All Chapters of Dirty Christmas(A short erotica Christmas story collection): Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

The wind howled like a beast outside the narrow crevice in the granite face of Mount Eiger, whipping snow into a whiteout frenzy. Max Gavvy, 35, a veteran guide with a scarred face from too many close calls, pressed his back against the icy rock. His thermal layers clung to his broad frame, but the cold seeped through, numbing his fingers. Beside him, Freda Millie, 28, a software engineer turned amateur mountaineer, huddled close, her dark curls matted under her hood, cheeks flushed from the brutal ascent.They had pushed too far that afternoon, chasing the summit before the forecast storm hit. Now, trapped at 12,000 feet, visibility was zero. The tent they pitched barely held against the gale, stakes straining. “This is bad, Max,” Freda said, her voice trembling as she zipped the flap shut. “The radio's dead. No signal.”He nodded, pulling out the emergency stove. “We wait it out. Body heat's our best bet. Strip down to base layers and get in the bag.” His tone was steady, but his

The sleek conference room on the 45th floor of Manhattan's Apex Tower overlooked the glittering skyline, but Kent Hampton and Sherry Brown barely noticed. Kent, 38, tall and broad-shouldered with a chiseled jaw and salt-and-pepper hair, sat at the head of the polished oak table. As CEO of Hampton Dynamics, he exuded authority in his tailored charcoal suit. Sherry, 35, sharp-featured with auburn waves pinned back and a form-fitting navy dress that accentuated her athletic build, faced him as the rising VP from rival firm Sterling Corp. Their companies were merging, but this meeting was personal, hidden from prying eyes.Kent slid a single sheet of paper across the table. “Read it. Every word.”Sherry's green eyes scanned the contract, her pulse quickening. It outlined a private arrangement: dominance and submission, six months, no strings beyond the bedroom. Safe words, boundaries, all clinical. “This is insane. We're executives, not... this.”“Exactly. We keep it professional during

The morning light filtered through the frosted windows of the lodge, casting a pale glow over the snow-blanketed landscape. Adriana woke with her body still humming from the night before, her pussy slick from dreams of Cassian's commanding voice and the press of his hard cock against her. She showered quickly, the hot water doing little to ease the ache between her legs, then dressed in a fitted blouse and skirt, no panties again, as if his order lingered like a brand. Downstairs, the kitchen smelled of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon. She prepared breakfast with deliberate care, her mind replaying his words: 'Tomorrow, we play for real.' Her nipples tightened at the thought, brushing against the silk of her blouse.Cassian entered the kitchen shirtless, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips, revealing the V of muscle leading to the bulge she remembered all too well. His eyes locked on her immediately, that dark interest sharpening like a blade. “Morning, Adriana. Sleep well?”Sh

Snow blanketed the sprawling estate of Victor Hale, the billionaire tech mogul whose fortune rivaled empires. Christmas lights twinkled along the manicured hedges, but inside the grand manor, the air hummed with isolation. Victor paced the study, a tumbler of scotch in hand, his broad shoulders tense under a crisp white shirt. At forty-two, he commanded boardrooms and markets, yet this holiday season gnawed at him, the emptiness of his wealth echoing louder than ever.Elena Voss, the new maid hired just before the holidays, dusted the mahogany shelves with quiet efficiency. Twenty-eight, with curves that strained her uniform and dark hair pinned in a neat bun, she had taken the job to escape her crumbling life in the city. The pay was obscene, the isolation a balm. But Victor's presence unsettled her, his piercing blue eyes lingering too long when she served meals or cleaned his quarters.“The tree in the foyer needs trimming,” Victor said from the doorway that evening, his voice a

"Celyn, what the hell are you doing here? Your brother said you'd be out with friends tonight."Josh's voice cut through the dim living room, his tall frame silhouetted against the glow of the TV. He stood in the doorway, shirt unbuttoned halfway, revealing the hard lines of his chest. At twenty-five, he was all muscle from years of gym sessions with her brother, his dark hair tousled like he'd just rolled out of bed.Celyn froze on the couch, her legs tucked under her, a half-empty glass of wine in hand. She was twenty-two, with long auburn waves framing her face and a simple tank top that hugged her curves. The house was empty, her brother out on a work trip and she'd come home early, seeking quiet. But Josh, her brother's best friend since high school, had let himself in with the spare key, crashing for the night."I could ask you the same thing," she shot back, setting the glass down. Her heart raced, not just from surprise. Josh had always been there, in the background, teasing