I normally don't write Michonne even though I'm a hardcore fan. However, RaptusMind (Michelle) wanted a richonne story. Therefore, please be kind to me.

I don't own the walking dead.

thanks to my beta dejede

Prologue: Thursday number four.

The clock chirps at 9 p.m. Michonne runs around the mansion's corridors. She can't be late because her life depends on the meeting. Regrettably, she had a previous engagement, which resulted in her lateness. The young woman walks as fast as she can with her six- inch tight silk dress, which she wore, complicates the process of moving her legs. Discomfort in her dress is a small price to pay when she compares it to the rest of the night.

He has his preferences and she makes sure to respect each of these.

As she runs, her dreadlocks spill out of her bun. The temptation to take off her heels is strong, but Michonne knows better. He likes it when she wears those uncomfortably high shoes. Although, he does adores when she wears them as they fuck. Eventually, Michonne reaches the mansion's last floor. Today, it is notably tranquil. There are no armed men running around or covering perimeter.

Michonne reaches for his room's ebony door and she opens it. She looks around the luxurious room. He is not inside. Her heart dilates and she feels better than she did previously. She takes a minute... preparing herself for the night. She walks into the room and sits on his California king bed. The mattress sinks and welcomes her body.

Michonne closes her eyes and she releases a shaky breath. It is the fourth Thursday.

Nothing is easier. She is anxious and frustrated. A little excitement appears in that mixture of emotions.

The clock displays 9: 02p.m. Now he is late. She hears a few sounds coming from the corridor. They aren't empty anymore and his men are filling them.

Michonne closes her eyes for a little longer. She takes two more minutes to regulate her breath. She can do it. She did it three times already. Consequently, what's a fourth one? She stands and starts freeing her locks from the tight bun, which keeps them on top of her

head. When the door open and a stream of lights enter the room, her hands freeze mid- air.

His scent invades everything before he enters the room. Michonne's body becomes rigid.

Her heart beats tenfold faster and she places her hand on her breast to soothe her nerves. She no longer knows what provokes her reaction to him. Perhaps, it is his threatening aura or maybe the is a jumble of emotions, which range from fury, passion, and shame.

Michonne's arms fall to her side and she forgets to undo her bun. She stares at the crack between the door and the doorframe. She expects to see him. However, she only hears his rich and rustic voice while he snaps orders to his men. His hand held the doorknob and she observes his fingers, which twitch due to anger.

The young woman stares at the light playing on his tanned skin and flexing muscles. Her heart threatens to spring out of her rib cage.

Excitement grows and replaces the anxious atmosphere. Her mind may dread the process but her body craves him. Michonne takes another deep breath when she hears the door closing and she recognizes his shadow moving around the room. There is nowhere to run. The fourth Thursday and thoughts of their arrangement unleash panic upon her fragile emotions.

…..

…

"You're late." These are Rick Grimes' first words when he switches on the light and his eyes find Michonne.

The young woman doesn't explain her tardiness nor does she excuse herself and he doesn't expect her to do it. The situation connecting them is complex. Silence facilitates the process. Rick prefers to hearMichonne's voice when she says his name.

Tonight, he intends to make her lose her voice in the process. Rick had an awful night and he

looks forward to this Thursday arrangement. They stare at each other. In less than a minute, he assesses her body completely. She is as breathtaking as he remembers.

"I prefer them down." His finger hooks around one of her free locks.

It is the same scene every Thursday. She has a list of his requirement, but somehow, she always breaks a rule. Ricks likes her rebellious nature. Since the first time he met her, her rebellious side caught hisattention.

He went to her apartment looking for something else but she happened to be there. The cold metal of his wedding band presses on the soft flesh of her warm cheek. With a rough tug on her hair, he undoes her bun.

Dreadlocks spill around his fingers. He has a fist full of hair and he tugs on it until she faces him.

"Better." Rick hisses and leans down to recover her lips with his.

The kiss is aggressive and demanding. Michonne's lips are bruised and slightly

swollen. This candid view of her captivates him. The unadulterated desire which paints her features when he breaks up the kiss.

It is rewarding. He knows she is biting her tongue, so she does not cuss him out as she did beforehand. He lets her hair slide through his fingers. His eager hands sit on her shoulders and he starts a soothingrotation of his thumbs. She slightly parts her lips with which she draws each of her soft sighs. She is beautiful when she is ecstatic.

"Let get it over with." After their heavy kiss, the atmosphere is still charged, and her voice is less nonchalant than she wants it to be.

Words meant to convey annoyance suddenly sound like a pitiful cry for more. Rick will be happy to oblige. He tilts his head to the side and unbuckles his belt.

"The princess speaks. If you're so eager to be done, then go on." As the words leave Rick's mouth, Michonne tongue replaces them.

Rick's forefinger rests on her clavicle notch while his little finger randomly dips into her

breast cleavage. His knuckles lazily brush against the naked flesh around her dress' collar. He looks at the beautiful confusion in her eyes. He understands her battle and her reservation regarding him. He isaware of the reality of their situation but being between Michonne's legs absolves Rick of his guilt. He is not a good person nor claims to be one, yet he was once in the distance past.

"I'm not staying tonight." She continues as if he never spoke.

Rick simply cocks an eyebrow. She never stays. Accordingly, why does she feel the need to say it? He does not really care if she stays tonight or leaves. This thang is not meant to be more than a beneficial arrangement for both parties.

"I wouldn't expect you to." His voice is a mere whisper that doesn't cover the rippling sounds made by her dress pooling at her feet.….

….

…

….

Rick's hands rush to her shoulder and he presses his lips to Michonne's glistening skin. His left and right forefinger hook in her bra straps. He relishes the feeling of her soft skin and presses her half-naked body against his body. He crushes his mouth on her neck and his tongue darts out to suck on her sweet flesh. Michonne shivers under Rick's caresses.

Ultimately, the young woman succumbs to the tormenting call of abandon. Trying to open his shirt, her fingers hold on his buttons even though, she achieves nothing. Rick recovers her hand and guides ittoward his pants' waistband. He undoes the buttons of his shirt and throws the offending article on the ground.

"Slowdown Princess." Ricks tangles his finger around her locks. He slightly tilts her head back with a small tug on her nape.

He intends to take his time tonight and he needs this moment. Michonne gasps due to the brisk movement causing sudden sharp pain.

Soon, tender fingers are massaging her scalp

until she cannot help but moan. Pleased with her cry of pleasure, Rick smirks. Finally, he hears her voice.

When he uses his taunting tone, Michonne cannot help but peer at his changing cyan eyes. The sudden domineering aura around him intoxicates her senses. She tries to resonate with herself but the tonguethat grazes the pulsating flesh of her neck disorients her mind. The words of rebuttal die on her tongue and she swallows a moan when his teeth graze along her jaws. Her shame and frustration die slowly.

The sensation of his warm breath teasing her sensitive skin in tandem with a slight pressure of his thumb on her neck is sweet torture. It is enough to forget the intricate causes to why she meets Ricks Grimes every Thursday.

Michonne shivers in his arms with anticipation. She pushes Rick toward the bed. Her aggressive caress draws a subtle moan out of his lips. He never knows if she wants him closer or she is trying to keep him away.

As for now, her nails claw their way through his back. Michonne wants him closer. She wants more than taunting foreplay. Rick grabs her waist and drags them both down. His back hit the soft mattress and traps Michonne's finger. Rick's mouth again covers Michonne's. The kiss is deeper and aggressive. The sound of wet tongues echoes on the walls. Her last reservations about tonight die. She will think about her troubles later on. Now there is only the need to quench a growing thirst. His soft lips have lit a devouring flame in the pit of her stomach. Her fingers eagerly move on his smooth flesh. Her fingertips feast on the different textures... from his smooth skin to the slight rough patches of hair on his chest.

….

….

….

Michonne's polished nails graze Rick's sensitive skin and she places little bite marks on his neck's unblemished skin. She does not

want to formulate the words due to her pride. However, she wants more of him.

Her finger runs around a bite mark on his neck and she leans to kiss him. His fingers slide into her hair. Rick pulls her head back up until he exposes her neck. His free fingers run around her fragile curvature and they suddenly close around the gracious structure. Her pulse caresses his fingers and bones trying to accommodate. Rick's tongue flicks over Michonne's laced nipple and he bites down.

Rick's teeth close around her lacy bra and he drags it down to free her perky breast. His tongue eagerly darts out to suck on the dark areola. She wants to swallow her moan. His touch should not feel sogreat. Instead of staying silent, she calls his name with a throaty voice.

The reasons for their scheduled encounters are far too dark and difficult. When his fingers pinch her nipple such complications elude her mind. She does not remember what brought her to this pit ofabandon but she

needs so much of him. Michonne pushes her panty to the side and places Rick's hand on top of her pulsating core.

"Tell me you want more tonight." Rick's voice is soft and he is cautious of what he says.

His lips graze Michonne's shoulder and trace a path up to her ear. Rick bites her earlobe and he pulls lightly to enhance her erotic pain. She feels his laboured breath on her neck. The air caresses her skinintermittently while he tries to hold a moan as her hand rubs his clothed penis. He presses his mouth to her neck. His teeth graze her feverish skin and leave behind burning abrasion.

Michonne's pride, or the very little of it she holds onto, stops her from verbalizing her demand. Rick can't win on every field.

Michonne looks directly in his eyes, blue clashes with confident brown. She demands more and she will receive more. Such arrogance silences any attempt to refuse her demand. Rick is completely turned on, and as for now, he is punishing himself. She puts her

hand on his waistband and she pushes the pants and underwear down.

Rick's boner ? the entrance of her inner

walls. Michonne's walls tighten in reaction to the scorching contact between her aflame flesh and his stone hard cock. Her body tenses in anticipation but he makes her wait. He leans and kisses her neck. His mouth travels the length of her jaw to settle on her delicious mouth.

…..

….

….

"Rick." She screams his name the way he likes.

It sounds like a cry of worship and a plea to avoid damnation. It is desperate and demanding.

Rick consumes her mouth in a leisurely way, tasting her with each tongue stroke. Michonne moans at each tongue's stroke and the head of his penis grazes her feminine core. There is hair tangling around exploring fingers. Hands

frivolously caresses skin and leaves behind burnt paths of passion. Yet it isn't enough.

Michonne wants more and he is not willing to give it her now. If she wants it, she should be willing to take.

"Tell me you want more tonight." His past words resonate in her head and echoes on his lips as near her ear as Rick repeats them softly "Fuck me, Rick…". She stutters when his hard dick presses her clitoris.

His steel blue eyes lock on her hooded brown eyes. Michonne read in them a victorious bragging, which changes the colour of Rick's irises into a dark blue. Despite a little annoyance for conceding, shedoes not care because he cannot take more than what he took. These Thursdays are slowly becoming a bubble in time where she explores her abandon. With a shallow stroke, he enters her and they bothrejoice in the liberating pleasure. He pushes slowly and lets her body adjust to his length and width. The second stroke is a burning caress on her walls. He

drives his member deep until Michonne feels a delectable fullness. His first thrusts are painfully shallow and a path of kisses from the corner of her mouth to the centre of her chest punctuates each of them. She moans and becomes eager for more. Michonne begs him to give her more but he ignores her misguided demands. The way her body shivers at his touch is a better measurement of her pleasure. The tremor of her flesh is a better indication of when she needs more.

"Rick…please." He adores her melodious pleas. He loves the way they fill the room and harmonize with the sound of their pelvises thrusting into each other." Louder Princess." Ricks groans against her lips and bites the lower one. Teeth grazing her harden nipples punctuates his long lazy strokes and his rough quick strokes are soothed with slow fingers squeezing her neck. He goes faster and she is getting closer to the implosion. Michonne gyrates and grinds her hips at the same pace with which Rick thrusts. Her moans after each thrust more are

desperate. With many powerful thrusts, she can feel the orgasm building, and suddenly he stops.

"Rick…" She does not want to open her eyes while she can still feel her orgasm build up.

Michonne puts her finger between her labia, desperate to finish but too proud to beg. A strong hand touches her finger and pries it away. Rick's mouth softly encloses her labia. Michonne hisses in pleasure and tries to push his head away. He nips her clitoris as a warning to behave.

Each lick brings rawer cries of pleasure. Rick's tongue penetrates the slit of her vagina. She pleads with him for more. Each raw cry for more is denied systematically and punished with a caress of her clitoris. Her hand violently tugs on his curls, so she can pry him away but the same hand maintains him in place.

His tongue digs in and out of her vagina relentlessly. His fingers massage the throbbing aches of her clitoris. She throws her

head back and closes her eyes. Only the rich and inventive profanities, which colour her language, cover the wet sounds of his tongue gliding over her labia. Although when it comes to screaming his name, the sound is marvellous.

Rick emerges from between her legs and she groans her indignation. Michonne's firm hand on the crown of his head tries to push him back down. He keeps stimulating her engorged clitoris with his thumb, but the pleasure cannot compare to what she has experience in the past few minutes. She eventually opens her eyes and looks at him.

He has a nonchalant smirk on his lip.

"Watch me." His tone is authoritative and she can't dare to disobey.

He makes his way back to her mound while placing open mouth kisses along her abdomen. He restarts his ministration and her brown eyes ecstatically watch him pleasure her. Michonne's legs start trembling as Rick repeatedly penetrates her with his tongue. She

doesn't mean to disobey him, but as the sensation in her body become unsustainable, she can't help but close her eyes and let the pleasure drown her under the constant wave of ecstasy.

Michonne feels tingles all over her wet skin. Electricity runs through her blood. She is so close to the edges and she needs that extra push to fall. Rick places his erected manhood at the entrance of her wall and restarts the motion of his hips. Each stroke is now emphasized and Michonne meets every of one Rick's thrusts. Her orgasm grows until it rips her apart. It is even better than the first time, three Thursdays ago. It is more consuming.

Michonne's body is pleasurably broken and sweetly exhausted. Rick's warm lips still kiss every inch of her skin. Shallow strokes keep her body in the in-between of Heaven and ecstasy. She distantly hears him reach his own completion.

...

...

...

Michonne's eyes are heavy and she can't prevent a yawn from leaving her lips. The awkward moment when reality comes crashing in approaches. Now, she remembers what the arrangement means. Michonne removes Rick's arm from her waist and places it far away from her body. After the endorphins drain out of her systems, she remembers how strongly she dislikes this man. She also hates all thetroubles that he comes with. Shame takes more time to overwhelm her. She isn't supposed to enjoy his touch, but she does. Michonne yawns again and it is a sign to leave.

"You could stay tonight." Rick does not know what makes him issue the statement, but he regrets it instantaneously.

Michonne's reaction is a mixture of fear and consternation. There is bitterness in her eyes and she can't help but sigh.

"It isn't a demand." He groans frustrated and scratches his scalp. However, he cannot blame Michonne when he is the one who made everything between them a succession of demands.

The young woman does not answer. She stands and leaves the bed. Rick does not leave the bed until Michonne starts dressing up. He watches her retrieve her underwear and lights a cigarette to calm hisnerves after her clear rejection. Michonne picks her dress from the floor and she is already thinking of the horrendous "walk of shame". His men fill every corridor.

"Did he call?" Rick extinguishes his cigarette and slides on his pants. He no longer knows what answer he wants to this question. From their first encounter, the answer has yet to change.

"If he did, I wouldn't be here." Michonne can't stop the bitter truth.

"Yeah," Rick answers dryly, and just as simple as that, the night has lost its appeal.

"Next Thursday then Princess" he adds out of pettiness.

In the next twenty minutes, Michonne is out of his organized crime financed mansion.

...

...

...

"Mommy is back, baby." When she says that sentence every Thursday after Rick, a little tremor shakes her voice.

Michonne picks her son Andre from where he was laying on the couch. She carefully navigates around the many toys spread on the floor. It will be a dramatic fall if her six-inch stiletto accidentally collides with any of his miniatures.

"Was he difficult tonight?" with her son well secured on her hip, the young woman focused her attention on the teenager, who babysat him.

Michonne opens her bag to pick a hundred dollar bill with her free hand and places it in

the babysitter's hand. She smiles at the teenager and starts leading her to the door. The young mother can't wait to enter her bathroom and to wash away the day.

"He cried a bit when you left. But just an hour later, he was playing happily until he fell asleep, Mrs. Anthony." The teenager answers, and she waves goodbye as she crosses the threshold.

At the mention of her spouse's name, Michonne tenses and offers a tight smile as she closes the front door. For the past month, she has tried to avoid all reminders of the past, which was merely two monthsago. She did everything in her power to erase Mike's presence in her life with the exception of moving from the spacious loft, where they lived for the past eight years. Fortunately, she wasn't staying in a home that she could barely afford by herself due to nostalgia. Staying in this apartment is part of the arrangement that she has with Rick Grimes.

Which arrangement may you ask? Every Thursday Michonne Anthony entertains Rick Grimes, the way he wishes to be entertained. Why? Because the poor woman has the misfortune to be married to Mike Anthony, a man who associated himself with the wrong and very dangerous crowd. Ultimately, it caught up with him and he did what he thought was fair for him. He left the city and ran away from his problems, but he forgot to take wife and child with him.

Mike's escape thrust Michonne's life into a downward spiral. She suddenly discovered the truth. For ten years, her husband laundered money for many mobster families, and the bastard thought it was a great idea to start embezzling part of it. Once they found out a target was on his family's back, the family that included Michonne and their son Andre.

Mike disappeared two months ago and the very next day, Michonne started to receive all sorts of threats. Eventually, on top of the threats, there were debts and bills to pay. The

comfortable life, which she knew for most of her adult life, started to slowly unravel. Yet, the hazard of poverty isn't the reason why Michonne has an arrangement with Rick.

Survival forced that arrangement. Mike brought the worst types of people into her life. Rick Grimes is the most reasonable one in the bunch, which says a lot if she thinks about the first time she met theman.

Michonne places her son in his bed and kisses his forehead. The little sleeping angel is the only reason why she even accepts these Thursdays. She has tried to work her mind around everything but Rick is the lesser of two evils. She still has a roof over her head, and Andre and she are still breathing. The threats have ceased. One day, she will receive a call from Mike, and she finally is able to walk away from the arrangement.

Michonne walks into her bedroom and notices the little red light on her phone intercom. She presses and listens

"Hey, Chonne I need your help… please." The terror in Mike's voice echoes all over her room.