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From Dakota’s journal

Stepbrother Taboo: Snowed In Together

The blizzard trapped us alone in the house with no power, and my stepbrother built a blanket fort by the fireplace that became the hottest place on earth.

Stepbrother Taboo: Snowed In Together

People always say be careful what you wish for, and I think the universe heard me wishing because last month I got snowed in alone with my stepbrother, and it turned into one of those step brother taboo stories I never thought would actually happen to me.

The blizzard came out of nowhere. One minute it was just flurries, the next the whole world was white and the power lines were down and our parents were stuck at the airport with no way home. It was just us. Him and me. In a freezing house with a fireplace and a pile of blankets and absolutely no one to interrupt us.

At first it was fun. We built this huge blanket fort in the living room right in front of the fireplace, dragging every pillow and comforter in the house into it. We made hot chocolate on the gas stove and huddled in our fort, and it felt like being kids again. Except we're not kids, and somewhere around midnight, with the fire crackling and the wind howling outside, I became very aware that he wasn't a kid either.

He'd taken his shirt off because the fire was making our little fort so warm, and I kept sneaking looks at his chest and his arms. He's always been athletic, but I'd never really looked before. Not like that. He caught me looking, and instead of being weird about it, he just smiled this slow smile that made my stomach drop.

We were shoulder to shoulder under the blankets, and his hand found mine under the covers. Just holding hands. It felt innocent for about three seconds, and then his thumb started stroking my palm, and innocent went right out the window. I turned to look at him, and he was already looking at me, and the air between us went electric.

He kissed me. Soft at first, testing, like he was giving me every chance to pull away. I didn't pull away. I leaned in and kissed him back harder, and he made this sound deep in his throat and pulled me into his lap. The blankets tangled around us as his hands slid under my sweater, up my bare back, and I shivered even though I was burning up.

We were hidden in our fort, just the two of us in the whole snowed-in world, and it felt like the storm had given us permission to do the thing we'd both been dancing around forever. He laid me back on the pillows and kissed down my neck, my collarbone, lifting my sweater off inch by inch, his warm breath on my skin making me shiver. His mouth on my breasts, his tongue circling slow and teasing, his teeth grazing just enough to make me gasp, and I was arching up into him, my fingers tangled in his hair, the firelight flickering across his shoulders.

He pulled my leggings down slowly, kissing every inch of skin he uncovered, my stomach, my hips, my inner thighs, pausing to breathe warm against me until I was trembling and begging without words, my hands clutching at the blankets. When his mouth finally found me, I cried out, and he didn't stop, he just kept going, licking and sucking with this focused hunger, one of his big hands spread flat on my stomach holding me down, until I was clutching the blankets and shaking apart under him, the firelight dancing on the ceiling above us.

Then he was inside me, slow and deep, our bodies pressed together under all those blankets, the storm raging outside our little world. He moved with this careful intensity, like he was trying to memorize every second, pausing to kiss me breathless between thrusts, and I wrapped my legs around him and held on tight, never wanting the blizzard to end. We came together, clinging to each other, and afterward we just lay there in the fort, listening to the wind, neither of us saying what we were both thinking.

The power came back the next morning. Our parents got home that afternoon. Everything went back to normal, except now every time I look at him across the dinner table, I remember the fireplace and the blankets and the way he tasted.

Here's the thing that's killing me. Last week it started snowing again. Just a little. And he texted me a picture of the fireplace with two words. Blanket fort. I haven't answered yet. But I've already picked out which sweater I'm going to wear, and I keep thinking about how cold it's supposed to get this weekend, and how warm that fire was, and what his hands would do if we ended up in that fort again with the whole world frozen outside and nothing to stop us.

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