Into the Hollow
“You changed your mind fast,” I noted.
“I think he’s telling the truth. What can I say?”
“How about, what the hell has black claws? Bears do. You know, I’ve been camping in California and they have bear bins everywhere. Apparently those get broken into anyway because bears are damn smart when there’s food around. I bet this was nothing more than a bear trying to get in the cabin. First by the handle and then underneath the door.”
“Good explanation, Scully.”
“You’re feisty when you’ve had something to drink,” he noted with a sly grin.
Wasn’t that the truth…
“Anyway, just because it freaked me out, doesn’t mean it’s true. And I’d like to go on believing it’s not true. It would be better for both of us.”
He walked up to me, his footsteps deliberate in the snow. “Are you planning on keeping me up all night?”
I lowered the camera and switched the subject. “So how did I do? I mean, with the filming.”
He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair underneath my hat. Even through his gloves, his fingers felt warm. “You did wonderful, Perry.”
I closed my eyes and kept them closed until he took his fingers away.
“Let’s go back in and relax,” he said softly. “Deal with the beasty stuff in the morning.”
That sounded like a good idea. I went straight for the bourbon.
“Crazy eights!” I yelled later that evening, throwing my hand of cards down on the table.
Dex put his palm to his face while Rigby put his finger to his mouth.
“Hey, Christina is trying to sleep,” Rigby admonished me.
I grinned sheepishly. Sheepishly and sloppily.
I was drunk and we were all playing a game of Crazy Eights. I was kicking ass, naturally, since bourbon was like kryptonite. Or the opposite of that. I was awesome at cards when I was drunk.
We’d been playing for a couple of hours and the rustic clock on the wall, made of a shiny slab of wood with ducks painted on it, read 10pm. It wasn’t late to me but I could tell the old farts were getting tired. Rigby kept yawning and Mitch looked like he was asleep with his eyes open. Only Dex and I were really playing though I was much more drunk than he was. That’s probably because I drank more bourbon.
“Sorry,” I said, trying to whisper. It came out hoarse. “I’m just really good at cards.”
Dex gave Rigby a wry smile. “Just let her have this.”
I reached across the table and smacked Dex’s hand. “Hey! No patronizing me, remember!”
His eyes danced. “No, I don’t remember. Was that one of our house rules?”
“Screw the rules,” I said.
I swore his pupils suddenly expanded. “I can definitely screw the rules.”
I smiled to myself and felt a wave of heat rush over me. It wasn’t even all that warm in the cabin and the bourbon had me as hot as I was going to get. That wild look in Dex’s eyes was supplying the rest.
Rigby eyed us both suspiciously and stood up. “I’m going to bed you two. Tomorrow will be a big day, I’m sure. For all of you.”
There was an edge to his last words and I felt Mitch stir beside me. Oh right. I guess we were kind of hanging out where he was supposed to sleep. That wasn’t very nice of us.
Dex picked up on it. He put his cards down, got up, and then reached down for me.
“Up you go, drunky,” he said affectionately. He grabbed my arms and pulled me up. My feet failed – I don’t know where they went – and I fell straight into his chest. Damn. I had forgotten how hard it was. He tightened his arms around me and damn, I had forgotten how hard they were too.
I was standing, no, leaning at an angle, unwilling to help myself. I raised up my head so that my face was peering up at his, inches away and smiled. “Thank you for catching me.”
“Will you be OK?” Rigby asked Dex. Dex nodded without taking his amused eyes off of mine.
“I’ve got her,” he said. I kept smiling.
He raised me up easily and plunked me properly on my feet like he was stacking a chair. Then he put his arm around me, holding me to him, and led me to our room.
“Good night,” he told the guys over his shoulder.
They mumbled something I couldn’t hear and soon I was in the pitch black bedroom. Dex let go of me to close the door and I began to sway to the side. Suddenly he was there, strong hands on me again, and leading me to the bed.
“Here, sit down,” he said placing me on it. He began to take off my shoes.
My back didn’t want to sit up so I leaned back until I was flat on the bed. The room began to spin a bit.
“It’s dark in here and spinny,” I muttered as he removed one boot. “Sorry if my feet stink.”
“I’ve dealt with worse,” he said and quickly removed the other. I was left alone for a few seconds while he did something in the corner. Then light glowed behind my closed lids. I opened them. He had gotten the kerosene lamp going.
His face appeared above me as he leaned over. “How are you feeling?”
“Good,” I grinned. “Take off your shirt.”
He laughed. “Whoa, OK. You’re feeling fine, that’s for sure.”
“How about your pants?”
His smile twisted. “Oh Perry. You should be careful of what you ask of me.”
I reached up and grabbed his head and pulled him down toward me. My body was being pumped full of alcohol and the adrenaline of being scared earlier and the charged concept of sleeping with him. Being naked with him. Of having sex in front of the fireplace. It swirled around in my veins, making me feel deliciously heavy inside and at the same time making me crave him, like I was a space that needed filling.
My fingers buried themselves in his hair, wrapping around the strands and holding on tight. I brought his anxious face down to mine and whispered, “You’re going to have to take my clothes off then.”
His eyes swept across my face in a lustful gaze before he blinked hard and tried to regain some control.
“I’ll get you into your pajamas,” he countered in a rough voice.
“I sleep naked now.”
“Not tonight, you don’t.” He promptly began to undo my jeans. As I raised my hips to let him pull them off, I quickly took off my sweater and shirt. The neckline got caught on my face but when it was finally off, I lay there, languishing in the fact that I was wearing brand new undergarments: A lacy maroon bra and matching boy shorts that I had picked up when shopping with Rebecca the other day. It was a pricey purchase but it was worth it to see the expression on Dex’s face as he looked over me. He was stunned.
“Oh Jesus,” he murmured, his eyes lingering on every part of me like a man studying a most intoxicating puzzle. “Why are you doing this to me?”
I laughed and propped myself up on my elbows. The room spun a bit more and I tried to ignore the nausea. “Me? I’m not doing anything.”
He stroked his chin. “Oh, yes you are. You are doing many things.”
My eyes naturally fell to his groin but he quickly turned and was at my duffel bag, bringing out my Slayer shirt and flannel pajama pants. “Here we are. Aren’t you cold?”
I shook my head even though my nipples were so hard they could have cut flesh. That wasn’t just from being cold though.
Dex ignored that and ordered me to raise my hands in the air.
“I feel like I’m a disappointment to mankind,” he remarked woefully as he placed the shirt through my arms and began to pull it down over my breasts. “Someone this gorgeous should be on display in a museum.”
As he pulled it down, he let his hands drift softly over my breasts and my knees quivered from his hot touch. His mouth parted and he closed his eyes briefly, relishing the feeling of my breasts as much as I did from his fingers. He stroked them delicately, rubbing his thumb over my aching nipples. A pained whimper escaped from my mouth.
In a burst of passion, I leaned in and kissed him, using his wet mouth to bury my cries. All I wanted was him, now. I wanted to feel his cock in my hands, feel how hard I knew I made him. I wanted to taste him and make him moan. I wanted to be someone else, someone with no rules, no boundaries. No heart.
He tongued me back, eagerly at first, like I was a thirst he couldn’t quench. A small groan escaped his lips. A sound of resigned annoyance. He reluctantly pulled his head back, leaving my lips wanting, my lungs breathless.
“Perry, this isn’t you,” he whispered. He placed his forehead on mine and closed his eyes. “Don’t do this to yourself.”
“What are you talking about?” I said and winced knowing I slurred the whole sentence.
“Let’s go to bed,” he said. He straightened up and pulled back the covers. He walked around the bed to his side and began to take off his cargo pants. I marveled at how sculpted his ass was in his boxer briefs before it was covered up by drawstring pants.
He turned and saw me gawking at him.
Pointing at the covers, he ordered, “Come on. Get in. Now.”
I didn’t move. I watched him get in, tossing off his shirt at the last minute. He lay flat on his back and pulled the covers up to obscure his ridiculously smooth and fit body.
“No,” I told him. I flipped around until I was on all fours and slinked my way over to him until I was hovering above his body, the tips of my breasts grazing the covers.
“Perry,” he warned. “You’re drunk.”
“You’re chicken,” I replied in my most seductive voice. “You can talk the talk but you can’t walk the walk.”
His eyes narrowed in challenge. “Oh, I can walk the walk. I can walk the walk so hard that you’ll be sore for days.”
“Put your money where your mouth is.”
He angled his head and I noticed a twitch underneath the covers. His breathing was becoming more labored.
“Forget it,” I said and, in one quick motion, pulled back the covers so he was exposed. “I’ll put my mouth where your money is.”
I didn’t even know if that made any sense, but it sounded good. I dragged my fingernails down his chest and went straight for his pants, tugging the drawstring until it was loose, then I slipped the pants down.
I raised my head to look at Dex. He was watching me with a feverish intensity, confliction swarming his brow. I didn’t understand why.
I ran my hand over his boxer briefs, sliding it over the massive rise of his erection. It was bigger than I remembered and harder than a brick. I was mesmerized by the feel of him pulsing beneath my touch, my brain clouding over with blood and alcohol.
Dex cleared his throat, sounding very far away. “Perry, please stop. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you have to stop.”
I shook my head. The room spun faster. My grip on his dick grew tighter. “But you’re so hard.”
“Of course I’m hard,” he sputtered out as if he were in pain. “I’m always hard when I’m around you. I’m thinking about investing in a jockstrap just to keep things in line.”