Chapter 10 – Rick

Still relaxed in a lean over my girl and the arm of the couch, I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to blink away the sweat that has dripped from my forehead, and is now wetly spiking my eyelashes. Noticing a collection of perspiration also gathered in the crook of Michonne's neck where the gold necklace I gave her gleams against her velvety skin, I turn my face to lick away the salty evidence of her exertion.

On a sultry moan, eyes still closed, she mutters sleepily, "I just need a moment to recover, Rick. Let's lay down for a sec, ok?"

Chuckling at her suggestion, but completely agreeing, I soundly kiss her on her cheek, and continue to clutch her warm, soft body greedily to mine. Reaching down, I drag my swim trunks up and over my now flaccid, but still sticky and wet dick, tucking it away. Rising, I bring her tiny body with me. "Which way to the bedroom?" She points me towards the hall, and I swing her legs over my other arm and carry her away from the living room, stopping at the first bedroom I come to. Delicately I place her drowsy form on the bed, and swivel my head about the room, looking for a bathroom.

Locating the bathroom across the hall, I walk over, step inside and turn on the shower, allowing it to warm up. Locating towels, wash cloths and soap in the linen closet in the hallway, I pull what I need and head back to the bedroom. There, I find my baby on her side in a fetal position snoring softly, her swimsuit now completely removed from her sexy form, her sandals carelessly discarded across the room. Standing at the bottom of the bed, I lightly grasp her foot, massaging the ball, and placing a kiss to her delicate ankle. In awe of this beautiful woman, and in recognition of the hold she has over me, I feast my eyes lovingly across the slopes and curves of her petite body, making an effort to satisfy my addict like need to consume her in every way. Physically, emotionally. With a slight stir in my groin, I try to distract my amorous gaze away from her as I need to tend to her, instead of attempting to fuck her again. But, the scandalous memory of the feel of her sucking and swallowing my dick is burnt heavy into my brain, and competing with the sight of her fat bottom bouncing and slapping against my thrusting groin. Closing my eyes for a moment, I bite down on my bottom lip, once again trying to restrain my thoughts.

Instead, checking the bathroom across the hall, noticing the steam from the shower announcing that it's warmed up, I crawl my fingers gingerly up her naked body, hoping to wake her from her soft slumber. "Michonne, come on, baby, let's take a quick shower, and get cleaned up so you can enjoy the rest of your party."

"Hm?"

"Come on."

Groggily, she turns my way, eyes still closed, a sated smile to her lips. Easily I lift her from the bed. She wraps her arms around my neck, and gives me a little smirk. "You wore me out."

"You wore me out too. I just hide it better." I laugh, carrying her into the bathroom and placing her on her feet. Removing my swim trunks, kicking them away from my feet, I get into the shower, testing out the heated water. Seeing that the temperature is hot, like she prefers it, I pull her into the shower with me. Knowing that she normally hates to get her hair wet because of some rule about black women not getting their hair wet, I stand in front of the shower spray, blocking her hair from the water.

Lathering a wash cloth with soap, I enjoy the heat of the water relaxing my tense muscles. Today was a long day, and it's not even over. From breaking up a fight between Daryl and Merle at the bar, pulling Merle off my partner Leon, and rushing through a ton of paperwork so I can leave work. To a mad dash to get here to celebrate my girl's birthday, only to find this fucking guy so close to her, and hear that she has kept from me that he manhandled her. It's a lot, and I'm just bone weary and tired. But there is still a dangerous level of adrenaline and anger coursing through my veins at that last bit. The loving that Michonne just laid on me, surprising me with the gift of her mouth, and with the sopping wetness of her pussy, have quieted a measure of the storm though, bringing it down from a hurricane to a tropical storm. Her loving has encouraged a more frivolous mood, and now I'm ready to celebrate with her again. But, still… There is that underlying itch to race out of here and find the motherfucker and end him.

There's so many levels to this I don't even know where to begin. On one hand I'm furious that Michonne kept this a secret from me, and that she allowed herself to be alone with a man who clearly still wants her. My brain understands that Michonne gets me, at least I think she does. When she says she didn't tell me because she didn't want me to get angry, she's right. I'm not angry, I'm livid. I'm beyond angry. I have zero tolerance for men who get aggressive with women, and in my job I've seen plenty of it. But, that's not something I can tolerate for my girl. From anyone. So, yes, I want to kill him. I want to put that motherfucker in a place where he can't even think about her again. I may be a hopeless romantic, but I'm not a fool. I know I can't kill him, but I will have to make sure that the next time he thinks of her, think to approach her, that he gives it a second thought and goes the other fucking way. Or, just stops. Stops fucking thinking of her at all, because there is no scenario where he moves on those impulses, and it ends well for him.

Sensing my jaw clench, and my body tense at the thought of how I'm going to handle this guy, I can also feel the scrutinizing heat of my baby's eyes on me. Staring up at me and running her hands across my chest, Michonne is easing out of her post-sex, drowsy, stupor and is looking up at me with the cutest crooked grin. "Hey, what are you thinking about?" She asks, reaching up to my face and smoothing out the lines of my furrowed brow. Not waiting for an answer she continues, "Rick, I don't want to think about any of the drama today, ok? Not anymore. I just want to have fun! It's my birthday, and I'm having a party, and the man I love is here with me, naked and wet in the shower. Can life get better than this?"

Smiling at her saying that I'm the man she loves, recognizing the glow of it radiating over her body, I have to agree that right now life is pretty damn good. Shoving less than pleasing thoughts to the back of my mind, to be addressed later, I lean down and capture her lips. Pushing my tongue into her wet mouth, my desire to devour her is rising, growing with ferocity by the moment. Grabbing her ass, I hoist her up to my hips, and lean her back against the tiles of the shower wall.

"Rick, we need to get back to the party. I have guests out there waiting on me." She pleads, nearly breathless, taking a pause in between our frenzied kissing to suck in a few gulps of air.

"I don't want to share you with them just yet." I tilt my head, gesturing towards the door, then continue running kisses down the side of her face to her neck. The slide of her wet, warm pussy against my steely erection sends my eyes rolling in my head. Thoughts of just slipping inside of her depths, to put us both out of our erotic misery, cloud my mind. And now, with her hands rubbing through my short wet locks, the sensation is threatening to send me into overdrive, thirsty enough to deliver a swift denial of her plan to rejoin the party.

"Come on. Let's get cleaned up and go party. We have all the time in the world for more sex. I promise." She declares against my cheek, eyelashes heavy with droplets of water cascading from the shower nozzle, drizzling like rain down her beautiful face.

"Fine." Carefully I lower her back to her feet, pouting a little at being denied a second round of sex.

"Here, let me wash you up." Reaching her hand out with the newly retrieved, soapy washcloth, Michonne begins swirling the cloth across my chest, leaving behind a pathway of suds covering the hair that is finely sprinkled there. Her soft, diligent touch is not helping to ease the sexual tension building in my body. In fact, the attentive way she is washing and caring for me is making me want her even more. Giving me visions of her as a mother, the mother of my children, giving them baths, taking care of them as well. Honestly, nothing would please me more than to see Michonne swollen with my child, full of the life that we created on an abundance of love for each other. But, it's not time for that dream to come true, though it's on my mind constantly. How could it not be?

If I had my way I would have married her yesterday, and had her pregnant with my babies already. Nothing would please me more. But I have to set those selfish desires aside, because my girl has dreams of her own, expectations for a happy, well-lived life, and at this time marriage and babies are not a part of that. I know this. I watch her diligently take her birth control pills every morning we are together. But every time I cum inside of her, it doesn't stop my mind from wandering amid my daydreams of our mocha tinged children, four or five to be exact, a large Grimes family, a dog. Shit, I would even let her have a cat, despite the fact that I hate cats. But she adores them, and I would deny her nothing. And in every iteration of this fantasy, at the center of the heavenly chaos is her, my anchor, my beautiful wife, my Michonne. Someday in the future this will all come true I tell myself, as she continues her task of washing me, dragging the soapy cloth over my shoulders as she leans up to pop a kiss to my lips.

Unable to control my thoughts from falling from my lips, I confess to her, "You'll be a great mother some day, pretty girl."

"You think so?" She scrunches her nose at the thought, but a secret smile tugs at the corners of her lips. "Or are you just saying that because you like practicing making me a mother?"

"Maybe a little of both. But oh yeah, you will be. Someday, in the future. When you're ready." Lowering my hand to her flat abdomen, I rub my palm along her creamy soft skin, picturing in my head how it might stretch protectively as it houses my baby. Pleased at the honesty in my answer and my touch, she is now grinning as she happily continues to wash my body.

Michonne is the first woman, who has encouraged me to think about my future outside of being a deputy. Who has given me a reason to pause and consider past the next day, to think of where all of this aimless living is going. There have been times when I was with Lori that I felt like a spectator in my own life, a voyeur passively watching someone else map it out for me while I nonchalantly agreed to participate. Not now. No. My Michonne challenges me to figure this out for myself, and to decide if I'm going to simply be an imposter, pretending to be happy, or if I'm going to actively reach out and take my happiness, to create the life I want for myself. And because of her, because she led my heart here, it's so simple. I'm happy as long as I'm with her.

With an invigorating sense of rejuvenation, and a vow in my heart to again do whatever it takes to protect and ensure this happiness, I continue to watch her as she moves the cloth over my skin, excited to celebrate the gift of her birth 19 years ago. Heading dangerously lower, slowly lingering the soapy suds and cloth over my semi-erect cock, Michonne seductively lifts her eyes to mine, and raises her eyebrows in question. Nodding for her to continue, her mild scrubbing of my shaft and balls is inadvertently giving added strength to my arousal.

"No, Rick, we don't have time." She reasserts on a chuckle, shaking her head and taking note of the firm stiffness cradled delicately in her hands.

"I'm not doing it on purpose, Michonne. It happens whenever you touch me, tease me. Look at me like that."

"I'm just looking at you. You're such a horndog. Turn around and let me get your back." Releasing my cock, I feel an immediate sense of loss at her hands no longer on me. "You know, you have a very cute little butt, Mr. Grimes." Michonne exclaims, giving my ass an unexpected squeeze with both hands.

"Oh yeah?" I utter, surprised by her vigorous crush of my cheeks.

"Mmhm. Very nice. Cute little dimples above your booty, and here on the sides too. Aren't you just the most adorable thing?" Poking at the locations she just mentioned, her fingers continue to creep across my skin, leaving awakened goose bumps in their wake.

"Adorable? Puppies and babies are adorable. I'm a man, big difference." I toss over my shoulder on a playful growl.

"Whatever. You're a lot of things to me, Rick. Adorable, handsome, sexy. They're all good." Rubbing me on the ass again, she places a kiss to the center of my back, and lets me know that I'm done. Immediately I drop my chin to my chest, and welcome the fall of the shower's spray over my head, and down my body. Watching the suds drizzle away from my form, and down the drain, I'm thankful for this quiet moment alone with my girl before we head back out into the fray of her festive party.

When I arrived, I was instantly in awe that I was at the house of Tyreese Williams of the Atlanta Braves, but also at the grandiosity of the house. I've only ever seen anything like it on television, and at the time the thought crossed my mind that I could easily associate such a grand and splendid house with Michonne. It just seems like this kind of money and class is something she's accustomed to, which for a moment gives me pause. Up until now I have only associated her with the small town farming community of King County. I have never seen her in this type of environment. Never met any of her friends and family outside of her mother and Sasha, and this realization provides me a respite to consider that there is a whole part of Michonne that I don't really know.

Pulling up in my blue F-150 pickup truck, I was met by a valet, and groups of scantily clad partygoers roaming the grounds. Exiting, I grabbed my duffel bag with my swim trunks, sunscreen, towel, and the flip flops Michonne coerced me into purchasing, and headed towards the house. Immediately the splendor of it nearly took my breath away, as it was the complete embodiment of everything that any episode of Cribs has ever led you to believe you would find in a professional athlete's home. Marble floors? Check. Winding staircases? Check. Add to that the scantily clad women everywhere, loud music streaming from the back patio of the house, a fully attended and stocked bar, catered food, waiters. It was something that I had never seen before, and never thought I would experience in real life.

It's surreal, and it's a bit of a wake up call as well because this is what my lady deserves. At the time I can't give this level of luxury to her, probably never can, but I would use every one of my breaths on this earth to give her whatever I have. My love. My devotion. While I don't want to scare her off with the intensity of these thoughts, my internal promise to her, it's no less a very real goal of mine. Discovering that she has her own money, that she never really needs to work again because of her trust, makes my desire to give her the best parts of me even stronger. It's the only thing I can give her that she can't just get for herself.

Brining me out of my reverie, reaching around to my front, Michonne hands me back the washcloth. "My turn."

Swiveling my body around, I take stock of the beauty of the woman before me. After having found pleasure in her arms, in the depths of her so many times before, it would make sense to no longer be so amazed by her body at this point. But, no. Every time I see her is like the first time, and I'm in a hypnotic trance all over again.

"You gonna just stare at me, or are you gonna wash me up?" She asks, wiping water from her eyes and over her head.

"Yeah. I was just taking a moment to appreciate your beauty, pretty girl." Knocked out of my wandering gaze, with a series of lazy circles and swipes, I take my time washing over Michonne's body. Carefully caressing her shoulders, and her clavicle, down over the bounce of her melon like bosoms, and across the swell of her hips. "Turn around, let me get your back." Obediently following my orders, Michonne faces the back of the shower. With her back now to me, my eyes immediately fall to her ass, and the way the white suds drizzle down the angles of her back and shoulder blades, to the rounded teardrop of her fat bottom. "You have the most beautiful ass I've ever seen. Breathtaking." My hands seem to have a mind of their own, and they find themselves palming and caressing over the wet and slippery, voluptuous curves of her.

"I'm surprised that you like my ass so much, Rick."

Frowning I'm confused by her statement. "Why? Who couldn't appreciate this kind of perfection?" I ask, curving my groin and my chest to press flush against her back. My dick is rock hard now, parting the cleft of her bottom, creating a welcoming warmth that is spiking my arousal again.

"Well, I've seen your ex. She wasn't exactly… curvy. So your predilection for a fat booty is a little odd."

"I don't think so. Just because she didn't have one, doesn't mean I don't like them. I'm sure there is something about me that you like physically that you may not have ever had, or something you like about other men that I don't. Right?"

"Um…"

"You can say, Michonne. I won't be mad." I chuckle, though internally I'm wondering if I should not have gone down this path with her. Generally speaking, I'm not a self-conscious man. I'm fairly confident with my looks, and I've never had any trouble getting women. So, it would be a shock to my system if she reveals that she's not as physically attracted to me as I am to her. Though I doubt that will be the case, there might be something I lack. It's possible. I've also seen her ex and he and I have nothing in common physically. On second thought, maybe I do see her point about my affection for her booty after all. In anticipation of her answer, my massaging of her hips has ceased, as I'm a little anxious now to hear what she has to say.

"Well, you are thinner than I usually go for. But, I like that you're lean, fit. Obviously lighter. That's a first." She teases over her shoulder on a light laugh. "Other than that, I like it all, Rick. My favorite is your eyes though. They are so expressive based on the shade of blue. Darker and you're getting pissed, lighter and you're horny or happy, almost clear and I think you're sad, melancholy."

"I guess that's simple enough, huh?"

"Yeah. I like that. You're very uncomplicated. What you see is what you get. And you're good. You're just a really good guy, Rick, and I think I love that the most." Leaning her wet body into my chest, arching her back, she reaches up and behind her to flit her fingers through my hair. On a satisfied hum she continues, "Oh, and I also like the slight curl to your hair. I bet if it was longer you'd have nice curls."

"I've never had it longer than this. So, I don't really know. Would you like for me to grow it longer?"

"If you want. What about you, Rick? What do you think?"

"I think that I like your hair like this, braided down your back. It's very pretty, and apparently you don't mind getting your hair wet like this I see."

"Nope. That's why I got it done this way."

"It looks good on you. And you seem more free this way. I don't know why but you do. I like that too, how free and open you are. It's very attractive that you don't seem worried about what others think of you. You're unbothered."

"I don't concern myself with what others think because my mother always told me it's none of my business." She shrugs. "What else you got?"

Guiding my lips and hands vertically down her body, I reverently trail them over the peaks and valleys. "I love these shoulders, this little inward dip in your back, these lovely hips and firm thighs, your long legs, and these delicate little feet." I comment, stopping at each of the mentioned features to place a soft kiss of recognition.

Standing back up, I continue my recitation of my favorite things. "Of course these lips. I love to kiss them, to lick them, nibble on 'em. They're beautiful, and full. Delicious to taste." Grazing my thumb along them, I gently press it to the seam to pry them open. The heated opening of her mouth reminds me of her lips and tongue sucking around my dick earlier, and I can't prevent my thoughts from straying for a moment, trapping me under her sensuous spell yet again. "Mmmm. I like how you use your mouth, pretty girl. You're very good at it."

"I've never done it before today."

"Good. Now I have a part of you that no one else has ever had, or will ever have. Maybe one day we will explore some other new things, parts of you." My eyes drop to her ass again, nearly coming undone at the thought of what I'm thinly suggesting.

"Maybe one day you could teach me some other things."

"Oh I will. I want to taste and explore every part of you so that you will always be reminded of me, my touch."

"Too late. I already do."

With that, I no longer have the willpower or the restraint not to make love to my woman. Adding pressure with my hand to her back, I encourage her to bend a little, then nudge her feet a part a little more, making it easy for me to slide my dick into her. Once fully seated within her, I place my hands on top of hers that rest on the back wall of the shower, threading our fingers together. With her pinned between the wall and my chest, I slowly proceed to make love to Michonne again, sliding in and out of her snug canal. Remembering that we have already been together a number of times over the last two days, I set a torturously slow pace, to please her but not to wear her out. The deliberate crawl is creating a decadent friction that sucks and pulls at the sensitive length of my cock, and stimulates the walls of her tight pussy, that fits so flawlessly to the unique girth and length of me.

With only grunts, moans, and needy pleas to be heard, echoing hollowly off the walls of the shower, I bend my knees, allowing me to dig up and into her even further. Banging repeatedly against the spongy collection of nerves found deep within a curvature of Michonne's wicked little pussy, I bow my back to fit myself tightly to her form. Sensing that she is as tightly wound and ready to blow as I am, I latch my lips and teeth to her neck, and add pressure and friction to her clit. The introduction of my added touches, sends her into a dramatically expressive keen of pleasure, an almost painful sounding wail, as she begins shaking and drenching me. Close behind I release my own explosive, sublimely shameless growl into her neck, bathing her insides with my seed, pulling my thoughts into a fresh daydream of filling her with my babies.

Leaving the isolated solitude of the pool house behind, Michonne and I head out onto the sun drenched patio. With my hand snugly in hers, I'm following her through the crowd. With each step we are met with birthday wishes, hugs, cheek kisses, and the occasional odd look thrown my way. I'm not offended in the least, but I am curious as to whether or not the looks are more in response to my race, or the fact that Michonne and I are holding hands, and I'm not that other guy. Seemingly unaware of the stares, she provides no answers to the unspoken questions in their eyes, as well as no introduction of who I am either.

"I'm starving! Let's get something to eat." Michonne yells over her shoulder, trying to make sure I can hear her over the blare of the loud Hip Hop music. She doesn't wait for my agreement because she knows that I can eat anytime, anything, anywhere. Once in the kitchen, we are met with a small crowd of partygoers gathered around the buffet of food, seated at the table, and standing at the large granite island.

We are met with more of the same birthday wishes, hugs and kisses from before, as well as the discerning stares. Though she still does not acknowledge them, she does seem to genuinely appreciate the affection she's getting for her birthday, responding with a flurry of excited screeches and screams, and delighted smiles and smirks. I've never seen her like this, mixing and mingling with her friends, clearly in her element. So I'm falling back a little. As the dutiful boyfriend I'm just enjoying watching her be so carefree and content.

As we have made our way through most of the people in the kitchen, I turn away to begin surveying the food buffet, and another of her friends approaches. "Michonne, happy birthday, girl! You look so cute!" A short, thin black woman says, surveying Michonne from head to toe. With long dreadlocks cascading down her back, her skin a lighter shade of brown than Michonne's, and large eyes a hue closer to a cappuccino than Michonne's dark roast ones, she is sizing her up. It might be meant to come off as congenial, but there is a definite hint of a competitive glare in her perusal.

"Thank you! You look good as usual, Jas."

"Thanks! Hey I just saw Mike in the front room. He's looking good as always. You're so lucky, girl, that chocolate drop is so fine!"

Seemingly at an initial loss for words, Michonne sends her eyes quickly dashing my way as I stand a little to the side of her, still looking over the food. But, I catch her nervous glance, as well as the comment from the other girl that precipitated it.

"Well, thanks for coming, Jas. It's always good to see you."

"Yep. I guess I will catch up with you and Sasha next month when school starts. I saw her earlier too when I first got here. She's got some tall white guy following her around like he's a lost puppy."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. But you know your cousin likes to taste the rainbow, so I guess that's pretty normal for her."

"Guess so."

A brief silence ensues, and I can suddenly sense the other girl's eyes on me. "Speaking of the rainbow, who is this, Michonne?"

"I'm sorry, my manners suck. This is Rick. Rick, this is Jasmine. We go to school together at Spelman." Michonne introduces.

"Hi, nice to meet you." I offer my hand to Jasmine. Giving her a little nod of my head in greeting, I'm pleased to continue to meet Michonne's friends. Though I again notice that Michonne has not explicitly explained who I am to her. I'm not really pissed about it, not yet. But it's… interesting.

"Nice to meet you too. Aren't you cute. Where do you know Michonne from?" She asks, her lips turned up in what I can only describe as a pouty smile, while her eyes travel the length of me in an interested gaze. The forward manner in which she remarks that I'm cute takes me by surprise, especially that she would do it, and flirt with me so openly in front of Michonne. Blinking her eyes at me in what she must believe is a coquettish manner. Pushing out her chest. Licking at her lips. With a smattering of freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose and cheeks, I decide that she's relatively cute, and give her a polite smile. In my mind her flirting is innocent enough since she has no clue who I am to Michonne, I can clearly see there is a slight adversarial competition at play between them that I would never feed into, and neither Michonne nor I are paying this girl's antics any serious attention. Though any man within eyeshot would easily recognize her blatant interest, it's a non-issue to me because I only have eyes for one woman.

Stepping in front of me, effectively putting her body between mine and the woman's, grabbing my arm and wrapping it around her tiny waist, Michonne answers for me in what I am now beginning to recognize as her being possessive. Of me. "Rick is my boyfriend, Jas." With a wide, bright smile on her face, one might think she is being polite, friendly. But I recognize the little bite to her words, the slight whip and tilt of her head, and the strain of the muscles around her mouth trying to hold the fake grin.

"Oh word? What happened to Mike?" Jasmine tilts her head in return, as she asks the question, her eyes bouncing between Michonne's and my own. No longer an active participant in the conversation, I'm listening with interest to the revealing dialogue between the two. Watching it unfold, as I'm very eager to hear what Michonne has to say about her ex's departure from her life.

"We are no longer together."

"That's gonna make lots of girls happy to hear."

"Good for them."

"Hm. Well you look happy where you're at now too, so I guess that worked out."

"It did." Michonne tersely responds, a dry tinge of disinterest evident in her few words.

"Alright, girl, well happy birthday. Nice to you meet you, Rick." Jasmine utters with a little smirk on her lips, then turns away to head out of the kitchen.

Watching her leave for a moment, Michonne then whirls around to me, a clear look of disgust on her face. "I can't believe that bitch. Ugh. Did you see the way she was looking at you? Like you were a piece of cheese and she was a starving rat!"

"I didn't notice. She seemed nice enough." It's a tiny lie, but I don't want to feed anymore unnecessary anger on her birthday.

"Whatever. And you, Mr. Sexy Smile, you were just grinning and cheesing, eating all that attention up. What's that about? You think she's pretty or something?" Crossing her arms over her pretty breasts, a delicious little moue to her sexy lips, and a scrutinizing glare in her eyes.

"What? I was just being polite to your friend. Was I supposed to scowl at her instead?" I laugh, amused at her jealous reaction, which I have to admit is adorable. Even earlier when that weird lady nauseatingly asked me to lay with her, Michonne's immediately jealous response gave me a slight thrill, that I'm not ashamed to say I enjoyed. But, I don't ever want her to think that another woman could turn my head, or that she has a need to even question my loyalty to her. "Pretty girl, you know you're my one and only. Nobody compares to you."

"Sure about that?"

"Positive. Who could even compete with all of this?" I ask, gesturing to her from head to toe.

"Beyoncé?"

"Well…" I tease, earning me a playful smack on the arm from Michonne. Laughing, I thread my fingers with hers, and take hold of both of her hands, bringing them around to rest on the curve of her ass at the small of her back. "Ok. Not even Beyoncé."

"That's better.

"Listen, I'm going to run to the restroom really quick. I'll be right back to grab some food. Ok?"

"Ok. You can find a bathroom straight through the front room and to your right, by the entry foyer." She directs, moving her attention to the buffet as she begins stacking food high on a plate.

Heading out of the kitchen towards the front room, my eyes are focused ahead of me, looking for the real reason I needed to excuse myself from Michonne's presence. Hearing that girl mention that she just saw him in the front room a few moments ago, reignited my need to settle a few things with him. Spotting him in the foyer speaking to none other than Tyreese Williams himself, I question my motives for a second. I don't want to disrespect his home, so instead of approaching Mike first, I respectfully head for Tyreese.

"Hi, I'm Rick. Michonne's boyfriend." I reach my hand out to him to shake. At first he seems surprised by my appearance and introduction, as he gives my hand and face a brief glance before accepting. Eyeing me, as though he is trying to assess the truth of the revelation that I'm Michonne's boyfriend, he initially only provides a halting smile as he looks between Mike and I. I'm assuming he was not aware that Mike was no longer Michonne's boyfriend, and had effectively been replaced. It must be obvious that something has happened though, based solely on the daggers Mike is shooting my way, because he eventually accepts my hand and delivers a hearty shake in return.

"Nice to meet you, man. I'm Michy's cousin Tyreese."

"Yes, I know who are. Big fan by the way. You're racking up the home runs and RBIs so far. Gonna surpass last year's stats I think. Maybe a World Series appearance for the Braves this year?"

"You know baseball?" Surprised, his eyes widen, and now he's giving me his full attention. At somewhere around six feet tall, and with a burly muscular frame, it would be easy to be intimidated by him, especially given the initial glare of skepticism he gave me. But, with the wide toothy smile he's offering me now, I'm more at ease. Conversely, my newfound comfortability with Michonne's cousin, seems to be the cause of Mike's discomfort. Good.

"Oh yeah. Baseball is my favorite sport. I was a pitcher in high school. Watch or attend a game every chance I get."

"Well alright. I'll have to make sure I get you some of the good tickets then. I make them available for the family, but Michonne and Sasha have never been."

"Really? I've gotten her to watch a few of your games. Maybe she never had anyone who was willing to take their time and teach her before."

"Perhaps you're right. Well look, y'all be easy. I need to go check in with the caterers to make sure they keep the food flowing, and the underage kids away from the booze. And, Rick, I'll get you those tickets." He points my way, before leaving the room, taking any good humor with him.

Mike and I are left alone in the foyer now, as we both watch Tyreese's form retreat out onto the patio. Wanting to get this over with, I reach into my pocket and retrieve the bracelet that he gave to Michonne earlier.

"You can have this back."

Looking down at my outstretched hand, dangling the offending item off my index finger, Mike chuckles, then plasters his face with a smug smirk. "Why are you giving this back to me instead of Michonne? She know what you're up to?"

"She doesn't want or need anything from you. If my girl wants jewelry, I'll take care of that." Shoving the bracelet at him, he doesn't take it, and it drops with a loud clap of the fine metal hitting the floor. Chest heaving, anxious to end this shit and get back to my girl, I'm rubbing my index finger and thumb together, aiming to tamp down my growing agitation.

"I will take that as a no, that she doesn't. It's cool. Though those secrets, they do have a way of coming back to bite you in the ass."

"We don't have any secrets between us. Matter of fact, she told me about you grabbing her arm, putting your hands on her, getting rough with her. Don't ever let that happen again. Matter of fact, don't ever get anywhere near her again."

"She was my girl for years, I've had my hands all over her. Kissed her a few weeks ago."

Seething with anger, but unsure of the veracity of his revelation, my vision is clouded over red. Like a bull, I'm ready to charge and rip this motherfucker apart. The thought of him with his hands on her the same way mine were earlier, his lips on hers, sends my blood boiling. But I remember my deputy training, and do a slow count to 5, reigning in my initial reaction to gut his ass. Clenching and releasing my fists, I blow out and exhale a long breath. "Stay away from her. Next time I hear that you touched her, I will break your fucking jaw. I promise."

Stepping up closer, a few inches taller, he looks down his hawkish nose at me with nothing but hatred and disgust in his dark eyes. "I'm not worried about all of this macho shit you're trying to throw down right now, officer. You can't do shit but try to intimidate me so you can try to hold on to a girl that you know is way outta your league. But congrats to your country ass for now. Because I know Michonne Kelly, inside and out. I'm the one who popped that cherry and taught her everything she knows. And when she's back in Atlanta, and has forgotten about this summer adventure with you, I'll teach her some more things while you're on some dusty country road writing speeding tickets."

With those words, every ounce of restraint is now gone, and with a flinching snarl, I've had enough of the talking. Head butting him without preamble or warning, I aim directly for the center of his face, and watch with satisfaction as his blood leaks freely from his broken nose. A sickening crunch and stunned groan rip through the air. Wanting this to be the end of it, I back away from Mike. "I don't give a fuck about all that gotdamn talking. I said to stay away from her. Don't touch her, don't talk to her, don't think of her. Michonne is mine. That's it." I gruffly spit, my head aching from the blow I just delivered to his face.

"Fuck you!" Mike hollers and wildly charges. Leaving me no choice but to escort him out front so as not to cause any damage in the house, I'm hoping there are only a few party goers gathered outside. Attempting to grab a hold of him around his neck with my left arm, he tries to weave the other way, dancing out of my grasp. Squaring up on me, he's preparing to fight, getting set in his stance and making a weak attempt at focusing on me through the pain caused by the head-butt. Wincing, he fruitlessly wipes at the blood covering his face. While he's gathering himself to strike, I launch my fist at his jaw. Catching him quick with my right to the left side of his face, his head whips to the side, and a dash of blood splatters from his busted lip, adding to the faucet like drizzle from his nose. Unable to stop myself, anger and adrenaline marrying to now easily flow through my veins, I viciously punch with my left and swiftly land an uppercut to his right jaw, slinging his listless head back the other way. Though we are alone in the foyer, I don't want to ruin my girl's party, so while he is dazed, I move quickly to capture his right arm and twist it behind his back.

"Ahhh, motherfucker, don't you break my damn arm! I'll sue your ass!" Mike hollers, stumbling and struggling against the tight way I've wrenched his arm, deeming it useless.

"Shut up!"

Probably responding to the noisy ruckus, Sasha comes running down the steps, retying the strings of her bikini around her neck. Following close behind, Shane shuffles down the steps as well, tugging up his swim trunks as he goes.

"What the hell is going on, Rick?" Sasha asks, desperate to make sense of what she's witnessing.

"Taking out the trash. Shane, help me with the door."

"You got it, brother." He rushes over, and swings the front door open, as Sasha stands to the other side of the door, in awe and disbelief, with her trembling fingers over her mouth. "Hey, it's alright. I got this, it's ok. Rick's not gonna do anything worse than what he's already done. Just gonna escort this guy away from the party. Right, Rick?" Shane promises her, checking with me for confirmation to help ease her disconcert over the raucous scene playing out in her brother's house.

"Yep. Let's go, motherfucker. Walk!" Shoving him, still holding Mike's arm in a tight hold behind his back, I march him to the valet. With the cover of dusk, and thankfully only a small handful of probably drunk people out front, we don't draw much more attention than a small disagreement would. "Which car is yours?" I ask him. Waiting a beat, no answer comes, and he stubbornly tries to maintain his silence until I twist his arm even more. "Tell the valet which car to bring you. Or I can just march your dumb ass down to the street and leave you there."

Stepping up to try and aid with a smooth resolution, Shane offers the valet $20. "Do you remember this guy, and what car he was driving?"

"Y-yes. A blue Maxima, dark tint, black rims. Real nice car. I can go get it." The young Hispanic man answers, snatching the money from Shane's grasp, and running to the side of the house where the cars are parked.

Huffing and wheezing, I can hear a slight whistle emitting from the inhale of air Mike is exerting himself to capture. "I think you broke my nose. I'm gonna sue your hillbilly ass for this shit."

"I don't think your nose is broken. I know it's broken. Go ahead and try to sue, I don't care. I do care that you keep your distance from Michonne. I've made you a promise that I intend to keep if you don't."

"Here's his car." Shane points to the young valet, speeding around to the front of the house, screeching to a halt in front of us.

Pushing Mike over to the driver's side, I usher him into the now vacated driver's seat. Before he can close the door, I stand in the way, hand to the roof and lean in close. "Go home. Remember what I said. Don't make me have to repeat myself or keep my promise." Stepping away, Mike reaches to slam the door and hits the gas at the same time. Standing next to Shane, we watch him speed away, fishtailing around the circular drive, and down the path that will lead him to the gate and out to the street.

"You couldn't just enjoy the damn party, Rick? I was about to finally get somewhere with Sasha. I was nose deep in those pretty titties of hers, and what do we hear? That fucking guy hollering and you in the foyer kicking his ass. You owe me one, bro." Shane grumbles, rubbing his hands agitatedly over his head, evidencing just how pissed off he is.

My gaze still focused on Mike's speedy retreat, I'm still aggravated with a brush of discontent. Why did that fucker say he just kissed Michonne a few weeks ago? When was a few weeks ago? Before or after she became mine? With too many questions swimming in my head, I pull my attention from the driveway, determined to push away any suspicion around this supposed kiss Mike and Michonne shared. I turn to my best friend. Smirking, skeptical at Shane's revelation of finally getting somewhere in his pursuit of Sasha, I mockingly respond to his rant. "I doubt you would have gotten much further anyway. I'm going to find Michonne and try to enjoy the rest of my girl's birthday. Why don't you go finish what you claim you started?"