All Chapters of Dirty Christmas(A short erotica Christmas story collection): Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The office buzzed with holiday cheer on the last day before Christmas break. Fairy lights twinkled over cubicles, and the scent of gingerbread cookies wafted from the break room. I, Holly Jenkins, sat at my desk nursing a lukewarm coffee, dreading the Secret Santa exchange. At twenty-eight, single and buried in spreadsheets, I craved excitement, but not the kind that came with anonymous gifts from coworkers. Still, I plastered on a smile as our HR rep, Tina, passed out the wrapped boxes.Mine was small, wrapped in red paper with a silver bow. I tore it open during the group reveal, expecting the usual mug or scented candle. Instead, tissue paper revealed black lace. a sheer teddy that would hug my curves like a second skin, matching thong, and thigh-high stockings. My face heated as whispers rippled around me. Tucked inside was a note. “Wear this tonight. Meet me at the rooftop bar after work. Your Secret Santa.” No name, just that command. Fear knotted my stomach, but a forbidden t

Snow crunched under my boots as I stumbled through the blizzard, the world a white blur that swallowed my escape. I'd run from the city lights, from the gallery that chewed me up and spat me out, from debts and doubts that clawed at my chest. Celyn Rodriguez, artist with nothing but a sketchpad and a backpack, seeking refuge anywhere warm. That's when I spotted the estate, massive, shadowed pines guarding iron gates half-buried in drifts. No lights, no welcome, but a flicker in an upper window promised life. I climbed the fence, thorns snagging my coat, heart pounding with desperation and defiance.Inside the grounds, the manor loomed like a forgotten king, Christmas lights unstrung and tangled on the porch. I pounded on the door, wind howling my plea. It creaked open, and there he was—Idris Dobbs, though I didn't know his name yet. Tall, broad-shouldered, with silver-streaked hair and eyes like chipped ice, he stared down at me, unyielding. 'Who the hell are you?' His voice was low

Freda stood by the twinkling Christmas tree, the soft glow of multicolored lights casting warm shadows across her skin. The house was quiet, save for the faint crackle of the fireplace in the next room. She'd spent the day baking cookies, wrapping gifts, and decorating every inch of their home to perfection, all while Sam buried himself in his study, muttering about deadlines and holiday stress. “Too busy,” he'd said for the third night in a row when she suggested they share a quiet moment. Tired of playing the flawless wife, Freda had slipped into the red lace lingerie set she'd bought months ago, hidden away for a night that never came. The sheer fabric clung to her curves, the thong barely covering her, and the push-up bra left little to the imagination. She leaned against the tree, one hand tracing the ornaments, her heart heavy with unspoken frustration.The door to the study creaked open, and Sam's footsteps echoed down the hall. Freda froze, her pulse quickening. She hadn't

Mia laughed until her sides ached, the eggnog warming her from the inside out as she collapsed onto the worn leather couch in Liam's apartment. The holiday lights strung haphazardly across the living room twinkled, casting a soft glow over the scattered ornaments and half-empty glasses. It was their annual tradition, best friends since college, turning Christmas Eve into a private party after everyone else had gone home. But tonight, the spiked drink had loosened tongues more than usual, secrets spilling like the foam from the bottle they'd upended earlier.“You remember that time in sophomore year?” Liam grinned, his cheeks flushed, dark hair tousled from running his hands through it. He sat close, thigh brushing hers, the proximity feeling different under the buzz. “When you confessed you had a crush on that idiot professor? God, Mia, you were so gone for him.”She swatted his arm, the contact sending a spark she tried to ignore. “Hey, he was charming! Unlike some people who just

The office lights twinkled with cheap Christmas strings, but nothing could mask the tension in the air as I sat across from Carden Yen, my boss and the CEO of Yen Enterprises. It was Christmas Eve, and the building was empty except for us. Carden was the kind of man who commanded every room, tall at six foot four, with broad shoulders that filled out his tailored suits perfectly. His face was chiseled, sharp jawline shadowed with stubble, dark hair cropped short, and piercing green eyes that always seemed to see right through me. At thirty-five, he carried himself with a quiet intensity, handsome in a way that made my stomach twist every time he called my name. I had been his assistant for two years, handling his schedule, his demands, and lately, stealing glances when I thought he wasn't looking.“Jasmine, stay a moment,” he said, his voice deep and smooth as he leaned back in his leather chair. I paused by the door, my coat draped over my arm, ready to escape to my tiny apartment