Just Pretend
Beth huffed and kicked the blankets off of her body. It was too damn humid out and she was already down to nothing but her cotton panties and a tank top. She glanced out of the skylight in the tent. It had to be around three in the morning. Her body was wired, tingling, needing. She hated having dreams about him, especially on hot humid nights like tonight. She was hot, but not from the heat, she could fell it growing as she imagined him next to her, the salt on his skin, the scent of him against her. She hated being alone, it scared her to death lying in this tent, not knowing when they'd have to pack up at a moment's notice and run. Her daddy always said she played well alone, but she didn't want to be alone, not tonight. She grabbed the blanket she'd been covered in and squeezed it between her thighs, trying to fight the growing hunger as she curled her toes.
She shut her eyes tight and pictured him there with her, running his hands over her body, drawing her close to him, pretending he actually cared about her. She rolled onto her stomach and rolled her hips, trying to alleviate the ache. She wanted to scream in frustration but kept her mouth shut. She licked her lips, pretending the salt from her sweat was his instead, pretended he could hear her panting for him. She couldn't take it anymore. She rolled onto her back and slipped a hand down her body, into the waistbands of the material covering her hips. She was already slick, needy, just thinking about him could to that to her.
She found that little button that had her seeing stars and started to roll it. She wondered if he'd think she was dirty, if he'd like that, get off on it knowing that just thinking of him could get her so hot. She gasped as the fire in her tummy burned white hot. She was close and she knew she wasn't going to last long. She bet he didn't know she could make those kinds of noises, breathing in his ear, gasping, moaning his name softly while everyone slept, unaware of what they were doing. She closed her eyes as she drove her own pleasure higher and higher. He had her pinned up against a wall, kissing her, rolling his hips against hers, holding her so she didn't fall when her knees buckled. She pretended he could feel her shaking as he teased her with his fingers, his lips, his teeth, his voice. She squeezed her eyes tightly and tensed up as she came.
She fell back against her blankets and stared through the skylight again. Daryl Dixon was going to be the death of her.