Let it Snow

by Delancey Stewart

  “It’s amazing,” I said. “Now I feel stupid for getting you a joke gift.” My heart sank a bit—how had he managed to find something so perfect in that stupid shop? I didn’t see these there. But I’m not sure I would have thought to buy one if I had.

  “This is no joke,” Brogan said, pointing at the saying on his mug. “I would be lying if I told you that I’d never had beer in a coffee mug. Now I can just be upfront about it.”

  “You’re just trying to make me feel better. I want to get you something good. Something real. Like this.” I held up the sparkling snow globe. It was plastic, but it was perfect. “When’s your birthday?” The question was out before I thought much about what it implied. Would I even still know this guy on his birthday? Would he want to know me?

  “Not until August, I’m afraid.” Brogan looked at me hard for a moment after the words were out, and then a smile spread across his face. “Might I hope that you and I will still know each other in August?”

  Relief flooded me, and I smiled, but my heart was skipping beats. Why was the thought of still knowing Brogan in August so exciting? I barely knew the guy, had spent next to no time with him, and really knew absolutely nothing about him. But suddenly, the idea of not knowing him in August was the saddest thing I could imagine. “I hope so.”

  Brogan’s smile spread, and the dimples made another appearance. He scooted closer to me and put an arm around my shoulders. We sat like that, my head on his shoulder looking up at the tree, for what felt like a long time.

  I pressed myself into the curve under Brogan’s arm. I was content, but part of my mind was spinning, trying to figure out how to get him to kiss me again. I’d never been the most forward of girls. I could sigh and try to turn my head ever so slightly, or maybe just turn and attack him. Despite all the signs and words between us, I couldn’t work up the courage. I did sigh, but it was more out of frustration with my own inability to just kiss the incredible man beside me.

  The terminal had gone quiet around us, most of the other stranded travelers and workers claiming a cot for the night and dozing at the other end of the long space.

  “I’ll be honest,” Brogan said, his voice low and soft.

  “Okay,” I whispered.

  “I’m just sitting here trying to decide if I can convince you in some clever way to kiss me again.”

  My heart zinged. “All you’d have to do is ask.”

  “Would you kiss me again, Dixie?”

  “I’d love to.” I turned my head and stretched my neck up to meet Brogan. The second our lips touched, the fire low in my core burst back to life.

  Brogan’s body turned toward me and he gathered me in his arms, pulling me onto his lap. It was awkward at first, as I tried to get as close to him as my body demanded while still keeping my skirt pulled down to an appropriate length near my knees. But as the kiss deepened, our tongues matching each other stroke for stroke, I couldn’t repress the desire for more. My body was taking over, and my conscious mind was retreating into a dim haze, curling into a contented ball and settling in for a nap. I gave up all pretense of self-control and climbed farther onto Brogan’s lap, one knee on either side of him. Brogan chuckled into my lips, the sound vibrating through me, and then he pulled me against him, hard.

  My breath was coming in gasps as my center pressed up against Brogan’s belt. And judging by the bulge I felt just beneath me, I wasn’t the only one on the edge. Brogan’s arms were around me, one hand on my ass, pulling me constantly nearer, as his tongue became more demanding.

  He broke off the kiss then, and suddenly his breath was on my throat, followed by his lips and the tip of his tongue, tracing soft circles up beneath my ear.

  “Oh God,” I moaned. Hearing my own voice brought me back to myself, and I jumped backwards, clasping a hand over my mouth and darting my eyes around to see if anyone was close enough to have heard. Making out ferociously with near strangers beneath fake trees at airports was not on the list of nice-girl activities.

  “Was that all right?” Brogan looked worried.

  “It was … God, no. It was more than all right. I just realized that I’m sitting on the floor in an airport at midnight on Christmas Eve, making out and moaning like a slut!”

  Brogan looked embarrassed when I said the word ‘slut,’ and I immediately regretted it. I was slut-shaming myself and making him feel guilty—neither of which was my intent.

  “I mean … I’m enjoying myself. And you …” I couldn’t meet his eye when I said that. “But we’re out here in the open …”

  “You’re right. I’m so sorry, I’m not really being a gentleman, am I?”

  “Trust me, I don’t really mind.” I had an idea then—maybe a bad one, but it seemed pretty good at the time. “Hey, come with me.” I stood up and offered Brogan my hand, adjusting my hemline with the other hand.

  “All right.” Brogan gathered our belongings and followed.

  8

  Kissing Santa Claus

  Dixie

  I wandered behind the tree, my gaze scanning the terminal walls between gates. “Here!” I stood in front of an unmarked door. “This must be it!” Grinning at Brogan, I knocked hard on the door.

  After a moment, Brogan looked at me skeptically. “Seems no one’s home.”

  “Good,” I said, pulling the door open. As promised, there was a bucket and a mop, along with several brooms and a vacuum cleaner. Toilet paper rolls and paper towels lined the shelves next to a small utility sink. But there was an open wall in the back, and there was a gentle glow from a hidden light somewhere below.

  “Clever girl,” Brogan said, pulling me into his arms and then pressing my back against the wall and allowing the door to swing shut behind us, our belongings tucked just inside. “Now I can kiss you properly.”

  “If that wasn’t a proper kiss outside, then I’m not sure I’ll survive this,” I said. I was practically squirming in anticipation. I wanted this—whatever this would be—with this man. Now.

  Brogan leaned his head forward as one hand gripped my ass and pulled me into him, wrenching a surprised gasp from me. His tongue found mine just as the hard evidence of his arousal pressed into my stomach. I rubbed myself against him, and he groaned into my mouth. Smiling, I did it again, wetness pooling between my thighs.

  He deepened the kiss, both hands dropping to my butt and grasping me firmly, almost pinching me.

  I heard myself moan again, and the total lack of control I seemed to have over this vocal reflex had me wondering momentarily if I moaned a lot. Like maybe when someone brought me a perfect plate of nachos, or an excellent margarita. Was I an unconscious moaner? Though I was curious about this, the idea slipped from my mind as the combination of pleasure and near-pain from his dominating grasp had me writhing in Brogan’s arms, struggling to press myself more fully against him. Moans be damned!

  With a grunt, he lifted me off my feet, and I wrapped my legs around him, pulling myself into the sizeable bulge in his jeans. He leaned into me, driving himself against my center, and I moaned again as he hit exactly the right spot.

  My hands explored his chest, his neck and his glorious wavy dark hair as he thrust against me over and over again, one hand firmly on my breast. My entire body was on fire, and without really thinking about anything except getting more, I began pulling at his shirt, helping it over his head. I threw it onto the floor and pulled my head back to look at him. His muscles stood out from the effort he was exerting in holding me off the floor, the cut, rounded lines of his shoulders tapering down into perfect biceps that flexed each time he moved. My hands slid over the smooth planes of his chest, lingering to pinch his nipples lightly.

  He chuckled, a throaty rumble, and looked at me with eyes heavily lidded with lust. He was even more handsome aroused than he had been before. He leaned in and kissed me again, lightly, and then pulled away to look at me again, a question in his eyes.

  I pulled my dress up to my waist and over my head, throwing it aside. I was g
lad I was wearing my lacy black bra, though I certainly hadn’t planned on this. But as Brogan scanned my torso, I remembered the Spanx I’d shimmied into this morning to give me a leaner line. The Spanx that were flesh-toned and shiny and decidedly not sexy. The Spanx that Brogan was now staring at with a mixture of amusement and confusion on his face.

  “When I was in grammar school a lot of the girls wore shorts under their skirts,” he said, his voice still sexy as hell. “So that they could do flips on the monkey bars.” His eyes twinkled as I felt a blush crawl up my skin. “Were you planning to do some flips later, love?”

  I climbed down from my perch against the wall and pushed Brogan away, embarrassed. “I didn’t know anyone would see these,” I said. I pulled them off, revealing tights and my lace thong underneath. “They’re for shaping,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant. “They’re called shapewear. They help enhance your—”

  “Shape?” Brogan said, grinning.

  “Yes!” I didn’t know how to feel. I was still as turned on as I’d ever been, but now Brogan had seen my less-than-flattering shapewear, and he knew that I wasn’t the slimmest of girls without it. I exhaled loudly in frustration. “Seriously. I’m sorry, I didn’t know I’d be taking them off in an airport broom closet! I didn’t plan …”

  Brogan’s hands were on me again, peeling the tights from my body. He dropped to his knees, his mouth just in front of the tiny thong that was now soaked clean through. As his hot breath hit me, I lost the power of speech and forgot to be embarrassed. Brogan’s long fingers were creeping around the sides of my ass, pulling the thong down slowly, as he planted hot kisses on the fabric at the front.

  Through the thin fabric, I felt a vibration, and it took me a moment to realize that Brogan was talking. “I like shapewear,” he said. “Like unwrapping a gift, just more layers to take off before you get to the present.” His voice reverberated off my most sensitive parts and I felt my knees starting to give way. I heard myself respond, but whatever I said sounded a lot like, “gunh.” Or maybe it was just another moan. I decided that maybe the time for conversation had passed.

  I sank to my knees in front of Brogan, my dress acting as a cushion, kissing him hard before dropping my hands to his belt. I unfastened the buckle and then slid my fingers along the line of the waistband of his jeans, letting myself feel the soft skin just underneath it. Brogan’s breath came faster.

  I unfastened the button at the top of his jeans and let one hand drop downward, gliding along the length of the erection I felt just beneath the fabric. At the bottom, I dug my fingers inward, giving him a squeeze that made Brogan inhale quickly. I returned to the work of unfastening his zipper and then pushed his jeans and boxers from his hips, his significant erection springing free and standing upright against his belly.

  Brogan rose slightly and pushed the jeans down farther on his legs, and I stood and removed my thong. Then I leaned over and fished a condom out of the side pocket of my purse, tearing it open as I knelt back down.

  “Prepared, aren’t you?”

  “I’m a planner,” I breathed. “I can’t help it.”

  Brogan watched as I took him into my hand, palming the thick vein that ran along the length of him and then curling my fingers around his girth. I pumped my fist up and down his length for a few strokes, Brogan’s eyes never leaving my hand, and then I rolled the condom along his length.

  He reached out and put his hands around my waist, raising me to my feet again so that I stood before him as he sank back to his knees, his mouth at the perfect height to taste the wetness between my legs. I braced my hand against the wall behind me as Brogan’s tongue explored, one hand on my ass and one hand on his own erection. I moved against his mouth, gasping for breath as his tongue worked quick circles against me. The hand behind me moved around to explore my wetness and soon was working in concert with his tongue, as I leaned into the wall for support and cried out, my hands buried in his hair. I didn’t want to finish yet, and it took every ounce of strength I had to wiggle away, out of his grasp.

  He stood, taking me with him as his hands circled my waist. Slowly, he lowered me downward until his tip touched me gently. We both exhaled as his length slid inside me, filling me completely. I undoubtedly moaned again, but I no longer cared. He eased me back up, and then pushed inside again, going farther this time. One more gentle thrust, and his entire length was inside me, stretching me and making me wonder if I’d ever actually felt this complete.

  I wrapped my legs around him again, and Brogan took over, using his hands to raise and lower me as he thrust into me. I let my head fall back and Brogan’s mouth found my throat again as he pushed completely into me. He held me tightly there, neither of us moving for a moment.

  I could feel him moving inside me, his length pulsing gently. “You’re amazing,” I whispered.

  “You. Are. Amazing.” Brogan breathed. He kissed me then, gently, and with a passion that I didn’t think I’d ever felt in a kiss before, not even with Paul, who I’d been ready to marry. Here, against the wall of a broom closet in the airport with a man I barely knew, I had found the most passionate moment of my life so far. That was saying something. That thought passed briefly through my mind, but was quickly replaced with something closer to ohmygodohmygodohmygod, as Brogan began pressing rhythmically into me. I could feel myself veering closer and closer to climax, and knew from Brogan’s breathing that he wouldn’t be far behind.

  When a solid thrust sent me reeling over the edge, I heard myself moaning again and felt rockets explode within me. Stars danced behind my eyelids as a gentle buzz took over my mind, vibrating through my limbs. Through it all, Brogan held me firmly, never stopping the gentle rhythm that had me spinning, until he was gasping with his own release. As we finished, I wrapped my arms and legs tightly around him, kissing his lips with a tenderness I was surprised to feel.

  After several long moments, Brogan lowered me down until my feet touched the floor, pulling out slowly and smiling down at me.

  “That was the best Christmas gift I’ve ever received,” he told me, smiling. “Besides meeting you.”

  I felt myself glowing and smiled up at him. “Me too,” was all I could manage.

  “You weren’t joking about being a planner,” Brogan said, pulling down a roll of paper towels and handing them to me as he cleaned himself up. “In fact, I think you planned this whole thing to seduce me into this closet.”

  “I do like to control things,” I said. “But even I cannot control the weather.”

  “And you probably wouldn’t have chosen to be stranded here instead of with your family.”

  “I don’t know,” I said, meaning it. “It’s been a pretty nice night, actually.”

  Brogan smiled at me as he dressed and helped me straighten my own dress. “What do we call these shiny shorts?” he asked, handing me the Spanx.

  “They’re shapewear. Spanx,” I said, accepting them, embarrassed.

  “Well, your shape is perfect,” Brogan said. “But if you want to swing around on the monkey bars, then they make sense.”

  I didn’t have the energy to shimmy back into those things. I shoved the shorts into my bag and straightened up. “Ready?” I asked.

  “After you.”

  9

  Home for the Holidays

  Dixie

  We exited the closet and retook our spot under the Christmas tree. Brogan jogged to the other end of the terminal and took the pillows and blankets from a couple of empty cots, and returned to make us a little nest by the painted fire. Together we dozed as the storm cleared overhead and the snowdrifts were turned to silver by the glittering stars. Sleigh bells might have tinkled across the sky above, but we were far away, dreaming of one another while we lay snuggled together.

  Morning came clear and bright, and I awoke to find Brogan holding me in his arms, smiling down at me. I smiled up at him and then glanced quickly around, remembering where we were. Other passengers had begun arriving, and many were wa
ndering by, giving us odd looks as they made their way toward the gates, which were back in operation.

  “I guess we’d better check on our flights,” I said, realizing that I was close to saying goodbye to Brogan.

  “I think I won’t go at this point,” Brogan said. “I’ve already had the most enjoyable holiday I’ve ever spent. And time with my family will only darken the memory.”

  I stared at him. There were so many things he hadn’t shared. “You can’t spend Christmas alone, though,” I said. As much as I wanted to stay here with Brogan, I found that I still wanted to get home and see my family, too. Especially my mother and Nana.

  “Don’t worry about me, Dix,” Brogan said, the smile lighting his eyes. “But you can expect that I’ll be calling you rather often. I will be going through withdrawal while you’re away.”

  An idea made me squeal. “No! Don’t call me.”

  “Don’t call you?” Brogan’s voice was low with disappointment.

  “No, come with me!”

  “To Oregon?”

  “Yes! Why not?”

  “Why not?” he said slowly. “Your parents?”

  “They won’t mind. The more the merrier! Let’s go get you a ticket!”

  We gathered our things and pushed back out through security, pausing to visit our respective bathrooms. There were tickets available on the first flight to Portland, and I transferred my ticket to sit next to Brogan on the flight.

  As we waited at the gate, I called my mother.

  “Mom, I got a flight. I’ll be home at noon.”

  “That’s wonderful! We haven’t sung a single carol without you. All your gifts are right here waiting for you.”

  “Actually, Mom?”

  “What’s wrong, dear?”

  I looked at Brogan as I said, “I got an unexpected gift last night while I was stranded at the airport. And I’m bringing him home with me.”