AN: The overwhelming response to Chapter 1 was a very pleasant surprise!
I have wanted to do a follow up for a while now but how do you follow something like the first chapter? Apparently you go a different direction. Still sexy, just a bit more emotional. This has been sitting on my hard drive in various forms for almost 4 months now. Not quite where I wanted to go with these two but they had to have their say. Please do let me know what you think.
Thank you to Rhanon Brodie for the help in shaping this chapter early on. And thank you to Valerie E. Makin for giving me a well timed kick in the ass and much needed slap upside the head. And DeDe324 for giving me the final push to put this up for you all to look at. If you have not read any of their stuff, you best get on it!
WARNING: If the thought of using a weapon during sex bothers you, I would not read this chapter.
"Ya out of milk, princess?"
Kat's face flushed at the familiar rumble behind her. She turned with the jug in her hand and came face to face with her white knight. It had been a little over a month and a half since he helped her with her stranded car. Six weeks since he fucked her six ways to Sunday.
She smiled at Daryl and was rewarded by a smirk in return. "Can't seem to keep enough in the house for my morning cereal, much less my coffee," she admitted, dropping a half gallon of 2% milk into the cart.
She looked him over, her eyes coursing over his body, remembering every bit of him. Remembering his taste, his warmth, the feel of his fingers against her skin. She felt the flush on her face and chest race south as she thought of how spectacular the man felt between her thighs.
Her eyes wandered back up and found his on a similar path of her body. She was glad she wore the form fitting skirt and blouse to the office today. She watched his tongue snake out and lick at his lips. Unable to stop herself, Kat stepped into his personal space, her chest barely brushing against his. Her hand ran down his arm, slowly, fingers slipping over the soft, worn fabric of his work shirt, down to his bare forearm. She pressed her lips to his earlobe for a second before stepping back suddenly, pulling the carton of milk from his hands and dropping it in her cart.
"You know where the house is." And she walked off without a single glance back.
There was a knock on the door before Kat had the last grocery bag unpacked. She glanced out her kitchen window and smiled at the blue and grey pickup sitting outside of her home. She had partly hoped Daryl would see through her bravado at the store and not show up, leaving her with a carton of whole milk she wouldn't drink and a bruised ego. She didn't know what had gotten into her.
Maybe it was the daydreams she had been having at work, distracting her from her spreadsheets and reports. The cool of the sheet metal against her arms and palms as he fucked her against the side of his truck. The burn of his stubble against the inside of her thigh as he laid her across that worn wood of her grandmother's kitchen table. The command in his voice when he told her to please herself. And the dirty dirty thoughts of other things she wanted him to do to her that danced before her eyes when she stared too hard at her computer screen filled with numbers and percentages. What would he feel like below her? Would he let her take some control? Or would he manage to fuck her thoroughly from his prone position between her legs?
Maybe it was the way his eyes moved over her at the store, devouring her, stripping her naked in front of the dairy case. Made her wonder how many times in this small town she, and he shared space and never knew the connection they could have. Maybe they bumped into each other at the gas station. She couldn't help but picture him holding the door for her as she was sure he would do for any other woman as they each went in to pay for their fuel. Were they each with significant others when they ran into each other? Did they make eye contact at some other point in time?
She wanted more. She could kiss him for hours, the sweet pull of his lips against her, his tongue teasing hers, the burn of his stubble against her skin. She wasn't sure she would ever have enough of him.
She strangled that thought before it blossomed further in her mind. Daryl was damn good in bed but that was all she knew about him. For all she knew he had a wife and kids, girlfriend, boyfriend, dog, or a cat. She did not need to get attached to another man who thought of her as just sex.
Setting the contents of the bag out on the counter, a container of coffee ice cream and a bottle of Jack, she managed to get them in their respective spots before there was another, though shorter knock.
Her heels clicked across the tile floor of her kitchen and foyer. She unlocked the front door and slid her hand along the edge of the door, keeping her face neutral.
Daryl blinked at her, a scowl forming on his face. For a brief second, he thought he mighta wound up at the wrong house. Until she smiled at him.
He relaxed and reached a hand between her and the door, grabbing her ass firmly and hauling her close as he stepped into her house, making her heels skid across the tile. Dropping a grocery bag just inside the door, he kicked the door shut with his boot.
Daryl yanked her hair back, pulling her head out of the way as he laid a line of bites along the side of her neck. She pushed her hand under his shirt, the other hand pulling it away from his body.
He guided her back into the living room, pushing her against the side of the sofa. Between her damn heels, and the arm of the sofa, her balance had little chance when he all but shoved her backwards. Kat's arms flew out, and she caught one on the back of the piece of furniture while the other caught the edge of her coffee table. She scowled up at him as her as her legs splayed out, her ass and thighs on the cushion of the arm, her back flat against the tan cushion of the couch.
Daryl just grinned at her, his hands running up the outside of her thighs, pushing the thin skirt up her legs. She stared at him hard, but it didn't stop him from pooling the fabric around her waist, his fingers running over the soft pink lace of her panties. She felt one hand stroke back down her leg, and watched him fish in his pocket for something while the fingers of the other hand pressed the lace to her clit.
Suddenly no longer annoyed, Kat closed her eyes and raised her hips to meet his fingers when she heard a click. Her eyes popped open, and she stared up at a four inch pocket knife in his hand.
"What the fuck are you doing?" she demanded, suddenly realizing she knew very little about the man she invited to her home, who was now standing between her knees.
He just smirked at her and laid the flat of the blade against her thigh, running it up her leg. The cool of the metal slowly heated to her body's temperature, but she still shivered. She watched the blade run down the inside of her thigh as she held her breath, afraid to breathe, afraid to move. Her eyes flicked up to his face. A tiny bit of pink tongue was in the corner of his mouth while his eyes were riveted to the blade as he slowly painstakingly slid it up the top of her leg, over to the outside of her thigh. Her eyes closed as she felt him turn the blade, scraping the sharp edge carefully over the rose tattoo that sat just below her hip. The blade flattened against her skin again and slid under the tiny lace strap high on her hip. With a quick flick of his wrist, she felt it give under his blade. She shivered unconsciously. Kat bit her lip and watched him make short work of the other side of her favorite pair of panties. She willed herself to not get turned on by this show of power.
But her body didn't listen as he slid the knife blade over that soft plane of her lower belly, just over the top of her pussy. God she could feel herself growing wetter by the second as he gently ran the metal over that sensitive area where her leg and hips joined. Carefully he drew the blade back up to her hip, then down the outside of her thigh.
She drew her tongue over her lower lip, her mouth open, allowing heavy pants to escape. Her eyes were trained on his hand. The hand alone could cause her bodily harm. She knew the power of those hands already, had felt it against her skin, digging into her muscles, slapping against her ass.
Couple that with the blade between his rough fingers. She closed her eyes and felt an unexpected pulse ripple through her body from her core outwards. Coming harder in a second wave, she gasped small breaths, trying to center herself. She opened her eyes when she realized his hand had stopped. From under his hair, she caught his blue eyes staring hard into her green irises. He arched an eyebrow at her. "Did ya jes ..." he trailed off, a shit eating grin forming on his face as another small aftershock rippled through her body, making her suck the bottom lip back under her teeth and duck her head to her shoulder.
Her harsh breathing was now coming through her nose as she tried to calm herself.
Jesus Fucking Christ. What in the hell was that? Kat thought to herself before opening her eyes to see concerned, and not-so-smug eyes looking down at her. What the fuck was he doing to her? She never came from the barest of touches, especially when they were not focused between her legs.
Eyes still on his face, she felt the blade disappear from her skin, only to be replaced by his mouth. With a gentle swipe of his tongue, a swirl of the soft muscle against her skin over the spot where the knife had been, she felt a slight sting and realized he must have nicked her. She hissed and attempted to pull her legs away from him. But the angle she was laying made it impossible without kicking or shoving him, her brain hitching into a panic when she couldn't move away fast enough.
She heard the snap of the blade closing. "Ya alright?" Daryl asked softly, his hand resting on her knee, fidgeting like he didn't know what to do next either.
With a deep breath, Kat closed her eyes against the flood of thoughts and emotions that surged through her. She took a deep breath and tried to push all the bullshit whirling in her brain to the side. She didn't need ghosts of boyfriends past haunting this relationship.
Fuck, was this even a relationship? She opened her eyes and looked at the haunted blue eyes above her. Whatever was going through his mind, he may have been trying to hide, but his eyes, those pools she could get lost in for days, betrayed him. He was worried about her. And not because he was worried he freaked her out enough that she might be tempted to toss his ass out before he could get any. He was showing genuine concern for her.
She nodded. "Just...just need a second." She held her arms out. "Can ya help me up?" she asked softly, opening her eyes but not focusing on his. Her eyes landed everywhere else but his face.
Nodding, Daryl wrapped his hands around her wrists and gently pulled her into a sitting position on the arm of the sofa. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close to him as he felt small tremors run through her body. Kat's tiny hands fisted in his shirt as she pressed her eyes against his neck.
"Shit, sweetheart, ya sure ya are ok?" he muttered against her ear. "Didn't hurt ya, did I?"
Kat took a deep breath and tried to still the tremors that coiled through her system. She had a million thoughts rushing through her brain.
What the fuck was that?
How did he get her to come with just the blade of his knife? How the fuck does that happen? That happen with anyone else, ever? And really what the hell did that say about her?
Kat felt his arm around her tighten slightly, and he reached for her cheek, trying to draw her out of her hiding space in his neck. She didn't want to leave. She wanted to stay there, just for a little longer or for the rest of her life.
She cursed herself for thinking that about a man who was nothing more than a casual fuck. She couldn't help herself, and she hated herself just a little for it. She was not going to get attached to a man who was just after her for sex. Not again. The last one hurt too much. She had to get her head on straight with Daryl. She wasn't gonna get her heart broken again so soon.
"Katherine," Daryl drawled again against her temple, his voice now more worry than anything else.
His voice startled her. Actually it was the first time she could remember him using her name. Realizing she had not answered his initial question, she sat up pulling herself together as best as she could.
"Am fine," she replied.
Daryl dipped his head so he could read her eyes. His eyes flicked between them, searching. Kat tried to give him a reassuring smile.
"I am. I can't say I'd ever tried that before," she admitted, her mouth hovering close to his, her bravado back. "Or even thought about it." She watched his mouth quirk up into an almost smug look. "You got any more surprises up your sleeve, Daryl?" she teased him, dotting a kiss on the corner of his mouth.
He snorted. "That's it fer today. Don't wanna give away all my secrets. Gotta keep you guessing."
Kat wondered if it was something new for him too. Somehow she doubted knife play was something a man in a 1973 F250 spent much time at. He may have surprised her with it, but she was certain he was just as startled as she was when she came.
"Maybe I should go," he mumbled, pulling away from her a little as her mind continued to wander.
Kat fisted the front of his shirt and held on tight. She kissed him softly, her lips lingering over his. She felt him hesitate, his hold on her body waning. "Please," she whispered, fighting against the panic at the thought of him leaving her like this, feeling so damn vulnerable and scared.
Daryl nodded slightly, his hands going to her hips. He slid them down her thighs, encouraging them around his waist as he stood, his hand sliding under her ass as he picked her up from the couch arm. He ensured her skirt was between his hands and her skin as her panties dropped to the floor like a forgotten napkin at Thanksgiving dinner.
He carried her through the house and opened her bedroom door. Shoving sheets and blankets out of the way, he settled her down against her pillow. Kat watched as he sat on the foot of her bed, untying his boots, tossing them out in the hall, making her giggle. He crawled over her feet and arranged himself behind Kat. Turning, she settled her head on his chest, her hand landing over the center seam of his work shirt. He cradled his arm over her back, his fingers dangling over her shoulder, the tips drawing abstract patterns on her soft skin, lulling her into a light sleep.