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Chapter 9 – Michonne


"This is my fault." I admit to Sasha as we stand in the large illuminated mirror of her brother's master bedroom, both getting ready for our combined birthday party. Studying my own face in the mirror as I cover the dark bags under my eyes with concealer, admitting this truth makes me sick to my stomach.


"How is it your fault that his mother is a bitch?" Sasha asks, throwing an incredulous look to my reflection in the mirror.


"Because I let my emotions get the best of me. Fucking chemistry, and sappy, fake sentiment…ugh. I bought into something I don't even believe in."


"You certainly believed in it when you said it though."


"It's him. He knows how to get me all twisted, and wrapped up in those eyes of his. And those kisses, and the way he touches me. It's like…he plays me like an instrument or something. And what do I do? Start professing some bullshit love to him, in front of his toxic ass mother. I should have known better. That bitch smelled blood in the water, and got me. She got me."


"She got you. But, that doesn't mean Rick isn't sincere. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy who would lie about something like that. I think he's been honest with you. I respect his gangster." She nods, finishing her application of the heavy dark liner around her almond eyes.


"Whatever. I know better now. He admitted he loved that bitch Lori. What the hell am I going to do with that, Sasha? Huh? They have love, and history now! How could he ever love someone like her and then love someone like me?" I dismissively wave my hand in the air, pissed at the thought of being so caught up in my emotions. At the way I responded to Rick's mother. He warned me, and it didn't even matter because I let her words ruin what should have been a great night for Rick and I. His pre-birthday surprise and gift were so sweet, and thoughtful, but all I could think about was his mother saying he loved Lori, him admitting it, and her declaring that I'm not the one for him.


"You don't know better, because there is nothing to know better about. You won't admit it, but you love Mike. You stuck with him for years, been friends forever, of course you have love for him, and that's probably what Rick was talking about for that trick Lori. Be reasonable, I mean shit, you obviously love Rick. You're wearing the necklace he bought you, which is so cute and amazing, I'm totally jealous. You're getting all dressed up and sexy for him, and yes, cuz, you may have that beautiful dark skin, but I can see the hickey on your neck, the bags under your eyes, and the dip in your spine from that birthday chop down Rick served your ass last night. Not to mention he must have had you wailing like a damn banshee cause your voice is hoarse."


"Sasha!" I squeal, knowing that she is completely right, and I have the rug burn on my back to prove it. Rick had an insatiable appetite last night, and was so full of passion and hunger, resulting in us making love three times. In the bed of the truck, where he made love to me so tenderly, offering so many apologies and words of love I had tears in my eyes. On the living room floor in his apartment in a rushed flurry of raw fucking, with Rick riding me hard, and me egging him on with screams of the purest carnal delight. And this morning in the bed, with him waking me up with his erection pressed hotly into the cheeks of my ass, his warm body cloaking my back, in a sensual and satisfying rocking of our tired bodies. I assume all of that was in response to his mother planting her negative seeds of doubt at dinner, and him and his father summarily putting her in her place. I will have to thank her for setting an erotic fire under his ass that had me coming all night, floating on the ecstasy of how he commanded my body, and the devotional words of love whispered in my ear.


"What? Girl you showed up over here looking like Rick laid that pipe and wore your ass out last night. There's nothing wrong with having sex with your boyfriend, and enjoying it sheesh. And, there's nothing wrong with admitting your feelings for Mike, for Rick, and for the disgraceful way his mama tried some real bitchy shit last night. In my opinion the best way to stick it to his mama is to be happy with her cute ass son. By the way, did you tell Aunt Mona?" Sasha turns to me, eyes wide with interest.


"No! Oh god no! Could you imagine what my mother would have done? She would have marched over there, and cussed her ass out. No, that would have just made it worse. Rick stood up for me though, and his dad who is absolutely a nice guy kinda got on her. He asked Rick and I to leave, and he was pretty pissed at how she acted. I think they have just ignored that kind of stuff from her and others until now it's more than they can handle. And, seriously I don't think any of that bullshit she said last night had anything to do with me personally, and everything to do with her just wanting Rick with Lori."


"You're probably right." Sasha nods her head, smoothing her recently manicured eyebrows with a little brush. "It's not like you don't understand that though, right? Think about how much Mike's mama Jacqui has pushed and pushed for you guys to be together."


"I know. And that is what worries me. She orchestrated our relationship from our old Jack and Jill days, cotillion, prom, right up until I broke up with him. If it wasn't for Rick coming along, I'd still be on that path, and I probably wouldn't have given it a second thought." I sadly admit, the thought of never finding Rick creating a hollow feeling in my chest. "So just think, Rick would have been the same way. If I hadn't shown up, he would be with her now."


"The point is, Michy, that you did show up. And from what I have seen and heard, that man doesn't give a damn about anything but you. I can't find fault with that." Sasha shrugs, and walks back towards the closet to retrieve the cover up dress she has to go over her swimsuit.


Finishing my makeup, I take a long survey of myself, my new swimsuit, checking to see how ready I am for this party. My new swimsuit is an African inspired bikini, with kente patterns in colors of orange and red, and multiple cutouts through out the skimpy top, and v-cut bottoms. Against the burnished bronze of my skin, and with my hair braided in an intricate pattern of cornrowed braids flowing over my shoulders and down my back, the full effect is quite astonishing. I'm hoping that much like the little bikini that Rick bought me before, this one will spark a similar response from him.


Admiring in the mirror the way the bottoms cut high up my thigh and groin, and across the full crest of my bottom, my phone begins vibrating across the vanity. On a quick glance I notice the picture of Rick I took one night while he was asleep, flash across the screen. He doesn't know this, or maybe he does, but I love to watch him sleep. To be able to gorge myself on the unguarded handsomeness of him. To study how his unnecessarily long eyelashes, a light hazel-blonde color, extend across the base and the corners of his eyes, fluttering while he presumably dreams. Depending on how long of a day he's had, how much work he's put in on the job, or on me, how tired he is when we both finally drift off to sleep, he sometimes snores. Not loud and obnoxious like some might do, like my dad used to do, so loud you could hear it down the hall. No, it's always a deep inhale through the slight nostrils of his pointed nose, and then a very calm, soft, exertion of his warm breath escaping the lush beauty of his pretty lips. Lips so soft and pink, they surely don't belong on his masculine face with its strongly defined jaw and cheeks, now an enticing golden tan from his days spent working outside on patrol duty, or on the farm, underneath the scruff of his beard always trying to break through the skin and re-emerge.


In those quiet, late hours, when I'm pressed so tightly to his firm, naked skin that the only way to tell where he ends and I begin is by the contrast of our skin colors, I recognize this man for who he is. The love of my life. Especially last night, underneath the dark veil of his mother's potentially damaging words, words that have been allowed to control and dominate for too long, rested the unvarnished truth. My heart belongs to this man, as much, if not more than his belongs to me. Even with some uncertainty milling through the lobes of my brain, heavily coated with a fear of losing him, the chambers of my heart are aglow with the legitimacy of this love between Rick and I. And as he was deep within my body last night, stroking further inside than I could barely stand, his hushed vows of devotion to me, and my avid acceptance and reciprocation, signal the end of any vacillation on my part. Our bond is more profound and complicated than something as superficial as skin color, familial ties, or even sexual attraction. It's a recognition of the pairing of our souls.


But, my immaturity with the depth of this kind of an intense affinity makes it difficult for me to express or reconcile such complicated emotions, and so on the surface I still struggle with the sting of his mother's words, how they could herald a casualty my heart could never recover from. As such there is a modicum of a slight panic at the thought of our pending physical separation when I head back to school, and how it might affect our blossoming relationship. My soul though, my heart and my soul know better. So when I pick up my phone and answer his call, the rush of pleasure at hearing the welcoming bass of his voice, rekindles the warmth of last night, and this morning.


"Hello."


"Michonne, hey, pretty girl, how is everything going?"


A sense of sweet excitement at hearing his term of endearment for me, and a jolt of a blush splashes over my rounded chicks. "It's good. Sasha and I just got dressed, and Ty's party planner just texted that people are starting to arrive. Where are you?"


"Uh, that's why I'm calling. This new partner I have, Leon Bassett, got into an altercation with Merle Dixon down at his brother Daryl's bar when we responded to a disorderly conduct call. I just need finish up some paperwork, and I will be on my way. I might be an hour later than planned. I'm sorry." Rick apologizes, sincerity evident in the eager timbre of his voice.


"It's ok. The party will be going until 2 am. So there will be lots of partying left for us to do when you get here."


"Good. I like the sound of that."


"I have on my new swimsuit, and it's killer. I mean I look amazing in it."


"You look amazing in everything. In nothing. Send me a picture. You and those bikinis of yours are definitely killer. I wanna see what I'm in for."


"Ok. I'll send it in a sec."


"Alright good. Listen, I gotta go. Shane already got off, so he will probably pop up before I do. I know he's anxious to get to see your cousin."


"Oh yeah?"


"Oh yeah. He's got it pretty bad. Tell her not to take it easy on him." He chuckles. Somewhat distractedly he continues towards ending the brief call. "Ok, baby, I gotta go. I love you, see you in a few."


"See you in a few."


"Hey! You don't love me back?" He teases, his voice raised a bit, making immediate note that I didn't say it back to him. It's not that I don't love him. I just don't know how to always believe in the words as much as Rick does. And, honestly, to share them so freely is new to me. But knowing that he thrives on my reciprocal agreement that this is love, I give my baby what he needs.


"You know I love you, Rick. I hollered it so much last night Sasha said my voice is hoarse."


Rick barks out a loud laugh, with what I'm sure is a smile equal in exuberance. "I like to hear it. Don't forget to send the picture." He utters, then disconnects the call.


Still holding my phone, I'm grinning, thinking of our little conversation.


"Who was that? Riiiiccckkk?" Sasha asks in a mockingly sweet voice.


"Hush! Take my picture from the front and the back for me. Rick wants me to send it to him." I request, shoving my phone towards Sasha.


"You guys are so sickeningly cute. This shit is already getting on my nerves. Alright, fast ass, give your country boy a good booty pic." She directs, as I turn and lean over the vanity a little, arching my back to pop my ass out just enough. "Alright, now turn around and give me a little sexy sass. Come on, Michy, give me a sultry smize."


"What is that?" I frown, tossing my hands in the air in frustration, unsure of what Sasha is talking about.


"You know. Tyra says to smile with your eyes, smize. Make it sultry with a little pouty lip. I'm sure he likes those juicy lips of yours."


"You obviously have too much experience taking these kinds of pics, Sasha. I'm finding out too much about you, cuz." I utter, trying to fulfill all of her directions.


Snapping the pics, she hands me my phone back. "Sometimes you gotta give the people what they want. Men are visual. They like a little T&A sometimes, so a good pic now and then just keeps 'em on the hook."


Sending the pics to Rick, I raise my head from my phone to give Sasha a mischievous smirk. "Rick said you already have Shane on your hook. And he's on the way here right now. Seems like you might be able to scratch that little summertime bucket list itch after all."


"Maybe. He's cocky, and cute. I like that. But I've gotta play that just right. I can't have him falling in love. I think you and your mother have already exhausted the city mouse meets country mouse possibilities for our family."


"Whatever. You might be the one to fall in love, Sasha, and what are you going to do then?"


"Stop it. Just because this love thing worked out for you, does not mean you need to be trying to make a love connection for me." Lifting and re-adjusting her bosoms in her skimpy top, she offers me a condescending look. "There's too many boys and so little time." Walking out of the bathroom, she throws back. "Let's get this party started!"


Following Sasha from the room, and down the winding stairs to the foyer, my phone begins vibrating.


Rick: My god. Who took those pics for you?


Michonne: Why?


Rick: Please tell me it was Sasha


Michonne: It was. You like what you see?


Rick: Absolutely. Especially the booty pic…very nice.


Michonne: How nice?


Rick: I'll show you when I get there




"Is your party fun? Like are there a lot of boys there?"


"Yeah, there are a lot of boys and girls here."


"Then how come me and Maggie couldn't come? I've been to a boy and girl party before." Beth asks on a plaintive whine. Ever since my mother broke the news to her and Maggie that they would not be able to attend my birthday party, they have been upset and pouting. Given that, I was very surprised to get this call from Beth while I was touching up my make up in the bathroom in the pool house.


"Well… this is a big boys and girls party. It's a big difference, Beth. But, I promise that this week we will hang out, all day just me, you, and Maggie. Deal?"


"I guess it's a deal." She reluctantly relents, voice still low and filled with sadness.


"Hey, but guess what? There's lots of birthday cake here, and I'm going to bring some home so we can eat it while we watch your favorite movie."


"You don't know my favorite movie, Michy." She answers, her voice still evidencing a childlike pout. I'm sure that if I could see her now, she would poking her bottom lip out.


"Yes I do. It's Moana, but you don't like everyone to know that because it's a Disney movie and you think you're too old for it. But, here's a secret. It's my favorite movie too! Don't tell anyone."


"Does Rick know?"


"Nope. No one but you." I whisper, upping the intrigue around my fake secret.


"Ok, I won't say anything as long as you come through on the cake. Sister's promise?"


"Sister's promise."


"Alright. Well have fun, Michy. Happy Birthday."


"Thanks, Beth. I'll see you guys tomorrow."


Hanging up the phone I check myself in the mirror one last time, and leave the room. Walking out towards the living room, I see Mike entering through the front door.


"Hey, sweetheart. Wow! That's… that's a hell of a swimsuit. Jesus!"


"Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself, Mike." I commend, and I'm not lying. Since puberty hit Mike when he was 12 and I was 10, filling out his body with firm hard muscles, covering it with a manly dusting of dark coarse hair in all the right places, and lengthening his frame, he has been what I considered to be the epitome of attractive. Standing before me, shirtless in a pair of black swim trunks, well over six feet tall, smooth dark skin, with thick eyebrows over a pair of piercing chocolate eyes, Michael Charles Taylor is exactly what they are talking about when they say tall, dark, and handsome. And smart. So smart that it has always been a bit of a competition between us in terms of who has the most educational accolades, who can win the spelling bee, who is the better mathlete. It's a part of his charm, and a large part of what kept us so close for so long.


That and the fact that his parents, and apparently mine, thought that we would be the perfect black Barbie and Ken. We've always done everything together, and outside of Sasha, he really has been my best friend. That is what makes our breakup so hard for me, and probably for him as well. While the chemistry with Rick quickly overshadowed any romantic feeling I may have ever had for Mike, it didn't erase the pain of losing years of close friendship.


"Thanks. Uh, I have been looking for you since I got here. Just wanted to see if it was ok that I'm here… you know with the breakup and everything."


"No, it's cool. You know I can't have a birthday party with you in attendance." Thinking for a moment, pausing, my finger at my lips I realize something. "Actually, I've never had a birthday party that you didn't attend."


"Yeah I guess you're right, MiMi." He smiles that wide toothy grin that used to send me running into his arms, seeking his comfort and kisses.


"Oh no! Please don't call me me that. You know I hate that." I groan, not wanting him to resurrect my childhood nickname his little brother had for me. Five years younger than me, his little brother Marcus used to have a crush on me from very early on. He always had trouble saying my full name, so he shortened it to MiMi. I hated it. Mike always thought it was cute, and tortures me with it every once in a while. It's an interesting reminder of how far back our history together is when we consider that Marcus is now 14, with a girlfriend of his own.


"Alright, I'll cut it out…for now. So, listen, can we talk for a minute?" He moves his arm to gesture towards the couch.


A hint of hesitance prevents me from immediately taking a seat, not wanting things between us to get confusing, but his bright smile reminds me that I know Mike, and there is nothing to be concerned about. Taking a seat on the couch, it's actually nice to get off my feet for a little bit, as I'm wearing a really cute pair of 4 inch heeled sandals, that may look great and elongate my legs, but they are killing my feet. Getting comfortable, I turn to Mike, eager to find out what he wants to talk about, and get back to the party before Rick shows up.


Blowing out a deep breath, as though he was holding it for a long time, Mike takes an extended moment to speak. Coming off as a bit nervous, he fidgets with a small square shaped box, wrapped in the familiar blue of Tiffany & Co., that he has on his lap, and doesn't make immediate eye contact with me. Wanting to calm him down, so he can move on with whatever he wants to talk about, I reach my hand out to him, and give him a friendly pat on the arm. "What did you want to talk about, Mike?"


"Yeah, sorry." He clears his throat, and gives me a small smile, raising his almond shaped eyes to me. "It's been a while since we have talked, and I want to apologize. For everything."


"You don't have to apologize to me for anything, Mike. It's been a difficult summer between us. If anything I'm sorry for how I ended our relationship. As my mama said, I wasn't on my grown woman then. I owed you better than that. Sorry."


"No, don't apologize to me, sweetheart." Reaching for my hand, Mike grasps it lightly in his own, holding it so softly as though it might easily break, or is the most precious and delicate of things. "You have been my girl for so long, I just really didn't know how to handle you telling me that you didn't want that any longer. I grabbed you, said some stuff that was hurtful, and just uncalled for. Since then I have had a chance to talk to my dad about it, and you know Pops, he's gonna give it to you straight no chaser."


"Oh yeah, Theodore 'T-Dog' Taylor ain't gonna sugar shit ya, that's for sure!" I reply, using a phrase his father is well known for.


"Right! And he told me that I was a fool to let you get away, that I need to step my game up. But most importantly he also reminded me that you and I have a history of friendship that is more important than this little break up. This isn't necessarily the end of us, but it is a pause, an intermission. A chance for me to re-evaluate how I lost you, and get my shit together. For our next chapter."


"Wait, Mike, no-"


"Please, sweetheart, let me finish. I have been thinking and thinking about what this Rick guy has that I don't have, what he can give you that I can't. And the answer is nothing. He's got nothing on me. I helped you learn to ride a bike. I taught you how to drive, and lied for you when you wrecked my car so you wouldn't get in trouble. I covered for you and Sasha when you went to that Drake concert in Birmingham. I'm the man who made you a woman, and took your virginity. Me. I may not be shiny and new, or, or different and exciting, but I love you. I always have. I always will. We have a plan for our future, and when the new car smell of this Rick guy wears off, I will be there waiting for my Michy to come back to me." Mike's deep voice breaks over his last sentence, and I can feel the tension in his grasp around my hands increasing. "He's too old for you, and he's just not right for you. We live in the south, sweetheart, nothing good can come from a relationship with a good ol' boy like him. You deserve better than that. Don't forget I can give you that. Me. Choose me."


Forgetting all about our breakup, and my new relationship with Rick for a moment, all I want to do is comfort Mike, to ease the apparent stress in his features. Leaning over to him, hugging him against my body, I encircle him in my arms. His intoxicating smell is familiar, it's Polo Blue. I bought a bottle for him just a few short months ago. He knows I love the crisp smell of it on his chocolate skin. Briefly I inhale him, memories of time spent in his arms playing on the screen of my closed eyelids. Right now, like this, with only the positive recollection of our time holding us together, I want to make the world right for him again. To take away his pain, and make him happy. But, the words to comfort him don't immediately come. I'm struggling with how to explain to him that which is unexplainable. What this nebulous thing is about Rick that sets me on fire, that makes me smile like a fool, and seek his touch at every turn. Outside of the peaceful coziness my body pressed against his is offering, I've got nothing else I can give. I can't force my heart to give him what he's asking for.


Reaching for the gift, still placed on his lap, Mike gathers himself, and moves forward, steeling himself to continue. "I want you to have this. I bought it months ago, before all this shit between us happened." Holding the box out to me, he offers a small weak smile. But I don't take it. Knowing that it's something from Tiffany's has me spooked. Acknowledging my hesitance, he rubs his hand softly over my thigh. Immediately I shift my leg away from his touch, uncomfortable with him caressing me so intimately. "You don't have to be shy with me, Michy. I already know this body." He chuckles, and it instantly gives me a nauseating feeling. Pretending not to notice my withdrawal from him, Mike offers the box to me again.


Accepting the box from him I slowly remove the thick blue wrapping paper, and open the enclosed box to find the Paloma's Graffiti Love Cuff bracelet that I had mentioned wanting nearly a year ago. In pure sterling silver, the cuff is formed by the graphic script of the word 'love'. Last year while Mike and I were picking up a birthday gift for his mother at Phipp's Plaza, I convinced him to stop in Tiffany for a brief moment. While he may have thought it was a ploy to get him to look at engagement rings, and would account for his initial adamant resistance to even stepping a foot inside the store, I was not interested in the shiny rings at all. No, my eye was immediately drawn to the bracelet that so boldly proclaimed a sentiment that until now felt so romantically foreign to me. How odd to receive such a thing from Mike now, when I have found love with someone else, and he has never once uttered the word to me…until now.


"This is a beautiful gift, Mike. I can't believe you remembered it. I mean you barely left the front of the store that day. You were so worried I was trying to trap you into an early marriage, remember?" I say, shaking my head in disbelief.


"I just…" He fumbles, unsure of how to phrase his words to properly veer me away from the sweet bitterness of the spat we had once we left the store. Mike was convinced I was trying to rush things towards marriage, and I was appalled that he thought that, considering that I had never even mentioned marriage to him before. Ever. "I didn't want to rush into something that we both know was premature, Michonne. Listen, forget all of that, try the bracelet on."


"Mich-"


"Sasha, hey. What's up?" Looking up to find my cousin bursting anxiously through the front door, I'm thankful for her sudden arrival, and its ability to break up the nostalgia that Mike was trying so hard to keep going.


"Uh, I just came to let you know that Rick is here. Did I interrupt something?" Sasha asks, her eyes nervously bouncing between Mike and I.


"Yes!" Mike swiftly answers, shooting an angry glare at her, then focusing his stare behind her, at Rick's entrance into the pool house.


"Rick! You made it." I exclaim, on a relieved and breathy sigh. Taking him in, he's as breathtakingly handsome as he was when I left him this morning, naked in bed, begging me to stick around. Wearing a pair of navy blue swim trunks, that ride low on his lean hips, his shirtless physique immediately sends my imagination into a realm of naughty thoughts best explored when he and I are alone.


"I did." He answers stoically, not giving me the gift of direct eye contact. Instead his blues are laser focused on Mike. Alone together in the pool house, we are sitting closely on the couch. I'm clad in a very revealing bikini, and with Mike in a pair of swim trunks, his hand once again high on my thigh, I can only imagine the way this might look to him.


Rising from the couch, I quickly rush over to him, tossing my arms around his waist. Looking up at Rick I'm trying to make eye contact, but he has yet to break the anger filled glare he and Mike are stubbornly holding. Even with the benefit of the height from my heels, I need to raise on my tip toes to place a tiny kiss to his chin, a minor attempt to finally capture his attention.


Finally lowering his head to me, he looks down at me as though he just realized I was so close to him. Wrapping one arm around my shoulders, and the other tightly around my waist, he places a kiss to my forehead. Unrelenting, Rick's hold remains strained and firm around my body.


"Sasha!" Hollers Shane, also now bursting through the door of the pool house. Stopping as soon as he surveys the room, he turns to Rick and nods his head, as though he is confirming that he has his back for anything that might go awry.


"It's a full house now, isn't it? I'll go. Michy, happy birthday, sweetheart." Mike stiffly says, walking cockily between Rick and I on one side of the door, and Sasha and Shane on the other. Stopping before he fully exits the house, he turns back to me, leaning a bit towards Rick and I to ensure that he makes eye contact with me, he adds, a smirk on his lips. "Remember what I said. I'll see you when school starts next month." Then he leaves.


"Shane, let's give Rick and Michonne some privacy. I'll let you add some sunscreen to my back. Come on!" Sasha reaches for him, snatching at his hand that rests on his hip as he stares after Mike's retreating form.


"Yeah, ok. Rick, you come see me if you need anything, bro."


At Sasha and Shane's departure, the click of the closing door seems to unlock Rick's firmly clenched jaw to allow him to speak. "Did I interrupt something?" He rasps, still holding me close, but no longer making eye contact. Instead his eyes are focused somewhere behind me, or above my head.


"No. Mike stopped in to give me a birthday present is all. No big deal."


"Why were you guys in here alone? He could have given you his gift out there where everyone else is. Without touching you."


"Um, I was in here on the phone with Beth. He must have followed me."


"Is that right?"


"I guess, Rick."


On a sniff, a slight snarl raising his lips, he tilts his head to the side, and mumbles, "I'm gonna kill him."


Releasing me, abruptly dropping his arms from the tight embrace, his nostrils flaring, he turns on his heels and marches towards the door, forcefully throwing it open. With some idea of where he's going, I follow quickly behind, trying to match his long strides to go find Mike. "Rick! Wait!" I yell after him, trying to get his attention, but not wanting to draw the interest of any of the party goers.


Intent on finding Mike, Rick stops angrily marching for a moment to look around the crowd. Taking advantage, I come up behind him and grab a hold of his arm, hoping to bring him back to the pool house so we can talk privately. Instead of drawing his attention my way, to direct him back where we came from, a friend of mine, Aaron, steps in front of us. "Hey! Michy, happy birthday! You look amazing." He hollers, offering me his birthday greeting and compliment over the loud thump of the bass from the speakers. "Hi, I'm Aaron. You must be Rick?" He offers his hand to Rick, who coolly accepts, and returns it with a short shake of his hand, his eyes still scanning over the crowd looking for Mike. "Nice to meet you! Hey I hope you don't mind but I brought a colleague from the gallery, her name is Jadis. Is it cool?" Gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb, he points towards a tall, thin woman, with what I could only describe as an unfortunate blunt, bob haircut. Though her haircut is interesting with an intermix of two, possibly more colors, her drab black clothing and oddly dour smirk are off-putting.


Approaching Rick, standing so close to him, the buttons of her black shirt are almost touching his bare chest, she hungrily looks him up and down, then turns to me. "He's yours?" She asks.


Taken aback by the blunt directness of her question, I can only blink at first, shock stealing any words I could immediately form. In the ensuing silence, while I attempt to make sense of her bizarre behavior, she asks another question, but this time of Rick directly. "I lay with you. You interested?" Directing towards him a slight tilt of her chin, and what I presume is intended to be a seductive smile, she has tried to take me out of this equation, and I'm having none of that.


With a confused and concerned look on his face, his brow deeply furrowed and his lips turned down in a frown, Rick wordlessly begins to back away from her.


"Aaron, who is this bitch?" I ask my friend, staring from her to Aaron. Hands on my hips, I'm gearing myself up to cuss her out, and kick her ass if necessary.


"Oh shit! Wait, Michy, I'm sorry. She's from LA, here to showcase an exhibit from her gallery there. Jadis, that was not cool, this is one of my closest friends. You know what, we'll go. I'll catch up with you later. Ok? I'm sorry!" Quickly grabbing on to her arm with one hand, and throwing up the other in apology, Aaron immediately hustles her away from me, recognizing the pissed look in my eyes.


Burning up from the audacity of this woman to step to my boyfriend, in front of me, I am frozen in anger, anchored to my spot in the middle of the dance floor.


"Michonne. Hey, Michonne." Reaching out to me, Rick places two fingers on my arm to gain my attention, and break me out of the death stare I'm levying towards the retreating form of Jadis. Turning towards him, I witness the slow rising smirk on his lips. "Come here." Taking my hand in his, he leads me back to the pool house.


Ushering me inside, Rick closes the door behind him. At an impasse, in a standoff of sorts, we are left with confusion and negative energy between us. Not wanting my birthday to be tainted by outside forces, things we can't control, I step close to him, needing him. "I didn't like that


woman being so close to you, wanting you. I should have kicked her ass."


"You have nothing to worry about, pretty girl. I belong to you. I always will." He offers, lowering his lips to the side of my face to deliver a series of delicate kisses.


"I wanted to smash her face in." Closing my eyes, not wanting to remember the sight of her standing so close to him, I clench and release the tight ball of my fists in an attempt to discharge my anger.


"I don't blame you. That's how I feel about that guy being anywhere near you." Kissing lower, to graze his lips across the responsive skin of my neck, I'm saddled with an emerging sense of weightless floating, held up only by the strong, firm press of his Rick's hands around my waist.


With my head back, offering myself to him, I ask. "Are we good, Rick?" I question, a soft demure lilt to my voice. "It's my birthday, you can't be mad at me on my birthday."


"I'm not mad at you." He promises on a quiet declaration. His ire is raised though as he seems to suddenly remember in full the scene of Mike and I that he walked in on earlier. "I am pissed at the way that guy followed you in here, giving you a gift, and had his hands on you. Like he had the right to touch you."


"You have nothing to worry about, handsome. I belong to you. I always will." I respond, using his words to hopefully assuage his increasing disquiet.


"What did he give you?" He asks against my clavicle, lips toying with the thin straps crisscrossing over my chest.


"Nothing. Just a bracelet. It's nothing."


"Let me see it."


On a heavy sigh, I'm not entirely comfortable showing the 'love' bracelet to Rick. I don't want him to think there is a significance to it that there really isn't. If anything, I think Mike bought it to try and create some false correlation of love between us, one that has never been there, not in the way the bracelet might suggest.


Not liking my slight unwillingness to let him see the bracelet, Rick sets me free and walks over to the couch and retrieves the discarded gift on his own.


"Tiffany's? Nice. Expensive." He scoffs, disgust in his voice.


"I guess."


"Why would he give you such an expensive gift, Michonne? You're not together anymore, but this bracelet says love. Do you love him?" Rick re-approaches me, crouching a bit, leaning his face closer to mine. Staring into my eyes, his are now swirling with an intermix of grey, and a dark, stormy blue.


Shaking my head, I'm adamant in my denial, but also a little pissed at the question. "No clue why he gave me that bracelet, except that he remembered I liked it. And no, Rick, I don't love him. If anything I love him the way you love Lori. You can relate to that right?" I say, a hint of sarcasm trailing the end of my response.


"I see. Ok. Isn't this some shit?" Pacing back and forth in front of me, his one hand crushing the the jewelry box, and a death grip on the offending item with the other. "But, you accepted a gift from him. You were in here alone with him doing only god knows what. What should I think about that, Michonne? Hm?"


Panicking at the insinuation in his words, I confess on a nervous stumble, but still with a hint of defiance. "That you can trust me. That the only thing happening in here was him trying to apologize for yelling at me and manhandling me when I broke up with him."


"What did you say? He what?!" He frowns, his features now animated in abrupt anger.


"Shit." I drop my head, realizing I had divulged something that I had not intentionally been trying to keep from Rick, but didn't think it wise to share with him either.


"Did you say he manhandled you? Where? Where the fuck did he touch you, Michonne!?" Rick hollers, the timbre of the bass of his voice seemingly rocking the house around us. Throwing the box and the bracelet across the room, hitting the front door, Rick is furiously dragging his hands through his hair as he begins angrily pacing.


"Don't yell at me!"


"I'm not yelling at you."


"Yes you are, and I don't like it."


Advancing on me, his steps hurriedly carry his trembling form to me. Rick is now standing directly in front of me, his chest bulking and heaving with the exertion to restrain himself from looking for Mike right now. Grasping a soft hold of both sides of my face, he tilts it up towards him. Searching my face, as though he might determine the truth in my eyes, on the cusp of my withholding lips, he slowly lowers his forehead to mine. Breathing heavy, puffs of air rush over my lips from his. With his eyes closed, Rick is trying to find tranquility, to tame the raging acrimony pulsing through his veins. I can see it in the strain on his scarlet flushed face, the possessive hold he has on my own.


"No one is allowed to ever put their hands on you, to hurt you. Not him, not me, no one. Do you understand me?"


"Yes."


"I want to kill him."


"You can't kill him, Rick. This isn't the apocalypse or something. You can't just kill people you don't like." I tease him, running my fingers through his hair, soothing his anger.


"Why didn't you tell me he hurt you? Why am I just now finding this out?" He utters, his breathing still stuttering in a deep broken rhythm.


"I just didn't want you to get angry. I… I could have handled that break up better."


"His reaction is not your fault. Fuck him if he isn't man enough to handle his shit like a man." He answers, raising his voice slightly in annoyance that I would seek to shoulder any of the blame for Mike's virulent reaction. Softening his tone, love dancing in his eyes, he continues. "And you… you have to trust me to always take care of you. You're my girl, Michonne. I will always take care of you, and protect you. You have to let me do that." Rubbing his hands in a slow dragging motion up and down my arms, I recognize the warring emotions on his face. Anger, frustration, love, lust. "I want to go find him and kill him for putting his hands on you, for ever causing you one moment of distress. For thinking that he can come in here with this bullshit gift and play on your emotions."


"Rick, it's ok… I'm trying. I swear I am. I do want to trust you fully; I promise I do."


"Do you believe that I would never hurt you? That I only want to love and take care of you? To be with you?" He asks, anguish at the anticipation of my answer is evident in his glossy, wet eyes.


"Yes. I do." I nod, adamant in my belief and in the truth of my answer.


Wrapping one of his hands tightly, possessively around the back of my neck, the other on my ass, he begins a slow massage across my nape, and a rough grasp of my ass cheek. Groaning, he bites down on his lush bottom lip, and he angles his lanky muscled body into mine, his weighty cock pressing stiffly into my abdomen. "I want to fuck you right now. To cum inside that pretty little pussy. Leave my scent with you, sticky on your thighs."


"Oh god…" I moan at the decadently nasty picture his naughty words depict.


"You would like that, wouldn't you, pretty girl? Is that why you're dressed up for me in this sexy swimsuit and heels? Hm? Tell me."


"Yes." I confess on a weak groan, dripping with wanton need and hunger, so much so I hardly recognize my own voice. "Please, Rick."


"Turn around and bend over. Place your hands on the couch."


"Like this?" I ask, swiveling my body around and bending at the waist, my hands resting flat on the arm of the couch. With my ass in the air, similar to my pose from the picture I sent him earlier, I can feel the wet soak of my arousal in seat of bikini bottoms.


"I've been thinking of you like this since you sent me that picture. Thinking of fucking you like this, with your ass in the air."


Rick silently lowers to his knees behind me, dragging my bikini bottoms to my ankles. Nudging my feet apart, to widen my stance, the anticipation of what Rick is going to do to me is nearly killing me. Without announcement I can suddenly feel him pressing his face, nose, lips, everything into the crease between my ass cheeks. His tongue is hot and wet, and he's extending it to give me long licks from my pussy to my ass, then thrusting his tongue stiffly at my hole. On a low hum, Rick begins grabbing and massaging my cheeks with one hand, rubbing at my clit with the other. The sensation of his hands and mouth on me is sending a dazzling display of bursts of light dancing behind my eyelids, and zings of dense pleasure rumbling in my core. Flicking his tongue, and adding pressure to my clit, I begin shaking having never experienced such a passionate assault as this before. I'm not sure how to handle the all encompassing thrill, as my body is weakening, threatening to give out on me. Outside of a series of low, guttural moans, I can not form a coherent word. Inexplicably I find myself smothering my cries in the padding on the arm of the couch, and I'm wondering if I might die from the naughty pleasure of him sucking, licking, and biting from my pussy to my ass.


"Rick, oh god!"


"You taste so good." He moans, his appetite voracious as he latches his plump lips over my clit and thrusts his long fingers inside of me, twisting and reaching. "But, I want to fuck you."


"Please…"


Standing up, and pushing his shorts down to release his dick, he reaches to place his hand on my hip, but instead I quickly turn and drop to a wide legged crouch in front of him. I've never given a BJ before, and I'm not entirely sure how to go about it, but between Rick and everything that has happened today, my feelings and emotions are so erratic, crazy, aroused. And possessive. The thought of that crazy bitch wanting a taste of what I have is driving me to remind him that he belongs to me. And, secretly, I want to taste him too. I want to know what it feels like for my mouth to be filled, straining to accommodate his thick, long, dick.


"What are you doing? You don't have to do that. It's your birthday, remember?"


"I know. You belong to me too, Rick. And… and I want to taste you. Show me how."


"You sure?"


"Mm hm." I answer, nodding my head, as I lightly place my hands on his thighs, steadying myself on the balls of my feet, still supported by the lift of my heels. Salivating at the thought of him invading my mouth, I eagerly open, an enticing invite to him. On a low growl, Rick takes a hold of his cock at the base, and slowly eases it past the plump fullness of my damp lips. "Uh…" I utter at the surprising tension I feel at the corners of my lips, struggling to widen and fully receive him.


"Gotdamn it! You look so beautiful with my cock in your mouth." His eyes laser focused on me, are now drooped low, as he eases himself in and out of my mouth. With one hand cradling my chin, he's thrusting in a bit and then withdrawing. The friction of him laid thickly coddled on my tongue, added to the light graze of my teeth over his shaft, has him uncontrollably moaning and growling out his pleasure over his own lips.


On instinct, wanting to drive him insane with pleasure, I push his hand away and grab a hold of his dick at the base, delighting in the feel of the hot, bulk of him nestled among his wiry dark pubic hairs. Excitedly, I drag my hand between the base and my mouth, creating conflicting friction between the two, that appears to be driving him to the precipice of a pleasure/pain mix. Suddenly, he pulls himself from my mouth, a thick stream of saliva connecting his tip to my lips. Cursing at the sight, Rick crouches down and pulls me up to him, eagerly thrusting his tongue into my messy wet mouth.


"Are you trying to kill me?" He mumbles over my lips, greedily nipping and sucking. "Turn around." Following the command of his orders again, satisfied with the success of my first time tasting him, I bend over, readying myself for the lusty onslaught I'm frantic to receive. Bending over my prone body, Rick is laying tiny soft kisses from my ass, and up my spine, finally peppering the side of my face and lips with his affection. "I love you, pretty girl. Do you love me?"


"Yes. I love you."


As the affectionate words leave my mouth, he plunges his dick deep inside of me with a thrust so strong it pushes me to teeter on the tips of my toes. Bracing myself on the arm of the couch, my spine seductively dipped, only a syncopated grunt is squeezed from my throat. "Uh, uh, uh, uh…" Rolling his hips in a side to side motion, punctuated with a series of hard plunges, the ecstasy rumbling through me is indescribable. With a light sheen of sweat prickling my skin, Rick's tight hold on my hips begins to slip up and over my back, then down to the cushions of my ass. With a light grasp and smack of each cheek, a thrilling spike erupts from my pussy and out to my limbs, tipping me closer to my orgasm.


"You feel amazing… Shit! I love to watch you take all of me like this."


"Rick… more please!"


"Hm? You think you can handle more, hm? Come here." Taking a hold of my right thigh, Rick hoists it higher, and props it on the couch, opening me even further to his deep exploration. With a quick succession of the wet slapping of his groin against my ass, and his balls on my hairless lips, my body is wound tight as a spring and near bursting. Sensing my pending orgasm, Rick reaches around me, and with the pads of his fingers dragging lightly over my sensitive clit, I stiffen with pleasure, crying out on an elongated scream.


Drenching his dick with my arousal, and the successive grip of my pussy clenching snugly over him, Rick quickly follows me to claim his own orgasm. With my head dropped over the arm of the couch, my arms are weakly holding me up. Adding pressure to my back, Rick lays his head on my shoulder, clutching me firmly to his sweaty, muscled chest.


"Happy birthday, pretty girl."












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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.