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Chapter 15 – Michonne

Voicemail 1:

"Michonne, this is Rick. I have called… I don't know how many times I've called now. But, please, listen to me. You know I've never loved a woman but you. Not like this. You are my girl. Don't do anything foolish, baby, please. Call me back!"

Voicemail 2:

"I'm getting worried that I can't find you. You weren't at your parents' house. And your mother was surprised to see me. I guess you didn't tell her what happened. That shit with Lori, that was just me letting her down easy. I don't want to hurt her…I don't want anyone to get hurt. Especially not you…not my Michonne. I just want you, pretty girl. Please. Call me back, I love you."

Voicemail 3:

"You don't have to talk to me right now, Michonne. Baby, just text me back. Let me know you're ok, that you're not hurt somewhere…I'm on my way to Atlanta. I have to see you, and explain. We…this can't be over. I'm sorry for everything I did or said to hurt you, you know I would never. I just need you to stop being afraid of my love for you. To let me be enough for you, Michonne. Please."

He keeps calling. Between these voicemails, and the fifty or so text messages that I have gotten since very early this morning, I would say that Rick is genuinely sorry. Despite the apparent honesty in his apology, I can't so easily dismiss what I've been feeling for weeks, what I recently heard, what I just saw. I don't know what to do. Wanting to lose myself in something unrelated to what I'm going through right now, I turn up the volume on the stereo in my Jeep.

"I need, I need

I need, I need

I need, I need

I need, I need

I need, I need…"

Need. It's a curious thing. We need to eat, and to breathe to survive. But, love? Do I need love to survive, I wonder? Watching the illuminated traffic light around the corner from my condo, change from red to green, then yellow, and back to red, for what must be the tenth time, I ponder the word. The essence of its meaning. Need. I thought I did need love, Rick's love. That it was an unlimited fountain that would keep my heart and my soul fed, eternally nourished. I thought Rick's love was exactly what I needed. Instead, the ugly reality of that lie is what sent me running in a haze of disappointment and anger, from Rick's apartment last night. A need to escape the culminating confrontation of everything I feared from the moment I fell in love with him. The possibility that the man I need, would one day decide that I wasn't enough, I wasn't what he needed any longer.

Safety and security is what I need, not love, and in that moment this teetering, tenuous thing with Rick was no longer giving me that. And everything that Mike said to me about Rick came crashing into my thoughts. For nearly two months, an awkward yet familiar feeling of aimless loss has been pumping me full of the cold and despicable darkness of doubt, insecurity. Instead of keeping me warm, it festered and ate away at my confidence, making me question everything about myself that I once steadfastly thought I knew. That's why I left Rick standing in his doorway, witnessing my hasty retreat.

I keep wavering though, wondering if I shouldn't have left. If I should have fought harder, pulled myself to the surface to breathe, instead of acquiescing to the weight of my emotions, and falling deeper into the abyss. Drowning. I should have grabbed that bitch Lori and made her eat every on every one of the venomous lies she spit my way. A replay of yesterday keeps cycling through my mind like a highlight reel of my second worst day ever. All of this reduces me to nothing but foolish regret, like a heavy stone around my neck, an albatross. Doesn't matter now though, because I did this. I fell in love and sabotaged myself.

Standing at the threshold of Rick's bedroom, a place where I had turned over my life, my body, my heart to him so many times, I was now just a spectator. A theater patron to a scene in any mainstream romance movie, where the pretty, thin white girl, and the handsome, white guy decide to stop playing around and make a life together. A life where a woman that looks like me simply doesn't fit. So I reacted, and in a vacuum, I unilaterally made a choice for us all. While my heart was splintering into tiny shards of delicate glass, sharp enough to leave me fatally wounded, I saw the truth of how perfectly Rick and Lori fit together. Him standing there confessing his love to her and her baby. A baby, housed inside of Lori's perfectly rounded stomach, that would resemble him more than our baby probably would. Pressed close to him, a literal and physical connection of their three lives represented in their proximity, Lori's aesthetically matched link to Rick sealed it. Realization covered me in a blanket of enlightenment, I could see it all so clearly now. Hear the taunting echo of Mike's parting words the night we broke up, foreshadowing a sentiment that Rick would eventually fulfill by making a fool of me. That nothing good could come from being with a good ol boy like him. These memories made it easy for me to just step away, to let him have this…perfect life. Effortlessly, I could end this battle in my heart by retreating to my corner in this boxing ring, like any smart and defeated boxer would. Seeing the reality of what Rick truly wanted, needed, I threw in the towel and sabotaged myself.

Now here I am, alone, frightened, dejected. That's the only way I can describe this feeling. This soul shockingly, empty sensation seeping from my broken heart, to stagger out to my lead heavy limbs. As if it was necessary to gift me with an impetus to recollect the damaged state of things between my love and I, something else to remind me of what happened last night at Rick's apartment, to pile on top of the festering hurt, Sza's 'Love Galore' continues to cryptically pump through the speakers of my Jeep.

"Love, love, love, love
Long as we got
Love, love, love
Long as we got…"

Normally this song is my jam. Worthy of a volume crank at all times, this album has been on constant rotation since the beginning of summer. But, after a multi-week, semi-separation from Rick, and now this, I just want her to shut up. Stop speaking the words that my love sick heart wants to nauseatingly vomit all over the steering wheel. Stop confessing the aching devastation of Rick's words to Lori, his harsh words of admonishment to me, and my own impetuous words spoken during my immature departure. And really, I'm drained and tired of crying, and thinking. I just want to say fuck it and check myself, because Sza is right. Rick and I did have love. And more.

Over the last couple of weeks that has become abundantly clear. Though we spoke on the phone a few times, we did not see each other at all during that time, and for the most part it was like he didn't exist in my life. But god, he did, he does, and it nearly killed me not to be with him. Rick says he was trying to give me a chance to live and be free, to handle my business, but he is my business. What freedom is there in a life without happiness, and the person who makes me happy? It all felt like a punishment, and I told him that when I spoke to him the other day. He denies that it was, but I think he secretly meant it to be, even if only subconsciously. Our separation was the consequence, the price that had to be paid for me stupidly thinking that a Halloween party with Mike was more important than a lifetime with the man I love. It wasn't, and for almost two agonizing months, Rick punitively kept himself from me, kept me away from him. Only a couple of texts and phone calls passed between us, and with each day, another crumbling piece of my heart broke off, withering into dust. Wasn't he suffering like I was? Didn't he miss me at all? Despite what I thought I knew of him, his behavior over that time, and the evidence witnessed with my own eyes and ears, would lead me to believe differently.

And there I go. Doing that thing that I hate, that my therapist warned me against, vacillating, and being hard on myself, fighting an unwinnable argument against my own self interests. The real question here is do I still want to be with Rick or not? Honestly that's all that matters. My head is worried that he's making a fool out of me, that the love and future he promised me is not what he's actually able or willing to deliver. And even though, I think my heart knows that he is the kind of man that would move heaven and earth to try and follow through, I'm so emotionally fragile I'm not certain I can risk it.

God knows I wanted to try though, and as I finally accelerate my Jeep away from this intersection that I have been idling at for way too long, I recall that just yesterday I was prepared to re-gift Rick with my life. I was ready to put all of those damaging, defeatist thoughts that eat away at me when I least expect it, along with this whole separation debacle, to a satisfying end. Not just because we were going to be back in the same room together, where I could physically lay my eyes on his clear blue ones, place my hands on his lean firm body, kiss his soft pink lips, find balance in the carnal release of energy that I know we both wanted. To not only allow him to refill the empty chasm his absence left within me, but also because I was going to let him know that I'm carrying his baby. It's a reality that I almost can't believe myself. And at first I didn't.

Glancing over to the passenger seat, at the way my phone lights up again to notify me of another text, probably again from Rick, I get a flutter in my belly, reminding mr of the life altering gift we created together. Last week when I couldn't seem to fully shake my sinus infection, and I kept struggling with being tired and achy, I became a whiny complaining mess to anyone who would listen. Mostly my mother and Sasha though, since I did not want to alarm Rick, or to reach out to him since I was pissy about the whole semi-separation thing anyway. So, I mentioned how awful I was feeling to Sasha while she and I were aimlessly strolling through Target last Friday. Tossing random, unnecessary items into the cart, and recounting her whirlwind Thanksgiving trip to Ibiza with Spencer, she casually asked me if I was on my period, or better yet if I was pregnant, and if that could be why I felt so awful. Then she laughed that off, because of course I would never do something as careless, or spontaneous as getting pregnant. Not meticulously organized, and structured Michonne. But when I stayed quiet, and conducted a quick calendar check in my head, I had to stop in my tracks. Not halting her slow push of the cart to notice the look of careful rumination and thought on my face, she suggested over her shoulder, continuing with her raucous laughter, that I should check my uterus for a little invader with Rick's face on it anyway, just to be safe. I didn't join her in that laugh, I just kept following behind in her tracks, distracting myself with clearance make up located on the end caps, and a new pair of black yoga pants, that the tiny bump of my normally flat abdomen might require.

She was right though. I didn't want to discuss it any further then, and I didn't grab a test until the next day when I was alone at Publix, and I could grab three different types of tests to either confirm or negate the existence of a little Grimes. That night, alone in the bathroom, after quickly drinking down two glasses of water, and drenching all three tests with my pee, I got the answer I was wholly unprepared for. Pregnant. With Rick's baby. My baby. He's going to be a dad. And I'm going to be…a mother?

This is an occurrence that is completely unlike me. Totally in conflict with every plan I've ever had for my life. Every inch of my structured and logical personality. A baby? I'm not married, I'm still in school, I'm not even in my damn 20s yet! Financially I can take care of a child, easily. I can pretty much afford whatever I want, or need. But emotionally? Right now I'm a wreck and well, like Sza says in the song, I should have known better. All of that satisfying and carefree sexing without a condom, relying only on my own meticulous pill taking schedule, did me in. And given how far apart Rick and I are right now, I have no idea how this is going to work. If it even can work. What do I tell my mother, Hershel?

Hearing my phone playing the ringtone, a snippet of 'Bad and Boujee', to signal my mother is calling, I lower the volume on Travis Scott spitting two verses that immediately cause me to groan because of how disgustingly appropriate they are.

"Let me cum inside, ya
Let me plant the seed inside, ya..."

"Hello?"

"Michy! Girl, where the hell are you? Are you ok?" My mother asks, relief and exasperation mixing in the tone of her raised voice.

"Yeah, Mom, I'm fine. I'm just going to stay in the city for awhile, I don't feel well, and I didn't want anyone else to catch what I have." I respond, telling a little white lie, coupled with a bigger truth to ease the frantic tone of worry in my mother's voice.

"Well what time did you leave, at the crack of dawn? Rick was here looking for you."

"It was pretty early, about an hour ago. I couldn't sleep."

"Why the hell did you get up so early to leave and not say anything to anyone? That's not right, little girl, I was worried about you!" Admonishing me, making me feel every bit the immature 19 year old I sometimes am, I wince at her loud tone.

"I'm fine, Mom."

"The hell you are! He was over here ringing the bell all early, eyes red and watery. That boy was looking a little wild and desperate. What's going on with you two?"

"Uh. He and I had a small argument, no big deal." I admit, hoping that the cracking in my voice, hoarse and raspy from crying, doesn't betray me and give away the truth of how terribly awful things are between Rick and I now.

"This have anything to do with whatever that bitch Ellen said to you at the tree lighting? I know you didn't want to tell me what she said that had you all stone faced, but all I know is that she better not be messing with my baby girl. You hear me, Michy? Do I need to go over there and have a chat with her?"

"No."

"Good. You let me know if I do. I'm itching to mix it up with her old ass again. I can't stand her self-righteous behind. Anyway, I told him you were probably at your apartment, so he's on the way there. I suggest you guys fix whatever it is that's going on. Ok? At least try to talk it out, whatever it is. He was really frantic to see you."

"I'll talk to Rick when he gets here. I promise. Matter of fact, I'm pulling up to my condo now."

"Good girl. You guys fix this."

"Ok." I sadly answer, not sure that we can, but knowing that there is so much more going on here than just a small argument. Parking my car, I self-consciously begin to rub at my stomach, thinking of the piece of Rick nestled safely within.

"Hey, sweetheart, your mama loves you. I'm always here for you, for whatever. Let me know if you need me, and when you will be coming back. You didn't even open any of your presents." Her voice softens, as she probably recognizes the solemnity in my own. We've always been connected like that.

"Yep. I love you too. Bye, Mom." I utter, as I hear the squeal of rubber, screeching across the asphalt of the parking lot. Hitting end on my phone, I drop it into my purse on the passenger's seat, and turn off my car. Dropping my head to the steering wheel, I suck in a deep, steadying breath, trying to grasp a tentative hold of my shaky emotions before the driver of that fast moving blue pickup locates me in my parking spot in front of my condo.

"Michonne! Please, baby, open the door!" Rapping his knuckles against the driver's side window, I can hear the raging desperation in Rick's voice, the same as what my mother must have witnessed, and that had her so alarmed. Elevating my head, I turn towards him. Latching my own weary eyes on to his, I see the evidence of agitation all over him. In dark jeans, protected from the cold December morning by a brown suede coat, with a wool shearling collar, his hair is disheveled, his face is red, and his eyes are a piercing, stormy blue.

Still frozen, my joints are locked in what seems like permanent suspension, taking away any control I have to move. I can only gaze out of the window, my eyes hovering over the most handsome man I've ever known. Watching a mix of anxiety and affection, conflict and combat each other to win dominion over him, I'm drawn to the quiet disturbance in his eyes, the heated flurry of breaths blowing from his lips, meeting with the frosty morning air to make smoke. And it releases me from my stupor, while at the same time a twister of emotion breaks free from my own eyes, causing a salty downpour of tears to race down my face. The levee I have put up, disintegrates behind this cathartic outpouring, no longer holding back all of the acrimony and melancholy that my newly invigorated hormones seem intent on setting free. And with that, my tiny, needy voice finally finds the strength to rise up, and escape my trembling, pursed lips. "Rick."

The sound of his name on my lips seems to have unlocked something wild in him, and he's now pulling at the locked door handle, banging and blasting his fists against the panels of the steadfast door. Thrown into action at the sight of his quickly reddening knuckles, and teary face, I fumble with my shaky fingers to unlock the door, which Rick instantly throws open. A blustery blast of cold air shocks my face, as Rick gingerly reaches into the Jeep for me, wrapping one strong arm under the crook of my knees, and the other around my back. Seemingly no longer concerned with the strength of his once wounded shoulder, he gently removes me from the truck. Holding me firmly to his body, I continue to cry, and delight in the thrilling yet traitorous sensation of his rosy lips kissing away the rain of fat tears streaking my face.

"You shouldn't be here. Go back to King County, Rick." I utter under the wet smother of his lips on mine.

For a brief moment he stops kissing me, and I can tell that he's shocked by my response. "What the hell are you talking about? No! I came here for you, and I'm not leaving without you."

"I'm not going anywhere. You should go home and spend the rest of the holidays with your family." I suggest, trying to wriggle out of the tight hold of his arms.

"Michonne, are you crazy? Do you think I came all this way for you to tell me to turn around and go home, without you?" He incredulously asks, walking my limp body towards the front door of my condo.

Once inside, deftly locking the door behind him, Rick walks me directly to the couch, gently placing me on the edge of a cushion. Wordlessly, he begins unbuttoning my wool coat, and removing it from my stiffly set body. He tosses it to a chair that sits in the corner of the room. Next he crouches before me, and reaches for my boots. Focusing intently on the job at hand, he unties each boot, then tugs them, along with my thick socks, off my feet. Resting one knee on the ground, the other still bent, resting his elbow upon it, he looks up at me, scratching contemplatively at his slight beard. "I'm sorry I called you a scared little girl. That I yelled at you."

Feeling the heat of my anger rising within me all over again, I set my face into a scowl, hoping that he sees I'm dissatisfied with his apology. "Fine. You can go now. I have things to do today."

"Like what? Coming back home with me? That's the only thing on your agenda for today. I'm gonna make sure you get it done."

"I don't think so, Rick. I am home."

"What are you doing, Michonne? Do you want me to beg you? Hm? I know you're angry about what you heard, what you saw, but I'm here to explain so we can move past this. We have bigger things to discuss than some stupid misunderstanding."

"Speaking of stupid, shouldn't you be getting back to Lori? Planning out your perfect little lives together as a family with your baby? Just go, Rick. Get out." Pointing towards the door, I'm fighting to hang on to my righteous indignation, because I'm not ready to feel the relief from its pressure heaving down on my chest. Not yet. This pain is useful to me. It will serve as a lesson, a strong reminder to never again give a man this much power over me. Ever. Launching from the couch, I am immediately met with the wall of Rick's leanly muscled chest, and his intense blue glare.

"Stop this." In a voice more commanding than any I've ever heard him use, specifically directed at me, the deep bass of it stops me in my tracks. But the memory of the weeks of isolation he imposed on me, and the sight of him with Lori, reinvigorates and provokes my outrage. "I'm not going anywhere without you. That's it."

"No, Rick, that's not it. This is my house, and you don't make any rules here. You don't get to tell me what to do anymore. I'm done with doing this thing with you. Ok? You had your fun, got to scratch that black girl itch. Now go back to your basic ass white girl, and live your country boy life. Leave this scared little girl alone!" I spit, trying to still the shake of my voice. Placing my trembling hands on his chest, I give him a little shove, but he remains unmoved. "What part of, you don't get to play with my emotions anymore, don't you get?" Pursing my lips, I see that Rick's face does not betray him and give away any emotion. That my physical efforts to move him are ineffective. I muster harsher words, wanting him to feel the pain I've been stung with, and finally get him to move from my space. "My heart doesn't belong to you anymore. Matter of fact, I don't think it ever did. Mike was right about you."

Narrowing his eyes on me into thin, squinty slits, only a brief 'hm' escapes him. What I can only assume is anger, appears to be swirling amongst the mix of blue and gray in his eyes, and I'm expecting the desired explosion next. Something I have said has finally hit its mark with him. But then, he catches me off guard, much like when he found me with Mike before, and he smiles. A large smug grin is more like it. And then he descends upon me. His lips, his hands. Cloistering me with his presence, he's all over me, smothering my senses with nothing but the smell of his talc laced cologne, his clean soap and shampoo, the mint of his toothpaste, the crushing bruise of his lips, and the blunt hardness of his cock pressing into my abdomen. Oh god.

That once familiar sensation of falling, tumbling, weightlessness overtakes me, and I can't stop it. I don't want to. Need. There is that word, that sentiment again. My heart and my soul need him. My body needs him. At first it's heresy to even admit it, but the core of me knows it to be true. Rick is in my blood, and while that admission should make me ashamed, it doesn't. Not right now while a heady willingness to be dominated and consumed by him owns me, and I don't care. Greedily I grasp him to me, smashing my body against his, squirming in his hold to gain more contact. Abruptly, he ends the kiss and pulls away. Huffing and panting, running his tongue over his lips, he steps back a bit, then runs his large palm over my breasts, and up to my throat. Tugging slightly at the neckline of my sweater he focuses his eyes there. The smirk is back, this time with a softer edge to it though, accompanied by a newly introduced tinge of lust in his eyes. "You're still wearing the necklace I gave you. You heart is still mine. Just like mine has always been and will always be yours."

Taking a seat back on the couch, I retreat from the veracity of his claim, but don't confirm his assertion. I can't. Not yet. Clutching at the delicate 'M' that rests at the hollow in my throat, I recall the familiar love and acrimony between us the night he gave it to me, and I lower my eyes from his. Attempting to collect myself, I soothingly rub one hand over my queasy stomach, thinking of our baby within. Remembering the wrinkles and complications in all of this, I try to think clearly about what to do or say next, steel my emotions from the blazing crackle of passion between us, but he doesn't let me.

"Stand up." Dropping his eyes from the gold around my neck, to the protective massage of my hand over my abdomen, he regains my attention with the gruff timbre of his commanding voice.

Not sure what else to do, other than to follow his directions for fear that I will draw attention to his scrutiny of my belly, and no longer wanting to fight with him, I slowly stand, doing as he asked. As I stand before him, Rick releases a tired sigh, tilting his head at me as though he is trying to figure something out. Swiping at his red eyes, rubbing both hands down his face, he drops his head, chin to his chest for a moment. The sight of him, processing a broad range of emotions that scurry over his face in the squint of his beautiful eyes, and the tense set of his shoulders, nearly causes me to tumble into another fit of tears. We did this to each other. Both thinking we were saving the other, gifting them something they never asked for. Praying that irreparable damage hasn't been done, my trembling fingers lower to his cheeks, grazing the tips through the stubble of his emerging beard.

At the sensation of my hands on him, Rick closes his eyes, finally releasing the air he has been trapping in his lungs to keep himself, his emotions, steady. Taking a hold of the soft, woolen lapels of his coat's collar, I pull him up and closer to my body, intent on releasing him from the cold bondage of hurt he's harboring in his tired bones, that we both contributed to. I unzip and remove the thick, heavy coat. No longer interested in battle, only reconciliation, reigniting our withered connection, we both immediately reach for each other again. Words are unnecessary. Relief and forgiveness are evident in the desperately frantic hold of my arms around his neck, in the vise like wrap of his strong arms around my waist. Lowering his face to mine, Rick continues his efforts to kiss away any remaining signs of my distress, placing a barrage of delicate pecks on any hints of tears or strain. And I let him. I need him to. To soothe me and console me. To heal the wounds I've inflicted on myself. Wanting to take care of him as well, I massage my fingers lightly through the short curls, tapered low to his head.

"I'm sorry," he utters over my lips, low and raspy. The hairs of his mustache tickle my skin, and I nuzzle into them, missing their prickle.

"Me too." I nod, offering him the sincerest of apologies. "I saw you with her. I heard-"

"Shh, I know."

"I thought-" Admitting the things that cornered me, tortured me, drove me to hurt the person closest to me.

"I know." Rubbing his face against mine, he's now licking and biting at the sensitive skin of my neck, my throat, toying with the gold 'M' with his tongue.

Moaning at the warmth rushing over my quickly relaxing body, I tilt my head to the side, giving him more access to me. "…maybe she would be better for you?"

"Never. I need you, pretty girl. Don't torture me."

"I need you, Rick. Please don't leave me again." I weakly plead. Desire is pushing, motivating me now, and I'm greedy to get my hands on more of him. With my hands now underneath his t-shirt, his heated skin, taut and covered with a masculine sprinkling of hair, welcomes me home. My palms' exploration of his muscled pecs, the slight ripples of his abs, is a reminder of the pleasure and comfort I have always found in his body, with Rick.

Shuddering slightly, a weak shiver zings through his muscles, jumping underneath the pads of my fingers. Raising his head to make eye contact with me, his brows furrowed and angled, he confesses while shaking his head. "Never. But, I thought you needed a break from me."

"Never. I need you, Rick. We need you."

With the subtle mention of our baby, what I assume is a newly discovered revelation for him, Rick delivers the most beautiful smile I have ever seen grace his face. Dropping to his knees, he lifts my sweater, and focuses his gaze on my still flat stomach. "I know. We need you too, Mama. Me and our baby." His large hands span the expanse of my tiny waist, as he rubs his thumbs back and forth over the shelter that houses his baby, our son or daughter. There is quiet worship and reverence in his touch, the manner in which his rough, calloused hands roam over my skin.

"How did you know?"

"You dropped my Christmas present at my house. I found it." Reaching into his back pocket he removes the box with the three pregnancy tests, I gleefully wrapped for him the other day.

"Ah. I wanted it to be this big surprise. See the look on your face. Guess I ruined that." I let my head fall listlessly back, and take in a deep breath, wondering at the mess I've made of things. Steeling my raging emotions, I try not to allow a fresh round of tears to escape onto my face. At the feel of Rick's hands rolling from my stomach, and back to the cushion of my ass, to grasp and knead at my flesh, my tears drop anyway in a burst of relief.

"I was surprised. You're having my baby, Michonne. I've never been happier in my life."

"Really?"

"Pretty girl, this, you… it's everything I've ever wanted. Nothing else matters but this, us, our little family."

"I love you, Rick. I do. I won't hurt you again, I promise. I won't be scared anymore. We have to stop hurting each other." Bending at the waist, I place a series of kisses on the top of his head. Hearing him groan in appreciation, I stand erect again, and begin to unbutton my jeans.

"Yes…yeah I agree. Wait…what are you doing?"

Without a response I unzip my jeans and begin pushing them and my panties down over the slight swell of my hips. Stepping back, and out of his arms, I drop them to the floor, and kick them away. Next, I pull my sweater over my head, letting it fall wherever. Slipping the straps of my bra down my shoulders, with Rick's eyes laser focused on my movements, I lick at my lips, delighting in the stunned look on his face. As my tender breasts bounce free of the confines of my bra, I begin kneading and thrumming at my firm, distended nipples.

"Michonne? Baby…"

"Rick, did you miss me?"

Nodding, he reaches for me, but I easily back away, dodging his eager advances.

"Yes, pretty girl, more than anything. Come here, let me show you."

"I want to. To feel you inside of me."

"Fuck…" He groans, quickly pulling his own shirt off and leaving it on the floor.

"Exactly." I agree. Now completely nude, I retreat back to the soft cushion of the couch. Laying back, I bend my legs at the knee, pulling them up and allowing them to fall to the side, leaving my core open and vulnerable to him. "Rick, come here, daddy." I moan, closing my eyes and using two fingers from my right hand to explore the fleshy folds of my womanhood.

Calling him daddy seems to light a fire in him, and that bright sparkling grin is once again lifting his lips, reaching to the depths of his glistening blue eyes. "Say it again, pretty girl."

"Come here, daddy. Come give your pretty girl what she needs." Quirking my eyebrow at him, I remove my plunging fingers, now damp with my arousal, and insert them in my mouth. Since finding out I was pregnant a few weeks ago, my libido has been raging. As a result, I unfortunately learned quite a bit about how to explore my own body and find pleasure this way. But nothing compares to my Rick, and with the swift removal of his boots and jeans, he's pulling me up and laying me on my back, across the large ottoman in front of the couch, grinding his stiff cock against me.

"I missed you, baby." Mumbling the words into my breasts, Rick sucks my nipple into his hungry mouth, rolling his tongue over and against my turgid nipple. With the palm of his warm hand he covers my other breast, vigorously rubbing and kneading at the sensitive flesh. Crying out at the slightly painful ache coursing through the nerves there, Rick leans his torso up and looks down at my wincing face. With pregnancy, my nipples have become so sensitive that sometimes even the stream of shower water hurts them. "Are you ok? Am I being too rough?" He asks, a quiet panic of concern leading him to snatch his hand back.

"No. They're just very sensitive now. I…I guess because of the baby."

"My baby wouldn't do that her mama." He playfully shakes his head, focusing his eyes on my stomach.

"Well, he is. So, just a little easier with them."

"He? She!" Rick exclaims, bending over to lower his face to nuzzle my stomach, tickling me across the belly button with his beard. "Hey little baby, this is your daddy, tell your mama that you're gonna be a sweet, pretty girl, just like her."

"Hate to disappoint you, but it's gonna be a boy."

"We'll see about that." Rolling his eyes at my assertion, he kisses lightly against the hardly visible bump of my lower stomach, and begins to move further down. Reaching the apex of my thighs his wet tongue licks out from between his pink lips and parts the freshly shaven lips of my pussy, making contact with my most delicate parts. "Mmmm, you smell and taste so good. Shit… I don't know how I survived so long without you. I'll try to be gentle."

"Don't." I beg, biting down on my bottom lip, hungry for him to take me. To ravage me. To make me forget all of the time we've been apart, and all of the negative things we've said to each other.

"I don't wanna hurt the baby." Skeptical, he pauses for a moment, his breath coming out in warm heavy puffs, caressing my skin.

"You won't. Fuck me, Rick, hard."

In silence, Rick presses his whole face into my pussy, and begins to devour me as though he's a man that has been deprived of nourishment. Latching his whole mouth over me, the heat from his wet mouth is causing my body to relax, to loosen my muscles. I feel airy and free in my arousal, as Rick teases my tight bud with slow languid laps of his long tongue. Humming against me, the vibration, accompanied by his lips sucking my clit into his mouth, sends a powerful spike of pure lust firing through my body, stiffening my limbs and causing a long whimper to fall from my lips. My hand is now nestled in the short, feathery curls at the back of his head and I'm pushing his face into my pussy, wantonly desiring for him to keep using his mouth to further send my body flying higher.

Grunting at the wicked thrust of my hips up to his face, Rick's muscled arms have a firm grip around my thighs as he jerks me closer to him and proceeds to weave his head up and down, rolling his tongue in a figure eight motion. Messily slurping and sucking, the sound of my wet juices being lapped into his greedy mouth, reverberates around the room, mingling with the echoes of my needy pleas. Instantly, the newly decadent sensation he's delivering shoves my already tightly coiled nerve endings into a wild shock, and right over the edge, tumbling directly into an orgasm. Thrashing, unable to control my body from writhing and raising from the ottoman, I'm indulgently wading in a pool of ecstasy.

Releasing me, Rick sits up on his knees. Staring down at me, he swipes his large palm down his face, marveling at the dampness of his whole face, including the slick viscosity lacing his beard. Watching me pant, grasping for the deep, heavy gulps of air that will help me find my way back to lucidity, Rick patiently licks at his bee stung lips. Apparently figuring that I've had more than enough time to gather my wits about me, he lays on top of me, balancing his weight to one side on his elbow. With his other hand, he firmly fists his cock, and teases my already responsive pussy, dragging the head over the moist petals.

Eyes full of love and lust, intently set on my own, Rick slowly plunges into my depths, finding a modicum of resistance at the choking tightness of my canal. Eyelids drooping at the indulgent strangle I have over his dick, his spiky straight lashes dust the tops of his cheeks, as he twists and screws his hips, trying to relax my snugness. "Fuck, fuck, fuck…" He sighs as he pushes, finally buried and immersed to the hilt.

For a moment he doesn't move. In the stillness of this brief snapshot in time, my love for him swells, peaking so high, shining so brightly, that it threatens to burst into flames, igniting and consuming us both in its luminosity. Before I can stop them, I blink to try and hold them back, but tears, full and boisterous break free from my eyes. A wailing gasp drops from my lips, and Rick opens his eyes, alarmed at my apparent distress. "What's wrong, Michonne?"

"I didn't think I would ever have you back… be like this with you again…" I hiccup, blowing out a long breath to try and get the words out despite my tears. Holding tightly to him, I'm nearly frantic because the vise of my arms can't seem to crush him close enough to me. "I love you so much, Rick. I do."

"I know. I love you too. Don't cry. I'm already not sure how long I'm going to last here. You're so fucking tight and hot, shit. Shh… don't cry." Sweeping his hand along the bottom of my thigh, he drags it up and over his shoulder. Kissing the inside of my leg, he starts a slow wind of his hips, then uses his other hand to lift my ass and pelvis to eagerly meet his, with a bump of my clit against the base of his cock. "That's it, Michonne. Let me love you, baby, don't cry." Hovering over me with a bend to his spine, and a deep waving motion in and out, the sound of him pistoning inside of me, slapping leisurely against my swollen lips, sends a keening wail up from my diaphragm and into the air.

I can feel my own wetness drenching him, leaking down the backs of my thighs. "Oh, pretty girl, this pussy is gonna kill me." Speeding up, diving deeper, Rick's lips descend on my own, kissing and slipping his tongue between my lips to explore my mouth. Lush and ferocious, my own passion for my man ascends, and I take control of the kiss, dominating Rick's lips, tugging and sliding his bottom lip between my teeth. "Fuck me harder, daddy! Please…"

"What about the baby?" he whispers in my ear, the side of his face now tightly pressed to mine.

"Harder, daddy, please! I need you to fuck me so good, Rick!"

Groaning he bites at my cheeks and neck, then proceeds to savagely fulfill my request. Driving into me harder and deeper than before, he takes my other leg that was resting lightly at his waist, and lifts it onto his shoulder as well. With my pussy now lifted higher, he's drilling me with the unbridled strength and power that I need him to dominate me with. My desire for him to plunder, to snatch his own pleasure, while simultaneously satisfying every one of my carnal compulsions, motivates him.

"Ahh, ahh, Riiiicckkk… oh god, I'm gonna…" His virulent thrusts have pushed my body further up the ottoman, and head is now dangling over the edge. With my head suspended upside down, a heightened sensation of gravity defying gratification feels like the most exquisite of things. So lavish and luxurious, decadent, that it pitches my torso up from the ottoman, crashing into Rick's chest.

"That what you needed, pretty girl? Hm? You wanted your man to fuck you like that?" He gruffly questions, sweat pouring down his face, dripping onto the wild bounce of my firm round breasts.

"Yes, yes, yes…"

"Look at you. You're so beautiful, glowing, cumming on my dick… You feel good, baby?"

Nodding, a succession of stiff and hard pumps of his lean hips against my own, powerfully banging the ottoman across the floor, Rick gifts me with another of the most wicked, yet pure climaxes of my life. White hot, the erotic barrage of spasms from my pussy, strangles his cock, and Rick's body petrifies and stiffens on top of me, as a thunderous moan erupts from his beautiful lips.

For a long moment Rick lays lax and boneless on top of me, his weight pressing me into the cushion of the ottoman, and my legs into my chest. His hands are tightly cradling my ass in his palms, and his breathing is erratic, wafting over my collarbone. Content with the amorous clutch of our bodies, sweaty, and intertwined, I drag my fingers across his scalp to soothe him. Moments slip past and Rick finally musters the strength to slide off of me, and to my side. Bereft at the loss of our entanglement, I turn to my side, ready to snuggle him, but before I can, he sluggishly reaches for me, and hauls me over his shoulder. Carrying me to my bedroom, he drops me to my feet. Lying down across the bed, he pulls me on top of him, to drape me over his chest. Reaching for the blankets, and still without a word, he wraps us up, creating a cozy cocoon around us.

Arms around me, resting on my ass, Rick raises his head and kisses the top of head. "I was too rough." He sadly confesses, with a hint of apology in his statement.

"You were perfect."


At the urgent call of my straining bladder, I lift my head from what should be Rick's chest, but instead is just one of the many pillows decorating my bed. Browsing the room with my eyes, searching for any sign of him, anything that would indicate that this morning was not a dream, a swift panic threatens to seize my chest. Trying to calm myself, empty my bladder and think, I drowsily lumber to the en suite bathroom attached to my bedroom. Feeling the well used, and tender soreness of my vagina, the tense achy stretch of my thigh muscles, and I know for sure it was not a dream. But where is Rick? As I pee, a long stream, relief rushes through me as I hear the deep timbre of his voice thanking someone and closing the front door.

Wiping and flushing, my newly developed mutant level of smell sniffs out the scent of food. Grabbing a blanket carelessly discarded on the floor, I swaddle myself to cover my nudity and head to the kitchen, taking a seat on a stool at the island.

"Finally woke up, huh?" Rick laughs, running his eyes over me, and my questionable attire. "You might want to put on some clothes, Sasha is here with Spencer. I ordered food for us all. Got you curry chicken from that Indian spot around the corner you love so much."

"Thanks. What time is it?"

"Eight."

"At night"

"Yeah. You were pretty tired so I let you sleep. But, yeah, gonna need you to at least throw on a robe or something. I'm sure you're still naked under that blanket. Can't have you sitting here in front of another guy in just a blanket."

"Rick, we're all naked under our clothes anyway." I tease, lifting my left hand to stretch. As I do, a sparkling twinkle from my hand catches my eye. "What the?" Bringing my hand in close, I curiously wonder over the antique gold band, with a simple princess cut diamond situated in a high, four pronged setting. "Rick?" Unable to tear my eyes away from the delicate brilliance of the ring, I begin to breath fast, erratic, unsure of what else to say.

"Will you? Will you do me the honor of being my wife? Letting me devote my life to your happiness, to creating and loving a family with you and our baby?"

"I don't know what to say, Rick. It's a beautiful ring, and I love you more than I can even vocalize. This is…"

"Say yes, Michonne. I love you, you love me. Say yes." Jumping from the stool, I grab a hold of Rick's face and kiss him, long and hard. "Is that a yes? Or should I take you back to the bedroom to try and convince you some more?"

"It's a yes! Oh my god! Wait until I tell my mother, the girls, Sasha!" I scream, too close to Rick's ear, causing him to wince and flinch.

"Tell Sasha what?" She asks, entering the kitchen with Spencer following close behind.

"Rick and I are getting married!" I squeal, shoving my hand out towards her for inspection.

Grabbing my hand, she joins my squeals of delight. "Oh my god! Congratulations, this is amazing for you two. I knew it would happen, you're meant for each other. Guess we'll be two old married women together, huh?"

"Wait, what do you mean?"

"Should I tell her, honey?"

"Please, go ahead." Spencer smiles down lovingly at Sasha, his hand resting tightly at her hip.

"Spencer and I got married on Christmas."












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