Wrecked, Rated M
xxxxx
She's a trembling, sobbing mess in his arms, muscles all quivery, skin pink and baby-soft, blue eyes hazy, pretty mouth bruised.
One last nuzzle into the salty-sweet of her, a lazy drag of an absent knuckle across a tight, puckered ring of muscle, and Daryl mouths the faint dusting of freckles on her knee, cups the arch of her ticklish foot in his calloused hand, and grins at her shiver, the way her eyes follow him as he stands, his damp fingers falling to his belt.
Her fingers twitch, her tongue moistens her lips.
Daryl swears, groans. "C'mere, girl."
xxxxx
Follow-up to Enthusiasm. Or not. You decide. Obviously, in my imagination, Carol and Daryl have the sex, lol.
Enough of these and maybe I'll feel more comfortable diving head-first into the planned smutty parts of my WIPs.
Feedback is love.
Thanks so much for reading!