by Alexa Land
“You found ornaments?”
I held up a dark green hamper and said, “Better. I found yarn and knitting supplies. Would you mind if I used some of this stuff?”
“Use all of it.”
“Thanks. Where’d it come from?”
“I guess my grandmother must have tried to take up knitting at some point. Hey, what do you think of this for an ornament?”
He held up a vintage wooden fishing float with worn red and white paint, and I said, “That’s perfect.”
“Okay, good. Then grab that stuff and let’s get out of here, because my fingers are turning blue.”
We carried our finds back to the living room and sat on the rug right in front of the hearth, so we could warm up. While he tied fishing string loops to the tops of all the bobbers, I lined up the yarn in front of me and ran my fingers over the soft fibers. After a few moments, I asked, “Are you sure I should use this? Your mom might want it, since it belonged to her mother.”
“My mom doesn’t knit and isn’t sentimental, so she’d just throw it out. Take it all and enjoy it. That would have made my gran happy. Keep that hamper thing too if you want it.”
“Okay. Thank you again, I’ll put it to good use.”
“I know you will.”
I uncoiled a hank of thick, cream-colored yarn with subtle red and teal flecks running through it, then cut the string holding it together as I asked, “Will you help me with something?”
“Sure. What do you need?”
“Hold your hands like this.” I demonstrated by bending my arms and holding them up with their palms facing each other. When he did as I asked, I moved closer to him, looped the yarn over his hands, and began winding it into a ball.
I worked quietly for a couple of minutes, until he said, “So, here’s the thing.” I looked up at him as I kept wrapping the yarn around itself. “I think you’re adorable, and I desperately want to throw myself at you.” My hands stilled as he continued, “But I haven’t, for two reasons. First of all, you’re stuck here, and if I do anything to make you uncomfortable, this is going to turn very awkward, very fast. The other thing is, you mentioned you were a virgin last night, so it seems kind of sleazy to try to get you in the sack.”
“I’m only technically a virgin.”
“Still, do you see why I can’t make the first move here, even though I think you might be interested in me? I mean, you keep checking me out, and when we were cutting down the tree, there was a moment when I thought you were going to kiss me. But then you didn’t, so I don’t know if I’m misreading—”
The ball of yarn rolled under the couch as I lunged at Dakota and knocked him onto his back. When our lips met, the kiss was clumsy and urgent. He fought the yarn around his wrists like a bear in a trap, which was hilarious because it really wasn’t holding him. When I pulled it off, he grinned and said, “Thanks.” Then he grabbed me with both hands and kissed me again. It was even clumsier and more urgent than the first one.
He sat up and took me with him, and we stripped each other with a total lack of finesse, but with plenty of enthusiasm. We tumbled over each other, and he kicked off his pants and briefs while I unfastened my button and zipper. Then he grabbed my cuffs and yanked my jeans off me with a flourish. I started laughing and said, “That reminded me of the magic trick where they pull a table cloth out from under a bunch of dishes.”
He removed his mouth from my skin long enough to quip, “I’m all about showmanship,” and then he went back to kissing and nibbling my shoulder.
Our next tumble ended with Dakota partly on top of me. He grasped my cock and his in one hand and jerked us off while his tongue explored my mouth. I ran my hands over his skin and breathed in his clean scent, enjoying him with every part of me.
The feeling of his cock pressed against mine and his big hand stroking both of us was intense and brand new. When he tilted his head to kiss my neck, a moan of pleasure slipped from me, and I began thrusting into his fist. With each motion, my cock slid against his, compounding the sensation.
There was no way I was going to last long, not with all of that going on. In a matter of minutes, I shot all over my belly. He kept stroking us and came a minute later with a low moan that was sexy as hell.
Then he sat up and grabbed his shirt. I was disappointed, because I thought he was getting dressed. But he used it like a towel and wiped the cum from my body, then his. After that, he tossed the shirt aside and gathered me in his arms. He kissed my neck before raising his head and looking around. Then he found my glasses and handed them to me. I hadn’t even realized they’d fallen off.
Both of his arms were inked from wrist to shoulder, and there were large tattoos on his left hip and right calf. I traced the pattern on his bicep and said, “I’ve counted three wolves so far. What do they symbolize?”
Dakota grinned at me. “They don’t symbolize anything, because I’m not that deep. I just like wolves.” I grinned too and rolled onto my side, facing the fireplace.
He pressed against my back and wrapped his arms around me. When he licked my shoulder, I chuckled and said, “Why did you do that?”
“Do I need a reason?”
“Nope.”
We chatted about nothing in particular for a while, and then he said, “I could use a nap. How about you?”
“I’ll give it a shot, even though I probably won’t be able to fall asleep.”
We went into the bedroom and curled up together under his soft, warm comforter. He put his head on my chest, and I idly stroked his hair. I thought he’d drifted off, but after a while he said, “Just so you know, I’m not going to embarrass myself by asking to see you after this weekend. Your life and mine are very different, I get that. I also understand that this is just meant to be a quick fling with no expectations. Anyway, I just wanted to put that out there, so you don’t have to worry about any hard feelings at the end of it.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I just whispered, “Okay.”
He was right about all of that. So, why was it upsetting?
Chapter 3
When I awoke from the first nap I’d taken since I was a child, it was after sunset and Dakota was once again rattling around in the kitchen. The scents of pine, popcorn, and gingerbread filled the cabin, and a fire crackled in the hearth. When I listened carefully, I could hear Christmas carols playing at a low volume.
He’d thoughtfully collected my clothes and left them on the foot of the bed, and I got dressed before joining him. He was dancing around the kitchen with a red apron over his Henley, flannel shirt, and jeans, and I paused to watch him. It wouldn’t be accurate to say he had a lot of natural rhythm, but he was clearly having fun, and that was even better.
I had wondered if things would seem awkward between us, given what we’d done earlier. But when he turned and saw me standing there, a huge smile appeared on his handsome face. He turned up the radio before stepping around the counter and saying, “I found a station that’s playing nothing but Christmas music for the next week. Dance with me, Jed.”
“Is O Tannenbaum really dance music?”
“Everything is dance music if you just believe.” I chuckled at that as he took me in his arms.
The counters were heaped with baking supplies and racks of cookies, and as he twirled me around the room, I said, “You’ve been busy.”
“Our tree still needed something, so I got the idea to make gingerbread men that we can hang up as ornaments. I also made sugar cookie dough for my open house at the bar on Christmas Day, and I decided to bake a dozen to see if they’re any good.”
“Is it a new recipe?”
“No, it’s the one I use every year.”
“But you don’t know if they’re good?”
“Okay, you caught me. I just wanted to stuff myself with cookies.” He dipped me, which made me laugh, and then he said, “Dinner’s a major carb fest, too. I made us macaroni and cheese.”
“That sounds delicious.”
“I
t is. I already had two helpings.”
“How do you eat like that and look like you do?”
“Normally, I go all day on a bowl of cereal, plus a sandwich that I take to work, then forget about for seven or eight hours.”
I said, “You should take better care of yourself.”
“I should do a lot of things.”
A few moments later, I spotted something out of the corner of my eye, and I asked, “Did you see that?”
“See what?”
We stopped dancing and turned to look at the far corner of the cabin, which was mostly in shadow. When something moved, I said, “I think we have company.”
Dakota stepped back and asked me, “Are you afraid of rodents?”
“Not particularly. I grew up in an old farmhouse, and we had our fair share of mice. What about you?”
“I’m okay with mice. If it’s anything bigger, that’s a problem.”
We both approached the corner, and a dark shape skittered under a low bookcase beneath the window. Dakota yelped and dove onto the back of the couch, which made me laugh. When I glanced at him, he said, “In my defense, that’s an enormous rat.”
I wasn’t convinced it was a rat at all, so I crossed the living room, knelt down, and took a look under the bookcase. Big, yellow eyes stared back at me. When I realized what I was looking at, I decided to have some fun with Dakota, so I muttered, “Wow, look at the size of that thing.” I slid the bookcase away from the wall at an angle, and then I held out my hand and said, “Come here, fella.”
“What are you doing?” He sounded shrill.
“Trying to get it to come to me.”
“Don’t touch it! What if it gives you rabies, or chews your hand off?”
“It’ll be fine. I’m like, the rodent whisperer.” I had my back to Dakota, and since he couldn’t see what I was doing, I said, “Here it comes, and—oh my God!” I thrashed around, pretending to struggle, while I pulled my cuff down over my hand. Then I spun around and held up my arm as I yelled, “He chewed my hand clean off!”
Dakota produced a shriek that sounded like he was starring in a horror movie and fell off the back of the couch, and I dropped onto the floor and howled with laughter. When I finally got it together, I sat up and said, “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Do you have any tuna?”
“That’s so random. Why do you want tuna?”
“I’m going to make a poultice for my bloody stump.” I pulled my cuff over my hand again and held it up, and he chuckled. Then I said, “Actually, there’s a skinny little cat hiding back here, and I think he’ll be more likely to come to me if I have something to offer him.”
“A cat?” When I nodded, he asked, “Are you sure? Because it definitely seemed rat-like when it was skittering under the furniture.”
I shifted around so I was leaning against the wall and said, “It’s definitely a cat. I’m looking right at him.”
After he dished up a plate of tuna, Dakota sat beside me on the floor. We both watched as the little animal cautiously crept toward the food, which was right beside me. His black fur was spiky, as if it had gotten wet at some point. I hated the thought of him out in that storm the night before.
When the cat started wolfing down the tuna, I asked, “Where do you think he came from?”
“Well, he doesn’t seem feral. I doubt he’d come this close if he was. I also don’t think he belongs to a neighbor, because the only cabins within miles are empty until ski season begins. So, maybe someone abandoned him in the woods. I’ve heard that happens sometimes.”
“That’s terrible.”
“I know. As far as how he got inside, I bet he took shelter on the covered porch last night, then slipped through the open door at some point. Maybe it was when we were watching the plane drop off the condoms, or when I went out for firewood a little while ago.”
“That makes sense. I could definitely see him wanting to come in out of the cold.” Once the food was gone, I held out my hand. The cat sniffed it, then butted it lightly with his head. I scratched his ears and said softly, “I want to keep him, but I work all the time. It wouldn’t be fair to a pet to be left alone in my tiny apartment for hours on end.”
“I work all the time, too.” When I turned to Dakota with a pleading look in my eyes, his expression softened. “Then again, my bar could use a mascot.” He leaned over me and asked the cat, “What do you think? Do you want to hang out with me?” The cat blinked at him, and Dakota said, “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Really? You’re going to keep him?”
“Sure, why not? I could use the company.” When Dakota tried to pet the cat, it darted under the bookshelf. He just shrugged and said, “Well, he’ll come to me when he’s ready.” Then he got up and held his hand out to me, so he could help me to my feet. “Come on, let’s get you a big bowl of that mac and cheese. You must be hungry.”
While I ate, Dakota made a makeshift litter box with newspapers in a disposable roasting pan and put a bowl of water on the floor for the cat. Then we tossed names back and forth. None of them really clicked, so we held off on a decision.
After dinner, he mixed up a batch of icing, and we used baggies as pastry bags and decorated the gingerbread men. Mine were all perfectly uniform with smiley faces, bow ties, and rows of buttons. Dakota’s were more creative. He drew a V-shaped sling on one of them, and I asked, “What is that?”
“It’s a mankini.”
“A what?”
“Think of it as a banana hammock with shoulder straps.” When I raised an eyebrow, he said, “Hey, I didn’t invent it.”
When he started drawing on another gingerbread man, I asked, “What are you doing to that poor guy?”
“I’m dressing him in a 1970s leisure suit with a huge, pointy collar and lots of gold chains.”
“You missed your calling. You should have been a fashion designer.”
“Right?”
He started chuckling as he decorated another one. I glanced at what he was doing and said, “Is that a ball gag?”
“It is! He’s a kinky cookie. I also put him in a tiny harness, a studded jockstrap, and boots.”
“That’s very festive.”
“I thought so.”
While he drew a plaid suit on the next one, I looked at my uniform row of gingerbread men and said, “Mine are so boring compared to yours.”
“It’s not too late to dress them up a bit. If you want to leave them all neat and tidy, that’s fine, too. Here’s the last undecorated one. Go nuts or don’t, it’s your choice.”
He placed the cookie in front of me and went back to concentrating on his man in plaid. I stared at it for a long moment, and then I gave it hair and a beard, a plaid shirt, and jeans. Dakota grinned at me and said, “There you go. A lumberjack.”
“It’s supposed to be you.”
“Well, then that’s perfect, because my entire wardrobe looks like it’s from the lumberjack store.”
I started laughing and said, “I don’t think there’s a lumberjack store.”
“Sure there is. They sell saws in the front and flannel shirts in the back.” He flashed me a teasing smile.
We moved to the couch while the icing dried, and I began knitting a scarf out of that cream-colored yarn as we talked about any random subject that came to mind. Eventually, the cat emerged from his hiding place, sat by the hearth, and started grooming himself, and I paused and looked around me.
The fire was warm and cozy, and the tree looked festive with its colored lights. A Christmas carol I’d heard a million times was playing on the radio, but one phrase jumped out at me this time—comfort and joy. It perfectly summed up not only that moment, but my time at the cabin.
Dakota and I sat at opposite ends of the couch, facing each other with our feet tangled up in the middle. After a while, he grinned and said, “I couldn’t imagine you knitting at first, because it seemed like such a laid-back hobby. But now I get it. You’re working on that scarf like you’re trying to me
et a deadline.”
Actually, I was. I really wanted to make a Christmas present for Dakota, and a hat and scarf to keep him warm seemed perfect. In a way, it would be like taking care of him, even after I went back to San Francisco.
Later on, we hung the gingerbread men from the tree, which ended up involving tiny harnesses that we made out of ribbon. Then, since Dakota had totally trashed the kitchen, I gestured at the sink and said, “I’ll wash, you dry.”
He cranked up the Christmas music as I filled the sink with sudsy water, and proceeded to sing along to every song while we worked our way through the dishes. When we were just about done, he surprised me by kissing the back of my neck. I turned to look at him, and he pulled me into his arms and pressed his lips to mine. The sponge fell out of my hand, and I grabbed the lapels of his flannel shirt with my soapy hands as my cock started to swell.
Dakota was definitely a man of action. He flung me over his shoulder, carried me into the other room, and tossed me onto the bed. Not twenty seconds later, my pants and briefs were off, and my cock was down his throat.
All my higher brain functions shut off as he sucked me. After a while, I realized I was moaning pretty loudly, which normally would have embarrassed me. But what he was doing felt fantastic, and I didn’t want to hold back.
Soon his warm, wet mouth took me over the edge, and I shot down his throat while I arched off the mattress. That huge orgasm seemed to go on forever, and when it finally ebbed, I was lightheaded and shaking. Dakota stripped off his jeans and the shirt I’d soaked with dishwater, and then he climbed into bed and held me in his arms.
I buried my face in his neck and tried to catch my breath. After a minute or two, I muttered, “That was incredible.”
“Glad you liked it.” He sounded amused.
“I plan to reciprocate. I just need a minute.”
My eyes were shut, and he pulled the blanket up to my shoulders and said, “I’ll take a raincheck. You look like you’re about to fall asleep.”