9:17 am Day 3
An hour after the ride of his life, so far, Rick found himself waking up to the buttery smell of Michonne's pancakes and he felt like he had died a blissful death and gone to pancake heaven. "Yes!" he rejoiced in a whisper to himself anticipating her cooking, eagerly padding downstairs to find the dusky hued object of his obsession.
He caught a glimpse of her in the kitchen as he turned the corner from the steps. Her back was turned to him as she was facing the stove and she swayed her hips to the tune of Nina Simone's 'Do I Move You' playing at a moderate volume from the small speakers of the CD player on the counter. Michonne's hips dipped sensually at the soulful composition and she sang along with a carefree hand in the air. She had the image of one particularly moving face in her mind- the same stubbled face that she couldn't see smiling behind her now, alight with enough love to unsteady his breaths.
"Do I move you
Are you willing
Do I groove you
Is it thrilling"
Michonne shimmied, happily, side to side as the lyrics took her thoughts back to the past few days. Days thick with so much dreamy eroticism, she couldn't tell sometimes where his soft kisses ended and her face-melting orgasms began.
"Do I sooth you, tell the truth now
Do I move you, are you loose now
the answer better be YES-
That pleases me..."
Michonne sang into her wooden spoon while Rick watched her doing unseen work, listening to her cover of the soul singer's ode to dirty talk. His attention was trained on the motions of her curves under the pleasantly inadequate cover of her his denim shirt that she had, once again, absconded from under his nose. For her crime of grand theft denim, he decided to sneak up behind her and strum her tickle spot until she screamed.
He devilishly crept closer and closer to the back of her, sandwiching is tongue between his pink lips to stifle an impending burst of laughter.
"I was just about to come get you." She said sensing his presence but never actually turning around. "I made you pancakes."
His attempt foiled, his sneaky demeanor deflated as he sidled up next to her at the stove and rubbed a hand over her injured backside.
"Haven't you learned: you'll never get me, Rick." She chuckled knowingly as she stirred the pan in front of her."
"I haven't got you, yet." Rick admitted. "But never is a long time..." He refused to concede, pinching a piece of pancake off the plated golden stack on the counter. "Mmmm." he approved, "Come on, Chonne," He bumped his pelvis into her hip, "Tell me how you make'um so fluffy. We use the same mix and the same water and my pancakes come out all thick and dry. Look at this!" he picked up one of her freshly made pancakes and dangled it before her eyes. The perfectly round cake wiggled back and forth full of airy, fluffy goodness. Rick sounded amazed and sad, "You could play Frisbee with mine!"
Michonne politely held in laughter at his comparison. "I can't reveal my secrets, Rick. A lady has to maintain some sense of mystery." She brought her hand up to his face looming over her shoulder, stroking his fuzzy cheek. "Your pancakes are..." she tried to be honest but nice "...edible."
"Oh-ho-ho!" he howled, chuckling at her descriptive burn. Her ribs were fair game now for that smart mouth and her wardrobe-related larceny and he intended to be merciless. His fingers went to work and Michonne immediately tensed and begged around the shriek of his name.
Her pleas falling on deaf ears, she finally brandished the tip of her greasy wooden spoon. She popped his attacking knuckles causing him to jerk back with a yelp and retreat. With him finally at bay, she promised with a stern voice through narrowed eyes, "You better back up off me or I'm gonna break this thing on your fingers."
He surrendered completely, hands in the air, still wincing at the ache she'd laid out on his digits, but even with the pain he couldn't stop laughing. She shook her head with an incredulous smile at his phony sheepish expression, feeling justified in her use of force and took advantage of his current compliance to talk tough. The samurai with the wooden spoon ordered him as she gestured over to the table, "Now, get over there and sit down so we can eat."
Rick began to slink over to the table, followed by Michonne with her hands full of their breakfast: a plate of pancakes and a pan of doctored-up canned corned beef hash.
She walked behind him confidently, looking for any sudden movements. Knowing Rick, she was sure that he was still waiting for the perfect time to strike again. Sure enough, just before he took his seat, he lurched at her threatening another attack just to see her flinch.
"Oh, shit!" Michonne jumped. "I knew you were gonna do that too!" she granted with a scowl as he laughed, tickled to death.
"You'll never get me, Rick." he mocked her earlier words as she gave him an eye roll of epic proportions.
"Shut up and eat." Michonne sighed as she moved half the stack to his plate, accompanied by two heaps of corned beef hash. She cut her pancakes into triangles, poured a light glaze of syrup on them and sat back in her chair, holding her plate to her chest and sliding her feet into Rick's lap.
He sat at one end of the table with her to his left, watching her eat, oblivious to the audience of his eyes. He envied that fork as she pulled it clean from her plush pressed lips. He coveted the moan of delight she gave to her syrup-slicked pinky as she sucked it dry. Finally, half done, Michonne noticed Rick slouched with one arm thrown over the back of his chair, his eyes locked on her.
"Eat." she bid him without stopping her own feasting.
"I can't. You broke my fingers." He held up both hands for inspection. "Look."
She smiled, lips pursed at his ridiculousness. "I did not break your fingers."
"You did. They're definitely broken. I would go to the infirmary, but I don't need Denise's shit, today." He hammed it up, "I can't eat... unless you help me. You gotta feed me." He pulled her chair right next to his and kissed the shine of syrup from her bottom lip.
Michonne laughed through his entire performance, a giggling snort slipping out when he finally revealed his ultimate motive. "Of course, I have to feed you." she nodded with sarcasm and amusement. She scarfed down the last bit on her plate and reached for his, cutting, pouring and forking, she raised the food to his mouth with a persistent smirk. "What's this thing with me feeding you all the time now?" she wondered.
He continued with his satire through crowded cheeks, "Beside my broken fingers?" Michonne did not even deign to answer him, choosing to eat a few of his pancakes instead with a smug expression. "Hey!" Rick acted quickly and caught her arm, guiding another bite from her hand to his mouth. He concluded happily, "It tastes better when you feed me."
"So..." Michonne sat closer, calculating their expectations of one another in this advancing relationship. She raised the loaded fork again, waiting for him to chew and swallow, "I have to cook and feed you, too?" she pretended to complain.
"I mean... I have to let you wear my shirt and undress you too... so..." Rick accused her equally, then gave her a sentimental tone, "That's what we're supposed to do... we're partners right? Gotta take care of each other?" He drawled, his tone implying it was a question as held her feet in his hands, dotingly pinching her toes and applying pressure to the balls of her feet.
"Yes. We do." Michonne agreed wholeheartedly, lost in those azure eyes. She couldn't think of a thing he could ever ask of her that she would deny him and she knew, without a doubt, that the same was true for him when it came to her. She filled his mouth again and thrilled herself as she pleased him in this simple way.
Rain began to tap against every surface outside and still Nina offered her two cents to the moment as 'Angel of the Morning' delicately chimed under the banter and sweet nothings.
"So what do you want to do today?" He asked her as he traipsed his fingers up her legs to her thighs, then back down to the soles of her feet, always greedy to handle some part of her silken body.
"There's enough to do." she acknowledged after blowing out a prematurely exhausted breath. "Laundry, the bathrooms need a good scrubbing, boxes of supplies are still in the garage, unorganized..."
Rick put his foot down, "No, Michonne, no work." His voice was stern in a way that she knew meant business.
"Okay." she yielded, "Well, what did you have in mind?"
"Someth'n fun." Rick took a sip of his chilled, honeyed tea and lifted his brow, "Strip poker?"
"Strip poker?" she repeated, not the least bit surprised at his idea. "But all I have on is a shirt, Rick!"
"Then you better win every hand."
"No, Rick. No strip poker. That's not fair. I told you I don't know how to play!"
"I told you, I'll teach you." He promised in vain.
She threw a suspicious look his way. "And I told you I can't trust you to teach me when your objective is to get me naked."
"But that always my objective no matter what we're doing." He revealed with a look that says she should have known. Michonne huffed and rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time. "Okay," Rick allowed, "I'm sure we can make strip poker work with any other game. So, tell me, what game would you be comfortable challenging me in, when you know I'll be hell-bent on taking my shirt back- so I can see all those parts of you that belong to me?" He kicked his chair back from the table and drew her into his lap, sweeping her locs away from her neck. He touched her there lightly and put her on notice as thunder spoke in the sky, "Cos you know I'm gonna get that shirt back, don't you?"
Her competitive nature effectively triggered, Michonne suggested, "Every time I win, we'll clean for 20 minutes?"
"Ten." Rick adjusted. "And every time I win, we spend ten minutes do'n... someth'n... better than clean'n."
Leaving their dishes at the table, they peered into the large storage ottoman where they housed all their board games. They had plenty available to stave off boredom and they used them a lot. "Sports Trivia?" Rick suggested, looking up at Michonne as he crouched to sift through their game night inventory. She declined his choice with a wrinkled nose, standing on the other side of the container with her arms crossed, already in the mental space to defeat the man appropriately at her feet. "Battleship?... That's strategy..." He raised a brow in offering.
"Mnh unh." Michonne had a taste for something different, but she didn't know exactly what. "What else?"
"Scrabble?"
"Nah."
"Taboo?"
"Not enough players."
"... Uno... Chinese checkers..."
"Pick something we never play." she requested.
"Ok..." Rick pulled up a brown box with gold writing, "Never played this before. It's Gabe's."
Michonne laughed at the title. "You really want to play this for sexual favors?"
"Why not? I feel like the Lord is with me." He joked in a pious tone.
"Okay." Michonne nodded confidently. "Bible Trivia it is. But full disclosure, I went to church with my grandma every Sunday when I stayed with her for the summer and she made me pay attention."
"Well, I watched the 'Ten Commandments' every Easter when it came on TV." Rick countered. "You ready?"
They agreed to their made-up rules: Your opponent reads the question from a category of your choosing. It continues to be your turn until you answer incorrectly. The first person to get three questions right wins that round and ten minutes to spend on the activity of their choice.
"Ladies first." Rick instructed from his side of the couch. "Pick your category."
"Ummm..." Michonne studied her choices. "Let's go with... Bible Contents." she pointed and rubbed her hands together with anticipation.
Rick cleared his throat, "Okay." He read from the little blue card, "These four Bible books are commonly referred to as the 'gospel'. Name them in order."
"Does it really say they have to be in order?" She asked, wary of sabotage.
Rick was insulted, "Yes! What kind of person cheats playing a Bible game? The books of the gospel... in order, please." he motioned with his fingers for her to come forth with her answer.
"Uhhh..." Michonne stalled as she mumbled to herself possible answers, counting on her fingers for accuracy.
"C'mon!" Her challenger called, lighting a fire under her.
"Okay! Ummm... Matthew, Mark, J- no, Luke and John?" She scrunched her face, awaiting the verdict. Slowly it came...
"Correct." Rick sighed as Michonne celebrated with a bounce in her seat, willing to endure the pain of her bruises to gloat in front of him.
"You want to calm down?" He tried to inflate her excitement, "It's only the first question." She poked out her tongue and asked for the next question from the same category, this time a little more confident. Rick pulled another card, "Which Bible book contains the most chapters?"
"That's easy. Psalms!" She slammed her hand on the coffee table with no hesitation.
Rick was surprised, "How did you know that?"
"I told you how. Thanks grandma!" She pointed to the sky. "One more and we're gonna bust some suds!" She got three correct answers and led Rick, by the hand, to the kitchen and they cleaned up the mess from breakfast and folded half a basket of laundry before the timer they stole from another game buzzed after ten minutes. Michonne made a victorious strut back to the couch, taking her seat again with a grand flourish, "Okay. Category?"
"Old Testament Bible Characters." Rick said with his intense game-face on.
The lady in the lead ran her hands over the row of orange cards and intuitively settled on one that gave her a good vibe. "This Bible character accompanied his brother, Moses, to Egypt to demand the release of the Hebrew slaves."
"Aaron." Rick said with no pomp whatsoever. "Next question, same category."
Michonne refused to congratulate him, "Okay. You got lucky. That's Ten Commandments stuff..."
"I told you the Lord is with me, Chonne."
"Whatever..." She dismissed his claim of divine favor and posed his next question. "Okay. This Bible character's superhuman strength came from his uncut hair worn in seven braids... Hmmm." Michonne looked at the answer on the card and was not familiar.
Rick quickly gave his answer and watched her sweat. "Samson. Next question, same category." He said without a blink.
Rick knew the correct answer to the next question but it was not the one he gave. He threw his round so his neat-freak beauty could have the sparkling bathroom she wanted. But she got so many questions wrong it took her multiple rounds to give three correct answers. She had no clue, but her devoted sweetheart forfeited all his questions to get her there. And once she won, Michonne didn't hold back rubbing it in. "Looks like my 'holey-ness' is coming in handy. The Lord seems to have a new best friend." her laughter echoed in the acoustics of the bathroom as they cleaned together. She even mocked him as his biceps flexed, scrubbing the tub like a slave. She sang the old negro spiritual, 'Let My People Go'. But Rick just smiled at his work, knowing he had a secret ace in the hole.
On to a new round, she had to guess Jacob's only named daughter, "Sarah?" She tried again, "Rachel?" She began to sweat, "Wait, wait, wait!... She ran over to the music, barely discernible to the ear and turned off Miss Simone mid-note. "I can't focus with this background noise!"
"Aww, come on, Michonne," Rick reprimanded in disappointed, disapproving tone, "don't blame Nina."
Michonne couldn't come up with the right answer on her final try and Rick was now up at bat. He chose a category, "Red Letter Scriptures."
"And ye shall know the truth and..." Michonne read the card for Rick and waited for him to answer correctly. She was unimpressed already… even she knew this quote.
"The truth shall make you free." He said with ease and kissed her lips proudly. "Next."
"And forgive us our debts..."
"As we forgive our debtors." He leaned back on the couch totally poised.
Michonne tried to hide her nervousness as Rick edged closer to a winning round, "Same category?" He nodded and she plucked his next card, "For unto whomsoever much is given..."
With the correct answer on his tongue, Rick set the timer first. Snatching the purple card from her hand and tossing it over his shoulder, he employed all his swagger and finished the words, "...Of him shall be much required." As though he were being egged on by the Man Upstairs, lightning lit up the room as he advanced on her with that handsome smirk that made Michonne a puddle of desire. He laid her back slowly, kissing her lips, in the same spot- on the same couch where their first kiss had blossomed into a fire that only swelled with each passing day.
"How did you get all those right?" She asked as he took a gentle bite from her neck.
Rick shrugged, "Your grandma must still be look'n out for you." He smoldered into her chest. 'Cos you know what I'm gonna do with my ten minutes."
As his ten minutes ticked away, Rick's chosen activity really only amounted to a glorified make-out session, but he enjoyed every second teasing the woman stretching his t-shirt to pull him closer with a vice-like grip. He purposely kept his hands off her and pressed them into the couch, aiming the weight of his restricted hard-on down to her heated mound. She rocked up on to the proof of his singeing need as his tongued swirled around hers, his sky blues staring down her pecan browns.
When the timer went off, Rick mumbled, "That's time." But he could barely move away to continue the game with Michonne's hand's pulling his face to hers and her legs wrapped around his waist. "Chonne, baby, that's time." He repeated and grinned at her greedy transformation. "You want any more, you got to answer three questions right."
Michonne sighed and sat up. She defiantly turned back the dial on the timer to ten as Rick reached for the box of cards.
"Category?" He ignored her persistent affections, continuing with the game according to plan.
"The orange ones." She said with little thought as she chased him to his side of the couch, charging his soft kiss-swollen lips.
"Okay. Bible Characters." He reminded her of the category, trying to keep his eyes on the card as she ran her fingers through his curls and her tongue over his neck. Rick began to read, "This prophet..."
Quickly, Michonne snatched the card from his hand and read the answer quickly, "Jeremiah."
"Seriously, Chonne?" He chuckled against her mouth, "What kind of person cheats playing a Bible game?" Rick brought up his earlier question, shaking his head at the temptress currently removing his t-shirt.
"The kind of person who has a man this gorgeous, suddenly so concerned with following the rules. Next card, please." Michonne requested with sass.
Rick lifted another card from the stack, "Chonne!" He tried to stop her as she stole the card again and read the answer,
"Zeph- Zephna... Ugh! I can't pronounce that name." She spoke hurriedly at Rick's lips, "But it's this guy." She said displaying the card in front of Rick's face and tossing it over her shoulder, she brought her hand to the massive bulge in his lap. "Oh, my god!" Her eyes rolled back and her neck went limp at the feeling of him stiff in her palm.
"Close enough." Rick took her steamy exclamation as the correct answer and sank back into the couch, relishing her stormy invasion of his lips and neck. He was completely done with games.
Michonne stood up before him and hastily unbuttoned her top. She peeled it off and tossed it to him, exposing her perfectly rounded breasts, her wide hips and the slick moist slit between her thighs. "There's your shirt back." she said as she knelt between his legs and yanked his jeans open.
"So you're just gonna break my fingers, cheat at the game and then take advantage of me?" Rick asked as he assisted her efforts, lifting his lower half until his pants gave way.
"Oh, sorry... Tell me you want me to stop." Michonne paused for the briefest moment, resting her cheek on his thigh with daring flames under her feminine lashes. Rick didn't make a peep, only sliding his tongue over his bottom lip, as he brought his hand to the back of her head and pulled her a titillating inch closer to his loins. Michonne smirked, "I thought so." With a whiny moan, she brought him into her warm mouth, taking the head of his dripping cock immediately to the back of her throat.
"You're so beautiful... Chonne" He tilted her chin higher for a better look, but his words failed him at the sight of her sucking his veiny length aggressively, the wet suction nearly crossing his eyes. Dead silence filled the room save for Rick's coarse grunts of satisfaction, the stinging smack of Michonne's lips plastered on his sensitive cock and the soothing patter of rain.
She was enamored by the sweet taste of his skin and the powerful feel of him twitching heavy on her tongue as her neck rolled and her head bobbed. Michonne began to clutch at his strong thighs, the fabric of his jeans balled up tightly in her hands. She released his shaft from her lips, feeling it bounce against her face as she teased his tightening balls with the tip of her tongue. Rick could never get tired of this view: his rose colored dick towering in front of her mahogany face smirking devilishly up at him. She curled her fingers around the base of his proud dick and latched on again, pursuing his release by pulling his engorged cusp back and forth between her hollowed cheeks.
Unable to hold on one more second, he heard himself groaning out her name as he drenched her taste buds with his lush, briny cum. Michonne backed away, his squirting member fell from her mouth and the last of his thick pearly streams decorated her breasts and chest. Rick lustfully gripped her hair nearly to the point of pain, lifting her to arrest her lips with his own. Reaching forward to pinch her nipple, he gave her a short tingling wave of satisfying rhapsody all over her body. Her throaty cry filled his ears as her own juices trickled down her thighs. Then, as if on cue, the timer dinged.
"You'll never get me Rick..." he repeated, feeling compelled to remind her how many ways he'd had her already. As evidenced by her climaxing without him even so much as touching her pussy and the tipsy expression on her face, he reminded her that she was desperately addicted to being had by him.
After recovering, Michonne had questions. "Tell me how you knew all those verses and stuff." she was still puzzled, wiping her chest with his white tee.
Rick negotiated, "I'll tell you, if you tell me how you make your pancakes."
"Deal." Michonne agreed as she hugged a couch pillow close to her chest, resting her face on the cushion. She stretched out on her stomach across his lap, her backside still a little red and tender.
"My mother was a nurse. She worked the graveyard shift most Saturday nights." He started, resting his head lazily on the back of the couch, still wasted from the his baby's work.
"Yeah..."she prodded.
"So, my grandparents watched me while she was at work."
Michonne grew impatient, "So... how did you know?"
"My granddad was a Sunday school teacher. And I went with him every Sunday for years until I was old enough to stay home alone." Michonne looked back at him, her jaw hanging loose and her eyes stretched wide. "I knew all those answers..." he revealed "...and honestly your knowledge of the good book is border-line pathetic." He insulted her while simultaneously caressing her body thrown across his own.
She was taken aback and choked out an affronted chuckle. "You didn't think you should have mentioned that?" She asked, still staring over her shoulder at his nonchalant mood.
"Nope." He told her point blank. "Now, those pancakes... Let's go." he returned to the quiet-kept recipe. "What are you putting in them that I don't know about?"
Michonne couldn't believe he had the nerve to expect her to honor their deal after acknowledging such blatant trickery. Her spiteful answer came with a throw pillow hurtling to his face, "I use holy water, you jerk!"