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I can’t think that way. I want to know what a kiss from Briar Short is like when I can remember it.
In winter, the days are short, and I worry wherever we’re going we won’t make it before dark. He refuses to tell me where or what this special place is. He’s probably miffed since the ice rink wasn’t much of a surprise to me. We’ve left the city behind us and entered an even more suburban area, and I begin to wonder if he’s taking me home. Home can be special…with the right people.
On the horizon, despite the growing darkness, it’s bright, colorfully bright. A glow like the city, but in a different way.
“Wow,” I gasp as he slows down, turning into a neighborhood.
Every house is lit up with massive decorations from lights to inflatables, to themes in their design. Every single house is Christmas in luminescence.
“It’s gorgeous,” I add as he parks.
We get out and he naturally loops his arm with mine and escorts me through the neighborhood. He shares with me each house’s style, previous decorations he remembers, and which ones are his favorite. At the end of a cul-de-sac, we stop in front of a house that glows red more than any other color. It takes me a moment to realize the design is that of Santa Claus, the whole house is outlined like the great fat man himself.
“Holy shit, this is so cool. I can see why you love this.”
“My dad was the one to discover this place after we moved. Every year he brought us here,” Briar explains, normally golden eyes reflecting red from the lights. He sniffles a little and shakes his head, as if to shake off the mournful memories.
I give his arm a squeeze and rest my head on his shoulder, taking in the crisp cool air with a deep inhale.
“I come here now mostly by myself. Most houses are set up the day after Thanksgiving, so I have plenty of time to visit. I probably come once a week, if I need a pick-me-up. Holidays are hard without him.”
This is it. This is the time. We are alone, there are no interruptions just Briar and pretty houses, and my heart beating a million miles a minute in my chest.
Looking up at him, he’s no longer staring at the houses but directly at me.Into me.His eyes glow with more than just the reflection of the lights, something deep within them that makes me want to sing carols and sip more cocoa and never leave his side.
I rise to my tip toes and my lips brush his. A gentle kiss, a timid one…But a kiss. I manage to kiss Briar Short, my little brother’s best—
Briar grabs me, pulling me up against him so quickly that my feet leave the ground for a moment. It’s as though I’ve popped the cork on a bottle of bubbly and the excitement and deliciousness is spilling over. His mouth moves mine, his tongue seeking permission as he deepens the kiss.
His fingers dive under my jacket, pawing at my waist, while he tries to mold our bodies into one languid heated form. My lips follow his lead, and a soft moan escapes me when a hand slides lower than my waist to grip my ass in a possessive hold.
“I need you,” he whispers mid-kiss, not wanting to break apart to even speak.
I can barely find my breath, let alone the words to answer him, so I nod. I agree wordlessly as he ravages me there in front of brightly lit homes on a cool memorable winter’s night.
In minutes, we’re back at his house, a short car ride with shared kisses at stop lights, and a large hand always on my thigh, sliding up and down the synthetic fabric of my tights, each slope sneaking higher to brush under the jean fabric of my skirt. He’s practically all the way to the apex by the time we pull into his driveway and I’m panting with every closer touch.
Clothes matter little where we’re going. We shed the winter layers at the door, tangled in scarves as we barely manage to keep our hands and lips to ourselves. Briar has a way of making me feel petite when I am the furthest from it. His longer fingers squeeze my waist. I almost believe they encase me and the way he has to tilt down to kiss me. No man has ever had to do that.
He one-ups the moment as he picks me up, my legs wrapping his hips as he pushes me into the wall of the hallway. Every moment is lost in a sea of motion. I’m riding waves that pulse through me from him. I moan as his lips ride along my jaw and then nibble my ear, yanking on the fabric of my turtleneck to get to the rest of me. It falls in a puddle in the hallway, forgotten as he kisses his way down to the tops of my breasts. I heave and pant from the intensity of it all.
He nips the fabric of my bra, pulling it down with his teeth to clasp my nipple. I purr as he licks and grazes the sensitive peak with his teeth.
I’m soaked. I’m wet through my panties to my tights. He grinds into me, his own breath labored as we both let go of any hesitance for the situation.
“Briar,” I moan sweetly, my head hitting the back of the wall, his attention to my breasts an appetizer for the main course that I really want.
“Jojo,” he kisses each of my shoulders before finding my mouth again, “tell me you want this. Tell me you want me.”
“I want you so bad.”
“Say my name again,” he demands, suckling on a sweet spot behind my ear lobe.
“I want you, Briar,” I cry out, arching my back.
“I’m going to give it to you, Jojo. You’re going to get all of me.”
He picks me up off the wall and doesn’t let me go until he sets me down onto the mattress. He undresses me first, unbuttoning my skirt slowly then just as slowly pulling off my underwear until I’m naked and he’s standing over me still dressed, like I’m Christmas morning. His chest rises and clenches.
