Experiment in Terror 03 Dead Sky Morning (31 page)

“What things, what are you talking about!?”

“Please Dex, just trust me.”

He shook his head. “No way, I’m not missing this. You stay here.”

He started to unzip the tent, the wailing continuing outside, echoing through the forest like a deranged siren. My insides were iced with fear. The corners of my vision started to go black. If he left me alone, I felt like I would die. If he left, he would die. I was sure of it.

I reached out with my hand lurching further forward, coming out of the bag, latching on to his arm with all of my strength. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. The feelings that were coming up in me were overwhelming, overpowering. My heart was slowing, dropping in my chest, my lungs were tensing, the air was leaving me, replaced with terror.

I couldn’t let him go.

“Don’t leave me!” I whimpered pathetically.

He stopped and fell a bit into my grasp. I pulled him even closer to me.

“I need you,” I said, heartbeats in my words.

He lowered the camera. His eyes softened into dark puddles. The air inside the tent was changing, becoming charged like the atmosphere before a lightning storm. In the dizzying array of emotions and feelings that were swirling around in my stomach and coursing up and down the hairs on my body, I realized we were about to pass the point of no return. Something was going to happen.

“You need me?” he asked huskily, hesitating, lips twitching.

I tightened my grip and swallowed the fear in my throat. I nodded, slowly, deliberately, not taking my eyes off of his. “I need you.”

A wash of concentrated passion came across his face and settled in the darkness between his eyes and brows. I’d seen the look before but never like this, never in this feverish vibrancy that seemed to sizzle out of him.

I pulled him closer, close enough to feel the heat and electricity of his chest and neck. I kept my grip tight and started to shake lightly, my body convulsing with hot, nervous spasms, my breath heavy and labored.

“I need you,” I said again with utmost poignancy, making them the most important words I had ever said.

I thought I saw a smile at the edge of Dex’s lips.

And then they were on mine, kissing me. Dex lunged forward and grabbed my face with his hands, holding it in a tight squeeze, his wet, warm lips frantically pursuing my mouth, tongue dancing with mine in a vibrant frenzy.

I was caught off guard but didn’t waste any time in getting caught up. I pawed back at him as we both fell backward onto the sleeping bag. The days of wanting him, needing him, were over and he was in my hands. He was the soft skin I felt beneath his shirt as I gripped him around his waist and pulled him forward. He was the hot tongue on my neck, licking and sucking beneath my jawbone. He was the tingly rush I felt between my legs, the heat on my limbs, the intoxicating lust that swam around in my head and made all fears dull. I only felt pleasure. Even the wails of the night were unheard.

I pulled his shirt off over his head and threw it somewhere across the tent. I raked my nails over his chest and tattoo and brought his mouth up to meet mine. Our kisses weren’t neat or sweet, they were messy and dripping and with a deluge of pent–up lust and buried emotions. His hands found the slice of bare skin between my pajama top and bottom and my nerves leaped with the contact of his fingers. With one hand he pulled down at my pants. A quick calculation of what underwear I was wearing flashed through my mind but I was distracted by his other hand, which was disappearing under my shirt.

He alternated between being gentle and rough on my breasts. It sent shivers through my body and caused my leaden head to fall back on the sleeping bag. It had been awhile since I was with a man; it was almost like I was experiencing this all for the first time. I decided to help him out by pulling my shirt off myself.

There was that slightly awkward pause when I discarded my top beside me and he had leaned back. There was no denying it or hiding it. I was pretty much naked beneath him and he was taking his sweet time taking it all in. Part of me wanted to squirm with insecurity and embarrassment, part of me wanted to enjoy it. All I could do was blush furiously.

He, on the other hand, wasn’t blushing. He looked like a madman possessed by desire and sheer want. Watching him was a turn on. His eyes were heavy, his breath raspy, his lips in a relaxed leer. And he was looking at me. At all of me.

He came back down and started ravishing my neck, from the earlobe all the way to my collarbones, tickling, biting and blowing hits of hot steam from his lips. I moaned despite myself, feeling the hairs at the back my neck rise along with my chest that was coming up to meet his wet mouth.

While he made work of me, my hands flew down to his pants and tugged them down with my hands and then slid the rest off with my feet. If I was going to be in my underwear, he was too. I couldn’t see what he was wearing in the darkness or between the flashes of skin, but it felt like a soft pair of boxer briefs, and from the feel I got at the front, it would have been a very complimentary sight indeed. I groped him firmly with my hand, which brought out a moan from both of us. I wanted him, every inch.

He had other plans. He scooted back, leaving my upper body exposed to the cold air that felt like a gentle caress against my sweaty skin, and brought his head down to my legs, spreading them wider with his hands. With one hand he teased the soft underside of my knee with his finger, and then bent his head down and did the same with a flicker of his tongue. It was enough to make my eyes roll back in my head. He took his tongue and let it wash up the inside of my thighs until it skirted the sides of my underwear. He teased the area for awhile until he decided he had enough and pushed it aside.

And then he got right into it, his tongue going at me, soft and hard, fast and slow. He moaned and panted, the vibrations causing my back to arch and my hands to grip the hair on the top of his head. I joined in, losing all self–consciousness, losing all sense of reality. I was vaguely aware that my sighs and cries were competing with the wails outside of the tent but neither one of us cared. It was just us in the tent, it was all we needed, all that mattered.

Just before I was about to be pushed over the edge, he slowed and then came up, his sweaty, heaving chest sticking against mine, the weight of his body sending a feeling of deliciousness over me. He brought his hands down and brought a few fingers inside, while holding back my hair with the other hand, tugging on it roughly. He kissed me, both of us breathing hard and trying to express more than we could before.

He looked at me with so much intensity it was unnerving. He pulled at my hair again and stroked me with his other hand, determined to see me give in to him. His eyes were as rapturously intrusive as his fingers were.

I wanted to give in. I wanted to let go. I was so close. What I wanted even more was to have him inside of me, filling me. I wanted him to feel like I was feeling. I reached down for him clumsily, but he pressed himself harder against my leg, as if he was playing hard to get.

He went back at my neck, obviously knowing a sweet spot when he saw one. Within seconds I was a blurry mess of his soft, slick hands, nibbling teeth and something like starlight. I closed my eyes, unable to stop it from happening.

My world was blown wide open. There was heat and sweat and cries and whimpers and spasms and shivers and thirst and a fuzziness that obliterated everything around me. I was floating far away, above our bodies, above the tent, above the island. I was above the clouds, above the earth, above the moon. I was safe. I was whole. I was a million things I had never felt before.

And when I came to, I was back in the tent, with Dex’s steaming body half on top of me, his fingers trailing up my stomach and resting there. I rolled my head over towards his and tried to focus my eyes, tried to push through the drunkenness I felt. He was watching me intently with a quizzical, almost frightened expression on his face. I wanted nothing more than to pull him closer into him, to kiss him, to hold him. But he was keeping his distance.

Now that he had gotten me off, I felt reality returning to me in small batches. What the hell just happened? What did it mean?

I stared at him, trying to catch my breath, unable to come up with words. I reached up for his face and stroked his sideburn with my finger. I was this close to thanking him, as stupid as that would sound.

He closed his eyes at my touch. I wanted nothing more than to get him off right there. I tried to lead his face to mine but he pulled back and slowly shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t.”

“You can’t what?” I whispered.

His eyes flew open. They shined with something I hoped wasn’t remorse.

“I don’t want to hurt you. And I will,” he admitted.

“Maybe I want to be hurt,” I teased quietly.

“No. Not like this. I…care about you too much to do that to you. This whole thing with Jenn. I can’t. I shouldn’t have done this.”

Oh great. He really was remorseful. I thought this was the best thing that ever happened to me and he completely regretted it.

He saw my face fall and quickly put his hand on my cheek, bringing his face in closer.

“This has nothing to do with you,” he said, his eyes like lasers, imploring sincerity. “I take that back. I don’t regret this. It’s strange to be needed for once. I just wish things were different.”

“You can make them different,” I said, putting my hand behind his neck and pulling him into me until I was kissing him. He returned it slowly, sweetly. His kisses were made of diluted fire, his tongue so soft and warm against mine.

“I still need you,” I murmured. He rested his forehead against mine and closed his eyes, his breathing irregular. Then his lips found mine again. It made my heart ache, made my soul ache. I loved him far too much. I needed him to know.

But he pulled back again and ran his finger along my mouth. I could see the frustration in his forehead, which hid the struggle he must have felt below.

“If things were different,” he said slowly. “If I was a different person.”

“If you were a different person, I wouldn’t be…I wouldn’t want you,” I said, trying to get him to see.

“You shouldn’t want me,” he sighed. “And I shouldn’t be pawing at you like this. Not when we are partners. Not when I have Jenn. And not now when I have a child.”

He was fucking right. Damn Jenn. Damn this unborn child and their stupid loveless relationship. The thought tore me up inside, erasing the moments of ecstasy I had been feeling only minutes before. I wanted to cry. My emotions were too high to handle. I should have just let him run off into the woods.

“Hey,” he whispered roughly, stroking my hair off of my face. “We’re OK. You know I’d do anything for you. You mean…
so
much to me.”

“But it’s not enough,” I choked out, avoiding his eyes in case the tears decided to come.

“Kiddo… Perry. We’re going to be OK. You still have me in every other way. You…you really have me more than she does. I’m here and I’m going to be here for you. We’re going to get through this. And tomorrow we’re going to leave this crazy place. For good.”

He had so much sincerity in his eyes that I had no choice but to believe him, or at least relent. I nodded, though I didn’t know what any of it meant. He smiled sweetly and kissed me on the forehead, keeping his warm lips there for a beat or two.

Then he got up, quickly put on his pants and tossed my pajamas at me. I gave him a shy smile and covered up my indecency.

He climbed back into the sleeping bag and patted the spot beside him. “Come here, please.”

I did as he said with my back to him. He held me tightly against him, our head sharing the pillow, his lips at my ear. “Things will be better tomorrow. You’ll see.”

I nodded.

“Good night, kiddo,” he said. He kissed the back of my head. It was only then I noticed the mad wailing had stopped and the only thing I could hear was my heart thumping slowly. It hurt just a little bit.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The next morning was Groundhog Day redux. Same whistling wind, flapping tarps, rat–a–tat sprays of rain against the tent, a gloomy blue glow and the ever–present damp nip in the air. If I had woken up to “I Got You Babe” on an AM radio, then it really would have been complete.

I was alone in the sleeping bag. I kind of preferred it that way. It gave me a chance to breathe and go over what the hell had happened last night. It was all coming back to me in the hazy light of day. The sound of his moans. The feel of his lips on me, like he wanted to eat me alive. The image of his head between my legs. Had Dex seriously gone down on me? Did he really run his mouth all over my body? Dex? My Dex? It seemed like a fabrication of my mind. I mean, I saw ghosts, why couldn’t I imagine a heated sexual experience with the man I was hung up on?

But then the feelings came back. Dex’s reluctance to go any further. His so–called allegiance to Jenn and her baby. Their baby. Ugh, the whole thing made me feel sick. Strangely enough, I didn’t feel any guilt for having been the other woman, even though I had been in Jenn’s position before. I just felt bad for Dex.

Although, I really shouldn’t have. After all, I didn’t force him to do anything. He kissed me first.