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Chapter 5 – Rick
Rick: Hey beautiful lady
Michonne: Have you left yet?
Rick: I'm about to jump in the shower, then head your way
Michonne: Ok. No pressure…I'm just extra excited for tonight…I wish you would tell me what the surprise is though
Rick: You're so impatient…you'll see
Michonne: Give me another hint…otherwise how will I know if I'm dressed appropriately?
Rick: You are always dressed just perfect…I'm the one who's trying to figure out what to wear
Michonne: If you tell me where we're going then I can help you pick something out
Rick: Nah, I got this.
Michonne: Ugh, you're so mean
Rick: You didn't say that the other night… You did call me nasty though…
Michonne: Hush! Why are you bringing up old stuff?
Rick: LOL! I'll be there soon. Just wear something nice for me
What a difference a few days makes. Grinning at my phone, I drop it onto my night stand then take a seat on my bed, thinking of how beautiful Michonne is going to look. She always looks amazing, and I can't wait to see what she wears tonight. I can think of a particular saffron gold colored, cashmere sweater dress that I would like to see her in.
She was hanging up her dry cleaning once when I was over her house, and I noticed it immediately. The color was just so lush and beautiful, striking. I asked her to try it on for me, I just needed to see her in it. Helping her remove the delicate cotton tank top she already had on, and replacing it with the downy soft knit of the dress, it was like turning on a light. Or letting the sun in the room. Pulling it down to snugly fit over her torso, it was breathtaking. Against my sweetheart's burnished chocolate skin, her breasts supple and plump in the low neckline, the sight just really did something to me. I couldn't stop myself from lowering her to the grown where we stood, inside of her walk in closet, and pushing the material up over her breasts to have my way with her.
It happens like that a lot of with us, these spontaneous moments of need. Sometimes it will start with just a quick peek of her eyes, peering at me seductively over a glass of wine, enticing me to reach for her. Or the brush of my fingers against the sensitive skin on the back of her neck, urging her to offer up the sweetness of her heart shaped lips. I'm quickly learning that it's these little things that seem to keep this newly discovered spark of want and need burning brightly between us. It's a powerfully energizing force that I have simply never known, and I'm afraid that I've become slightly addicted. To it. To her. And it's a strong enough addiction that I spend 2-3 nights a week with her. Either she's driving here to see me, or like tonight, I'm on my way to spend the weekend with her, and take her out.
Yanking off my boots, and unbuttoning my shirt I can't seem to wipe the smile off my face. It's a permanent fixture since Michonne came into my life on New Year's Eve. And it's only gotten bigger and brighter since Abe's wedding.
Two weeks ago when I walked into my friend's wedding and saw my Michonne sitting so pretty at a table across the hall, I thought I was having the most pleasant dream. Instead I was confronted by the ugly, nightmarish truth of her unexpected appearance. She was there on a date. With Shane. He had his hands on her, grinning lasciviously into her pretty face, and I could see it. It was plain as day in the greedy sweep of his eyes over her face, her body. He likes her. He wants her for his own. Every lust filled thought I've ever had for her, played out in front of me, as Shane draped his body over hers, resting his hands at the tiny dip of her spine right above her ass. When she laid her head against his chest I could feel the beast inside of me, banging against my chest, ready to rip his offending arms from his body. How dare he touch her? How dare she rest so easily against him?
I close my eyes now at the thought, and a quick flash of him and her together that night plays on the backs of my drooped eyelids, and a heated flush of anger overcomes me, bringing back in vivid detail the discontent I felt that night.
The sound of the beast rattling, attempting to get free and wreak havoc, was booming in my brain. As Jessie and I danced closer to where Michonne and Shane swayed to the music, I could hear that bastard singing to her, and god help me, but I couldn't look away. Cannons fired off in my brain, and nothing else mattered but her. Perhaps sensing the fire in my eyes, she looked to me, her own eyes so soft and confused. When she shot away from him, as though his touch now burned her, I followed in disgust.
That son of a bitch Shane. What was the likelihood of something like that happening? Out of all the men between Atlanta and King County, the devil had somehow found my angel and sought to corrupt her. But there was no way, even amidst her weak protestations and unbelievable professions about us being friends, that I would ever allow him, or any man for that matter, to have her. Never again. Like I told her that night, he's not the guy for her. And even if I didn't suspect that I was falling helplessly in love with her, I still wouldn't want him anywhere near her. Michonne belongs to me.
He and I already have our own muddled history of ups and downs, friendship and betrayal, and that made it extremely difficult for me to manage the feelings I had watching her dance so closely to him. Held so tightly in his arms. Difficult is probably an understatement. I hated it. My blood was boiling in my veins. It's the reason that the instant I saw her rush out of the party and into the hallway, I followed her. It wasn't my plan for us to be intimate there, in such a public place. But I had to remind her, to somehow show her that the strength of what's between us is real. And I don't regret it, because Michonne did come home with me that night, and many more nights since then. Before I took her home and finished what I started in the service hallway, she did go back inside and give Shane a polite good night, that included a hug and a kiss on the cheek, which earned her a few good smacks on the ass from me when we got back to my house.
None of that matters now though, I muse to myself, stripping down out of my Sheriff's uniform and stepping into the steamy heat of the shower. Washing my hair, then rubbing soap over my body, I'm reminded of the more delicate way her fingers always touch my skin. It's always a flit and then a brush, cautious, as though her approach may scare me off. I'm not going anywhere though, and I hope that she can tell that in the greedy way my own hands and fingers are constantly reaching for her, touching her somewhere. In fact, the very idea of not having her in my life sends me into a quiet panic, one that sends my hands quickly flying through the motions of washing my hair and body, so that I can get to her sooner.
"Rick, it's your father."
"I know that, your name was on the caller ID. That's why I said hey, Pop."
"I forget about that thing always knowing who's calling and when. Don't that creep you out? The way technology is always spying on us?" My father grumbles. Having been in the military for most of his adult life, my father is keenly aware of the government's hold on our whereabouts, on our lives, and that probably doesn't help soothe his agitation when it comes to technology and its advances. Only recently I talked he and my mother into buying their first iPhones. Though he seems to enjoy the way it has made some things in his life easier, he drew the line at setting up his thumbprint to open his phone, noting that it's literally just giving the government what they wanted. I had to remind him, using his own government phobic, conspiracy theories against him, that the government already has his thumb prints anyway. All he could do was grudgingly agree, but also assert that he didn't want to give them too much of anything else. He still uses the phone though.
"No. I wouldn't categorize it as spying."
"That's because you young people don't know any better. Anyway, that's not why I called. Your mother is trying to get a head count for your grandparents' anniversary dinner next month, she said you never responded to her voicemail."
"Oh, yeah I forgot. I've been so busy with work, and things."
"Things? Any of those things the little blonde your mother introduced you to at our party? She was a hell of a looker, son."
"Uh, no. She's definitely not one of the things. Actually, I met someone else at that party. Your neighbors' daughter, Michonne."
"Oh really?" He asks, with a hint of an impressed tone. "You do know you've met her before right?"
"No. I don't remember that. When?" I question, certain that I would have remembered meeting a woman as lovely as her if I had met her before.
"A long time ago. Your mother and I were trying to talk her parents into moving out near us. You know I served with her father, Dennis Alexander, he's a good guy. Best guy I ever had the pleasure of serving with actually. He's a real straight shooter. Toughest SOB I know."
"No I didn't know that either. But wait, when exactly did I meet her before?"
"Oh right, yeah. Well they came out, brought their little girl, swam in the pool. She was a pistol that girl was. Running around charming the pants off your mother and I, then literally ripping her swimsuit and pull up off to dash around naked in the backyard! She's kind of a big deal now. Got rich on a computer thing for your phone. I doubt she still runs around in the backyard naked like that anymore. That's a shame." He utters on a disappointed click of his teeth.
"An app, Pop. And yes, I knew about the app. But, I don't remember meeting her before."
"Yeah well, you were like 4 or 5, hell I don't know, but she was still in a diaper thing, so who knows. But, she's a foxy lady now ain't she? Nice body. Pretty face. Smart, well off. You've done much worse."
"Absolutely true." I agree, knowing he's referring to Lori. My parents were never fond of her, and often made it no secret that we not only married too young, but probably shouldn't have married at all. As a result there was never any love lost between them, as Lori pretty much hated them too.
"So, you've been spending time with her? Like a romantic thing? What happened to the little blonde girl? You're definitely getting your legs back dating two women, aren't you, boy? I'm glad to see it."
"Wait, um, just with Michonne. I'm only dating her now. A romantic thing. Michonne happened to the blonde. The thing with the blonde was dead as soon as I saw Michonne."
"Ah. I guess I could see why. That Michonne is definitely her mother's daughter, you hear what I'm saying?" He says, lowering his voice as though he does not want my mother to hear what he's saying.
"What?" I ask, completely confused by my father's statement. He can't be saying what I think he's saying. Not George Grimes.
"Hey listen, I love your mother, ok? But, I'm not dead. I've got eyes. Dennis's wife, Nia? Yeah, son, oh yeah." He whispers conspiratorially, then releases a low whistle.
"I don't wanna hear this."
"I'm just saying I understand why you would be interested. Her and her mama are some beautiful women. That Michonne might be a little more than you can handle though. That backside is a lot more than a handful and you've only really been with that Lori. You're definitely going to have to step your game up to catch and keep that one. This isn't like last time, Rick."
"Pop, can we please not have this conversation?" I grouse, definitely put off by my father's lecherous words and tone when speaking about Michonne. I know it's harmless, he's just giving me his approval, which I've never gotten for any other woman, which was really only just Lori. But I'm well aware that my dad has always been a handsome man, and as a result women have always been attracted to him. Often not hiding it at all, even in the company of my mother. Now that he's sporting a full head of silver hair, with a matching beard, it's worse. As far as I know he's always been faithful to my mother, but sometimes I wonder with those long deployments how faithful he's actually been.
" Ok, I'm sorry. I'm just saying, I like that you are getting back out there. You know the ladies love us Grimes men. Always have. You're my spitting image, Rick, you've always been a good looking guy, so I have no clue why you settled on Lori. I'm just glad to see you punching above your weight now is all."
"Thanks. I think." Rolling my eyes, I'm not entirely sure how to take his backhanded compliment. On the one hand yeah, I'm aware that I resemble my father. It's an uncanny resemblance, one that most people have noted is almost identical with the only exception being the age difference. On the other hand, the digs at Lori have grown tiresome, and I honestly hate having to be constantly reminded of the mistakes I've made with her.
"Don't be so sensitive, Rick. It's a compliment. So listen, does all of this mean I should put her down as joining you for your grandparents' anniversary dinner?"
"Probably. I will ask her to be sure, but yes, probably."
"I'm proud of you. After that messy business with Lori, the divorce, her getting pregnant by-"
"Thanks, Pop. I gotta go, I'm actually pulling up to Michonne's house right now. Tell Mom I said hi." I answer, hurriedly disconnecting the call from the car's Bluetooth. I'm not interested in rehashing everything that has happened with Lori again, for the millionth time. When everything went down there was a not so subtle 'told you so' in the tone of my parents words every time they spoke about her. But my dad is right about something, I am getting my life back on track, and Michonne is a big reason for that.
Stepping out of my truck and walking up to her door, I pick up off of the passenger's seat, one of many of the surprises I have for her this evening. On her porch, I straighten my clothes out, wanting to impress her. This is our first official date, and it's important to me that I look good. That she feels as proud to be out with me as I always feel to even be around her. To her it may seem that I have everything figured out, but the truth is that the only thing I'm sure about right now is her. Her place in my life. How important she is to me. It's one of the reasons why I wanted to take her out on a date, do the whole thing right. To wine and dine her. Even though we've slept together many times, I want to show her that this thing is not just about sex. It's about building something stronger than sexual attraction. Though I have to admit, our sex is...something quite powerful
Rapping my knuckles against her red front door, I nervously rake my fingers back through my freshly cut hair. She's never seen my hair so short, and my face clean shaven. I'm a little anxious to see what she thinks. Answering the door, she immediately takes my breath away.
"Rick, hi! Oh wow, look at you! And what? Are these for me?" She questions, a tiny squeal of delight in her raised voice, falling from her full lips, brushed with a velvety red gloss.
"Of course they are." Handing her the bouquet of the flowers I picked up on my way here from a florist in King County, I watch as her face lights up when she raises the dark pink blooms to her nose and takes a deep sniff.
"Oh, Rick, they are absolutely beautiful. How did you know I love peonies?"
"Lucky I suppose. I just told the florist I needed the most beautiful flower they had, for the most beautiful woman in the world. He gave me these. They're not as beautiful as you are, but they tried." I laugh, sensing the anxiety from before easing a bit. She hasn't really said much of anything about my look just yet, but the heated spark that lighted in her eyes said enough to bolster my confidence.
"Smooth, Sheriff, very smooth. Come in." Tilting her head towards the inside of the house, she turns away from me, and strolls through the entry foyer, towards the kitchen.
Walking in behind her, removing my suede coat, I admire the tight fit of my favorite dress, the gold sweater dress, gracefully hugging her sexy form. She's added a pair of tall, high heeled brown boots, and accessorized with dangling gold earrings and bangles around her slender wrists. As she walks, the height of the heel on the boots causes her hips and rounded bottom to sway seductively to the click clack of her heels on the hard wood floors. Licking my lips, I briefly tug at my cock, feeling it twitch in the confines of my fitted jeans.
"You look very sharp, Sheriff. That blue sweater brings out your eyes. And I've never...I've never seen your face like that. I like it." Flirting, biting down on her bottom lip, her eyes soften to a warm fudge as they travel from my head, my eyes, my face, and down the length of my body, taking in my attire. Deciding to put my trusty cowboy boots to rest for the night, I'm trying to step up my game a bit. She's noticed.
"Thanks." I nod, wishing I could take all of the credit, and instead internally thanking Andre and Carl for the advice. I'm also laughing a little to myself at the gentle prodding from each of them that while being a real life cowboy is cool, sometimes the ladies want you to mix it up. Last weekend while they were helping me take down the Christmas lights on the outside of Michonne's house, and clean out the gutters, they offered up some helpful feedback on dating in 2017, a concept they both assumed was foreign to an old guy like me. I got the hint, and followed some of their tips for what to wear tonight. I have to admit that these young guys seem to know what they're talking about, as Michonne's amorous gaze seems very pleased with the easy fit of my dark wash jeans, cornflower blue sweater, and lace up boots.
Putting the flowers in a vase and adding water at the sink, Michonne looks up to me again, gifting me with another bright smile. "I really love the flowers, Rick. I haven't gotten flowers in… gosh I can't remember how long it's been. It was very sweet of you." She blushes. Placing the vase, now filled with the bouquet of flowers, on the counter, she tilts her head, and drops her dark eyes bashfully, then raises them back to mine as though she is unsure of what else to say. That's odd. Michonne is never at a loss for words. "It still catches me off guard you know? When you do little things like this, give me nice things. Do nice things. The Christmas lights, the gutters, filling my truck up with gas every Sunday. I'm not used to it. I don't always know how to respond I guess, but I hope you know that I'm grateful."
"You deserve the best of everything in the world, Michonne. And I'm the man to it to you."
"Absolutely." Standing in front of her, backing her up to the counter, I lean down, angling my lips over hers, but not yet kissing her. I have to stop to suck in a much needed breath. She's stealing my cool, but I don't care. Her coquettish flirting and unassuming thankfulness are turning me on. On top of that Michonne is simply the most stunning woman I have ever known, and with my gaze dancing over her lovely features, I'm instantly hypnotized by the way her slightly parted lips quiver in hopeful anticipation of my kiss. Full and heart shaped, they are one of the many things I love about this woman. Hands behind my back, rubbing my thumbs and index fingers over each other, I'm practicing a modicum of restraint. My fingers are itching to touch her, but I don't know where to start. Her wide hips? Her fat bottom? Her tiny waist? Her full breasts, heaving with each breath? Or the column of her slender neck, now lightly thumping with the rush of blood, causing the delicate racing of her pulse? I can't pick just one, so I wrap my arms around her shoulders and pull her full body into mine, kissing her cheeks with slow pecks at first. Then, as the she raises her own arms to wrap them around my waist, my tongue spears through the slick gloss on her lips, tasting the sweetness of her mouth.
"Rick…" she moans into the kiss, her hands dancing across my back. "Rick…" she mumbles against my lips, pulling back from my kiss. "Andre is here with his girlfriend, and her sister. They're in the basement. Let's not accidentally give them a show, ok?"
"Got it. Sorry. You and this dress distracted me."
Frozen for a moment, we both are stuck at the loaded possibility of my words. I could clean it up, save face and clarify that I only meant that I love the dress. But I think we would both know I was lying. I meant what I said. I always do. I'm falling in love with her. She's not ready to hear it, and I'm not certain that I'm ready to admit it. Not just yet. Hasn't this wild love affair turned her upside down enough already? My sweet lady is a little skittish, and still unsure of this thing between us. And like a young doe, caught in the cross hairs of a hunter's scope, I don't want her to continue with her pattern of pulling away when I push. So I don't say I word to further charge the dynamically charged air between us. Instead I offer up a wide smile, and then part on a little kiss on the tip of her nose.
An uncertain smile still laces her lips though, as if any minute I might fully confess my love for her. But, we don't have to worry about it too much though, as Andre and his entourage arrive upstairs.
"Hey, Rick!" Andre greets me, dapping me up as he calls it, with a quick clap, grasp, and bump of our hands, and offering me a genuine smile. We're past the curious scrutiny I was used to finding behind his bespectacled face. Having given me his blessing, and tipping me off to the presence of Shane, Andre and I have an agreement that we both want the same thing for his mother. We want her to be happy, and though it's taking a lot of work to freeze the ice around her heart, I'm the man for the job. I think he can see in my actions, and not just in my words, that this is how a man should treat a woman, and he's pleased to see his mother on the receiving end of such treatment. It's new for both Andre and Michonne, but it's good to know that an old cowboy like me can still romance a woman, and teach the youngster a thing or two.
"How's it going, Andre?"
"Very good. Uh, I don't think you've met her before, but this is my girlfriend Cyndie. And this is her sister Macy. Ladies, this is my mother's boyfriend Rick."
Not missing a beat, despite Andre unexpectedly proclaiming me Michonne's boyfriend, I shake each of the girls' hands, quickly seeing why Andre is so smitten with his pretty girlfriend, and why Carl is always trying to get over here to hang out with her sister.
"Nice meeting you girls. What have you all got planned for tonight?"
"Gonna go catch a movie. My mom is gonna drop us off in a few."
"What do you and my mom have planned?" Andre asks, genuinely curious as I didn't tell him or Carl what I had planned for tonight. Neither of those guys can hold water, so there was no way I was going to risk them spoiling it for me.
"A fun evening. It's a bit of a surprise though, so I can't say just yet." I wink over at Michonne, taking note of the delighted twinkle still dancing in her eyes. "So, we're gonna hit the road now. You all have a fun, and safe evening."
"Thanks, Rick! Have fun, Mom." Andre pats me on the back, and gives his mom a big hug. Under his breath I hear him whisper to her, "He's a good guy, Ma. Enjoy it." And I can't help but smile myself at his encouraging approval.
"Dinner was so good. I have lived in Atlanta for most of my life, and I have never even heard of that restaurant. How did you find it?"
"A friend of mine named Morgan, and his wife Jenny own it. It's a farm to table thing they started. They own a farm in King County, so all of the meat and vegetables come from there. Obviously not the fish, but all of the main stuff comes from their farm. They just opened about a month ago. Since she's such a great cook, and folks in KC are always asking for her recipes, or for her to make a pie for any occasion, they got the idea to have this kind of small restaurant with only four tables. They only open on the weekends, and Jenny sets the menu with two dishes each weekend. She does all the cooking. They're doing really well so far."
"Well that explains why everything tasted so fresh and delicious. She's an awesome cook, I loved everything about it. The cozy setting, just everything. It was like a dinner party with a few friends. And oh my gosh I'm stuffed! Look at my little fat belly." Rubbing her hands over her stomach, my eyes dash away from my focus on the road ahead, and fall to her stomach. I can't see anything other than the toned flatness that I'm accustomed to. But I can't help wondering what she would look like with a rounded belly. Not from food though. She is always so adamant that she can't have anymore kids, but it doesn't stop me from wondering, fantasizing really, if it's true. I definitely would like more kids, and could absolutely see having them with her. In my head and my heart, I've already decided that she is the woman for me. But she's going to take more convincing. Which I completely understand. I was a little shy and hesitant when we first met, not really certain that I could measure up for her. It's not even a thought anymore, as I'm convinced that she and I were made for each other.
"I don't see anything, but I think you would look amazing with a little baby bump."
"A baby bump? Where did you get that from? I meant a big belly from all of the delicious food I just ate."
"Yeah I hear you, but I'm talking real babies, not food babies."
"Why?" She asks, a hint of irritation coloring her question. "I already told you I can't have any more kids, Rick. That's kind of a done deal by now. Mike and I tried for a long time. I've come to terms with it."
"A doctor told you that? That you can't have anymore kids?"
"No. We tried though, and I suffered through two miscarriages in the process. So we gave up. I got on the pill to regulate my periods, and decrease the cramps I got when I did have periods. I think it's pretty clear that there's something wrong with me."
"There's nothing wrong with you. Sounds like you came to your own conclusion, and that it's still possible to me. But what do I know? I'm just a sheriff." I scoff, shrugging my shoulders to dismiss her negative assessment of herself.
"Where is this coming from?"
"Nowhere. Just having discussion, right? If you could have another baby, would you?"
"Slow down there, Sheriff. You're heading down a road that neither of us should even be thinking of. We've barely been going out for a month yet. It's all a bit premature to be talking babies right?"
"No. A week, a month, a year. Time is an arbitrary, man made concept. I don't have to know a person for a prescribed period of time to know how I feel. I'm a grown man, Michonne, I know how I feel. I know what I feel. Hell, Andre already said I'm your boyfriend. Maybe it's you who needs to catch up?"
"Maybe you and Andre are the ones who need to slow down?" She laughs, though I can see in the darkness of the car that she's clearly sporting a wide smile, amused and intrigued by the openness of my feelings for her. I'm too old to play games. I know what I want. I want her.
"So, what else do you have planned, Sheriff? I got my favorite flowers, a delicious intimate dinner, I don't know how you can top this date. It's been pretty awesome so far."
Reaching over to her lap for her hand, I lace our fingers together over her thigh. "I've got one more surprise. It's a good one."
"How do you know it's a good one?"
"Oh I know you're gonna like this. Matter of fact, we're here."
"Lula's Jazz Club? What do you know about this little club, Rick?" Shock and surprise is evident in the tone of her voice, and the way her head swivels back and forth between me and the front of the club.
"Luck I suppose."
"This is a nice out of the way spot. I didn't know how luck could have led you here." She offers, clearly skeptical of my brief and vague answer.
"No jazz tonight. Something else special." Raising our joined hands to my lips, I leave a few kisses on her knuckles. "Let's go."
Jumping out, I head around the car, an excited bounce in my springy step, and open her door for her. Exiting the car, the light from the parking lot is illuminating her figure. I take special note of how her dress has inched up high on the firm softness of her thighs, and is tastefully displaying her heavy breasts. The stretch of the dark gold dress against the burnished chocolate of her dusky breasts is mouthwatering, and I make a silent promise to myself to make sure I bury my face there first tonight…as soon as I get her home.
At the door I present our tickets for the night, and check our coats. I can tell the idea of a secret surprise is one that she's not entirely familiar with as she keeps up with her barrage of questions. Again, how do I know about this place? How did I get tickets? Who is playing tonight? How much did all of this cost? It's cute, and once again confirms for me that her ex-husband did not take nearly as good care of her as he was supposed to. How is it possible that such an exquisite woman is not used to romantic surprises? Flowers, dinner. Whatever she wants, she should get, and deserves even more. It's shameful, and I make a quiet promise to myself as I clench and unclench my fingers into and out of a fist, that if I ever get the chance, I'm gonna thank the son of a bitch who did this to her with my fist. Grudgingly, I do have to admit that if it wasn't for how awful he treated her, I never would have had the chance to treat her right.
Brushing away those thoughts as Michonne and I find a spot in the moderately sized crowd of about 100 people. We're not far back from the slightly elevated stage, but near the center of the standing room only venue, where we will have an excellent view of the performer. With the lights suddenly drop, and only the stage lights remain, providing any hint of illumination, I hold my lady in front of me, keeping her secure in my hold. As a sheriff I'm always on guard, though tonight a relaxed enjoyment has me ready to just bask in the pleasure of spending this romantic evening with her.
Turning her head towards me, Michonne whispers up to me, and I have to lower my head to hear what she's saying. With her hand raised to the back of my head, she holds my ear to her lips. "This is very romantic, Sheriff. Thank you. I don't care who comes out to sing, this is one of the best nights of my life, and I owe it all to you."
"I owe all of this to you. More to come, sweetheart. I promise." I pledge, and give her a searing kiss to her lips. One that sparks from the electricity arching between our lips, and zinging in a current through my body. Like a magnet my body is drawn to hers, and I'm cozy my groin into her ass. Michonne pushes back into me, willingly receiving my affections.
As I'm leaning over her, kissing shoulder and neck, we have somehow missed that the band has taken their places on the stage, and the blare of a series of seductive notes burst from the speakers. Drums, high hat, guitar, keyboard. Then the voices of the background singers, lined up on stools in front of the drums and near the guitarist, begin a hushed chorus of voices. Soft lighting focuses on the stage, and with a myriad of candles on each side of the stage, a sexy and romantic scene is set.
Joining the melodic stream of background voices, in a soulful and smokey tenor, the lead singer's voice joins the chorus.
It's on the hush, only you and I will know
It's on the hush, only you and I will know
It's on the hush, only you and I will know
I'm not gonna tell yo' mamma…"
The spotlight shines on the lead singer, a tall black man with a low faded haircut, dressed in a white button up, opened at the throat, an undone bowtie, and black slacks. He caresses his hands down the microphone stand, gliding them back up to grasp the microphone, holding it lightly as a lover would, and an ecstatic gasp flows over the lips of my lady that almost makes me jealous. Almost.
"Oh my god, Rick! Oh my god! How did you know Maxwell was here? How did you get tickets? How?" Turning to me, placing her hands on my chest, she's giving me her full attention, despite the fact that the singer is picking up steam right in front of her. "How did you know?"
"Lucky I suppose."
"How do you keep…doing this? You're too perfect right? It's like you hatched from an egg or something." She sighs, her eyes wandering over my face. The shallow lighting hides much of her beauty from me, but her eyes are wide, shining with curiosity, and the depth of their darkness reveals how much this gesture means to her. It's all the thanks I need, though I don't complain when she thrusts her fingers in my hair, cradling my face on either side, and brings my lips to hers for a soul enlivening kiss.
"It's on the hush, only you and I will know
Hang a little while longer
It's on the hush, only you and I will know
I'm not gonna tell yo' daddy baby…"
Closing my eyes, enjoying the wetness of her mouth, her tongue licking my own, her lips and teeth nipping and sucking my own, my erection stiffens against her belly. On a drawn out groan, I grab her around her waist with one hand, the other wrapped at the nape of her neck, and hold her tightly in front of me. Uncaring of the crowd around us, I want her to feel the steely set of my dick. What she does to me.
Holding her still, her lips fastened to mine, she draws back on a tortured groan, and drops her eyes in a nearly bashful, submissive sweep. "How do you always know, Rick? Hm? I just… I-" Michonne utters, her voice low and nearly imperceptible. In feather soft caresses against my cheek, her words cut off as they seem to fail her in expressing what's really on her mind.
"I know. I know. Let's enjoy the show. This is all for you, and you deserve every bit of it." I answer, my lips buried into the sweet coconut fragrance of the crowning nest of her cottony soft dreads. Turning her back around to face the stage and enjoy the show, I watch as Michonne begins to sway, a rhythmic swing of her sexy hips. A brush of her ass against my stiff groin.
The singer begins a falsetto riff, does a little two step, then seems to catch sight of my girl, and gifts her with a wink and a wide, appreciative smile. Seemingly focused on the wind of her hips, her hands up over her head as she pops her fingers, he asks into the microphone, his speaking voice a gruffer, and raspier version of his singing falsetto. "Wanna do a little sumthin'?"
His question is met with a raucous reply of "Yes, honey!" and a series of "Whews!" and "Wows!" from the women in the crowd, and a disgruntled couple of "Oh hells..." from the men. I'm just excited to see my baby happy. To watch her relax and enjoy our first date.
I had never heard of Maxwell until that first night at Michonne's house. She played his album, and it seemed to speak to me. So many of his words vocalized what I was feeling in that moment, how it felt to be with her. How my fascination and near obsession with her was growing, taking root in my heart. The next morning, I found the album and tried to find out everything I could about the singer who had somehow put into words and set to music the soundtrack of my new life. For a man who has never been the talkative type, has never really known how to express himself with words, the way this singer seemed able to so eloquently speak to my lover on my behalf was an intensely shocking experience. My ex-wife always accused me of not talking, of being closed mouth. But, now I can only assume that perhaps she never inspired me to say anything because now, with the help of Maxwell, I want to tell Michonne everything.
When I was looking up his music, I somehow came across an advertisement for this show, a limited one-night engagement, billed as an intimate night with Maxwell. But it was sold out, so I instantly put it out of my mind. But after downloading all of his albums to my iPhone, and privately listening to his music, it crossed my mind again, creating a fresh bout of disappointment at my failed attempts at procuring tickets.
But life is funny, and as often happens for guys in law enforcement, Abe happened to have taken a side job doing security for a small venue here in the city that was going to host a pretty big act for one night only. He was gifted with a set of tickets for the show, but since he was going to be working security detail for the singer, and his new wife was out of town to visit her parents, he offered them to me. Abe had no clue about my new obsession with Michonne, or my new fondness for the music of Maxwell, but offered me the tickets as a thank you for moving his shifts around to allow him more time with his new wife. As a firefighter, Sasha was on third shift, being the newbie in the King County Fire Department. So I switched him to third as well. No problem.
It was this small gesture that gifted me with one of the best nights of my life, all seemingly the result of luck. Just like it was luck that she liked the flowers I got her, and the restaurant my friend owns. Just like it was luck that she and I met, and that we find ourselves here. It seems that a little luck, and maybe some Maxwell tickets, is all you need to completely change your life. Maybe it's more akin to fate than something so arbitrary and aimless as luck.
"So if it's cool, I want you
I love you until you're
Black and black and black and blue
Till the police comes through
What, can't hear you
What, you ashamed of me
Come on, got a little secret…"
"Thank you so much, Rick. The show was just…oh my god. It was amazing, right? He was amazing!"
"Yeah, I enjoyed it." I nod my head in agreement, and turn the ignition to start my truck, and get a little heat going. On this late January night, nearing 2 in the morning, there is a slight chill in the air. Swiftly rubbing her hands over her arms, I can tell that Michonne is feeling the bit of the coolness, but her excited ramble of words show that she is still riding the high of the concert.
"Did you? Really? And I don't know, but I think I heard you sing along to some of the words. Is that right?" Michonne asks, scrunching her nose up a bit in question, a sly smile on her full lips.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"What was your favorite song?"
"Maybe 'Fortunate'. That's probably my favorite."
"I knew it! I knew it, Sheriff! You've been listening to Maxwell?"
"You like Maxwell's music, Rick?"
Shrugging I decide to give in a little. "You've made me a fan."
"I did? How's that?"
Hesitating a little, I stall for a moment, trying to decide how much to divulge. "You played his album that one night. And…it just stuck with me. That's all. He says all the things I wish I could say to you, but don't always know how."
"That's sweet, Rick. What do you want to say to me?"
Clearing my throat, I'm a little thrown by her question and the earnest and interested way she's staring over at me, her breath nearly paused as she awaits my answer. "A lot of things. Everything. Anyway, I'm just glad it all worked out and that you enjoyed yourself." I change the subject, feeling things quickly getting deeper than I think she's ready for.
"I certainly did, Sheriff. This date is only missing one thing…"
"What's that?" I ask, a little concerned that maybe I've missed something in my careful planning.
"This." Climbing across the bench seat to crawl onto my lap, Michonne straddles me. Hiking the skirt of her dress up high over her ass to reveal the thin wisp of her thong, she instantly presses the heat of her womanhood against me. "Thank you for tonight, Sheriff." Her voice is rumbling from her lowest register, husky, seductive. Lowering her eyes from my own, she focuses on my mouth, as I lick my lips, and delight in the weight of her sexy body perched on my lap. "This will make it perfect." Leaning in, her full, supple breasts crushed against my chest, she thrusts her tongue into my mouth, and kisses me with a hungry suckle of her lips over mine.
The romantic mood of the evening has seemingly set the mood for this, but I am caught off guard by the fact that she doesn't seem to need or want to wait until we get back to her house. No, Michonne has her hands rubbing through my hair, tangling her elegant fingers in my curls. In this secluded area of the parking lot, near the side of the darkened club, only a few cars remain, with just a couple of people still milling about, in and out of the venue. "I want you right now, Rick. Right here. I want you to make love to me."
"Is that right? Make love to you?"
"Here." She answers, lightly nibbling and biting at my cheeks. Dear god. This woman.
We've had sex many times, but this is the first time she has ever referred to it as making love, and it does something to me. To the beast who awakens. Up until now he has been at rest, content with relinquishing his will to the softer, more romantic tone of the evening. The desire and need in her voice as she pleads for me to give her this thing, my unspoken love…it's going to be my undoing, and I sink my body against the reclined back of my seat, giving us room to move.
On the other hand, I can feel him rankled, riled by the passionate grinding of her curvy body on top of mine, almost teasing, daring me to do as I've done many times before and fuck her. It's what is threatening to unleash the fullness of my own aggressive need for her, because yes, yes I want to fuck her. I want to lay her down, spread her out like a feast before me, and devour her pussy with my tongue, then drill into her tight little pussy and fuck her. Hard. Deep. But right now, with her purring and licking at the shell of my ear, asking me in the sweetest voice to make love to her, she has me conflicted and wound so tight, my breathing labored, easing out in rough pants, that I'm not even sure I could walk and chew gum at the same time.
"Please, Rick." She begs again, now sucking and biting at my neck. I can't answer now. Words fail me. Through the cloud of lust, the beast remains caged, eager and satisfied to simply watch as she unleashes her own naughty, aggressive side. I decide to simply let her have her way with me, taking from me whatever she needs to satisfy her own little beast that needs me to make love to her. I'm the man for the job.
Her pleasure is mine as her nimble fingers fly over the metal of belt and quickly unbuckle it and my dark wash jeans, thrusting her hands into my underwear and unleashing my cock. She directs her hand with a slow pull and tug, beginning at the base, then dragging her hand up to the blunt mushroom tip. Reaching underneath her, my hands clutch and grab at her ass, grasping and squeezing at the smooth, plump cheeks. Holding herself steady over my lap, she leans forward and with her free hand, pulls down the front of her dress, exposing her pretty breasts to me. Rubbing her hand over one, she squeezes it in her palm, offering the overflow of flesh that cannot be contained in her hand, to my eager mouth.
Licking my tongue out, I accept her offering, teasing her dark nipple with my tongue. Using my teeth, I take a little bite, then drag it lightly between, releasing it from my lips with a slight popping sound.
"Mmmmm, Rick… I…I want your dick in my pussy…now…please?"
"Whatever you want, beautiful."
Pulling the seat of her thong away from her dewy center, I can instantly feel the wet heat of her, sticky and damp on the pads of my fingers. Centering my cock to her entrance, Michonne begins a slow, tortuous descent on my dick, swallowing every inch with her greedy little pussy.
"Perfect." She huffs, her head thrown forward on my shoulder. Unmoving, a series of strangled pants escape her lips, warming my neck. "You fill me so…so perfectly, Rick." Withdrawing from her drooped posture, she leans back on my lap, and begins an easy, dramatically slow figure eight, wind of her hips. With both hands, she takes a hold of her breasts, and begins to thrum the nipples with her thumbs.
This goddess, this beautiful, perfect woman, hypnotizes me with the seductive command she has of her body. Waving and rolling, then popping and bouncing, Michonne never, not once releases me from the powerful connection of her heavy lidded eyes. All I can do is hold her waist, squeeze her ass, and hang on.
Angling her body into mine again, she places her hands on my shoulders, then begins to simply bounce, slow, but rough, hard, up and down.
"You're so hard, Rick. You feel so good…and perfect. You like it this pussy, baby? Does it feel good to you? Is that what you want to tell me, Rick?" She asks, tugging and biting at the lobe of my ear. It's obvious that this new slow, tortuous pace she's setting is turning her own, driving her to deliver a slew of naughty pronouncements that send a decadent thrill spiking straight to my dick.
"You know I do love it, Michonne. I love it, baby. I love it." I confess, no longer possessing the control to keep my feelings at bay.
"You have no idea how much." I groan, barely able to form coherent words.
"I need you too, Rick. I love when you fuck me good. And...I love this.. Like this. When you make love..."
"That's what you need from me, baby girl, hm?"
"You like when I make love to you, baby?" Rolling my own hips up in a deep stroke to meet each of her dropping bounces, I can feel her tightening around me, bathing my dick with her wetness. Her right hand is dragging across the fogged up window, leaving behind the streaks of her fingertips, and her left is flirting and skipping over my lips.
"I want you so bad, Michonne. You don't even know what you're doing to me. You can have whatever you want. You like it slow like this?"
"Mmmmm…Rick…you're so big. You fill me up so good, baby..."
My hips begin to bang up a little harder, not much, just enough for the force of my thrusts to make her round breasts bounce and jiggle. Taking a hold of them in my hands, I press them together, and bury my face between them, licking and kissing from one nipple to the other. Easing her head down, her pink tongue peeking from between her teeth, she meets my lapping tongue, distracting me with her lips.
"Kiss me, Rick. Please."
"You can have whatever you want. I'm yours."
Giving her my lips, her own curl over mine, sucking them into her mouth. The voraciousness of her kiss is accompanied by another series of soul stealing bounces, and I can sense my impending climax, itching, scratching, ready to burst from my core, and up through my dick. My skin is sensitive, coated with a sheen of sweat that makes me want to tear my stifling clothes away so that it can more easily glide against her. It's the most exquisite mixture of pleasure and an ethereal sensation of floating, leaving my body to experience something so delicious it cannot be contained by this weakened form. But I need her to come first, and I can sense it within her. Her insides are scorching me with hot, wet, suction. She's doing that thing where she squeezes her pussy over my dick, throbbing, stealing from me a full on explosion.
"That's it, baby. I can feel that little pussy getting tighter. You about to come?"
Nodding her head quickly, she leans back again, her hands on my thighs, her back against the steering wheel. Holding her tightly, keeping her pussy snugly fit on my dick, I'm waving my hips up then back, hitting her spot over and over. Deeper. Harder. And with her head thrown back, a high pitched wail erupts in the air. Her pretty features tighten, every muscle in her toned body follows, and she releases a rush of her sticky essence, dripping down my cock and balls. It's all I need, bearing witness to the aroused play of emotions on her face. The knitting of her manicured eyebrows. The parting of her sexy heart shaped lips. Her wet tongue lazily licking across them as she attempts to catch her breath, and descend from the stratospheric heights her orgasm has blasted her in to.
As she raises her lids, and captures me with her wide doe eyes, my own body seizes in ecstasy, an almost painful spasm as I'm spilling my cum onto her womb, clutching the flesh of her rounded hips in my palms. Holding on to her for dear life, almost afraid that the strength of my orgasm may in fact kill me, a rumbling growl bursts from my throat as I push further into her, searching for the deepest part of her I can reach.
Dropping my head back on to the seat, I close my eyes, guarding my heart against the onslaught of emotions she's brought forth. This woman has completely robbed me of everything. My energy. My heart. Everything. Swallowing down a few heavy gulps of air, I open my eyes again, now keenly aware of our surroundings. The windows are dewy, fogged over, and the late hour has caused us to now find ourselves alone, blanketed only by the darkness of this cold Georgia night, and a tiny twinkling of stars.
Stealing my gaze, latching her eyes on to mine once again, Michonne leans down and into me, her naked breasts once again rising and pressed between us.
"Promise me that you will never hurt me." With love so clear in her eyes, Michonne lays herself bare before me.
"Michonne, I promise. It can be good like this forever for us. I promise."
"I won't survive it. I…I can't."
"Don't even think about it. Do you promise not to hurt me?" I ask in return, gifting her in this exchange of our vulnerabilities.
"Of course, Rick. I do. I promise."