Inside, Rick listens to the faint music mingling with the voices wafting in to him on the humid evening breeze.
Outside, Michonne is saying her goodbyes to her sister and son.
He doesn't move at first. He needs to process a few things and get a grip on himself.
Michonne is so beautiful, and his heart aches for her, having to be separated from her child under such dangerous, complicated circumstances. All the melancholy and isolation he witnessed from afar over the months have suddenly come into sharp, visceral focus for him. He is up close, and getting more personal with each passing hour.
He sees all the signs of Andre's longing for a father figure, and he can only imagine the burden such an absence has had on the two women. From the little time he spent with Andre, he can tell they are both doing a fine job of raising him, but there is nothing they can do to fill that void. It's hidden too deep for them to reach.
Rick sighs, beginning to pace.
He's trying to give Michonne her privacy, but he finds himself restless for some answers to bring her. Or some way of helping her face all this, of being there for her.
She doesn't need a savior, Rick, he chastises himself harshly.
He doesn't want to treat Michonne like she's someone to save. Nor does he want to use the danger she's in as an excuse to feed his by now irreversible obsession with her. Meeting Andre, seeing her with him tonight, even getting to know Sabine – all any of it did was further ensnare him.
He is simply too close to even fathom staying away from her now.
He is hopelessly enamored with her. He is crazy about her.
He stops pacing and wanders out to the foyer, noticing that Sasha and Michonne are talking in the front yard.
Sabine and Andre are gone.
Rick doesn't eavesdrop this time. Instead, he heads into the living room to occupy himself with something.
Anything, to hide the evidence of how thinking about Michonne is making him feel right now.
He loiters about, examining the records neatly organized on a shelf across the room, still unable to stop the steamy thoughts piling up in his head, stimulating him inside his snug jeans like an invisible caress. He eyes the plush, midnight-blue sectional, thinking of bending her over it and burying his dick into her from behind.
With difficulty, Rick manages to shake that thought away.
He makes up his mind to stop staring at her when she returns with Sasha. He doesn't want something he'll regret to rise up in full view of her best friend. Sasha seems nice, and loyal, but also like the kind of girlfriend who would take pleasure in putting Michonne on the spot at his expense. He's been there. Lori had two of those back in the day.
Suddenly, he hears country music blasting from the driveway through the living room window. Rick turns to see truck headlights getting smaller as the vehicle backs out, taking Kenny Chesney's crooning with it.
He stares through the window at the disappearing headlights. Sasha is leaving. Michonne is alone now.
His feet carry him out of the living room and into the foyer without him even noticing.
Seconds later, he's meeting Michonne's gaze. She's walking back up to the house, and she is alone.
Rick stands still and watches her approach. He can't move forward, or he won't stop until she's in his arms.
When Michonne sees Rick standing there, waiting for her, she can't deny herself any longer.
The aching between her legs becomes too much the moment their eyes meet. She's been tuned into him like an antenna picking up on his hidden, powerfully alluring frequency all night, but now the sensation only gets stronger as she glides up the porch steps.
The closer she gets to him, the more she wants him. The knowledge that they are finally alone only emboldens her.
Michonne keeps her gaze on him as she walks slowly up the porch steps and through the door. She closes it behind her, listening for the soft click as it shuts. When she turns to face him again, he's still standing there, staring at her.
She watches him, leaning against the heavy, cool wood for support.
Neither of them feels any pressure to speak, having had their fill of conversation for the night.
The hypnotic, seductive music playing softly in the background fills the silence for them.
Rick leans slightly to the side, waiting.
His pink lips look hot and electric, his blue eyes are shining and yet blown open like deep, dark pools she could dive right into and disappear in forever. They begin to roam.
Michonne can practically feel his gaze burning a path along her skin in their wake – first along her neck, then down to her breasts, making her nipples tingle and spring upward as if by his will alone with those intense moonstones of his. They burn her from her breasts to her thighs, all the way down to her ankles.
He is contemplating every inch of her. Deciding where to start.
Rick watches her nipples harden underneath his heated gaze.
The simple yet elegant garment she's wearing is draped so exquisitely on her that it makes his mouth water and his dick hard. Her locs are hanging down across her shoulder, framing her lovely face, making her sparkling brown eyes stand out to him.
He wants her. His desire for her is so strong it alarms him. But he won't move until she asks.
Michonne already knows that she has the power. She lingers against the door, keeping him waiting, torturing herself in the process. 'You earned it', Sasha told her. A gain to distract from the loss. Temporary calm before the gathering storm that is her life. So be it.
"Come here, Rick. I need you."
Before her next breath, Rick is moving toward her, closing the space between them.
Michonne gasps and moans softly when his solid, warm body finally collides with hers, pinning her to the door, leaving no room for space between them. His storming blue eyes pin her further to the spot as he slides his hand along her thigh and lifts her just a bit, making room for him to fit himself between her legs. He licks her bottom lip into his mouth and sucks on it with vigor, grinding his budding erection against her hip through her soft romper.
A groan makes its way out of Rick's throat as he kisses her deeply, already lost. His head is foggy with lust as his mouth crashes into Michonne's pillow-soft lips over and over again, licking and tasting them.
Michonne's quivering sex grows slick, hot, and anxious for him. Her legs tighten around his waist so she can feel as much friction as possible, wanting him so badly it hurts. He reaches under her romper to grip her firm ass with his good hand, so hard she cries out into his mouth. "Mmm . . . !"
Rick cuts her off by reclaiming her tongue with his, rolling himself into her, throbbing with need.
He kisses an electrified trail down along her collarbone, licking and nipping at her skin as he goes.
He stops just before he reaches the valley between her heaving breasts, leaning back slightly to stare at her.
He wants to rip her clothes off.
But he's determined to take his time.
Watching for her reaction, he sends his thumb roaming across her thigh, snaking up into her shorts until he finds her dripping center, hooking her lacey thong to the side enough to give him room. Rick's lips part and he pants slightly, sliding one, then two fingers into her wet sex. His erection stiffens considerably at the sensation of her tightness pulling and pulsing around his fingers, causing him to groan again, deep and low. She's soaking wet.
Michonne keens breathlessly, running her fingers through his hair, her nails on his scalp sending chills through him.
He wants her over the back of that couch. Now.
Rick pulls his inspecting fingers slowly out of her, pushes them in again, and then pulls out quickly, teasing her.
She shoots him a wanton glare, but his only response is to scoop her up into his strong grip, carrying her away from the door.
She can't resist kissing his warm neck as he carries her in a few long strides into the living room.
She's kissing his lips again by the time he sets her down, holding onto him still as Rick leans his forehead into hers and allows his hands to roam. He reaches up and pulls one strap of her romper from her soft, shapely shoulder, kissing another hot trail across it with his damp lips as he goes.
Michonne can feel him everywhere, making her senses go haywire.
His strong body pressed into hers, the scent of his leathery cologne drawing her in, his mouth all over her – the long, thick, girth of him through his snug jeans. She is nothing but competing sensations attacking her from all sides. Her hand winds its way down his shirt from around his neck, headed straight for Rick's dick. When her fingers finally caress the tip of the head that she can feel through the coarse fabric of his jeans, Rick grunts and snatches her top back, thrusting himself into her palm. His head dips and his mouth is on her breast in seconds. Michonne moans and strokes his length, massaging him with her fingers and in her palm, losing her damned mind for him.
Rick sucks and licks her nipple through the sexy black lace of her bralette until she's so wet she can't see straight. Then . . . slowly, his nostrils flaring . . . he lets her nipple go, backing her up to the back of the couch with steady, purposeful steps. His gaze remains fixed on her lips as they walk in unison, his arm tightening around her waist.
Michonne can see it.
That something she always sees peeking at her behind his eyes, wound up tight and humming inside him, just for her.
She's about to get it.
She's at his mercy, following his lead as he suddenly spins her around. Her ass lands smack against his bulge.
Before she can catch her breath, his lips are attached to her neck again.
Rick moves faster, now, reaching up to untie the tassel closure and pulling her top down all the way to her waist. He unclasps her bra next, letting it fall down her arms and to the floor. He continues to lavish her hot, soft skin with kisses as he pulls her romper down the rest of her body. It falls away and Michonne kicks it off, reaching up to run her fingers through his curls.
Once he gets her in nothing but her black, lacey thong Rick sinks to a crouching position and pulls her it reverently down her legs, over her gorgeous ass. The damp crotch of Michonne's thong peels away soaking wet with her juices. Rick watches, transfixed, and leans in to kiss the back of her pussy as his fingers caress the dewy skin of her thighs.
Michonne shivers, moaning long and hard, arching her ass into his face as he kisses her indulgently.
Her scent drives him crazy.
Rick licks the precum coating his lips, his dick jumping impatiently in his jeans for more. She tastes so good, Rick has to bury his tongue deep inside one more time. Pressing his face into her from behind, he settles himself on his knees, putting just enough pressure on her with his fingers to cause Michonne's torso to fall gracefully forward, over the back of the couch.
Michonne braces herself with her hands pressed into the soft, blue velvet cushions while he feasts on her with relish.
Her pretty, heavy, dewdrop breasts heave with her breathless cries when Rick delivers a hard slap to her ass, growling with pleasure. He uses his scorching tongue to assault her pussy without an ounce of hesitation for a few breathless turns, then slowly, repeatedly sucks her tender, juicy clit into his mouth until she finally comes.
"Fuuuuck! Yeesssss . . . !" Michonne moans and hisses, clutching at her plush couch pillows, her body singing at the sensation of Rick's thick, hot, wet tongue licking and thrusting into her.
She feels his stubble along the chiseled edge of his strong jaw scratching softly between her slick thighs; her lips and cheeks vibrating with his groans. Finally, he lets her go. Her locs have fallen over her face and she is dizzy from the residual pleasure still singing inside her, but Rick isn't finished with her yet.
He rises to his feet, licking his lips and reaching down to unbuckle his belt as he goes. He doesn't take his eyes off of her.
Beneath the dimmed overhead lights posted along the high, arching ceiling, his gleaming eyes have darkened considerably as they take in the sight of her wet, dripping pussy peeking at him from beneath her plump asscheeks.
Michonne bites her lip, tingling from head to toe, feeling his hot gaze on her.
She tries to stand up and face him – to give him as good as she got. She wants him in her mouth, now.
But before she makes it far, she feels his slender, strong fingers on her back . . .
. . . and then his warm palm gently impeding her momentum, pressing her firmly back down on her stomach.
Without a word, Rick sends his elegant fingers gliding along the peaks and valleys of her back, down to caress her ass.
He gives her a light, but firm slap.
The sting feels exquisite. She arches her back, seeking out his bulge. It doesn't come, but she can hear that it's on its way. He's unbuckling his belt, now. Still slippery and dripping with her own cum, Michone begins to throb again, yearning for Rick to be inside of her.
He stares at the perfect arch of her back and ass presented to him like a lovely gift. Her skin is like silk.
He can't wait to touch her again.
He's so hard right now that his girth feels like it's suffocating in his jeans. He gets his belt undone quickly and reaches into his back pocket, retrieving his wallet. He pulls out a condom, then tosses the wallet onto the seat of the couch.
Michonne tries to lay still over the back of the couch on her stomach, standing in her strappy-heeled sandals, her pussy practically humming with anticipation. She can't help letting the pulsing beat of the music be a poor substitute for stimulation to her throbbing clit as she waits for him. She sways a little to the beat, grinding her hips in tight little circles.
Rick eyes her in steely silence as he gets rid of his tie and unbuttons his shirt to expose his muscular torso.
He only tears his gaze from her breathtaking pussy to roll the condom onto his length.
Once done, Rick steps up to her, aching with need, and takes hold of her by the hips. It's difficult, but he takes his time, rubbing his hot, slick, waxy length slowly along her folds to prepare her for his entry. She whimpers softly and her eyes slip shut as he teases her labia and pulsing hole, threatening her with a trust that hasn't come yet.
His hands slide almost reverently over her skin until his thumbs are couched in the grooves between the top of her hips and her round, thick rump. He pulls her into his pelvis until her damp sex is tickling his pubic hair.
Rick parts Michonne's cheeks with one hand and thrusts slowly inside, sinking right into her, filling her to the brim. He exhales roughly with relief, his pink lips parted as he breathes deeply to absorb the pleasure barreling through him.
He's been waiting for this all day.
Her ass bounces against his slender pelvis and she grunts, clawing at the couch when he hits her core.
He starts to drive himself into her, holding onto her with one hand, fucking her fast and hard.
She feels insanely fucking good.
He can hardly believe how good she feels.
Rick grips Michonne tighter, fucks her harder, stroking deeper.
He's imagined this for so long. And now this is his reality: the vision of Michonne's exquisite, juicy ass bouncing up and down along his thick dick, anchored by her elegantly curved spine, adorned with toned muscles and the sexiest dip he's ever seen. Her gorgeous spools of black locs fall over her face as he pounds into her. His shaft slides in and out of her, getting caught in the grip of her ass, and pushed out again, coated in her cum. Over and over and over. Overwhelmed, Rick slows down, causing her to gasp and finally stand up. She arches her back and pushed her ass down onto his shaft, then pulls up again in a steady rhythm that matches the beat of the music, hypnotizing him. Feeling as though he's being challenged, Rick wraps a strong arm around her, cupping her breast in his palm, kissing and licking the salty-sweet sweat from her neck as he pistons into her even harder.
And he seals his fate. With each thrust, he becomes more attached to her. He doesn't think he'll ever want anyone as much as he wants Michonne. He will never be satisfied of her.
Michonne feels the same. She feels her addiction to Rick rising inside her like an ocean tide, radiating from her wet pussy as he pounds into her fast, then achingly slow, then faster again. Hitting her in that fuckin' sweet spot each time. The one that makes her want to say dirty shit and do dirty things. Mmm, she feels the urge as his sturdy body wraps around her, his firm grip tightening on her, his heavy palm massaging one of her bouncing breasts.
Drunk on Michonne, Rick reaches down to massage her clit, which is already tender and sensitive from what he did to it earlier. Michonne cries out and grabs him by the neck, her fingers curling into his thick hair as she rides his dick and fingers in fitful turns.
Feeling like a fiend, and somewhat like her old self, she leans back against him and whispers into his ear.
"I'm gonna touch myself the next time you watch me, Rick . . . "
He almost buckles over, having to use the hand not engaged in rhythmic stroking of her clit to grab the back of the couch.
Growling, his abdomen tightening with a jolt of desire, Rick buries his face into Michone's hair. Goddamn, shit, fuck, she has no idea how dangerous she is. Recovering from her sinful whisper, he releases the couch to wrap his hand around her hip.
Michonne is on the edge, but she wants him to cum with her. She keeps going.
"I want you to watch me strip . . . " she closes her eyes, losing herself in her words and her pleasure. In response, Rick strokes into her like a drill, never letting up on his hold of her. "Watch me spread for you and make myself come for you . . . mmm . . . "
Rick pictures this, and he loses it, cumming inside her hot and heavy. He pulls her into him, along his pulsing dick, with forceful, needy tugs. His grunts are breathless, wild. He frowns hard with concentration and pounds Michonne's orgasm right out of her. Her core explodes with spasms, traveling down to radiate through her clit, stimulating him all the way, which only makes him come harder. She's doubly wet in seconds, wetting the tops of his exposed thighs.
They find each other's lips and kiss fiercely, riding out the cosmic high of their mutual ecstasy until it finally begins to drag its clutches away from them.
Rick moves his kisses from her mouth to her damp neck, slowing his thrusts to a snail's pace, his arms still wrapped around her shapely body.
As if on cue, the music fades out, and then stops, having reached the end of Sasha's playlist.
Reluctantly, Rick begins to pull out.
"Stay over tonight," Michonne whispers in the ensuing quiet.
He rubs his chin along her damp, bare shoulder, kissing her there, still holding her tight.
"Alright . . . " he answers in a husky drawl.
Michonne starts a new playlist and gets them something to drink.
Hercules makes an appearance, poking his head around the corner from the doorway before skittering off again.
Now Rick sits in nothing but his boxer briefs, watching Michonne open a beer for him across her black marble coffee table.
As usual, he can't take his eyes off of her.
She's still naked, sitting on gracefully her calves, her feet folded under that shapely ass of hers. Her breasts are heavy and bouncy and so round and dark and delectable-looking that he has a hard time keeping his eyes off of those, either. Her hair cascades into her glowing face as she pushes his beer in front of him and picks up her glass of wine.
Rick accepts the beer, still watching as Michonne takes a deep breath and sits back on her calves.
As she sips her wine, her eyes finally rise to meet his. He finds himself smiling fondly as a sardonic grin spreads across her plush lips.
"I think my big sister likes you."
They both fall into easy, quiet laughter, enjoying the awkward memory of Sabine's ruthless questioning during dinner.
Rick rubs the fine salt and pepper fuzz on his chiseled chin and takes a swig of his beer, nodding in agreement.
"That might be a little premature, but I'm workin' on it," he drawls, his crystal blues shining across at her beneath her elegant lighting. "She's just worried about you, that's all. She's right to be."
His expression turns serious, and his heart quickens, wanting to confess to her how damaged and dark he really is. Wanting to warn her off and yet pull her closer and never, ever let her go.
Michonne stares at him, so attracted to him that she has to take a beat to let his words sink in.
"I won't lie," she shakes her head. "You were a surprise, Rick. But . . . it's been a good surprise. The way you were with my sister tonight? You didn't have to tell her anything. But you did. And I know it was hard for you."
"It was alright," surprisingly, this is the truth. It was easier than he initially anticipated when he walked into the situation. "I wanted to."
"And the way you were with Andre . . . " Michonne sighs, kinda blown away. She comes clean, leaning forward over the rim of her wine glass to confess. "He doesn't know about his father. And he hasn't had to be around a man in my life before. I didn't know what to expect. But you made it a little easier, saying goodbye."
Rick lets her words wash over him, glad that he made a good impression. Glad that he was able to help Michonne carry some of the burdens of being around her over-protective sister at a time like this. Making a connection with Andre is something he didn't expect to want. But, all the same, at this very moment, Rick finds that he very much does want to. For Michonne.
It's kind of a miracle to him, considering the darkness he's been wandering around in for years. But he feels in his gut – this sudden hope in him that he can find his way back to his old self has more to do with Michonne than anything else.
Still . . . he wants to be straight with her. Sabine may be a bit of a hardass, but she isn't far off. Michonne needs to know that.
Rick takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what he's about to do next. Preparing himself for any outcome.
"When you asked me last night, how much I've been watchin' you . . . " he begins, swallowing hard, his gaze flickering to the table before rising to look directly at her. "I knew your bus route because I've watched you get ready for work, feed your cat, and walk up that hill almost every week for months."
Michonne's heart stops. Rick's blue eyes glint. And he continues:
"I know what time and how long you like to do yoga in the mornings. You're . . . flexible. Strong. Focused. It doesn't seem to relax you the way you hope, though. But you're stubborn. So you keep at it . . . "
Michonne sits silently, listening, watching him, riveted.
" . . . I know that you prefer red wine, but you keep white for company. Thing is . . . you rarely have company, Michonne."
Ricks sighs, long and hard. The ghosts of his lonely nights spent watching her through his favorite window slither through him, making a home in his chest.
"I know you usually eat standin' up, and you like readin' in your backyard. I know what your favorite underwear looks like. 'Cause they're my favorites, too. I can see how sad you get when Andre is gone. So sad, sometimes, that you just wander around the house, watchin' the walls . . . or you stare at that," he lifts his head up toward the katana hanging on the wall over them like deadly decorative art, "for hours, all by yourself. I wanna know what you're thinkin' when you do that. I wanna know everything. I wanna know you. I've wanted that ever since I first laid eyes on you . . . the truth is, I haven't taken 'em off you since."
He stops, his gaze zeroing in on her again to gauge her reaction. He could go on, and on. He knows a lot more, but at the same time, it's not nearly enough. He feels like he's only barely scratching the surface.
Michonne can only sit there and stare at him, her nipples throbbing and her head spinning.
She thinks back through the months that passed since the day she saw him carrying boxes into his gloomy house.
He has been watching her this whole time. Since that day. Almost every day, judging by what he's confessed and the almost intoxicated look staring back at her from within those blue whirlpools of his.
And now he's here, sitting half-naked in her living room.
Strong and sexy and radiating that mysterious, frustratingly intense magnetism that only seems to get stronger with the knowledge that he's witnessed her during some of her most private moments. She should feel violated.
She should. She would . . . if this was anyone else.
Right now, however, all Michonne can claim to be is shocked, but not surprised. And incredibly turned on.
She doesn't know if any other man would have this effect on her. With the way he's looking at her and the way his husky tenor reverberates through her body, down into her sex – Michonne does not care.
Rick waits, clenching his jaw in small fits.
"I told you, Rick," Michonne finally responds, her voice low and steady. "I think I already knew that."
She sets her wine glass down and leans back, unfurling her legs from beneath her. He remains silent, watching her kneel and crawl around the table toward him. He leans back in anticipation, breathing in her natural scent, tilting his head this way and that to follow her movements as she approaches – mimicking the image of the snake charmer and the serpent that Sabine got a flash of at dinner, unbeknownst to either of them. Gracefully, Michonne slides into his arms and wraps her legs around him, landing her plump ass firmly in his lap.
"I think . . . I like that," she confesses softly.
He feels a surge of arousal well up inside him, his body responding to her confession instantly.
Breath hitching in his chest, Rick's arms slide around her naked torso, pulling her closer to him.
Still, he waits. He breathes. He watches her.
Michonne stares into his eyes, letting him see how much she wants him. He watches for a beat too long, prompting her to lean in and lick him across the lips impatiently. When she leans back, he's smirking darkly.
Yeah . . . there she is.
That other version of her.
The one Rick draws out with his presence, alone.
The woman who goes after what she wants. The one who went by a different name when she ran off with a notorious criminal because of how powerful and sexy he made her feel. Back then, even though she was afraid for her life many times over––deep down, she enjoyed the power Negan possessed. She knew what he did, and who he was, but part of her stayed because she was walking on diamond clouds. Miserable, alone, terrified . . . but no man was allowed to look her in the eye except her man and a gun was just an accessory. That girl only exists now as one side of a multi-layered personality. A side of her that, so far, only this man has been able to resurrect without the shame that should come with her emergence.
Yes, Rick Grimes is dark and dangerous.
But he is also good.
There was never, ever, anything good about Negan. Whatever 'goodness' he possessed was a flimsy illusion.
Rick's good heart, however, is real. She can feel it.
It's the goodness, along with the darkness, that attracts her to the sad-eyed stranger next door.
It isn't just the way he is with her son, who she knows deep down has been yearning for some sort of father figure all these years. Or even the way he keeps acting to protect her without question, against a dangerous intruder, against her powerful ex, even against her sister's abrasive nature. It's the look in his eyes . . . every single time they meet hers.
Michonne would be fooling herself if she denied that she's been wanting Rick Grimes just as much as he's wanted her from the moment she saw him, too. Biting her lip, she lets her gaze slip to his beautiful mouth, so pink and perfect. Then her eyes find his again as she makes herself more comfortable in his lap.
"Tell me more . . . " she asks, feeling her sex quiver at the lustful look he gives her from beneath his lashes at her request.
Rick's arms tighten around her waist, his hands finding their way to grip her ass. He presses her into him so he can feel her breasts against his bare chest, teasing himself and making her wait. "What d'you wanna know?"
Michonne kisses him, causing him to lean into her hungrily. They kiss slowly, hotly, pulling at each other with their dancing tongues. She runs her hands through the thick curls at the nape of his neck, leaning back a bit to breathe before letting him go.
She licks at his scratchy chin, sinking her moist sex into his rapidly developing hard-on to egg him on.
"I want to know how you do it," she breathes, her sexy voice driving a corkscrew of lust through his abdomen down to his dick. The fire in her eyes hypnotizes him. She's serious. She wants to know, " . . . what you see. How you feel. What you're thinking."
Rick stares at her lips, her breasts, her eyes. He gives her what she wants.
"There's a window in my bedroom . . . " he utters, staring at her hard now. He hesitates, before deciding to paint the truest picture for her that he can. Needing her to know before she gets ahead of herself. Wanting to turn her on, as well. "I keep my house dark. And I keep my blinds closed. Except . . . when I'm watchin' you."
His low, serious voice makes her pussy begin to ache for him. He's getting harder, with precum beginning to pool and spool down his shaft in sticky rivulets. He can see the image he's painting forming in her large, pretty brown eyes as he continues.
"I open 'em just enough to see you. So you can't see me. So I can't . . . see myself."
Rick massages her ass, involuntarily pressing his erection into her pulsing heat between her legs before continuing his dark tale.
"The first night I watched you, I didn't know what I was doin'," he mutters, "and after . . . I couldn't get you outta my head."
He remembers that night vividly.
It was the night he fought off six henchmen at a warehouse down by a river dock to get to some girls they'd snatched, with nothing but his gun and a tip-off from Glenn. Two of them ended up in comas. He was tied up in court for a long time because of that one.
"It had just stopped rainin', and you just got home from a night shift."
Michonne remembers that night. The storm went on and on while she was dealing with traumas. She lost someone. She hadn't gotten home until nearly two in the morning.
Rick sighs, his breath caressing her skin, hot and tingly, making her nipples ache. Again tonight, he's talking more than ever. Opening up to her as they sit alone, yearning for each other under her dim living room lights. Drawn to each other.
He remembers Michonne dragging herself into her house, glowing and damp from the rain.
She looked tired and lonely, but beautiful.
She took off her pants, right there in her kitchen, tucked into a huge glass of wine, and cried. Standing against her sturdy island while her cat sat vigilantly at her feet.
He'll never forget the sight.
He was nursing his injuries, alone in his bedroom, feeling sorry for himself, when he happened to look up through his blinds and notice her kitchen light on. Acting on instinct, he got up from the chair where he was soaking his cut and bruised knuckles and turned off his lamp. Then he stalked back to his window and stood there in his soon-to-be favorite spot.
Making a home there for the first time. Watching her.
His knuckles still bleeding and dripping, his soul stirring, feeling a connection to her latch into him so deeply that it stunned him.
That was the moment. Seeing her bow her head and sob into her wine glass, thinking she was alone.
That was the moment Rick knew he wanted – needed – Michonne.
In the present, his need grows fully hard for her now, remembering it.
"You were so . . . beautiful. You looked so alone, but you weren't," he focuses on her face intently, so close to him, in rich, gorgeous detail now. Still so beautiful. "You aren't. You haven't been. I wanna be here for you," Rick tells her tenderly, clutching at her, ". . . and I wanna fuck you until you scream . . . " he growls in the next breath, with just as much sincerity.
Michonne closes her eyes and leans into him, killing the space between them to crush her breasts against his lean, warm chest.
Rick kisses her hungrily, licking and sucking at her thick, luscious lips. Michonne feels an increase of molten wetness between her legs, and she reaches down to search blindly for his manhood.
"Keep going," she urges, catching hold of him and pulling him out of his briefs, reveling in the feel of him in her palm. Warm and thick and hard. Dripping with sticky precum. And all for her.
Rick is so overcome with lust he can hardly stand it. He sucks on her breasts, forcing her to stay still and take it. Feeling bold, predatory.
"I want you six ways from Sunday," he keeps going, letting go of her perfect, honeypot breast to press his lips roughly against hers. He kisses her and talks against her desperate panting, "I wanna eat your pussy again . . . I had to taste you tonight. I wanna taste you now . . . "
As he speaks, he reaches down to dip his elegant fingers into her slick folds, discovering that she is warm and wet and throbbing for him. He fucks her quivering hole with his fingers in slow, purposeful thrusts, twisting them occasionally to tease her.
He watches her mouth while he works, transfixed. He's watched her eat, laugh, and drink wine with these perfect lips of hers so many times, he's lost count. Yearning to feel them against his. Right now, he wants 'em wrapped around his dick.
He exhales hotly, stroking her as she strokes him, so good he can't help thrusting himself into her massaging hand.
"Yes . . . ungh, yes, Rick . . . !" Michonne pants and moans, laying her head back, her eyes slipping shut, her brow furrowing with pleasure. The sight causes a dam to break inside of him, and he keeps going, fucking her hand and her hole while she rides and pumps him. He kisses her feverishly, thrusting into her hand, ready to fuck her again right here on the floor.
Michonne opens her eyes and licks at his lips, which still taste faintly of her cum.
She tongues her way to his earlobe, easing it into her mouth with the tip. Rick hisses and bucks forcefully into her, his dripping, waxy head stroking her clit.
"I want both," she demands huskily into his ear, causing his stomach to tighten with lust. Her voice is so steady, confident, and barely above a sultry whisper, he can only just listen and fall under her spell. "I want you in my mouth . . . " she licks and nips at his earlobe, massaging his wet, bulbous head in her palm, rubbing her aching clit against his damp fingers, aching for him, " . . . and I want you to lick my pussy until I scream. Mmm . . . please, Rick. Now."
She doesn't have to ask him twice.
Rick lifts Michonne off of him, seizing a nearby throw pillow and positioning it under his head. Then he lay back, his long, muscular body unfolding before her. Michonne follows his lead, helping him by sliding his underwear down his legs and off his feet. Her voyeuristic neighbor grabs hold of her, pulling one of her legs over his head. Then he grasps her thighs and spreads her open, pulling her down so that her pussy is positioned perfectly against his hot lips.
Once Rick's hands slide from her thighs to her ass, he immediately begins to suck and lick, feasting on her voraciously. He spreads her ass cheeks and goes to town, causing Michonne to moan and ride his face.
His scratchy stubble, hot skin, strong, wet tongue, and big beautiful hands gripping her flesh cause carnal lust to ricochet through her every nerve ending. She lets Rick suck on her clit for a little while, hypnotized by the feel of him kneading her cheeks with his heavy palms. Then, her mouth watering, her shame gone, she pushes one of his legs down urgently, resting her weight on one of her hands on either side of him to keep herself steady.
Licking her lips, Michonne grasps his rock-hard dick in one of her cool, smooth palms.
Rick grunts, releasing her clit and thrusting against her damp mouth.
Michonne takes Rick into her mouth, enveloping him until he hits the back of her throat, then pulling away with hard, slow expertise. His torso rises from the floor involuntarily as a tidal wave of pleasure cascades through him, their stomachs meeting and peeling away. He can't stop himself from doing it again, and then again, seeking out the sensation like an addict, causing her to gag somewhat.
Michonne recovers quickly, sucking and stroking him as he licks sucks, and gets himself messy feasting on her like she's a sweet candy apple. They speak no more, reduced to moans and groans and downright pornographic administrations to one another's writhing, dewy, naked bodies.
Hercules' green eyes gleam at them from the abyss of her dark kitchen.
Michonne focuses on Rick's glistening, sensitive head, undulating movements with the tip of her sopping wet tongue before sucking on him again. Rick thinks he's gonna pass out, it feels so good. Mmm, and she tastes so good, perched on top of him.
He gives special attention to the juicy red sweet spot hidden by her slick folds with the tip of his tongue in response to her bold, sloppy, sexy head. He arches his chin upward, settling down onto the throw pillow, feasting on Michonne's tender pussy as she sucks his dick and runs her nails through the hairs on his thigh.
"Michonne . . . " he growls reverently against the swollen, soaked lips of her sex. He's ready for her to come all over his face, in his mouth. He licks her clit firmly, sucking it and fucking her hole with his tongue. "Come for me . . . now, baby . . . I need to feel it."
"Mmmm, nooo . . . " she gasps at the way his deep drawl rumbles against her pussy. She lets him pop out from her mouth, her saliva and his phantom seed coating her lips and chin as she begs for mercy. "Wait, Rick, please . . . !"
She doesn't know if she's ready for what's coming. If she comes, she'll be spent, and she isn't done with him, yet.
But Rick pays her no mind this time, proceeding to work her clit mercilessly with hard, insatiable intent.
He licks her in a relentless, pulsing beat that causes her orgasm to build and build as she rides his face, now simply stroking his manhood in her weakening hand. She is so lost in what he's doing to her that she can't help squeezing her eyes shut to lose herself and just enjoy it – his thick, dripping head bumps against her open mouth as she pants and rides helplessly.
The erotic sensation of it only spurs him on. Rick draws out Michonne's orgasm like an expert drilling for oil, using his tongue like a skilled, unbreakable battering ram to beat her clit into submission. All the while he holds onto her possessively, determined to drive her as crazy as she drives him.
It works. She quickly changes her tune.
"Oh yes, yes, yessss . . . I'm gonna cum, don't stooooop . . . !" Michonne groans indulgently, high on the sensation building within her like a thunderstorm. There is no one here but them. No one to tell her she's wrong, or foolish, or crazy, or too desperate to spread her legs for him. He slaps her ass again and keeps going. When the weighty reverberation finally reaches her clit, Michonne breaks apart at the seams around his face, spasming and oozing cum into his waiting mouth. "Unnnghhh! Oh gohhdddd, Riiiick . . . !"
Rick growls and grabs her in both hands, pulling her closer, soaking his mouth and chin in her tasty, hot cum.
He kisses her labia and clit patiently while Michonne rides out her pleasure for a few breathless beats.
When she's finally released from the aftershock, she is resuming her devoted attention to his still bone-straight dick in the next breath. Rick is forced to turn his head and bite down on her slick inner thigh as the object of his obsession lavishes him with the graceful stroke and purposeful pull of her exquisite mouth.
His manhood jumps and twitches against her silky, wet tongue, and he lifts his hips involuntarily, thrusting gently into her mouth, seeking out the deep well of her throat. She lets him come, expertly opening up for him, holding her breath until he exhales and groans, pulling out again.
Jesus . . . fucking . . . Christ . . . Rick's sluggish, pleasure-laden thoughts drag themselves through his mind.
He pants helplessly when he feels Michonne using the ensuing saliva to coat him again before going back for another mouthful.
She takes him between her amazing lips again, down past her silky tongue, practically swallowing him whole. Rick has to bite her again, it feels so fucking good. Michonne pulls back, letting him pull out again, and is ready to receive him when thrusts back in. Then she uses her hand and her mouth to tease and tantalize him until he's a thrusting, grunting ball of nerve endings. She carries on like this for a while with tireless intent, conjuring white heat that spreads from the pit of his stomach to the very tip of his head.
Her mouth is so slippery, hot, and wet inside – opening for him to allow him to slide to the back of her throat without missing a beat. Her cool hands stroke him in a snug grip, stimulating his head with each tug. It's like a drug, what she's doing to him.
He seeks another hit and another hit until he can't control himself anymore.
Rick forgets to be gentle, thrusting into her mouth faster . . . then a little faster still . . . ugh, yes, fuck . . . he bites down on her inner thigh to absorb some of the ecstasy cascading through him when his orgasm hits.
Rick comes into Michonne's mouth, biting down on her thigh so hard it hurts a little. She ignores the pain, egged on by it, catching and swallowing every wave as he empties himself inside her mouth. Rick shakes, his back as rigid as a steel rod, trapping him in ecstasy. Finally, he stops thrusting, his hips slowing to a crawl, his breath steaming her skin in hard bursts through his nostrils. She sighs, exhausted, and enjoys the sensation of him kissing her where he bit her to soothe the sting.
Michonne nurses his still-twitching, hair-sensitive manhood, making herself comfortable on top of his strong, sturdy body.
She licks him clean like a popsicle before letting him go.
"One thing you should know about me," she tells him after a moment of intoxicated silence, licking the leftover cum oozing slowly from the tiny hole in his pink head. "I usually get what I want . . . "