All Chapters of Dirty Christmas(A short erotica Christmas story collection): Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

"Anita, you look like you could use a break from all this holiday cheer." Taviel's voice pulled me from the chaos of the lobby, where tenants rushed in with last-minute gifts and garish sweaters. It was Christmas Eve afternoon, and the high-rise buzzed with pre-dinner excitement. As the building manager, I oversaw it all, but today, the weight of singlehood and family drama pressed heavier than usual.I turned, smiling at him. Taviel, my doorman for the past year, stood tall behind the desk, his dark eyes crinkling with genuine concern. At twenty-eight, he had a quiet strength, his broad shoulders filling out the uniform from years of community soccer coaching in his Bronx neighborhood. I'd pieced together his story from late-night chats: orphaned young, raised by grandparents, now putting himself through night school for business admin while dreaming of owning a small cafe. "Break? In this madness? You're dreaming, Taviel. But yeah, it's a lot."He nodded, glancing at the clock. "S

"Veronica, this beam's not gonna align itself. You gonna stand there freezing your ass off or help me hoist it?" Robinson's gruff voice pulled me from staring at the snow piling up outside the half-built cabin window. His breath fogged in the chilly air, but his flannel shirt clung to his broad shoulders from the day's sweat, even as twilight brought the December cold.I wiped my hands on my jeans, the rough denim scraping against calluses earned from years swinging hammers. At thirty-two, I'd built my small contracting business from nothing, pouring concrete and framing walls while dodging the doubts from suppliers who saw a woman and assumed weakness. Robinson had been with me for six months, a solid guy in his late thirties, ex-military with tattoos snaking up his arms and a quiet reliability that made long job sites bearable. Tonight, we were finishing the skeleton of this holiday rental cabin up in the woods, a last-minute rush job for a client wanting it ready for Christmas we

“Are you going to keep staring at me or actually come inside?”Her voice startled him.Adrian Rossi had been standing there for maybe three seconds, but it felt like longer. The tiny music studio smelled like warm wood and vanilla candles, much different from the cold December air outside. And she was sitting there in the center of the room, cross-legged on a dark rug, hair falling in long curls around her shoulders, as if she had been waiting for him.Lena Hart. The woman he had been listening to for months without ever meeting her.Her voice had been a habit, a comfort, something he played late at night when sleep refused him. She recorded small videos of her violin pieces and posted them online, and somehow, he always ended up replaying them. She had a softness in her that he felt instinctively, even through a screen. But in person, she was something else entirely. Warmer. Brighter. More real.He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.“Sorry. I have never been inside a stud

“Tell me you are sure.” His voice was barely a whisper, but it hit her like a command. Luca stood in front of her, chest rising and falling like he was fighting himself. Fighting not to touch her. Fighting not to drag her back into the heat he knew was waiting between them.Elara did not blink. “I have never been more sure of anything.”Her voice trembled, not from fear, but from want. The kind that tightened low in her belly. The kind that made her lean into him without even realizing it. She felt like she had been walking backward her whole life and now she had finally stepped forward.Luca reached out but stopped his fingers just short of her cheek. “If I touch you again I will not stop. I will not be gentle like this afternoon. I have been holding myself back from the moment I saw you.”“Then stop holding back,” she whispered.Those four words broke him.He grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her so deeply her knees almost gave out. His mouth was hot and hungry, his tongue

"Wendy, you gonna hog all the hot cocoa or what? It's freezing out there." Dustin's deep voice cut through the chill as he stomped snow off his boots at the cabin door, his cheeks flushed from the sledding we'd just done. He’s a twenty-eight year old handsome young man, he was the rugged stepbrother, built like a lumberjack from years of construction work, his dark hair damp and curling under his beanie. Our parents had dragged us to this remote family cabin for Christmas, a tradition to "bond" after their messy remarriage blended our lives twelve years ago. But with Mom and stepdad off skiing, it was just us three: me, Dustin, and his brother Ryan.I laughed, handing him a steaming mug from the counter, our fingers touching longer than necessary. Twenty-five now, fresh out of a dead-end office job and nursing a breakup that left me questioning everything, I felt exposed in this wooden haven surrounded by pines heavy with snow. "Here, big guy. You earned it after dragging that sled