58. Jo
Chapter 58
Jo
I lift my hand to knock, but the door swings open and Charlie trots between Isaac’s legs. His smile lights up the whole foyer as he grabs the two duffel bags from my shoulders.
“Holy shit, what do you have in here?” he teases.
“Okay, be nice or I’ll go back home.” I push into the living space. The room is illuminated by the colored lights we hung last weekend. “I needed Charlie’s stuff.” I drop my backpack next to the kitchen island. “And I brought snacks.”
Dad loved Christmas. So we all loved Christmas. Somehow, three years later, the wound of losing him is as open and painful as ever, and I just can’t bear to be in our childhood home without him. Mom and Chloe seem okay there, happy even, but I need to make new traditions this year.
The soft instrumentals of holiday music fall from the speakers next to Isaac’s record player. I glance out the living room windows where the snow has continued to fall, covering the cars and parking lot with a blanket of white. Even my car, which was just completely cleared for the drive from my apartment, has a light dusting of flakes covering the blue paint.
Isaac fiddles with a match box, trying to light the evergreen-scented candle sitting on the glass stovetop. The scent immediately fills the room, competing only with whatever Isaac has baking in the oven.
“The snow is supposed to get bad tonight,” he says, almost irritated. “We should keep an eye on the storm.”
I nod, confused as to why that would be an issue, when I am, in fact, here. The last thing I want to do is leave.
“My truck should be able to handle most anything I throw at it.”
“Isaac,” I say, quieter than intended. I gesture to the two duffle bags that he set next to the dining table. “I packed for three weeks. Snowstorm or not, I’d like to stay.” I swallow hard, searching his face for any sign of emotion.
“Be vulnerable, ” said Carmen when I told her my plans for the holiday break.
Isaac looks down at where Charlie lays on the tiled floor between us. “I’m sorry, girly. I’m gonna need a few minutes alone with your mom.”
He steps over her, surrounding me with his presence and hoisting me up into his arms. He takes off towards the bedroom at a near sprint.
“Isaac!” I yell playfully. “I haven’t even taken my boots off!”
He drops me down onto the bed, and I giggle.
“Great.” He says, crouching to pull off my snow boots, one at a time. “More for me to take off of you.” Isaac pauses, seeming to think for a moment about his next move. “If that’s what you want.”
“I really do,” I respond immediately. “I need you, Isaac.”
“Say it again.” He goes back to untying my right boot. I lean forward, placing both of my hands on his shoulders and whisper the words into his ear.
“I need you.” His hands move to my left boot and this time he doesn’t even bother to untie it, yanking until both the boot and my sock come flying off. I squeeze his shoulders and take a deep breath. “Lie down, Isaac.”
He locks his bright green eyes with mine and clears his throat. “What?”
“You heard me.” I have no idea where this confidence is coming from, but I know I had better use it before it dissipates. “Lie down.” He nods silently and sits down in the spot on the mattress I just occupied. He’s not a very good listener.
I make quick work of the button and zipper on his jeans, and he helps me pull them down his thighs and off his legs. He’s hard, pressed up against the fabric of his black boxer briefs, and I run the palm of my hand over the length of him. He groans.
“You don’t have to do this, Jo.” I settle onto my knees between his thighs and smirk, dipping my finger tips under the elastic waistband. He responds by pulling his t-shirt up and over his head, tossing it onto the floor next to me. I yank the fabric down over his hips, and his cock springs free. He sucks in a breath when I drag my tongue along the tip.
“Jocelyn,” he groans. The desperation in his voice fuels my confidence even more, and I take him as deep as I can into my mouth in one smooth motion. Isaac’s hand finds its way to the back of my neck, but he doesn’t force or change anything I’m doing. It’s just a simple reminder that he’s here and he’s enjoying his early Christmas gift.
“ Fuck , Jo.” I use my right hand to grip his base, moving my mouth up and down over him at a pace that feels natural and rhythmic. His fingers tangle into my hair at the base of my scalp, and I suck him into my mouth again. His quads tense with the motion, and he pulls gently on the hair at my neck. I glance up at him, my lips and fist still wrapped around him, and he watches me so intently that I feel like he sees every thought, emotion, and sensation in my body. “As much as I would love to see you on your knees like this for me forever, I need to be inside of you immediately.”
I pull back, dragging my tongue along the underside of his dick as I do, holding his gaze.
“You evil tease,” he whispers. “My turn.”
Isaac scoops me up by my armpits and throws me onto the mattress. I land on my side with a shriek, but roll onto my back, watching each flex of his back and arms as he stands and turns to face me. A streak of light from the hallway illuminates the angle of his clenched jaw.
His eyes trail slowly from the top of my head down to my waist. He blows a breath out through his nose and shakes his head in disbelief. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
Heat creeps up my chest and neck and spreads across my face. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Excuse me?”
“You don’t have to compliment me to get me to sleep with you.” I reposition myself on the mattress, maintaining eye contact with Isaac.
His expression turns dark, and he immediately kneels down onto the bed, spreading my legs with his thighs. He hovers over me for a moment, his hands on either side of my shoulders.
“Let me get one thing straight right now.” He balances the weight of his upper body on one arm and brings his other hand to rest on my throat. “My compliments are not coercion.” The pressure of his hand tightens ever so slightly. “Don’t you ever confuse the two.”
I have never in my life been spoken to in this manner.
And honestly, it’s exhilarating.
“Yes, sir.”
He smirks. “Now, let’s get these clothes off of you.”
By Christmas Eve, we’ve fallen into a familiar cadence. Mornings consist of sex, a shower, and the most elaborate breakfasts I’ve ever seen. Isaac preps eggs, bacon, pancakes, and toast, all while I sit at the kitchen island in his oversized crewneck sweatshirt—and nothing else—reading the most recent studies in the neuroscience literature out loud to him.
Afternoons and evenings are filled with board games and puzzles, Christmas movies and slow dancing in the kitchen. We’re playing house.
Honestly, it’s disgustingly cute, and I never want it to end.
But it’s going to end soon.
And there’s nothing I can do to stop the passage of time.
The snowstorm has continued over the last week, and our favorite meteorologists have assured us that it will end by the new year.
“Speaking of New Year’s Eve, what do you want to do?” Isaac asks between sips of coffee.
“What do you mean?”
New Year’s Eve has always been a mediocre holiday in my brain. The pressure and need to have someone to kiss at the stroke of midnight always irked me.
“Well, Liam mentioned a party.” He takes a seat at the dining room table across from me, scrolling mindlessly through social media on his phone. “It’ll be his last trip here for a while.”
“Oh,” I begin, certain that this is Isaac ditching me to hang out with his brother. After everything he’s been though this year with Sam, I can’t say that I blame him.
“But I’ll only go if you want to go with me,” he adds quickly, shutting down the negative trajectory of my thoughts.
“How fast do you think I can have a dress delivered?”
Isaac laughs and stands from his chair, leaning over the table to watch me scroll on my phone. “Knowing your experience with online shopping, Santa will bring you a dress tonight.”
He rounds the table and pulls my phone out of my hand, my attention shifting straight to where his tongue runs over his bottom lip. He wraps a hand around the back of my neck and places a gentle kiss on my forehead.
“Merry Christmas, Jocelyn.”
I wait for the butterflies to erupt in my stomach, but they don’t.
“It’s not Christmas yet, Isaac.”
I wait for the butterflies, but it only feels like home.
“I have plenty of missed Christmases to make up for, Jocelyn.” He kisses my forehead again, lingering before pulling away.
The butterflies that used to fly freely every time he came around? Those were anxiety.
He grabs my hand and pulls me towards the couch.
No more anxiety.
Now I’m safe.