Sweet Damnation (Richonne Lemon One-Shots)

Rude Boy

"You got a problem?" I snap, turning on my heel coming to stand in front of him." At this point, I have my hands on my hips and I'm standing just a couple inches from him.

He's just about to reply, and I can see by the look in his eye that yes, he has a problem with me. Oh, well, that's what I have to say about it right now. I hope Shane takes his time and makes Mr. Demanding wait for an hour.

Unfortunately, Shane comes out of the conference room and pulls me away before I get to hear what he has to say.

"Michonne, go home. I can't have you treating my clients like that," Shane tells me when we get back to his office.

"Well in case you forgot I don't have a damn car! " I'm yelling at my boss now.

"Now, Michonne, this is a law office, people usually come in with a chip on their shoulder, I don't understand why you are taking it so personally today." He crossed his arms over his chest and peered out the window behind me, "Your brother just pulled up; have him take you home before we get a lawsuit for you punching someone!"

"Fine!" I log off my computer, grab my purse and stomp out the back door. I'll walk the four miles. 

Soon enough I realize these pumps are not made for walking and about halfway through, my feet start hurting. I have a headache, and an ass-ache too boot. What else can go wrong?

"Hey," I hear a voice yell and I turn to see a winter white, 69 corvette pulls alongside me.

I chuckle inwardly at the irony.

"You need a ride?" Curly yells again.

"I can walk." I roll my eyes and keep walking.

"It's not safe for a... girl to walk out here alone, this is not the best part of town," he tells me. It's obvious he had trouble figuring out what to call me. I'm guessing bitch was right on the tip of his tongue.

"I'm a lady, not a girl, and I said I can walk, thank you very much. I don't know you; for all, I know you could be a serial killer."

I'd stopped walking to wave my hand at him while I was talking, but now I'm pissed again and I'm stomping, making my feet ache more.

"You most certainly are not a lady; that's for damn sure." I hear him cycle his engine. "To think, I was trying to be nice! I feel sorry for whoever has to deal with you!" His tires squeal and he screeches away.

"Fuck You!" I scream out.

I finally make it home ― kick my car because it's her fault today was as shitty as possible; I walk inside and head straight to my bathroom to run a bath. I nice long, hot soak will make me feel better. "Bathtub, don't let me down," I say out loud to myself as I pour the bath salts into the water. I put on a little Morcheeba, then pull my clothes off and pile my hair on top of my head in a messy bun.

I lower myself into the steamy water and relish in the silky feeling of the water caressing my body. I have bubbles up to my neck and I'm in absolute heaven after my crappy day. I bend my knees, with my feet flat on the bottom and let my legs rest against the side of the tub. I don't expect the rush of water between my thighs to get my mind racing and my fingers wandering, but it does. I lean my head against the tub, and arch my back so my breasts peek just above the water line; the cool air perking my nipples right up.

I close my eyes, my hand gently strokes down my tummy ― am I seducing myself? Oh, well, as I was saying. My hand ghosts down my stomach until I reach my sensitive bundle between my legs and I apply light pressure as I move my fingers around in little circles. I'm allowing myself to just feel, and I close my eyes.