AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Please don't forget to let me know what you think!
111
"Oh…Daryl…" Carol said, laughing as she made some final adjustments.
"Don't'cha say it like that!" Daryl called from the bedroom. "Don't'cha say it like it's bad! That's my Highland Rose package, ain't it? Ain't that what you opened up outta the ones we put in the toybox?"
Carol laughed to herself.
"That's what you're calling it?" She asked.
"I wear your kilt, and I don't complain," Daryl said. "I'm your Highland stud…or whatever…whenever the hell you want it."
"I'm wearing it," Carol said. "It's on. It's on right now. I'm just going to say that—it definitely does not look like it looked in the picture you showed me on the internet."
"I got it on my phone," Daryl said. "You got the bra thing?"
"I've got it," Carol said.
"And the skirt?"
"And the—skirt," Carol said. "I think they meant for it to be a play on a kilt, Daryl."
"It can be a kilt or a skirt. I don't give a damn either way, long as you got it," Daryl said. "You got that belt thing, too?"
"It's under the skirt," Carol said.
"I special ordered that," Daryl responded.
"I know," Carol said. "I have your garter belt and the stockings."
"They fit?"
"My shoes don't fit like they should anymore," Carol said. "My heels? I think your Sprout made my feet swell from being up all day. They don't feel good at all."
"You don't gotta wear shoes. Leave 'em. I mean it. It's just from there to here, and you gonna kick 'em off anyway," Daryl said. "Sounds like you got what I ordered."
"I didn't say I didn't get what you ordered," Carol said. "I said you should prepare yourself because—it doesn't look like the picture."
"I can't prepare myself no more than I already am, Carol," Daryl said. "My dick's as damn hard as it's gonna get."
Carol laughed.
"Is it hard over that picture? Because you might want to hold onto that…"
"Carol…" Daryl called. There was a slight hint of a whine to his voice, and Carol laughed in response. "Come on—you said it was for me."
"I'm coming. I'm coming…" Carol said with a sigh.
"You hold onto that," Daryl called out to her. "You ain't yet, but you gonna be before I'm done with you."
Carol snorted and covered her mouth. She hadn't meant for the sound to escape. She opened the door from the bathroom and slipped out into the bedroom. Daryl, for his purposes, was wearing his favorite of the kilts that he was collecting—real ones that he enjoyed more than he wanted to admit—and was wearing nothing else. Of that, Carol was certain. He was reclined on the bed like the king that Carol had promised she would treat him as for the night.
"Hot damn!" Daryl declared, sitting up when Carol stepped into the room.
"You will notice that the bra size of this outfit is not quite as advertised," Carol said. "Or, rather, I am not quite the woman that the woman in that picture is. We have a lot of room here."
"I like your tits," Daryl said. "They're my favorite tits."
"But not as nice as hers," Carol said.
"You want me to keep the picture up so you can look at her tits?" Daryl asked. "I ain't gonna judge. If you got a thing for her tits, I'ma support whatever gets your rocks off."
"Asshole," Carol offered. Daryl snickered. "You will also notice that, while the garter belt beneath the skirt is elastic and the skirt…kilt…whatever…has this nice panel, thanks to being part of the maternity collection…"
"I like it when you wear your baby clothes," Daryl said. "I figured you would like some sexy baby underwear for me to take off you with my fuckin' teeth."
Carol didn't mean to make the noise that she made. It was almost a primitive response. She felt her face grow warm. She also felt the familiar throbbing between her legs as her body prepared for him, knowing what was coming. Carol cleared her throat.
"You will notice that—just like I don't fill out the top that well, Sprout's contribution to the bottom doesn't make it look at all like that picture. That model's probably like—seven or eight months pregnant. And, well…"
"And nineteen weeks is lookin' pretty fuckin' hot on you," Daryl said. He sat up and aimed his phone at Carol.
"What are you doing?"
"I want pictures," Daryl said. "Week nineteen."
"We already took those," Carol said. "In my work outfit and—and they were much more appropriate."
Daryl grinned at her.
"And these are Daddy's special pictures," Daryl said. "Come on—do a lil' pose for me. Put your hand like that—like that right there. Lower. Look like you like me an' Sprout, both, just a lil' bit."
Carol laughed and indulged him, allowing him to take a few pictures before she switched off the overhead light and came to bed, both of them bathed in the much softer and, consequently, more forgiving lamplight.
"I love you and Sprout a lot more than a little bit," Carol said, when Daryl finally took her into his arms. "But those pictures better be just for Daddy."
"You know it," Daryl assured her. "I don't want nobody else seein' my beautiful wife. Might try to take her away from me. Figure they're better for her than I am."
Carol felt a tugging at her chest at Daryl's words. She remembered what he'd said to her outside. She caught his face and kissed him. He responded hungrily. His hands went to her ass and squeezed, lifting her slightly. As he pulled out of the kiss, he ducked his head and kissed the top of her breasts where they rested in the slightly-too-large bra of the outfit. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of his lips on her skin and the hungry way in which he always tasted her—any part of her that he wanted to taste at any given moment.
She tugged at his hair just hard enough to elicit a satisfied grunt. It was the same kind of primal sound that had escaped her earlier.
"You know they could never do that, right?" Carol asked.
"What?" Daryl asked. His voice already had the husky quality to it that it inevitably took on when he was very, very aroused.
"Take me away from you," Carol said. "Nobody could ever do that."
"Couldn't?" Daryl asked. His lips went back to her skin for a moment. He nipped at the top of her breasts. His hands cupped them, pushing them out of the bra. Carol reached her hands around and, quickly and easily, flicked the fastenings loose and let the top fall. They would find it, later, among the sheets with anything else that got discarded. Carol panted when Daryl latched onto her erect nipple and sucked hard.
"Shit," she spat at him. "Oh…shit…" she repeated when he did the same to the other. "No, they couldn't. They couldn't. They couldn't ever take me away from you. They couldn't ever convince me that…they're better for me. Because it wouldn't be true."
Daryl grunted at Carol again—another of the slightly primal sounds that communicated his like of what she was saying, while also making it clear that he was entirely preoccupied by what he was doing, or wanted to be doing.
Carol didn't resist Daryl at all as he pushed her backward onto the bed. She helped him, arranging herself so that she could take the position on her back that he wanted without being uncomfortable in the process. As soon as she was situated, and she'd shared a few kisses with Daryl, he returned to his entertainment. Carol had tried to offer him a great many things, sexually speaking, but he usually had ideas of what he wanted and didn't want to be swayed by other suggestions. She'd learned it was better for both of them to let him have what he wanted—he'd ask for more, if that's what he needed.
Daryl worked his way down to her belly. He nuzzled against it with his face before he peppered her skin with kisses.
"Sprout's perfect sized," he commented.
Carol smiled.
"She is," Carol commented. She strained her neck enough to find him looking at her from his crouched position.
"You said she weren't."
"I said no such thing," Carol said. "I said—she didn't fill out the outfit like in the picture. Compared to that model, I just look fat. She looks pregnant. Look—in this position, Sprout can almost hide entirely."
"Look pregnant to me. Sprout'll grow. She's perfect sized."
"She is," Carol agreed. Daryl kissed her belly again. He smiled at Carol.
"You said she," he offered.
"I did."
"You usually don't say it. You avoid it."
Carol swallowed and somewhat nodded.
"She's perfect," Carol said.
Daryl ducked his head again and continued his trip downward. Carol closed her eyes and groaned at him as his hand slipped beneath the skirt and found that the underwear part of the costume was, just as he'd ordered, split-crotch. He teased her with his fingers as he continued to kiss her abdomen, nearing the band of the skirt.
"You're wet," Daryl said. "Sloppy wet, woman."
"Of course, I'm wet," Carol said. "Look at what the hell you're doing to me, Daryl."
He laughed.
"I'm hard 'cause of what the hell you do to me," Daryl said. "It's only fair."
He moved, now, to push her legs apart. He didn't have to fight her hard. She willingly opened them for him. In her mind, she offered to take off the rest of the outfit for him. She offered to reciprocate. She offered to change positions. She offered to do whatever he wanted. In reality, she simply did her best to keep from falling off the edge of the world—or, at least, that's what she felt like whenever he did to her body everything that he enjoyed doing with this tongue, and lips, and teeth.
One of his favorite things was to coax her to a hard orgasm and, then, to slide all the way into her in the most fluid and steady movement that he could manage against her still-pulsing muscles. Carol groaned at him, satisfied, as he kissed her, rocking his hips the last little bit to bring him fully inside her.
She tasted herself on his kisses. He bit her lip and tugged at it. She accepted his gentle, rocking thrusts, and opened her eyes to him. Like she expected, she found him studying her with a serious expression. Sometimes he liked studying her face while he fucked her. She changed her position slightly—changing the position of her legs—and bit her lip against the slightly painful pleasure that such a subtle change could bring about. Obviously further turned on by the expression, or maybe the slight shift in how things felt, Daryl changed his own position and picked up the pace and force behind his thrusts.
"Don't stop what you were doin'," Daryl growled at her.
"What was I doing?" Carol panted back at him, unable to remember anything she might have been doing that she wasn't currently doing.
"Tellin' me that—couldn't no damn body have you 'cause you're mine," Daryl informed her.
Carol smiled, but she quickly lost the smile when Daryl hit just the right spot. She called out to him and he kissed her throat when she bent her head back like that might help her truly enjoy every single taste of pleasure that he was offering her.
"They can't," she said, as soon as she had enough air and sense about her to speak. "Nobody can. They can't take me away. There's nobody good enough. Nobody better than you. Nobody as good as you. You're the best for me. Oh—shit…you're the best…fuck…oh…fuck."
Daryl responded to her words with an inexplicable vigor, and Carol fell off talking in more than spat curses and the occasional attempt to tell him what he wanted. He didn't seem to need more than that. Her attempts to keep stroking his ego and soothing his deepest anxieties were enough to keep him fired up.
Carol came hard, and Daryl milked her orgasm as long as he could, his own taking a bit more time to arrive—not that Carol was complaining. She almost hated to feel him leaving her body this time. She was reminded, as he did take his place next to her and pull her in beside him, of the sadness that he said he felt when they had made love and it was simply done.
Carol kissed him.
"When you…are done? Sometimes, I feel a little empty," Carol offered.
"You do?" Daryl asked.
"I do," Carol admitted. "I like making love with you. I like having you inside me. I like feeling you."
"I like bein' there," Daryl said.
"But I feel empty when you leave," Carol said. She smiled at him. "Maybe it's a little bit like how you feel sad when I go to the bathroom. But you know what?"
"Hmmm?" Daryl hummed at her, his face right next to hers. The sleepy expression was already starting to drift over his face.
"I'll always come back," Carol said.
"And I'll always be here," Daryl said, smiling at her.
"Good," Carol said. "Because I meant what I said, Daryl. There isn't anyone else for me."
"Good damn thing," Daryl teased, clearly soothed by Carol's reassurances. "Because I wasn't gonna let 'em have you no damn way."
