Daryl had her pinned against the tree before the sun even dipped low. His calloused hands shoved up under her shirt, grabbing her tits hard, thumbs rubbing over her nipples until they stiffened. "Been watchin' that ass all damn day," he growled, voice low and rough like gravel. "Time to do somethin' about it."
She didn't argue. Her jeans were already undone, shoved down just enough for him to get his hand between her legs. Two thick fingers pushed straight into her pussy, knuckle-deep, pumping fast and dirty. "Fuckin' soaked already," he muttered, biting at her neck. "Knew you wanted this cock."
He yanked his own pants open, freeing his thick dick. It was heavy, veined, the head already leaking. He didn't waste time teasing. He spun her around, bent her over, and slammed inside in one hard thrust. Her cunt stretched around him, gripping tight as he started pounding. Each stroke slapped his balls against her, the wet sounds echoing through the trees.
"Yeah, take it," he grunted, one hand fisting her hair, the other smacking her ass red. "This pussy's mine out here. No one else gets to use it." He fucked like he fought—raw, relentless, hips snapping forward without mercy. She pushed back, meeting every thrust, moaning loud when he angled deeper and hit that spot that made her legs shake.
Daryl pulled out just long enough to drop to his knees and bury his face between her cheeks. His tongue licked straight up her slit, sucking on her clit before spearing inside. He ate her messy, spit dripping down her thighs, fingers spreading her open wider. "Tastes like you been waitin' for this all week," he said, voice muffled against her skin, then stood and drove back in even harder.
She came first, pussy clenching and fluttering around his cock, juices running down. He didn't stop. He kept fucking through it, using the extra slick to go faster, balls slapping louder. "Gonna fill this cunt up," he warned, pace turning brutal. "Want it leakin' out of you while we walk back."
When he came, it was with a low snarl, cock pulsing deep as thick ropes of cum flooded her. He stayed buried, grinding slow until every drop was inside. Then he pulled free, watching it drip, and wiped his dick on her thigh like he owned it.
They didn't talk much after. Just fixed their clothes, grabbed their packs, and headed for the cabin. But that night, after dark, he took her again on the floor—her riding him reverse, his hands spreading her ass while she bounced on his cock. "Fuckin' ride it," he ordered, slapping her cheeks. She did, grinding down until he shot another load up into her.
By morning his cum was still sticky on her skin, and he was already hard again, pressing against her from behind. "Ain't done with you yet," he said, voice thick with sleep and want. His fingers found her clit, rubbing slow circles while his dick slid back into her well-used pussy. This time it was slower but just as filthy, every thrust pushing his previous loads deeper.
They spent the next two days like that—fucking in every position, against every surface, using each other until they were sore and satisfied. Daryl didn't do gentle. He fucked like the world was ending, because it was, and he wanted every second of her wrapped around his cock. When they finally left the cabin, her thighs were marked with his handprints and her pussy still full of him.
He smirked as they walked, crossbow over his shoulder. "Next supply run, you're bendin' over sooner."
