written by: avintagekiss24 | @avintagekiss24
read more of avintagekiss24’s works on FF.net
Rick hates these things. He pulls at the sleeve of his fitted, black Armani suit, then rolls his shoulders as he clears his throat. He’s been pretending to be interested in the fellow Senators conversation but if there’s anything that he hates more than these boring dinner parties, it’s listening to the Republican platform. He glances around the room as he brings his champagne flute to his lips, taking a long sip as his blue eyes scan the room. He spots his wife across the room, standing elegantly among a group of wives, laughing heartily. He lets his eyes linger on her, a soft smile springing to his lips as he drinks her in.
Her gold Versace dress clings to every curve she possesses. The deep V neckline plunges down to damn near her belly button. Her long, toned arms are bare and on full display, her hair piled high on her head in a bun. Her diamond earrings glint underneath the lights of the ballroom, which eventually catches her large, five karat wedding ring as she places her hand to her chest. He is the luckiest mother fucker in this room and every other dude here knows it. His phone buzzes after a moment, and he pulls it from his pocket, taking his eyes off of his long time love.
I see you lookin at me old man.
He chuckles at her text and taps his fingers across the glass screen of his iPhone. Just admiring the view… can you honestly blame me? You look incredible in that dress.
He watches as the three dots appear on his screen, jumping every so often as she types her response. Her text finally comes through and his mouth drops open as he skims over her words.
He scoffs lightly as his lips curve into a shocked smile. He shouldn’t even be surprised, she does this to him every time he has a function like this. She takes a sick pleasure in getting him riled up at exactly the wrong time. He throws his eyes toward the group of women to only find his wife gone. He turns his head, looking around for her to no avail. He shoves his phone back into his pocket, not even wanting to reply, knowing that he’ll get another raunchy text in return. Unfortunately for him, the damage is already done. He brings his champagne to his lips again, chugging the rest of the glass as his mind begins to swim with images of him pulling the dress up over her ample, fat ass. He can practically feel her pressing that magnificent behind into his crotch as he nibbles at her earlobe and palms her breasts in his hands. Stop it! His inner voice hisses, you have to give a fucking speech in a few minutes.
He clears his throat again, trying to rejoin the conversation happening around him, but his vision and hearing is beginning to tunnel. He is now acutely aware that all the blood in his body is rushing to his stirring dick. Six words. Six little words have completely broken him. He rubs at his beard with his hand, pulling at his chin and mouth as he tries to redirect his thoughts to cold showers, Lena Dunham, and his mother. He runs his hand through his long, curly hair as he tries desperately to get the picture of him pounding her from behind in the broom closet out of his head.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” She whispers as she wraps one of her long arms over his shoulder and begins rubbing his chest with her fingers. She bites down on his ear lobe quickly and giggles quietly as he jumps in both surprise and lust.
“Well, hello beautiful.” Negan Castle, Rick’s Republican counterpart coos, a wide, toothy grin spreading on his face as he turns his attention to her, “Goddamn, you are a vision tonight.”
Michonne presses her chest into Rick’s back as he grabs the wrist slung over his shoulder, “Why thank you Senator. That is awfully kind.”
“Grimes, you are one lucky sonovabitch.” Negan laments, “She’s the only reason I remember your name half the time.”
“Really?” Rick squints, “You don’t remember me demolishing your anti-abortion bill nearly six to one?”
Negan’s shit-eating grin grows wider as his dark eyes twinkle under the fluorescent lights at Rick’s quip, “Well, and maybe that.”
Michonne laughs lightly with the rest of the group before she leans into his ear once more, “I want your dick in my mouth.”
Rick inhales sharply as she presses her lips to the side of his neck. He closes his eyes and exhales slowly before turning his face to the side. They don’t make eye contact. He stares to the side as she keeps her eyes on the ever-talking Negan as he mumbles, “Quit it.”
She rests her chin on his shoulder and smiles brightly again, “Why daddy?” She whispers as she turns to him again, taking a deep breath of his expensive cologne.
He squeezes her wrist, “You know why, damn it. Why do you do this to me, woman?” He whispers harshly back.
She shrugs as she wraps her free arm around his waist, brushing her fingers quickly over the bulge growing in his pants, causing him to jump again, “Because I like it when you shut me up.”
He groans lowly, reaching behind to pinch her side. She smiles widely at the group of men, removing her grasp from her horny husband, “Well, fellas, I must make my leave. Another glass of champagne and this expensive caviar are calling my name. I’ll see you after your speech darling.” She kisses his cheek sweetly and lightly, to not leave remnants of her lipstick, “My pussy will be waiting for you too.” She whispers before turning quickly on her feel and sauntering off to find a waiter.
Rick clenches his jaw as he cuts his eyes toward her as she moves off, her hips swaying back and forth seductively as she peeps over her shoulder at him. He stands in awe in of her for a few more minutes as sweat springs up on his forehead. He swallows harshly, unable to reduce to the lump of desire in his throat as his erection presses against the constricting material of his dress pants. He checks his Hublot watch; he’s got thirteen minutes until he takes the stage.
He turns quickly and makes a B-line to his wife who’s joined another group of women to gossip with. He grabs her wrist and pulls her away without so much of a word as he passes by the group, faintly hearing her laugh as she jogs to keep up with him. Thirteen minutes will be plenty of time; for round one anyway.
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