All Chapters of Dirty Christmas(A short erotica Christmas story collection): Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

"Pass the eggnog, Cassie? You look like you need it more than me tonight." Jake's voice cut through the chatter of our family dinner, his eyes locking onto mine with that familiar smirk. I felt my cheeks heat up, not from the holiday lights twinkling above the dining table, but from the way he leaned back in his chair, his broad shoulders straining against his sweater. He is twenty-eight, he had filled out since college, muscles from his construction job making him look every bit the man he had become.I handed him the crystal pitcher, our fingers brushing just long enough to send a spark up my arm. "Here. And yeah, maybe I do. This family reunion is intense." My voice came out steadier than I felt. Stepsiblings for over a decade now, ever since my mom married his dad when we were teens, but the pull between us had always simmered under the surface. Stolen glances, accidental touches that lingered too long. Now, with both of us back home for Christmas after years away, the air crac

Santorini did not sleep.The villa breathed softly around us, lights dimmed low, firelight flickering against white stone. Outside, the sea moved endlessly, a slow pulse that matched the one building inside my chest.I stood on the terrace surrounded by four men who knew me too well and not enough at all.No one spoke for a moment.The air felt thick, charged with everything unsaid, everything remembered.Sebastian was the first to move.He stepped closer, not touching, his presence a deliberate invasion of my space. His eyes dragged slowly over me, unashamed, appreciative, dark.“You always did look like temptation when you are cornered,” he said quietly.“I am not cornered,” I replied, though my voice lacked conviction.Theo turned to face me fully. His expression had shifted, no longer amused, no longer distant. Something sharper lived there now.“No,” he said. “You are choosing.”The word landed heavily.Luca watched me with open hunger, warmth radiating from him, as though he fel

New York in December had a way of reminding people who mattered and who didn’t.The city glittered like it had money to burn. Snow dusted the edges of buildings without ever settling too long, melted by heat, ambition, and impatience. Yellow cabs sliced through traffic. Penthouse windows glowed. Somewhere below, sirens cried, but up here, thirty-eight floors above Manhattan, everything was quiet, curated, untouchable.Ava Sinclair stood near the floor-to-ceiling glass wall of the Blackwood penthouse ballroom, her reflection staring back at her like a stranger she only half recognized.Red silk clung to her body, smooth and deliberate. The kind of dress that didn’t beg for attention but punished anyone who gave it too much. Her heels ached, but she did not move. She wanted to feel grounded. Tonight demanded it.Behind her, the Blackwood Christmas Gala unfolded like a corporate fairytale.Champagne flowed. Laughter chimed. Power gathered in tailored suits and diamonds that whispered leg

When Want Becomes a DecisionAva did not intend to let Julian Blackwood follow her.She walked fast through the snow, heels sinking slightly with each step, breath clouding in front of her face. The cold burned, sharp and clarifying. She welcomed it. She needed something that hurt cleanly.Behind her, footsteps slowed, then stopped.“Wait.”Julian’s voice did not chase. It held.She stopped anyway.New York shimmered around them. Upper East Side brownstones dressed in lights. The hush that only came late on Christmas Eve, when even the city paused to breathe.She turned.Julian stood a few feet away, coat undone, hair mussed by frustration. He looked nothing like the man who commanded rooms without effort. This Julian was bare in ways money could not cover.“I didn’t come to convince you,” he said. “I came because letting you walk away feels like lying to myself.”Her chest tightened. “That’s not my responsibility.”“I know.”Snow settled on his shoulders. He did not brush it off.“I

Clarissa's heart pounded as she stood on Sean's doorstep, the summer evening wrapping around her like a warm blanket. They had known each other since they were kids, running through the neighborhood with scraped knees and shared secrets. But somewhere along the way, those innocent games turned into stolen glances and unspoken words. She had loved him for years, a quiet ache that grew with every birthday, every holiday where she watched him from across the room. Tonight, after a chance text that led to this visit, she hoped things would change.Sean opened the door, his smile lighting up his face. He looked the same yet different, taller, broader, with that familiar tousle of dark hair. “Clarissa,” he said, his voice soft. “Come in.”He pulled her into a hug, and she melted against him, inhaling the scent of his soap and something uniquely him. Her body pressed close, and she felt the heat of his chest through his shirt.They sat on his couch, talking about old times. Laughter filled