What Happens During the Holidays: A Holiday Anthology

by Lucy Gage

“Why don’t you show me how much?” His hands on my hips ground me down over his impressive erection. When I moaned, he gave me a smug look that had my toes curling.

  No matter how much time had passed, some things would never change. I laughed at his arrogance and set about to showing him just how much I loved him.

  Tessa sat on the edge of the chair, her legs swinging back and forth as she watched her mom and Jake dance in the backyard to Tom Petty’s “Wildflowers.”

  Jake liked to sing that song to her. He liked to sing a lot of songs to her. It was her favorite when he sang the song about feelings from Sesame Street that Dave Matthews sings with Grover. She loved Grover.

  When a baby started crying, she looked at her aunt Michelle. It was probably time to eat. Her little brother, Benjamin, always cried when he was hungry.

  When Jake came over and took her hand, she squealed with delight. She loved dancing with Jake and Momma.

  “Are you having fun?” Momma asked her as they spun around the dance floor.

  “Yes!” She shrieked when Jake twirled her really fast, just the way she liked.

  “You know what makes this day so special?” Momma asked when they slowed down again. “It’s the fact that you and Benjamin get to share it with us.”

  “Yep. It’s the perfect wedding day,” Jake added.

  As Jake continued to spin her around into the next song, Tessa had to agree. It really was perfect.

  Jessica is the author of the Love Square & Concierge series. She grew up in Central New York, where she currently lives with her husband, daughter and two dogs. Her days are spent as a Security Analyst at an IT consulting company. In her free time, she enjoys reading books and developing ideas for her own stories. Writing is her secret passion that she’s been fostering since elementary school, when she wrote her first book about a puppy. It has always been a dream of hers to be able to share her stories with the world.

  Website: www.jessicaingro.com

  Facebook: jessicaingrobooks

  Twitter: @jingro

  Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Jessica-Ingro/e/B00E1MKBP2

  Mahalo

  Copyright © 2017 by Kelli Jean

  All rights reserved.

  Kellijeanauthor.com

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  What the hell am I doing?

  A few months ago, I’d gotten a friend request on Facebook from an old flame I’d lost touch with before Facebook was even a thing. I’d gone to Hawaii when I was sixteen in an exchange program for my school for two semesters, and I’d met Joseph Aalona Keoloha. He had been a gorgeous young man—only a year older than myself—and I’d had the biggest crush on him from the moment I laid eyes on him. He’d been my first real kiss, my best friend while I was there, and incidentally, the one I’d given my virginity to.

  He’d lost his to me, too.

  We had kept in touch the first few months after I’d gone back home, but over time, communication between us had stopped. I’d gone to college for creative writing and journalism in New York and lost track of a lot of things as life moved forward. I was sure Joseph could say the same.

  But, he’d found me on social media at the exact time I needed some positivity in my life. We’d ended up chatting several times a week, at all hours of the day and night—I was six hours ahead of him in New York.

  He was still surfing like a beast and loved pineapple on his pizza, things I could never forget about him. But he’d gone to college in Miami, of all places, graduating with a degree in marine biology and wildlife conservation. He’d devoted his life to saving and preserving the islands of his home.

  When he’d asked me what I’d had planned for the holidays, and I’d gone into the diatribe of why I was spending it alone, he’d told me to pack up and visit him.

  Which was how I ended up at Honolulu International Airport, asking myself what the hell am I doing? I hadn’t seen this guy in thirteen years. He seemed like the same Joseph I had known, and I’d stalked his social media to make sure.

  His photos though . . . damn, the man had only gotten better-looking with age. His most recent pictures showed him bare-chested and fit as fuck, his skin glowing a delicious mocha shade, his long dark hair wet as he held up a mahi-mahi fish he’d just caught. He’d been sporting a scruffy beard—shorter on the sides, longer on the chin—and straight white teeth. His smile had always been killer.

  I couldn’t imagine what he’d think when he saw me. I’d only just dropped the twenty pounds I’d put on during my recent depression, and my jeans sagged off my ass so badly that I needed a belt to keep them up. My well-worn and faded NOLA’s Own band T-shirt looked all right, though.

  Once I grabbed my luggage from the carousel, my nervousness kicked in big time. What are we going to do? We hadn’t flirted with each other in our messages at all. It had been two friends getting reacquainted with one another. Maybe I’m too tired and over analyzing everything.

  This could be what I needed to drag me out of my funk—a tropical vacation away from everything and anyone familiar. Some excitement. I’d work on tanning my pale ass—well, freckling it, more likely. But a healthy dose of sunlight and alcohol with the company of my hot and sexy friend might do wonders for me.

  Dragging my suitcase behind me, I headed into Arrivals. Within seconds, I spotted Joseph—holy shit, he’s enormous! He’d been tall when I’d known him all those years ago, but he’d grown even more and stood at least six-feet-six-inches now. But he was ripped from head to toe, dressed in his Hawaiian surfer shorts, tank top—seriously, one deep breath and it would shred off his chest—and flip-flops. His fuzzy face busted out into a huge grin, and a thrill passed through my body, knowing it was all for me.

  I smiled back and quickened my pace. As I approached him, his arms opened wide and scooped me into the hugest hug I’d ever received. I had no choice but to drop the handle of my suitcase and hold on for dear life.

  “I can’t believe you’re here!” he said, his seriously deep voice vibrating against my chest, which was another thing that had changed about him. His voice had been masculine and sexy as a teen, but as a man . . .

  Oh, shit. I’m in trouble.

  Joseph loaded my luggage in the back of his SUV, and then we headed from the airport to a road that led deeper into the jungle. The sun was sinking below the horizon, and in the shadow of the mountain we were currently ascending, the world was plunged into tropical twilight.

  “I’m glad you came,” he told me. “Ever since we started chatting, I’ve missed the days when we used to hang out and talk music and shit. I wanted to do it again.”

  We did a lot more than talk music and shit, I thought dryly. Pointing that out would be presumptuous and a bit rude. He might not have any desire to have sexual relations with me, even though sitting this close to him was damn near setting my vagina on fire—in a good way. Not a gross way. Regardless, it was bad, because I hadn’t had sex in a really long time, and I wasn’t the sort of person to have casual sex.

  Now, though, I was fucking considering it, and I wondered how embarrassing it would be to throw myself at him. I should stop thinking about sex altogether. I probably reeked of desperation.

  “It was some of the best times of my life, living here,” I replied. “I’ve always missed it.”

  “How come you didn’t come back sooner?”

  The memory of promising him that I would one day return surfaced in my mind, and I winced. “Life got in the way, man.
How come you never contacted me when you went to Miami?”

  His laughter resounded pleasantly around us, making me smile. “Fair point well made, Willow. I should have. I guess . . . life just got in the way, man.”

  “You had a girlfriend,” I lightly accused.

  His smile dimmed. “I did. Did you have a boyfriend?”

  “In college? Several—not all at once. You know I’m not like that. But, yeah, it was a wild time, for sure.”

  “But not as awesome as when you were here?”

  I shook my head. “No. That time was pure magic.”

  A sudden wave of melancholy swept over me. It really had been the best time of my life, and not because I was young and living for the moment, but because I had truly fit in here. The attitude, the atmosphere, the freaking climate—I hated the cold, the snow, the constant rush of New York. I was much more sedate. Some might even say lazy. I was a creative being, and listening to and writing about music was my passion.

  Hawaii had been the home of my heart. I was sorry to have lost sight of that.

  “I think so, too,” he softly told me. “Pure magic. Fuck, yeah.”

  After another thirty minutes, we pulled into the driveway of a sprawling house on stilts, the levels seemingly disappearing into the canopy above.

  “Holy crap!” I croaked.

  He turned to face me and smiled. “Just wait until you can see it in the sunlight. It’s pretty fucking cool.”

  “Did you build this?”

  He laughed and opened his door. “Not by myself. But I worked with the architect to design it. It’s solar paneled and ecologically friendly. It’s a little farther from the beach than I’d like, but it’s well worth the trade-off.”

  I bet, I thought. The last bit of light in the sky bounced off huge glass planes. It appeared most of his home was nothing but windows. It was probably like sleeping in the treetops.

  I got out of the car and gawked at Joseph’s home, stunned. I didn’t hear the car door shut as he took my suitcase, but I sure as hell felt it when his large hand closed around mine.

  Surprised, I looked into his face to find him warmly smiling down at mine. He laced our fingers together like he used to when he’d been my boyfriend. “Welcome back, Willow.”

  A fuzzy, tingly warmth spread through me, and I let him lead me into the house.

  “I’m on vacation from work until after the New Year,” Joseph said as we walked into an enormous, open living space. From floor to ceiling, windows offered views to the front and back of the house. “So, whatever you want to do, we’ll do it. How long do you plan on staying?”

  “I’m not really sure. I didn’t consider that far ahead.”

  “You don’t have to get back to work?”

  “No. I took a leave of absence for now.”

  Joseph smiled, lifting my suitcase as though I’d packed it with feathers. “Make yourself at home. I’ll just drop this off in the bedroom.”

  On my own for a few minutes, I turned in a slow three-sixty to take in the beauty of this place. It appeared Joseph had done quite well for himself. There weren’t a whole lot of personal items, but everything looked clean and expensive, and when daylight lit the place, I’d bet that the nature beyond the glass walls was all the decoration needed.

  He came back down the stairs, filling the space with his manliness and drop-dead gorgeous self.

  “Hungry? I picked up sushi before I came to get you. And I got beer.”

  “That,” I told him, “sounds perfect.”

  With my back resting against one of the armrests of the couch and my feet tucked beneath one of Joseph’s massive thighs as he sprawled out on the opposite side, I watched as he took a huge drag off the joint he’d rolled.

  “You know,” he said, exhaling and handing the joint to me. “I’ve read all your articles. I’ve kept them all, too. It blows my mind that you’ve met all these bands. We used to go on and on about the music we loved, and you got to go out and live it. I’m kind of jealous of that.”

  “You should be,” I replied, taking a hit and a swig of beer.

  His long arm reached across and gave my knees a friendly shove, then snatched the joint from my fingers. “Ass. What was your favorite band to interview?”

  “Um . . . jeez. I don’t even know. There are a few who were memorable. Devon GianFranco was definitely a favorite of mine. He’s very charismatic, smart, and super sexy.”

  Joseph scowled. “Did you get to bang him?”

  “No way! That’s totally unprofessional.”

  He got a strangely pained expression on his face. “Do you miss your husband?” he quietly asked.

  Ah, the bastard elephant in the room. The atmosphere suddenly plunged into a frigid space.

  My ex-husband was a big-time record producer, and I’d spent the last year in a bitter divorce battle. The douchebag had cheated on me, breaking our prenup agreement, and had to drop a massive cash settlement for destroying my emotional well-being. The settlement from my ex meant I never had to work again.

  I shook my head. “No. When I found out he was cheating on me, it was like the love shriveled up and died.”

  “How long were you together?”

  “Dated for a year and married for five. What about you? No ex-wives or crazy psycho girlfriends?”

  He smiled. “Not recently. Never married. But a few girlfriends did go psycho after we split. It’s been a while since I even bothered to date anyone. Have you seen anyone since the divorce?”

  “No.”

  “How come?”

  I shrugged as he handed me the joint. I took a few quick hits and passed it back before answering. “I kinda felt like shit about myself. Like, it really hit me hard, that I married a man who didn’t find me worthy enough to remain faithful. And worse, the chick was like, twenty. It made me feel old.”

  He coughed and wheezed around his toke. Sitting forward, I pounded him heartily on his back.

  Watering hazel eyes met mine. “Old?”

  He stubbed out the joint in an ashtray on the coffee table.

  “Well, what else was I supposed to think? I was already ten years younger than him. Apparently, that was too old, so he decided he needed an upgrade.”

  Joseph hooked an arm beneath my knees and dragged me flat onto my back. In a hazy sense of shock, I watched as he stretched out over me and gently rested his groin into mine. He held himself up with his elbows on either side of my head.

  Christ alive, he’s huge.

  “You’re not old, Willow.”

  “I know that!” I snapped. “But I’m not young either.”

  He slowly lowered his weight onto me, and my eyes widened as I felt his erection pressing into my heat.

  Holy shit, he wants me.

  “You’re perfect,” he whispered. “And that you’re finally here with me, Willow . . . After all these years, all the women I’ve known, you’re the one I couldn’t forget.”

  His soft, full-lipped mouth descended on mine, and it was like our very first kiss. Back then, I’d been out of my head with excitement—come to think of it, I was pretty sure we’d been stoned then, too—and now, I was just as thrilled.

  His tongue plunged past my lips, and I moaned at the familiar flavor invading my mouth. Joseph was fucking delicious, especially when seasoned with beer and weed.

  He ground himself between my legs, and I felt myself growing sloppy wet. Everything about this man turned me on like nothing else. My hands smoothed down his back and grabbed a solid pair of butt cheeks, pulling him into me. He obliged, dragging himself between my legs, drawing out the friction.

  “Fuck,” he groaned, his forehead dropping to mine. His left hand reached back and took my right one, then shifted to place it over the bulge in his shorts. “Touch me, Pulakaumaka.”

  The old endearment he used to call me—sweetheart—affected something deep inside me that I thought had died over this past year. My soul.
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  I squeezed him through the fabric, eliciting another deep-throated moan from him. Unable to stop myself, I slipped my hand down the front of his shorts, and to my delight, found him commando. When I met the silk and steel of his long, ridiculously thick cock, the air whistled through his teeth, and he buried his face into the crook of my neck.

  My fist closed around him firmly, and slowly I pushed back the foreskin, then pulled it back up. A copious amount of pre-cum gushed out, leaking over my thumb.

  “Joseph,” I whispered.

  He slightly pushed himself up and kissed me again, tangling our tongues in a sedate, sensuous rhythm. Scooting to the side, he slipped his hand under my jeans and panties, finding out just how badly I wanted him, too.

  “Holy fuck, Willow,” he growled. Slipping two fingers into me, he ground the heel of his hand into my clit in slow, teasing circles.

  “Don’t stop,” I begged.

  He gave me a strained grin. “I got you, baby. Keep jacking me off.”

  I resumed pumping my fist up and down his massive shaft. Since he’d been my first, I had naively believed all men were similarly endowed. Imagine my disappointment when I’d discovered that wasn’t the case.

  Now, it was back in my possession, and I was so fucking happy. It had been so long, and holy fuck, had I missed him.

  After a few minutes, he started thrusting his hips and groaning. He sounded so fucking sexy. I felt as though I was melting in on myself. Warm, gooey, liquid swirling sensations began thickening in my core.

  “Harder,” he rasped.

  My grip tightened on his cock, just as my cunt squeezed around his fingers. I was so close, so fucking close.

  With a deep, rumbling groan, his cock went iron-hard and pulsed as he spurted hot and viscous all over my hand and wrist.

  “Don’t let go of me,” he harshly said. “I want you holding me when you come.”

  “What do I do with . . .”

  “Just wipe it on me.”