynamics and her reputation. They were going to have to make a decision soon, and she would be floored, and offended, if Rick didn't go with the obvious choice, but they were not standing on even ground here. It would be one thing if she was the CEO of Greene Cargo, but she wasn't. She was a high-powered accountant, yes, but as a Black woman, her reputation was more fragile than Rick's. She didn't know much about him except that he was a great conversationalist, exuded charisma, and he turned her on.
Was he conniving or was he discreet? Was he an opportunist? If this merger went south, she didn't want it to somehow come out that they had seen each other naked.
The Sheraton Dallas Hotel loomed in front of them, tall and inviting. Squeezing her clutch, Michonne decided to be cautious.
"So, how about I drop you off at your hotel and call an Uber from there?" she offered.
Rick was thrown by the suggestion. Was she really blowing him off? He decided to subtly ask for clarification.
"Uuh, sure. When do you plan to call?" he asked, the lights from the businesses that lined both sides of the street allowing him to see her expressions.
Michonne laughed and shook her head. "Alright, Mr. Grimes," she began as she pulled him to the side of the sidewalk so that they wouldn't be in anyone's way.
"Mr. Grimes? We're goin' backwards here, Ms. Evans."
Michonne was too amused by him. "So we're clear: I want this. I want this to happen," she said as she leered at his chest. "But I hope you can understand my hesitation about going forward, considering what we're supposed to be doing. The only thing we were supposed to be doing."
"I do understand," Rick said seriously.
"No matter how this goes between you and Maggie, no matter what you and your board decide, I don't want us having sex to factor into any of it. As far as everything's concerned, this did not happen. I came here, and I did my job and so did you." She lifted her eyebrows and waited.
"Understood and agreed."
"Good," Michonne said. "When's the last time you got tested and what were your results?"
"About eight months ago. All negative. Haven't had any interactions since. You?"
"Five months ago. All clear and nothing since. So we're in business." She stuck her chin out, slipping back into flirt mode.
Rick shook his head, grinning. "Has anyone ever told you you're adorable?"
"Yes."
"Anyone ever told you you're sexy?" he asked as he closed the minuscule distance that was between them.
"Yes," Michonne answered, quieter this time.
"Have I told you that you're adorable, and sexy, and I cannot wait to take you to my room?" he asked. He let go of her hand to pull her snug against him.
"No. You haven't."
When Rick kissed her, the kindle between them grew to an inferno that consumed and isolated them. Awareness of their surroundings dulled, and all Michonne could focus on was how well he kissed, how soft his lips were, and how soft his beard was. She wrapped her arms around him and caressed the nape of his neck.
When Rick licked her pillowy lips, he tasted wine, but he was already intoxicated by her. She slipped her tongue out to meet his, and desire pooled in his belly. He moved his hand down and clutched her ass. The firmness he found mirrored the growing state of his dick.
Michonne moaned, wanting him to rub her ass, wanting him to do a whole lot more to her ass. He wrapped the arm holding the wine bottle around her, and she immediately felt secure.
She heard more moaning, and it took her foggy brain a second to realize that it wasn't her. It was him. She opened her eyes to see him. His lashes were long, resting on his cheeks.
She pulled out of the kiss and sucked air between her teeth.
Rick wasn't having it. He cupped her cheek and kissed her anew. This could be what they did for the rest of the night, and he wouldn't have minded. Hell, it would be a good excuse for her to wait until the morning to call that Uber.
Michonne became acutely aware of how large his hand was on her face. She ran her fingers over his. They were strong. They would do well inside of her. She moved her hand to his back and caressed the expansive terrain, eager to touch his skin, eager to show him how wet she was after the banter during dinner. Her hand traveled down to cup his ass. It, too, was strong, solid. It made her think of a few other times she'd like to have him, like when he was fresh from the gym.
She ended the kiss again and stepped back, her chest heaving.
"You keep doing that," Rick said disapprovingly. He went in again, but Michonne gave him her cheek and laughed.
"We need to move before we get arrested for being indecent," she said.
Rick looked to his right in time to see a woman quickly avert her eyes, although she couldn't tame her smile as she started whispering to the man next to her.
Michonne began to stroke his beard, which brought his attention back to her. He dropped a firm kiss on her lips and said, "Let's go."
The rest of the walk to the hotel was uncomfortable for Michonne because of how wet her underwear was. It slid against her vulva with every step.
When they got to the Sheraton, she barely took in the large oak wood lobby or the wall of windows that let outsiders peek in. She didn't care about the skylight or the decorative candles dangling from the ceiling. She just wanted to know where the elevator was. By the speed at which Rick was walking, she guessed that he just wanted to get to his room, too.
There were four people waiting for the elevator, and Rick rolled his eyes. He had wanted to get a preview through the slit in Michonne's dress. The ride was quick, however, because they were the first to get off. He led her to room 516.
There wasn't much for Michonne to explore. The bathroom was immediately on her right when they walked in, and the closet was across from it. Next, she hit the fridge and microwave, and then the space opened into the bedroom. He had a king bed and a view of the city, which was currently obscured by sheer white curtains.
Rick set the wine on the large wood desk that was pushed against the wall and held his laptop, and she followed suit and set her clutch down.
"I'd like to give this to you," Rick said of the wine. "Say yes."
Michonne smiled. "Yes." She stepped away from the desk and moved her hands to the sash that held her dress together. She undid the bow and separated the two sides of the dress, revealing her black cotton bra and underwear.
She slipped the dress down her arms and dropped it next to her on the floor. Rick was mesmerized by her body, which she worked hard and ate well to keep toned. She shimmied out of her underwear and dropped it on top of the dress. Next, she went for her bra. She didn't do the fancy stuff. She took it off one strap at a time, and then, watching him closely, she flipped the small cups down.
Rick licked his lips. He was ready to see her deep dark nipples. He was not ready to see that they were both pierced, a silver bar running through each. The revelation turned him on even more. He wanted to know even more about Michonne Evans.
As Michonne dropped the bra, he left his spot and took her in his arms. He created a trail of kisses from the right side of her neck, skipping over her necklace, to her shoulder blade, noting there was a scar there. He palmed her taut ass with both hands this time, slowly rubbing her cheeks. He trembled at the softness of her skin. He continued his trail of kisses, going across her collarbone to her other shoulder blade and then reversing the path to go up the left side of her neck, to her cheek, and he cut off her contented sighs when he kissed her lips.
"Come here," he said, grabbing her hand. He led her back to the desk. He moved his computer to the tv stand, and then he wheeled the desk chair back. He held Michonne's waist as she sat on the desk, just to touch her. He kissed her again, because he couldn't get enough.
"Move back and open your legs," he directed.
Michonne let out a breath filled with nervous excitement and did as he said. She positioned her hands behind her and hoisted her heels onto the desk, opening herself up for his pleasure, her knees far apart, the cold hair in the room fanning her wet pussy.
Rick perused her body at his leisure. The dress had hidden how in shape she was. Every inch of her was lean muscle. He started by touching her collarbone with both hands and moved his way down her chest.
"I love these," he said breathily of her pierced nipples before he took the right one into his mouth. Michonne watched. She liked watching. She bit her lip as he pampered her erect bud with his tongue and lips, alternatively licking and sucking, making her clit throb, even though it wasn't getting his attention yet.
"This one," she said when her left nipple started to feel bereft.
Rick obliged, switching his attention to the other, licking around each little ball of her nipple ring. He sucked like he was nursing, vacillating the pressure that he applied between soft and hard.
Michonne had pierced her nipples long ago, after she'd stopped breastfeeding, but the piercings had made her nipples a bit larger and more sensitive.
Satisfied for the moment, Rick left her breast. He kissed her left knee and then straightened to look at her. She was the picture of wantonness, her lips parted, her pupils dilated, and her breathing heavy.
And then he looked down. What he saw made him want to unzip his pants, pull his dick out, and start masturbating then and there. Her hairy pussy was glistening, coated in her clear arousal. Her clit was out of its dark fleshy hood, swollen, big and obvious, and ready to be catered to. There was a small pool of her arousal on the desk. Even now, he watched a stream come out of her opening and slide down.
Michonne shifted forward a little so that he had a better view.
He did now, tilting his head as he watched the stream go straight down her butt hole and land on the desk. His mouth watered. He was hungry for a taste. He lifted blue eyes filled with lust to her.
"How open are you?" he asked.
"What are you talking about?" she asked with an abrupt chuckle, because she was literally open at the moment.
Eyes still on her, Rick used his thumbs to spread her ass cheeks apart. The unexpected gesture made Michonne experience a small orgasm, a tease of what she was expecting.
Rick felt her butt pulsing in his hands and looked down to see her pussy doing the same, opening and closing. Forgetting all about his question, he bent down and began eating her pussy. She tasted sublime, making him want more. He spelled his first and last name with his tongue.
"Please do that again," Michonne asked as she caressed his head. He obliged, labeling her with his name again. He sucked around her swollen labia, slowly making his way to her clit, slowly working her up.
After ending a dud of a relationship, and dealing with uninformed questions about why she broke things off with such a great guy, Michonne was right where she wanted to be. Granted, it hadn't even been a full night, but Rick was engaging. She was completely tuned in and interested. She was interested in what he had to say and what his plans were. He had plans that she cared about. And if all he managed to give her was a couple of orgasms, then she was alright with that. Hell, that was all that she wanted from him. And he was proving to be as good at eating pussy as he was at running his company.
Her legs began to twitch, signaling how close she was. Her breath grew more shallow and her moans louder. She pushed his head in and scooted closer. He became more greedy, slurping and suckling, on a mission to unravel her.
Unravel, she did. She yelled loudly when she came, her upper body springing forward. Her legs locked around his head, and she mindlessly fucked his face until she was over the peak.
She slumped against the wall afterward, the erotic tension from dinner finally drained out of her. "Goddamn, that was good," she cooed, a dopey smile on her face.
"You're tellin' me," Rick said as he straightened, his accent thicker. He licked his lips, not having wasted a single drop.
He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off, followed by the undershirt. He took off his shoes and socks, followed by his pants.
His white boxer briefs had a noticeable wet spot.
Michonne's smile widened. "You came?"
"Not yet."
"I love that," Michonne said sultrily, realizing it was pre-come. "I want you to put it in my butt."
Rick paused taking off his underwear, the straightforward request shocking him, pleasantly so. "Where the hell did you come from, Michonne?"
"Southside Chicago, Rick. Kenwood."
Even though he was with her, Rick coveted her. He knew now that one night wouldn't be enough. In this heightened state, he decided that if the merger somehow fell through, it will all have been worth it, because he met a woman named Michonne Evans. She was beautiful, and smart, and interesting, and she told him to fuck her ass.
"I can accommodate that," he said and took his underwear off.
Michonne dipped her head and raised her eyebrows, her stomach fluttering in happy anticipation at what she saw. Everything may be bigger in Texas, but if Rick's dick was anything to go by, Georgia had a thing or two to say.
"Oh God, I hope I'm ready for this," she said when a distressing thought occurred to her. She picked up the clutch next to her and opened it to search for a bottle of lube, unable to remember if she kept one in there. It had been so long, even when she was in her last relationship.
She wrapped her hand around a tube and pulled it out to the light. She squeezed it, feeling triumphant.
Her toothy smile made Rick laugh. She was a breath of fresh air. He retrieved his pants, got his wallet, and produced two condoms. "This answers my question," he said, referring to Michonne's request. "I was gonna ask if I can eat my way down your ass."
"I'm very open," Michonne answered anyway. She stood from the table on weakened legs and sauntered to him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him into a debilitating kiss.
Rick moaned when he pulled away. "Mmm. I'm so glad I met you," he said as he swayed with her.
"Same here," she said. She had needed the reassurance that she could still be excited about a person, that she wasn't impossible like her ex and some of her friends said.
Rick gave her a succession of pecks on the lips as he turned them around and walked toward the bed. "Turn," he directed. "And bend over."
Michonne could jump, she was so giddy. After a few tries early on, her ex had revealed that he was squeamish about anal sex, which had honestly been the first check in the dissatisfaction column for her where that relationship had been concerned.
Rick threw the condoms on the bed and took the lube from her when she offered it, and he threw that on the bed, too. They wouldn't need it yet.
She had an apple bottom, which was apt, because he felt like pleasuring this woman was good for his health. He liked how serious she was about her business, how thorough and bold.
He lowered to his knees and worshiped her ass. He had a very healthy ego, so he was invested in making sure that she didn't forget him, that she would want him to keep in touch after this. He ate her ass like it belonged to him, fucking her languidly with his tongue until she was shifting from leg to leg. He didn't ignore her cheeks either. He kissed them and bit them. And when he stood up, he spanked them.
The first blow caught Michonne by surprise. It filled the room and left her ass stinging like a bitch, although Rick rubbing the spot helped. "Goddamnit, do it again," she said.
Rick happily obliged, his dick hard and twitching. He angled the blows from the tops of her cheeks, the sides, and from the bottoms, always making sure to apply pressure after to lessen the sting.
The change in dynamic turned him on, from her authoritatively demanding more money out of him lest he lose his deal, to him standing behind her and spanking her. Her moans drove him wild. He was enjoying making her feel good. What he enjoyed more was the thought that she could turn it around on him. He hadn't gotten confirmation yet, and he probably wouldn't before the night ended, but he'd seen enough from her to make an educated guess. The expectation that he always be dominant in the bedroom had been a problem between him and his ex-girlfriend. He had shared his fantasy of being choked with her, and she had been dismayed. She'd tried it but had ultimately been too timid. Too timid: in the end, that had been the most irritating part about her, because it had shown up in other aspects of their lives.
"Okay!" Michonne cried out after the latest hit. "Okay." Rick once again squeezed her cheeks, which she appreciated. Nevertheless, her ass was on fire. She started shaking it, twerking just to help abate the pain, bouncing and tightening the muscles in her ass.
Rick moaned at the display, having only seen it at his favorite strip club. Michonne looked behind her and locked eyes with him. She bit her bottom lip and continued the show.
Rick kissed her bouncing ass and then resumed licking her cocoa hole. He moaned again at the feel of her cheeks shaking against his.
He was more than ready to be inside of her. He grabbed the tube of lube and poured it on his target.
"Go slow," Michonne directed.
"I know." He slowly inserted one finger and fucked her with it.
Michonne moved forward, careful not to break the contact, and she climbed on the edge of the bed. She spread her knees far apart and laid her torso down.
Rick rewarded her by inserting a second finger, drawing a guttural moan from her. "You are so perfect," he whispered.
Michonne rewarded him by reaching back and spreading her cheeks. She wanted to do anything and everything to please him. His touch set her on fire.
When he eventually withdrew his fingers, she wanted to protest.
Rick poured more lube and scooped them inside of her with his fingers. He reached for one condom on the bed and gave her a kiss before he straightened.
He slipped the condom on, slicked it down with lube, and began the torture of fitting himself in her ass. And he wanted her to take all of him.
Michonne let go of her butt, because it was easier for him to control it. The initial push was both familiar and foreign, foreign because of his girth. She closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing and relaxing.
Rick concentrated on not blowing his load. The more inches he gave her, the tighter she was around his dick.
Michonne was exhaling loudly through her mouth, clutching the sheets from the seductive mixture of pleasure and pain.
"You okay?" Rick asked, voice strained.
"Yeah," she answered, voice even more strained.
"Let me know if you want me to pull out."
"No," she grunted. "It hurts a little, but it's good."
His dick wasn't crazy long, but the width of it made the process feel eternal. It was an eternity that neither minded experiencing.
He bottomed out, and Michonne's ass fluttered around him. Rick held her hips tight, his eyes rolling back at the incredible sensation.
"Fuck me, please," Michonne moaned.
Rick spanked her, and she gasped, "Yes."
"God," Rick grunted, thankful for his ambition to grow his company. Approaching Maggie Greene was the best fucking move he ever made.
He began moving, slowly. He filled the room with grunts and quiet curses, and she filled it with little ouches and moans.
He pulled out a little and poured more lube on his dick and then pushed forward, filling her with one long stroke.
"Oh God," she moaned, just as long, curling her toes.
Rick gingerly increased the rhythm. When she rose onto her hands and began fucking him back, he knew that she had adjusted to his size. Or she was just ambitious.
Michonne threw her ass back on him, shivering from how filled she was. His dick took up complete residence in her ass and all she wanted to do was ask how she could make him more comfortable, because she wanted him to stay.
It was a good hurt, which was dulled some more by the additional lube. Her ass was one of her most sensitive erogenous zones, and it had been dickless for a year and a half. Her fingers and toys did not compare. By the way Rick was stroking her down, she knew that she was going to get her due.
Rick patted her thigh and told her to move further onto the bed, because he wanted to get on as well.
Michonne acquiesced, and they resumed fucking each other in proper doggy style. Rick had a vice grip on her small waist, driving his hips forward. Michonne competed by thrusting her ass back, slamming her thighs into his. They met each other in the middle, flesh against flesh, working up a sweat, Michonne letting out high pitched yells, Rick matching her with a gruffer tone, both relieved to finally connect in the manner that had been on their mind throughout dinner.
Similar to when they were kissing on the sidewalk, everything fell away. There was no context outside of them. Life for Rick resided in her ass, and he reached for it with every stroke. Life for Michonne was his dick, and she wanted nothing beyond it. Unless someone broke the door down, they were not stopping.
"Goddamnit, Michonne! Jesus!"
She whipped her head around to look back at him, and it was a fierce version of the look he'd seen on her face after he'd ended his call at the restaurant: mouth open, eyes desirous. This time, she was openly lewd: passion in action. Rick's muscles tightened, and he began to careen over the edge.
He was a sight: teeth gritted, face tense, his eyes glued to her ass. It overwhelmed Michonne's senses. She suddenly stopped moving and began trembling. She bunched the bed sheet in her hands and gave herself up, eyes shut tight, taking Rick's pounding. Her orgasm intensified sharply, unexpectedly, and she jerked against Rick, lifting her knees off the bed.
Rick cursed harshly and counteracted her movement so that he didn't slip out. Using his height to his advantage, he rose up and pushed her back down, never ceasing the movement of his hips. He was moving slower now, his strokes harder, as he spilled inside of the condom.
He put his weight on her and pinned her to the bed. His strength was sapping, and he needed better leverage to ram into her. He felt like he was never going to stop coming. It was the most consuming orgasm that he had experienced in a long time. He was coiling tighter than a spring. Michonne twitched hard. She sounded like a broken record, loudly emitting the same erotic sound over and over. Her cheek was mushed into the bed. She was mindlessly meeting his thrusts now, her movements slower, too.
They laid there afterward, waiting for their pulse to return to normal, Rick still on top, mindful to take his full weight off of her now.
"I don't wanna move," he lamented into her shoulder.
"Don't," Michonne answered.
Begrudgingly, he pulled out, reveling in the sensation as he did so.
"No," Michonne protested, missing him with every inch he stole from her.
Rick kissed her shoulder and unstuck his sweaty body from hers. "Oh shit," he whispered under his breath when his feet touched the ground. He was weak in the legs.
He looked back at Michonne. Her butt was wet with lube. Grinning, he walked to the bathroom and disposed of the condom. He took two washcloths and wet them with hot water. He cleaned the semen off of his tip with one. He rinsed it and then dropped it in the corner near the garbage can. The other washcloth, he brought to Michonne.
He carefully cleaned her butt. She propped herself on her elbows and watched. He gently ran the towel between her cheeks, and she giggled.
Rick chuckled in return. He dropped the washcloth on the floor and climbed into bed. He stopped over her butt and boldly licked the length of her split, and she squirmed. He topped it with a kiss on her tailbone.
He laid next to her, and Michonne moved over to plant a long kiss on his lips. "Thank you," she said.
"Thank you."
"Am I crazy, or was someone knocking-"
The phone on the nightstand started ringing, and they jumped.
"Jesus Christ," she said, laughing.
She moved off of him so that he could pick it up.
"Yes?" Rick answered.
"Mr. Grimes," responded an exasperated front desk clerk.
"Yes."
"We have been trying to reach you. We have received complaints from some of our guests about loud noises. We appreciate your stay with us, Mr. Grimes, but we care about the comfort of all of our guests. Please keep all noises at an appropriate level?"
"You received complaints from my neighbors?" Rick asked for Michonne's benefit as he laid his head back down.
Michonne's eyes widened, and a mischievous grin highlighted her face.
"These were guests," the clerk said vaguely. "Please keep the noise level down-"
"I'll turn the tv down," Rick cut her off.
"I thank you."
"We're sorry!" Michonne said loudly into the phone.
"What the fu-" Rick exclaimed and quickly hung up.
Michonne broke into a laughing fit.
"What was that?" Rick asked. He lunged to tickle her.
Michonne yelped, partly in surprise, because no one had tickled her since her mid-twenties.
"Stop!" she yelled as she struggled to get away.
When he did stop, they were parallel to the short ends of the bed.
"I just couldn't help myself," she said, laughing. "What are they gonna do, kick you out? You're checking out tomorrow anyway."
"I am checking out tomorrow," Rick said, reminded of the brevity of the time they had together. He flopped back onto the pillows, and Michonne moved to lie next to him. Rick turned on his side to face her and began playing with her hair, curling the ends around his finger.
"What are we gonna do about that?" he asked.
"What do you mean?" Michonne asked as she stared into his beautiful eyes.
"I know this never happened. I agree. I think we should put it in a box and keep it separate from everything else."
He didn't go further. Instead, they stared at each other. Michonne began playing with his beard. She found everything about him sexy. He was commanding but also gave hints of being pliable. It was a seductive combination.
"You were incredible," Rick said quietly. "You felt amazing."
"So did you. You were…top notch."
"I don't think there's a problem with keeping things in that box and revisiting it from time to time."
"Oh God, what do you mean?" she asked, knowing exactly what he meant and knowing she was ready to agree.
"I mean I'd like to keep in touch," Rick said. "I have your number. You have mine."
"Mmm, that sounds like complication," she said as she changed her position to face away from him.
Rick lifted onto his elbow, curious and highly amused. He became more amused when she didn't budge. "Are you serious right now? You just turned around and put your butt in my crotch."
Michonne's stomach flipped over. "What?" She asked. She lifted to look behind her and sure enough, her butt was on his dick. "Oh my God!" she said, mortified. She flipped onto her back like a fish out of water and covered her face with her hands. "Oh my God."
"Are you serious?" Rick asked again, laughing. "What the hell was that? What's the physical version of a Freudian slip?"
Michonne struggled to answer in her fit of laughter. "I don't know. Fucking…horny? Good sex? Good head? I don't know."
They slowly regained their composure and resumed staring at each other, Rick playing with her hair and her stroking his beard. "It was good for me, too," Rick said. "It was great for me. I'm saying that it doesn't have to end."
"I am not flying to Georgia. We're colleagues, Rick. And I'm not even on your side."
"I don't care about you being on my side if you're on my dick."
"Oh my God!" she whispered, genuinely scandalized by his candor.
"I'm serious."
"I…can tell!"
"You just let the front desk know that we were up here having sex, and you're lookin' at me like that?" he said in disbelief, which made her laugh. "I don't get you. But I like it. Besides, if you're pushing for this merger to go through, then you are on my side."
"Well, that's true," she admitted. "But I'm not representing your interests."
"Like I said…"
"Right. You only care about certain kinds of interests where I'm concerned." She sighed. "Don't think this will affect how I do my job in any way."
"I don't want it to. That's why this is in a box."
"What time is your flight tomorrow morning?"
It was Rick's turn to sigh. "Eight twenty. And I can't push it back, because I have a lunch meeting at one o'clock."
Michonne shook her head. "Why do we do that? Why do we schedule shit as close to when we land as possible? Why can't we just take the day off to decompress like normal people? I do it, too. I fly somewhere, and I start working as soon as possible. Unless I'm on vacation. I've always been conscious about not crossing that line."
"Well, you know I don't know. I just stepped down as Chairman, and I'm one who works on vacation. My one hard line has always been the kids. If I'm with them, I'm not workin'. We need to stop and smell the roses, Michonne. They smelled pretty good tonight."
"They did," she agreed. "Were you ever married?" she asked.
"I was, but we ended a long time ago, and my job was only a symptom of the problem. You?"
"Yeah. Honestly, it was a mistake. We did well together before marriage, and it was one of those, 'Well we're five years in, and the baby didn't destroy us, so why not?' It was one of those mistakes that you knew you were making, but you made it anyway?"
"Yeah."
"I ended it years ago. We were married eleven years, together sixteen."
"We married right out of high school," he said.
"Oh, God. Shotgun?"
"No, love. Youth. It was good for a long time. I was…naïve. Idealistic. We lasted for fifteen years, five years too long. I really pushed, tried to work through infidelity."
"You?" she asked, disappointed by the thought of him being a cheater.
"No, her."
She visibly relaxed, and Rick chuckled. "You're so obvious," he said.
The comment touched her in a way that she didn't expect. Obvious. She was obvious to him. Transparent. Easy. Not difficult. Not a challenge. What the fuck was difficult about her?
She wanted to see him again. And maybe she wouldn't. Maybe what they experienced tonight would fizzle over the long distance. Maybe he'd get too busy or she'd get too busy. Maybe. But she had never walked away from a good thing, despite what her exes and friends said, only unfulfilling ones.
"We can stay in touch," she decided.
Relieved and overjoyed, Rick moved on top of her. "Good. I'll pay for your Uber."