A/N This was inspired by the beautiful pics of Danai frolicking on the beach for the Women's Health photoshoot. Let me know what you think! Thanks!
The scratchy notes of the knife scraping across the grainy piece of toast set a balm in Michonne's heart that early morning. She smiled easily and continued to smear the perfect Kelly green pieces of avocado along the nooks and crevices of the Ezekiel bread she dug out from the freezer. Coffee continued its last drops of percolation while she ventured back to the fridge to collect the sliced watermelon radishes and lemon juice, then stopped over to the spice rack to pick up black and cayenne pepper and sea salt. She added the finishing touches to her meal, poured herself a large cup of coffee, grabbed the newspaper and headed for the patio table in her backyard.
Michonne sipped thoughtfully from the mug as she perused the paper. Her elegant fingers rubbed together every so often as she dusted the pads for crumbs. The sun's rays dabbed her dark skin with a radiating warmth that had her lingering on her meal for a few minutes longer than she normally allowed herself. She munched quietly as she began to calculate how much time she had out on the patio before heading out for the beach. Michonne had just recently taken up surfing as a new activity in exercise. Running on the beach that was located a few feet away from her home was proving to be a less than enjoyable feat when her soles could barely make any decent purchase in the sand. Maggie, her roommate, managed to cajole her into a run one morning. Babbling about endorphins and other homeopathic nonsense she'd bounced into Michonne's room bright and early hopping side to side on her energetic feet. After some very persuasive reasoning and over dramatic pouting Michonne relented and joined her friend for her very first and last encounter of beach jogging.
She was grateful for the experience though. After about 20 minutes into the run she collapsed on the sand with an air of dramatics rivaling Maggie, imploring her friend to go on without her and double back when she was done with her lively jaunt. Of course Maggie looked skeptical but continued her pace promising to be back in the next twenty with Michonne ready to join in again. After gaining her bearings Michonne noticed the other inhabitants of the beach. It was a regular cast of limited character's you'd find at 6:30am at a beach in Honolulu. Lone stragglers making their way as they walked the shore, two or three avid practitioners of yoga, and of course your surfers. The one surfer that grabbed Michonne's attention was the light skinned black women with thick two strand twist outs gathered into a large puff at the top of her head. She dutifully scrubbed a cream colored puck onto her board in a rhythmic motion before depositing the item back into her bag. She looked up to catch Michonne watching her and offered up a friendly wave. The two got to talking and Sasha, as she introduced herself, promised to give Michonne a few lessons if she was interested. Michonne acquiesced and the pair soon became fast friends.
This morning Sasha informed her she couldn't make it to their lesson and that she would catch up with her later that week. Michonne was a little disappointed, those lessons had quickly turned into a bonding session and the two gabbed more than completed any actual work in the water. However, she wasn't bailing on her newfound routine. Michonne was a pretty strong swimmer and the waves weren't that bad this early on in the day.
"Hey girlie," Maggie greeted on a yawn, she slid the patio door out a smidge more and stumbled out in nothing more than a thong and a long white tank top. She scratched at her head as she stared out into space before them.
"Morning. You look like you had fun last night. It sounded like it too." Michonne smirked, bringing her cup to her lips once again.
"Yeah, Glenn slept over. I'm starting to feel bad." Maggie winced. She took Michonne's cup and finished her remaining drops of the lukewarm liquid and plopped herself into the empty chair next to her.
"You should, hoe. He really likes you."
"I already told him, what the deal was."
Michonne swatted her friend with the Op Ed section. Hopping to lightly knock some sense into her.
"Leave Daryl alone. He barely knows you and it's beginning to look sad watching you chase him around all eager and shit. You know who you look like? You look like Glenn." Michonne laughed as she stood up from the table collecting her cutlery and dish.
"Ohhhhhh." Maggie moaned pathetically while dropping her head to the table's surface, covering her growing shame and her face with her arms.
"It'll be alright. You're figuring things out. But I hope you get them figured out before your Dad's friend shows up."
"Sugar! I think he got here last night. I was supposed to swing by after my shift at the restaurant." Maggie stumbled back into the house and made her way over to the oval mirror resting above the key hooks. She wiped away some stray mascara crusties and ran to her room. Michonne laughed and ventured over to take a peek at herself in the mirror Maggie recently vacated.
She never wore makeup to work out, especially considering all of the water she consumed and the splashes that whipped at her face. Of course when she arrived for work at the Cuban restaurant she owned, Afro-Cuban House or the "The House" as it was colloquially called, she wore a few coats of mascara and a red lip.
"How old are these kids you're supposed to be watching?" Michonne called out as she gathered her locs into a neat bun atop her head. The slightly golden tips made an artful halo, pleased with her handiwork she turned from the mirror to grab her workout gear. She rolled the sleeves of her pink t shirt up around her arms, opting to go without the wetsuit. Knowing she would regret it in an hour but not really married to the idea of getting into the water without her friend Sasha to complain about the temperature to.
Maggie rushed into view, having gotten quickly dressed in a simple t-shirt and shorts with a large tote bag.
"I think 12 and 4? Boy and a girl. Sugar! I gotta run, if Glenn's still here when you get back tell him to lock up? Thanks!"
Michonne nodded and began to fill her own tote bag with a bottle of water, a towel, her phone, and other necessities. She walked towards the front door and paused, remembering Maggie's parting words.
"Glenn?"
Michonne stretched for the fifth time on her beach towel as she watched the other brave surfers sweep their way through the modest waves. She'd come to the beach bright eyed and bushy tailed, breathing in the unique scent of salt water and promptly set herself onto her towel and remained there for the past half hour. Without Sasha there to coax her into the water she found herself reluctant to delve into the arena, unintentionally sequestering herself to the peaceful warm sand making its way onto her towel. Michonne had made a few attempts out to shore, dipping her toe sheepishly along the crest of each broken wave, wading into the water waist deep while shuddering from the cold, and then all together turning around half way during her latest trek to the cerulean edge.
She chided herself internally, like she knew she would, for opting out of the wetsuit and drew her arms around her body mimicking the heat it would've provided. The usual suspects were out going about their early morning beach rituals, unlike Michonne, with a few new folks enjoying the start of the day.
Michonne fished through her bag to find her phone to check some emails and shoot off a text to Sasha, scheduling a surf session for the following morning,
Hey girl, didn't even make it into the water. You better have cancelled on me for a good reason!
The bubble ellipses went into motion for a few seconds until a blue bubble message formed completely.
I know, girl! But it was worth it. I'm currently waiting on a redneck scramble in bed from our neighborhood mechanic!
Who Daryl?
Yasss! He put in work last night.
Michonne chuckled and shook her head, Maggie would be pleased and disappointed to hear that.
Okay. I can't fault you on that one. We on for tomorrow?
Don't you ever slow down? Daryl's having a party at his place tonight. You and Maggie should come by.
Parties at Daryl Dixon's house consisted of his ugly brother Merle's incoherent drunken rants, the inevitable fights between the other equally inebriated guests, and the occasional hook ups.
At Thirty-two Michonne was starting to feel too old for these all night events. She was supposed to be a savvy business woman, not an early thirties sorority party goer. There was no point in fighting it, she usually made a short appearance tolerating the skunked beer from the Dixon's dented kegs, and either dragged Maggie home or left her to her own devices.
They're starting early this year. It isn't even June yet.
Whatever. I'll see you there, okay!
With that decided Michonne switched over to her email app, going through offers from distributors and event proposals. The warmth of the sun gradually left her body and she looked up to find a pair of trim hips at her eye level. They dipped tantalizing into grey basketball shorts that looked capable of slipping away with the proper applied pressure. Her eyes followed the scruffy happy trail up to a softly thick muscled stomach to a set of strong twin pecs. Michonne's gaze wandered over to the left wrist encased in a shiny silver watch with a sturdy vein protruding out from under the band up to a capable forearm. She was getting ready to switch her lingering eyes over to the next arm when the owner of the body blocking her view cleared his throat. The lips that produced the sound were a prolific deep pink and bountiful with flesh not often seen on a white guy. They were framed in a mixture of salt and pepper whiskers that looked miry and inviting. His nose sat in the middle of his face with an almost aquiline bump that worked for him, if you could manage to get past those sea blue eyes squinting down at her from his position hovering over her.
On any other day if a person stood towering over Michonne whilst she went about her business she would've brusquely sent them on their way and think nothing of it. But this handsome shirtless stranger had her full attention. She chanced a quick glance at his crotch, her dirty mind trying to discern if her was wearing anything under those god sent basketball shorts, and then back up to his face. He pushed a wet curl from his forehead, no doubt damp from sweat, back into the long slick patch of dark brown curls revealing a small lone hoop in his left ear.
Michonne cleared her throat as well, longing to reach into her tote bag and procure the ice cold Nalgene that jingled merrily with ice cubes and was frosted with condensation, but this encounter was veering into awkward territory unless one of them offered up something more that their innocent throaty noises.
"Can I help you?" She finally said, taking another quick peek, this time at his large bare feet.
She noticed his eyes began to do a sweep of her seated form as he nodded slowly. Pursing those beautiful lips once, then sweeping the full bottom one with his pink tongue, and then puckering themslightly this time around as he seemed to take inventory of her simple black two-piece bathing suit.
"Yeah, thank I might be lost." He tore his eyes away from Michonne, looking back out into the water and then ahead onto the street in the far distance.
"Went for a run, lost track of time," His head tilted as he took another look around him, "and my home." His hand twitched gently at his side, bouncing once against his thigh as he continued his inquiry.
"You happen to know where Pacific Sea Lane is?" He drawled in a familiar southern accent. His feet shifted as he leaned on the air keeping his attention on Michonne intensely.
"Yes, it's back that way." She pointed with her left hand. "A couple of streets over."
He nodded his thanks and wiped a stray droplet from his forehead.
"Thank you." he voiced and took off jogging in the direction she sent him over to.
Michonne closed her mouth for what felt like the first time in fifteen minutes and picked up her phone. She read the same paragraph three times before giving up and marching back to her home. Tourist season was around the corner and she needed to get her head right before she made the mistake of falling for an island newbie. She had a restaurant to run and no time for summer fling to interrupt her goals.
"So, Sasha and Daryl?" Maggie paused in her train of thoughts, almost threatening to halt their travels as they meandered down the sidewalk. "What has she got that I don't?"
"I would say an ass but you twigs are neck and neck in that competition." Michonne teased earning a playful shove from Maggie.
"Sorry we aren't all blessed like you in the cake department." She took a look at said 'cake' encased in a floral A-line skirt. Not Michonne's most showcasing outfit for her derriere but its presence announced itself either way through the fabric. She adjusted the thin straps of her crop top that did show off her taut belly.
"Didn't I tell your country ass to stick to 'Daddy Lessons'? No need to learn about cake when you haven't gotten any to serve up to somebody."
"I'm lettin' that slide too, Michonne." She released a pissy puff of air as she collected herself. "Did she tell you how he was? I bet he's amazing." Maggie claimed with a dreamy look. He moods shifting like the crashing waves, the soundtrack of their stroll this evening.
"I don't know what's wrong with y'all, but yes Sasha said he had her knocked out. What about Glenn? He's not enough for you?"
"Glenn's sweet, but he's the marrying type. I'm not ready to settle down yet." Maggie linked arms with Michonne as they walked down the sidewalk. The night air was crisp for the end of May, nature's subtle way of signaling the upcoming change in seasons.
"Mags, you're a twenty-eight-year-old waitress. No one should be telling you to settle down anytime soon. I started a business at 31, most people thought I was too young for that."
"I know." Maggie kicked at a stray rock, perking up at her next point.
"Waitress and part time nanny. I told you about that gig my daddy got me. I made it over to his house just before the kids got up in the morning. It should be a pretty easy job. The boy reads comic books all day and the little girl just wants to play dress up. I can do that with my eyes closed."
"Just make sure it doesn't interfere with your shifts at the 'House'." An unnecessary warning that would fall on deaf ears. Maggie was always good about her schedule, she came in when help was needed and didn't leave until she absolutely had to. Also, the perks of living with the owner came in handy. Michonne was always obliged to give her friend the night off if she could. Maggie was a hard worker.
The women reached Daryl's block and were greeted by the sounds of laughter and conversation before they rounded their way to the actual party.
"Do one shot with me and I'll leave you alone about drinking for the rest of the night." Maggie pleaded. Michonne rolled her eyes in a theatrical way. She'd already agreed to herself that she was going to let loose that evening but she wanted the woman clutching her arm to work for it.
"We'll see what they have Mags and if I want it," she held up her index finger to punctuate her point, "Only if I like it then we'll go from there."
"That's a yes." Maggie scoffed, she proceeded to drag Michonne across the street and into the house.
The party was in full swing by the time the women arrived. They'd managed to dodge Merle, who was posted up on the front yard wielding a tetanus inducing bayonet around, and slipped in through the side door.
Red plastic cups were already littered throughout the house and the sweet musky aroma of weed was trickling its way down the staircase from the second floor. No doubt Daryl was up there either sampling his stash with customers or hot boxing himself in a contradictory move that didn't add up to his whole reason for throwing a party. Some Top 40 hit was blaring its way through the sound system with a decent amount of party goers giving it their all on the makeshift dance spaces.
Michonne took note of the attendees who all seemed to be on the mid to late twenties side. Daryl himself was definitely on the older side but parties like these got around the island fast. As long as the guests were of legal drinking age or above it didn't bother him. Merle on the other hand was more of a "age ain't nothing but a number" type, but Daryl usually kept an eye out for that.
"Let's grab that shot. I can tell I already need it." Michonne took Maggie's hand and led her into the kitchen where the alcohol was set up. The women browsed through liquors until they settled on Fireball.
"Ugh, Maggie!" Michonne grimaced as she poured the cinnamon flavored whiskey into a Solo cup.
"Daryl's probably hiding the good stuff. This will do for now." They tapped their cups together and swallowed the antifreeze disguised as liquor.
"Ooh! There's my other boss!" Maggie exclaimed. She wiped the remnants of the shot from her lips and grabbed Michonne's hand to guide her towards her employer.
"You invited your newly minted boss to a house party?"
"He's new in town. And I figured it'd be good for him to get out meet some new people."
"If he's here and you are who's watching the kids?"
"Carol's brought Sofia over to his place. They know each other from Georgia too."
Michonne's mind began to work in overtime. The shirtless wet nearly naked man's accent on the beach sounded familiar because it was close to Maggie's. She peered through the crowd as Maggie strong armed her and found herself being led to her now dry and fully clothed mystery island newbie.
"Hey Rick! Glad you made it!" Maggie shouted as they reached him. Rick was leaning against the wall with a Solo cup of his own. Dressed in a pair of well-worn wranglers and a white t-shirt he nearly looked island ready and laid back. Until Michonne got a gander of his too broken in cowboy boots. The top part of him was a sight for sore eyes. His curls were extra fluffy as they peaked out from behind his ears, leaving her to fixate on the small gold hoop adorning his left ear again.
"Hey Maggie." He started. His attention seemed to bounce between the two of them, remaining on Michonne a bit longer. "I was actually getting ready to leave. I got here a little too early, met Daryl and his brother." He spoke, in that comforting slow tone. Rick looked over at Michonne and did another sweep of her body with his pretty blue eyes. Her skin felt hot and tight in a way that had nothing to do with the amount of body heat infiltrating the house.
"Oh good. Daryl's great. This is my other boss, Michonne. The one who owns that restaurant I was telling you about."
"Hi, Michonne. I'm Rick." He held his hand out for her to shake. Michonne stepped forward offering her own as they shook them in greeting.
"Nice to meet you." She said confidently, belying the actual butterflies dipping around in her stomach. Of course Maggie's new employer was the man she ogled without any sense of propriety during her morning surf session. It was easy to ignore island newbies when they weren't integrated into the fold of more established newbies. Now she'd probably have to endure hearing Maggie complain about watching the kids while Rick tore it up on the town. Not that she should care about something like that.
"Can I get you ladies something to drink? Daryl offered me some of his good whisky. Can't stomach that stuff he's got out currently."
"Michonne felt the same way." Maggie laughed. Rick produced a bottle that had been resting on the window sill behind him. The bottle was coated with dust, save for the parts cleared from what she was assuming Rick's fingertips. Daryl most have taken a shine to him quickly, he'd only offered Michonne the "good stuff" the fifth time she'd been over his house.
"I should probably be pouring a lot less for you. You gotta get up with Carl and Judith pretty early." He had a sense of humor it seemed. Michonne sure as hell wouldn't be ribbing a new employee about making it to work on time, and pouring them alcohol to boot. Rick kept to his word and portioned out a tiny pour of the pricey whiskey for Maggie. She was supposed to be watching his kids in the morning, after all. Michonne's pour was a little heftier, but not so much to have her questioning his character for giving her an inebriating amount. His eyes drifted from Michonne's cup to her face, he watched her take a modest sip while he licked his lips with a hungry expression. Keeping her wits about her was proving to be rough, between the spirits and Rick's thorough appraisal of her outfit had Michonne feeling woozy from where she stood.
"I'm a pro at this." Maggie interjected, unknowingly, from Michonne's thoughts. "I'll drink plenty of water tonight."
"Maggie is really responsible," Michonne added, "But I have to ask. Did her father save your life? Do you owe some type of debt to him? Cause Maggie isn't the most 'kid friendly' kind." Michonne teased. Rick laughed at her joke, he used his thumb to itch leisurely at his eyebrow before responding.
"Hershel benefits from it too. I've been instructed to keep an eye out on her."
"Yeah, yeah. Typical daddy." Maggie grumbled. Her demeanor quickly changed as Daryl finally made his appearance to the party. "I'm gonna say hi to Daryl." She squeezed between Michonne and Rick, skipping into the living room.
Michonne looked down into her cup, she took a longer sip unsure of what to do now that their bubbly buffer was gone.
"I saw you when you walked in." Rick had inched forward dropping his mouth to her ear to deliver his message. Michonne's face grew warm and she thanked god for her dark cheeks that couldn't betray her bashfulness.
"You remembered me from the beach?" Dumb question, but it had been too long since a good looking man had showered her with this much attention. Even if this innocent flirting went nowhere Michonne was fixing to milk it for the time being.
"It's hard forgettin' lips like that." He drawled, laying it on thick with the additional staring at her lips.
She wasn't that deep in the bag but with every word that slipped from his pink lips, Michonne found herself more enthralled. The last remaining months of her relationship with Mike were unnecessarily painful. Towards the end it felt like pulling teeth just for him to maintain interest in her partner. He'd been so supportive when she first decided to move to Hawaii, eventually he quit his job and followed Michonne out after her restaurant had been established for a year. Unfortunately, the island brought out two very different versions of the pair. Which led to a somewhat amicable breakup. Mike had bounced back with surprising vigor and seemed to have started his own social dating experiment with the women of the island. Tourist season had been a favorite of his until one of his flings decided to become a more permanent fixture in his life.
Michonne hadn't even begun to wade into the dating pool at all. Her attention was currently being held by what was turning out to be the greatest love her life: 'The House'. The time, energy, and money she invested into the modest sized restaurant was all the effort she could give to anything at the moment. However, Rick was plying her with unabashed admiration and sultry gazes.
"Alright." Michonne chugged the rest of her drink and set the cup down. If she was doing this impulsive hook up she at least needed to do it with a clear conscience. "Let's figure some things out. Are you married?"
"Divorced." He answered, sweeping his eyes down the length of her skirt. Rick seemed to be captivated by the clean no fuss pedicure of Ballet Slippers coating her nails. A simple chain anklet rested on the slender slope her ankle. "You've even got pretty feet." He blurted out softly. His eyes caught hers quickly as his confession was made. A slow flush of blood began to sprout around his cheeks, the beginnings of his embarrassment making itself known.
"Can I ask about you?" He continued quietly, hints of red now vining around his ears. Watching him all disheveled was so cute. Michonne's whisky soaked mind was ready to drag him into a spare one bedroom and have her way with him.
"What would you like to know?"
"Is there someone waitin on you?" Michonne answered with a chuckle and a head shake. There's was always something to be said about a southern man.
"Come on, cowboy." She grabbed his hand and led him down a relatively empty corridor in the house. Michonne had often found Maggie in one of these extra bedrooms engaged in some type of compromising position so she knew where to go. Thankfully Daryl usually kept his spare rooms in a clean decent condition for the occasional guest who got too drunk to go home or whoever found it first for the exact reason Michonne was leading Rick to it for.
She tried the knob of the last door of the hallway and pushed her way in. There was a modest full bed with grey beddings and a few pillows. One of Daryl's guitars stood in the corner next to the open window, with the cool night air shifting the curtains slightly.
Michonne pulled Rick further into the room and turned the lock.
"You know, if a guy did what you just did that'd be pretty presumptuous of him. Probably earn him a slap or two."
"I'm sorry. I guess I am being presumptuous." She took a step back from him and dropped her hands to her side, losing all her gumption. So much for the signals she thought he was throwing her way, being out of the dating game had made her a bit rusty. Thank god for melanin, Michonne thought as her cheeks began to warm and her mind went to a hasty exit plan. Why would a handsome charming guy like Rick be interested in a 30 something year old restaurant owner who often found herself face down in pile of bills at 2:30 in the morning while the rest of the world surrounding her lived their life? She definitely hadn't been face down for the fun stuff in quite some time.
"No," he reached for her, foiling her retreat. Rick took a step closer and placed his left hand on the band of her skirt. Modestly trying to avoid the rich dark sliver of skin peeking out, begging to be caressed. Michonne's hand went to his forearm, her fingers dancing along the trail of his prominent vein as she took in his expression. Waiting for him to finish his plea for her not to escape.
"I'm bad at this. Been divorced for two years." His words seemed to feed him more confidence as he took another step towards Michonne. Cancelling the space between them and leaving their bodies lightly pressed against each other.
"I think I am too." Michonne said quietly, leaning into him a bit more.
"Would you shove me if I kissed you?" He asked, in a soft tone. His captivating eyes focusing on her full lips.
Michonne was currently robbed of her speech as she felt the beginnings of his erection form thick with promises at her hip. Her own arousal was making its appearance in the now slightly damp miniscule fabric of her panties. Rick's hand shifted to her backside cupping one of her cheeks fully. He moaned softly while bringing his hand up to disappear behind the band of her skirt and get a feel of her skin unimpaired by her clothing. He traced the line of her thong with one finger before lifting the triangle squeezed between those supple cheeks away from her tingling heat. He repeated that motion a few times stretching the triangle up, her clit rubbing against her panties in the best way.
Now she wanted him to really get a feel of her. Stick those wonderful fingers down the front of her skirt and play with her swollen button. Part her lips with a V of his fingers, so she could feel the cool air flirting with the pink parts of her exposed pussy.
"Can I kiss you?" Rick implored. His forehead pressed against Michonne's as he let out a shaky breath. She pulled back slightly to shake her head in agreement. Which proved to not be good enough for Rick. His other arm snaked around her waist tighter drawing her right into his solid cock, pronouncing itself through the worn denim, leaving no room for confusion about his desire for her.
"I need to hear you say it, baby."
"Yes." Michonne whimpered, she drew moisture from her mouth with her tongue to wet her lips in anticipation. "Kiss me." She finished. Rick's mouth latched onto her's with a satisfied grunt. His hands found her torso as Michonne curved her pliant body into his sturdy frame. He relocated them to the bed in one swift motion, Michonne crawling into his lap and straddling his dick as their kisses grew hotter and sloppier.
Rick pinched at the newly freed nipple that had escaped the confines of her top at the behest of her fallen strap. He plucked it gently at first, pinching and stretching then dove in with his mouth, bathing the puckered hazelnut bud with his cozy tongue.
Michonne mewled at his ministrations and began a slow grind on his dick. She pushed him back on the bed and began to work on his belt, attempting to free him from his Wrangler imposed prison. She watched as he licked his lips lazily in awe of her as she stroked the velvety underside if his length pausing to dip her finger into the space where his shaft met his potent sack and give him a final up stroke. Rick's hands gripped her thighs in a firm clutch, his knuckles devoid of blood, as she moved her panties to the side and position him inside her. They both groaned at the contact and Michonne adjusted to his girth, rocking back and forth a bit to accommodate him until her small smattering of pubic hair nestled with his.
She had welcomed him into her like a champ and was now beginning to feel the delicious tingle of his fullness brewing in her belly. Michonne tucked her feet behind her and took her first upwards stroke. Those toned legs she thought were capable of anything were already trying to give out at the sheer pleasure of his dick, nestled big and burly in her tight heat. She took a few more experimental strokes then began to found her rhythm.
The slick sounds of their coupling began to pick up in the otherwise quiet bedroom. Her breasts bounced and slipped from her top and Rick reached up to unhamper his view.
"Shit." Rick muttered, his hands moved to her hips to further aid her mission to draw the cum from his balls in record time. Her excitement leaked and soaked his pelvis creating a delectably dirty squelching sound that felt like it had Rick right over the edge. He reached up again to draw her to his mouth and moaned amorously as their tongues toyed with each other.
"You close baby?" He whined, as Michonne took her pleasure from him and bounced into a toe curling induced oragsm.
Rick held her still at the waist riding the aftershocks of her gratifications and then promptly emptied himself into her most intimate place. Michonne collapsed on top of her new freshly fucked friend, attempting to control her breathing.
"Wow." She croaked as she moved off of him and slipped her panties off. They lay together side by side as they both regained their thoughts.
Rick reached a hand out to grip the inside of her thigh. He turned towards her exhaling hard through his nostrils, his blue eyes locking with hers intensely. He moved to place a kiss on her lips and Michonne retreated.
"I'll be right back." She lied on a whisper, moving before he could give a response. Michonne stumbled out of the room and into the hallway, she patted her thighs hoping her phone hadn't slipped out of the deep pockets during their lively romp. She found it and quickly typed put a message to Maggie informing her that she was leaving the party.
Her head began to throb, the threat of a hangover already showing itself. But Michonne wasn't pressed over it at the moment. She'd finally had a hot one night stand with an incredibly gorgeous and talented island newbie.
Michonne paused on her congratulatory walk of semi shame home as she realized she'd just put it down and snuck out on her roommate's other boss. Who'd plan to be here for the duration of the tourist season. She shrugged and continued her journey, these things were best left for Sober Michonne to handle the next day. Besides, it wasn't like she had a surf lesson to attend in the morning.