“I didn’t invent the cowboy—but I damn sure made him unforgettable”
A/N: A/U Song: Savage/ Megan Thee Stallion. Richonne Lemon shot post August 2023
My stepbrothers and I found ourselves at Harrah's Cherokee Valley River Casino in tiny Murphy, North Carolina. After getting a raise at our manufacturing jobs, we had a wild hair and decided to drive up from Atlanta for a weekend of fun. We didn't have much cash, but we were hoping to turn a little into a lot at the poker table.
My brother Aaron went to a slot machine while my other brother, Daryl, and I looked for the perfect poker table. That's when a woman with a body to die for swayed her way past us.
"Goddamn," I said out loud by accident. I couldn't see her face, but she had curves in all the right places, and the way she walked gave her hips a hell of a lot of sex appeal. From the rearview, I was getting an eyeful and could only imagine what the front would look like. She wore a black, bedazzled Stetson hat pulled low, a denim and lace bustier, ripped Daisy Dukes, and black stiletto boots with spurs. I could barely hear the jingle of the spurs over the casino's clamor. She slowly made her way around the room, stopping to talk to people, each person lighting up with a smile so bright it looked like their faces would split.
My erection was instantaneous, full-on, and painful in my tight denim jeans. I was pulled from my trance by a punch on my shoulder. Reluctantly, I tore my eyes away from her beautiful backside and glared at Daryl.
"She's smokin', isn't she?" Daryl said, practically about to break his neck to get another look at my dream girl.
"She is," I murmured. "And she's mine."
Daryl looked at me, surprised. I rarely got pissed at my brothers, but when I did, they knew I meant business. "When are you going to make your move then, Pretty Ricky?" he said with a smile in his voice. He knew I was an unstoppable force when I wanted something. I'm the youngest Senior Machinist in the history of my company because I wanted the job bad enough to work my ass off for it. I nodded mutely. Daryl slapped me on the back. "Go get 'er then, boss," he said, nudging my chair until I stood up.
And there I stood, like an idiot, staring at her backside as she worked her way back toward me. Then she turned to face me.
"Goddamn," I accidentally said out loud again.
The front view was even more spectacular than the back. Someone needed to make a sculpture of her—she was a work of art. Her shapely, sensual body had my erection back instantly, even more painful than before. She was stacked, unbelievably stacked. Her thighs were toned and muscular. Her hips were made for caressing. Her stomach was flat and toned, and her breasts… my breath caught in my throat. Gorgeous was too worthless of a word to describe their beauty, and her skin practically glowed under the lights.
When my eyes finally moved from her chest to her face, all I could see was her hat. At least, that was all I could see until she looked up at me. When I finally saw her face, I fell in love. She had a cupid's bow over her luscious, slightly pouty, burgundy lips. Her dark, sultry eyes were bright and full of life, and her cheeks were full and well-defined. When she smiled, I saw something more beautiful than the stars.
She stunned me when she put her hand up to my face and gently pushed on my chin to close my gaping mouth. "See something you like, Cowboy?" Her voice was more melodic than anything I could ever remember hearing.
I tried to speak, but had to clear my throat several times before I managed to croak out, "Yes, ma'am, I do." I tried to smile, but I'm not sure how successful I was; I most likely looked mentally challenged.
Her laugh sounded like wind chimes as she giggled at my nervousness. "What would that be, Cowboy?"
Once again, I cleared my throat and still barely managed to say, "You, ma'am."
She smiled timidly and caressed my chin. "Aren't you sweet..."
I finally managed to give her an actual smile. "Not really, ma'am."
"Well, Cowboy, are you here to enjoy what Harrah's Casino has to offer, or are you going to stand here and be the circle?"
I must have looked confused because she clarified, "Are you here to gamble and enjoy the rock band, or are you going to be the circle?"
She huffed and put her hands on her hips, yet she still smiled brightly. "You're standing in the middle of a crowded casino, the ever-growing crowd is flowing around you, like a traffic circle."
"Oh," it took a moment for my brain to catch up with her words, "Oh shit." I turned beet red under my cowboy hat, which made her giggle. Damn, even her giggle was sexy.
She took me by surprise when she grabbed my hand and led me to the entryway of a lounge on the side of the room. "Let's get you out of the way and get you something to drink."
Once we were out of the way, she pushed me down onto a red leather couch and straddled my lap, causing my already painful erection to jump with more discomfort.
When I grunted, she looked at me with concern. "Are you alright, Cowboy?"
I was barely able to whisper, "Fine, it's just, umm..." I looked down at my lap, ashamed of my reaction to such a beautiful woman.
She looked down and saw what I was trying to voice and grinned. "That's a common enough reaction around here, Cowboy. No need to be ashamed of it. Now, what would you like to drink? Whiskey? Brandy?"
"No, no thank you, ma'am. I don't drink alcohol."
"Really? Not even beer?" Her head tilted to the side.
I shook my head. "No, ma'am."
"That's a first. Well, then, what would you like? Soda? Juice?"
Her tinkling laughter brought a smile to my face. "Water—coming right up. What's your name, Cowboy?"
I gulped. "I... I'm... Ri... Rick."
In the dimly lit lounge area, she leaned in close so she could speak directly into my ear. "Pleased to meet you, Rick. Around here, I'm known as Thee Stallion, but you can call me Michonne. I'll be right back with your water."
Michonne Thee Stallion carefully got off my lap and turned to leave. Watching her body move as she walked was pure torture, but it was such sweet torture. I would endure endless nights just to watch her walk.
Once she was out of sight, I slouched down, closed my eyes, and threw my head back on the couch. What the fuck was wrong with me?! I know what's wrong—I'm a 25-year-old virgin. I talk a good game, but I've never, ever been tongue-tied when it came to women... until now.
I felt the couch dip on either side of me and yelped. I opened one wary eye and saw Daryl on my right, which meant Aaron was on my left. My fucking stepbrothers were here to make my night even worse. I also saw Michonne Thee Stallion swaying her way back to me with my water in one hand and a martini for herself in the other. Suddenly, I saw stars and doubled over in excruciating pain. Before I could comprehend what had happened, both my brothers were being escorted away by security.
"Cowboy, are you okay?" The vision of loveliness was kneeling in front of me.
"W... What the fuck just happened?" I snarled.
"The two guys sitting beside you decided it was a good idea to give you a sack-tap. They've been bounced the hell out of here. That offense will cost them a year-long ban."
I laughed weakly. "I'll have to thank the bouncers then. Those were my brothers. They like to give me nut-taps whenever they notice I have an erection and think I have no intention of solving the problem. This is the first time they've done it at the same time, though."
"I am sorry, that's not cool."
I tried to straighten up, but it wasn't happening yet. Hopefully, the pain would dull in a few more minutes. "It's not your fault, Miss Stallion. They're both bastards, both metaphorically and precisely."
Michonne's perfectly arched eyebrows quirked. "Oh, really?"
She giggled but put a finger to my lips when she saw I was ready to continue the conversation. "I don't think you want to air your dirty laundry in a busy casino lounge. How about we find you a quieter place to recover, and I'll get my friend who's an MD to take a look at you just to make sure everything's good?"
I nodded in agreement, so she got a couple of the bouncers to help me to a private area of the lounge where I just curled up on the couch and groaned.
When Michonne walked in, she had put on some clothes: a pair of skin-tight jeans and a curve-hugging white sweater. She had my bottle of water and an ice pack with her. She smiled at me worriedly. "Dr. Dale will be here soon. In the meantime, he said to put an ice pack on it and to try and relax."
I rolled my eyes. "I don't think relaxation is possible, but that ice pack sounds like a brilliant idea." I held my hand out, and she gave me the ice pack, which I gently placed on my aching balls. It took a couple of minutes for the coldness to penetrate the denim, but when it did, it offered some relief.
Michonne sat cross-legged on the floor in front of me. "How many brothers do you have, Cowboy?"
"Please call me Rick. I grew up in Louisiana, and with so many brothers, Dad and Mom gave us the worst nicknames. Not that yours is bad, but it's just nice to hear my name."
"Of course, Rick," she said. I liked hearing her say my name with that sexy voice of hers. "So, how many brothers do you have?"
"I'm the oldest. We're kind of like the Brady Bunch, but not really. My mom passed away when I was a junior in high school, and my dad remarried... I have two brothers, Carl, who's eighteen, and Andre, who's sixteen. My stepmom had Aaron—he was the ass-hat on my left—Daryl was the turd-muffin on my right, and then there's our little sister, Judith."
Michonne's entire expression was one of interest and intrigue. Her beautiful russet eyes grew wider with each name I added to the list. "What about you, Michonne? Is it just you, or do you have siblings?"
She lowered her eyes. Her beautiful dark skin hid what her expression could not: my question made her blush. "Rick, no one ever asks about me... It's all about the client in my line of work."
I raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "And what is your line of work, Michonne?"
"Hostess, concierge. I wander the casino and make sure everyone has what they need and is having a good time."
"So, I'm just a job, then?" I frowned, unable to mask my disappointment. If I weren't in my current condition, I would have stormed out of the room, but that wasn't possible just yet.
"At first, yeah. You were just another customer, but then I saw those stunning bedroom blues, and I got lost in them. And when you were so embarrassed by your erection, you made my heart beat faster than it ever has."
My frown quickly morphed into a full-blown grin. "You had me the moment you walked by. The view of you from behind should be listed as the official eighth wonder." She lowered her eyes and smiled. She was blushing again; my compliment was the cause. "When I heard your melodic voice and saw your stunning eyes, you won my heart as well." She smiled even brighter than I thought possible, and I lost my breath for a moment.
Fortunately, the door opened, and an older man walked in like he owned the place. "I hear you're the unfortunate victim of a testicle assault?" His gruff voice held no emotion.
I nodded, not all too sure how to take the doctor's bedside manner.
"I'm Dr. Horvath, a friend of the house. Now, drop your trousers, Curly, so I can see the damage."
It wasn't easy or painless, but I managed to roll over, undo my pants, and push them down to my knees so he could see the damaged goods. I had received a few ball-busters over the years, pretty much since the first time I had a wet dream, but never had I been so bruised or swollen.
Dr. Horvath observed and not-so-gently prodded but finally told me to keep icing it for thirty more minutes and then every couple of hours and to take Ibuprofen for the pain and swelling. The bruising would last for a few days, but the swelling should go down in the next day or so. I thanked him, and he left just as quickly as he had arrived.
Before I could even curl back up on my side, Michonne's incredible lips were on mine. I pushed myself toward her; my lips were firm against hers, but the kiss remained soft, gentle, and slow. We held it for a few seconds before our lips began to move in perfect sync, slowly, cautiously. I exhaled through my nose, not wanting to let go. My entire body had been taken over by the overwhelming feeling of relief, combined with eccentric panic and lust. I moved my hand from her cheek to the back of her head, my fingers tangling in her long, dark chocolate hair, lightly pulling her into me, adding more pressure to our lips, and deepening the incredible kiss.
The door abruptly opened, causing me to jump up and grimace in pain. Michonne, that beautiful Michonne Thee Stallion, jumped straight up and was facing the intruder before her feet even touched the floor.
"What the hell, Abe! Ever heard of knocking?!"
"Aren't you supposed to be taking care of the clients, Miss Stallion?"
"I thought I was, Abe." She shot a remorseful gaze at me over her shoulder. I peered at Abe.
He finally looked over at me. "Rick Grimes?"
I grinned through the pain. "It's me. What's it been? Seven, eight years?"
"I guess that's about right. Since Judith was born. I love that nickname DJ gave her... what is it..."
I laughed. "Yeah, that's when it was. My stepmom didn't think it was possible at her age. 'Little ass-kicker' is what Daryl calls our little sis."
Michonne's head went back and forth between us. "How do you guys know each other?"
"We grew up together," Abe explained. "In Lafayette Parish, Louisiana. We lived next door to each other all the way up until high school. Our folks are best friends to this day and they still live in the house we grew up in. But the last time I saw Rick was at graduation."
Finally, she sat down on the couch, placed my head in her lap, and started to comb her fingers through the curls in my hair. My eyes rolled back in my head, and I moaned as she started to gently scratch my scalp.
Abe continued, "Since Rick seems to be incapacitated, why don't I take the two of you to dinner a little later, and we can talk then?"
I nodded my head, which only increased the scratching of my scalp. "I'd like that, Abe. It'll be nice to catch up."
"Rick, what size are you? I'll send in some looser pants so you'll be more comfortable. Which brother sacked you?"
"Thanks, man, I'm a 32x34. Daryl and Aaron."
Abe chuckled lightly. "Sonofa... double-sacked. They ain't right." He turned to leave. "I'll send in those pants and another ice pack with a bottle of Ibuprofen. It looks like you'll need both. I'll make reservations for the next hour. Michonne, you're off the clock," he said as he left, closing the door behind him.
I opened my eyes and looked up at my angel. She nodded absently at Abe's words, not hearing them but acknowledging the fact that he had spoken. "Michonne?" She just sat there, my head in her lap, scratching my scalp distantly.
"Michonne," I said again, placing my hand over her smooth skin to still the motion.
She looked down at me, and a smile slowly lifted her plump, sexy lips. Her sultry eyes lit up as she realized I was still in the same position as when she had zoned out. "Are you okay, Michonne?"
"Umm... uh...? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. It was just a big shock to learn that my boss and the man I'm falling for are like family."
She thinks she's falling for me...?
"Will you help me up so I can get these jeans off my legs?"
Michonne giggled casually. "Sure." She lifted my head and gracefully moved off the couch, extending a hand to me.
I slowly rolled over and even more slowly sat up, grimacing at the pain, which surprisingly had nearly subsided. Once I was upright, I grasped Michonne's hands, and we slowly worked our way to standing. I still couldn't stand straight, but it was certainly a lot better than it had been just half an hour ago.
My jeans fell to my ankles just as there was an abrupt knock at the door. Michonne answered the door while I stepped out of my boots and jeans and slowly got down on one knee.
When she turned around, her mouth opened, but no sound came out, and a range of emotions crossed over her face: awe, lust, love...
"Michonne, will you marry me? Tonight?"
"Rick," she gasped. "Are you serious?" Her breathing became rapid.
I grinned at her. "Never more so. Will you marry me?"
I held my hands out to her. She put the items that were just handed to her—an ice pack, a bottle of water, Ibuprofen, and what looked like some casual slacks—and got on her knees with me and started to giggle that adorable giggle. But when she didn't answer, I became visibly worried.
"Sorry, Rick. I'm not laughing about the fact you proposed. I'm tickled because you proposed wearing only your t-shirt and socks."
When she explained, I laughed along with her. I suppose it was freaking strange; the entire night had been. But one thing was for sure: I was never more serious. She was the one, period, and I wanted to make her my wife.
That was twenty-five years ago tonight. It took several more months of courtship, but when we got her father's blessing and she graduated college, she agreed to be my bride. Since then, my life has been the happiest twenty-five years I could have ever imagined.
