Ivy swirled the last of her mulled wine in the glass, the deep red liquid catching the glow from the lounge's quirky chandelier—strung with mismatched bulbs that flickered like mischievous fireflies trapped in a jar. The premium private lounge at the Whispering Pines Hotel wasn't your standard holiday spot; it perched on the hotel's top floor, overlooking a forest of snow-dusted evergreens that stretched into the night like forgotten Christmas cards. Kevin leaned back in the oversized leather armchair, his tie loosened just enough to hint at the evening's unraveling intentions. They'd come here to escape the chaos of family gatherings and obligatory cheer, trading tinsel for something far more intoxicating.
Their dinner had been a lazy sprawl of plates: seared scallops with a ginger-infused hollandaise that Kevin swore tasted like "liquid sin," followed by plates of truffle fries that Ivy dipped with reckless abandon, laughing as she smeared a bit on his collar. Conversation flowed like the wine—jumping from her latest work fiasco (a client demanding "ethereal branding" for a chain of laundromats) to his obsession with obscure vinyl records, debating whether the Sex Pistols' anarchy beat out Bowie's glam weirdness. The lounge was empty save for them and a bartender who vanished into the shadows every half-hour, leaving the space feeling like their personal cocoon. Soft jazz hummed from hidden speakers, the kind that wrapped around you without demanding attention.
Ivy set her glass down, her eyes locking onto Kevin's with a spark that had been building all night. She was in a slinky black dress that hugged her curves like a second skin, the hem riding just high enough to tease the tops of her stockings. Kevin, ever the picture of casual elegance in his button-down and slacks, watched her with that half-smile that always made her pulse quicken. "You know," she said, standing and smoothing her dress, "this place is too damn quiet. We should make some noise."
Before he could respond, Ivy sauntered over, her heels clicking softly on the polished wood floor. She positioned herself in front of his chair, hips swaying to the lazy rhythm of the music. Kevin's grin widened as she turned, giving him a view of her ass straining against the fabric. Without a word, she lowered herself onto his lap, her back to his chest, and began to move. It was a sensual lap dance, unhurried and deliberate, her body undulating like a wave crashing slow-motion against the shore. She ground her ass against his crotch, feeling him harden beneath her almost instantly. The friction sent a jolt through her core, her pussy already tingling with anticipation.
"Fuck, Ivy," Kevin murmured, his hands instinctively finding her waist. She arched her back, pressing harder, her movements circling wider—teasing, withdrawing, then diving back in. The dim glow from the chandelier painted shadows across her skin, highlighting the curve of her neck as she tilted her head, letting her dark hair cascade over one shoulder. She could feel his breath quicken against her ear, hot and ragged, as she rolled her hips in a figure-eight that made his cock twitch through his pants.
Emboldened, Ivy reached down, her fingers deftly working the button of his slacks. The zipper came down with a soft rasp, barely audible over the jazz, and she freed his dick from its confines. It sprang up, thick and insistent, the head already glistening with pre-cum. She grinned over her shoulder, positioning herself so the length of him pressed against her through the thin barrier of her panties. Grinding down, she let the fabric of her underwear slide along his shaft, the heat of him seeping into her like a promise. Kevin groaned, his grip tightening on her hips, guiding her rhythm as she rode the edge of him, the friction building a slick ache between her thighs.
"You feel that?" she whispered, her voice husky, as she rocked forward and back, the head of his dick nudging against her clit with each pass. Kevin's response was a low growl, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. He couldn't hold back anymore—his mouth found the sensitive spot on her neck, kissing and nipping with a hunger that made her shiver. He trailed lower, pushing the strap of her dress aside to expose one breast, the cool air of the lounge pebbling her nipple instantly. His tongue flicked out, circling the hard peak before sucking it into his mouth, teeth grazing just enough to draw a gasp from her.
Ivy's hands braced on his thighs, her grinding growing more urgent, the wetness soaking through her panties and onto his cock. Kevin's free hand roamed downward, slipping under the hem of her dress. He caressed her pussy through the damp fabric, fingers tracing the outline of her lips, feeling her swell under his touch. "So fucking wet already," he said, his voice rough, as he pressed a finger against her entrance, the lace barrier doing little to hide her heat.
She moaned, bucking against his hand, the dual sensation of his mouth on her breast and his fingers teasing her driving her wild. Kevin's kisses peppered her neck again, then back to her other breast, lavishing it with the same attention—sucking, licking, until she was panting, her body flushed and alive. His hand worked her pussy with expert strokes, rubbing circles over her clit before dipping lower, the fabric growing even more soaked.
Finally, with a frustrated whimper, Ivy reached down and shoved her panties aside, the cool air hitting her exposed folds like a shock. She was dripping, her arousal coating her inner thighs, and she didn't hesitate—guiding Kevin's dick to her entrance, she sank down onto him in one fluid motion. He filled her completely, stretching her pussy around his girth, the sensation so intense she cried out, her walls clenching around him.
"Fuck, yes," Kevin hissed, his hands on her ass now, spreading her cheeks as she began to ride him. Ivy set the pace, slow at first, lifting almost off him before slamming back down, the slap of skin on skin echoing faintly in the lounge. He thrust up to meet her, his cock hitting deep, brushing that spot inside her that made stars burst behind her eyelids. She leaned forward, bracing on the arms of the chair, giving him better access as she bounced, her breasts jiggling with each descent.
Kevin's mouth was everywhere—kissing the nape of her neck, sucking marks into her collarbone, then dipping to her breasts again, capturing a nipple between his lips while his hips pistoned upward. His hand, slick from her juices, returned to her pussy, thumb circling her clit in time with their rhythm. Ivy's moans grew louder, unrestrained, the risk of the bartender wandering back only heightening the thrill. She ground down harder, feeling his dick throb inside her, the veins pulsing against her sensitive walls.
The build was relentless; Ivy's body tensed, her pussy fluttering around him as the orgasm coiled tight in her belly. Kevin sensed it, thrusting deeper, his free hand kneading her ass, a finger teasing the puckered entrance there. The added sensation pushed her over— she came with a shuddering cry, her walls milking his cock, squirting a hot gush that soaked his lap and the chair beneath them. "Oh god, Kevin, fuck!" she gasped, riding out the waves, her body trembling.
He wasn't far behind. With a guttural groan, Kevin bucked up one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he came, his dick pulsing as he filled her with thick ropes of cum. The cream-pie sensation was obscene, warm and sticky, leaking out around him as she slowed her movements, collapsing back against his chest.
They stayed like that for a moment, breaths mingling, the lounge's air thick with the scent of sex and pine. Ivy finally lifted off him, a trail of their combined fluids dripping down her thigh, and she smirked, adjusting her dress with mock primness. Kevin tucked himself away, zipping up with a satisfied sigh.
As they gathered their things, the bartender reappeared from the shadows, polishing a glass with an enigmatic smile. "Enjoying the lounge?" he asked, eyes twinkling. Ivy shot Kevin a wicked glance. "Best Christmas gift yet," she said. Kevin chuckled, pulling her close. "Yeah, but next year, we're booking the whole damn floor. Wouldn't want to share the view."
The forest outside twinkled with fresh snow, and as they stepped into the elevator, Ivy whispered, "Round two in the room? I left my panties behind—call it my naughty list contribution." Kevin's laugh echoed off the walls, the door sliding shut on their private holiday chaos.
But the night wasn't over. Back in their suite, the room aglow with the soft flicker of a gas fireplace that spat lazy flames like it was too holiday-drunk to roar properly, Ivy kicked off her heels and peeled away her dress in one fluid motion. The fabric pooled at her feet, leaving her in nothing but those thigh-high stockings, her skin flushed from their earlier escapade. Kevin watched from the edge of the king-sized bed, his shirt already discarded, pants tenting again at the sight of her. Cum still glistened faintly on her inner thighs, a lewd reminder that made his cock twitch.
"You're insatiable," he said, voice low and appreciative, as she sauntered over, pushing him back onto the mattress. Ivy straddled his chest, her pussy hovering just above his mouth, the scent of their sex intoxicating. "I know you love it," she replied, lowering herself until his tongue could reach. Kevin didn't hesitate, lapping at her folds, tasting their mingled essence—salty, sweet, utterly filthy. His hands gripped her ass, pulling her closer, tongue delving deep into her pussy, swirling around the creamy remnants he'd left behind.
Ivy rocked against his face, her hands tangled in his hair, moaning as he sucked her clit between his lips. The pressure built again, faster this time, her body still sensitive from the lounge. He slipped a finger inside her, then two, curling them to hit that spongy spot while his thumb pressed against her asshole, circling the tight ring. The dual assault had her gasping, her hips grinding down harder, fucking his mouth with abandon. "Yes, right there—fuck, Kevin, don't stop."
He hummed against her, the vibration sending shocks through her core. When she came, it was explosive, another squirt coating his chin and neck, her thighs quivering around his head. Ivy rode it out, then slid down his body, her mouth finding his cock. She took him deep, throat relaxing to swallow him whole, the taste of herself on him only spurring her on. Kevin's hands fisted the sheets, hips bucking as she bobbed, tongue tracing the underside of his shaft, teeth grazing just enough to tease.
But Ivy had more in mind. She pulled off with a pop, flipping around to straddle him reverse, her ass presented like a gift. "Your turn to decide," she said, wiggling enticingly. Kevin's eyes darkened, slicking his fingers with spit before pressing one against her back entrance. She pushed back, relaxing as he worked it in, the stretch burning deliciously. Soon, he added a second, scissoring gently while his other hand stroked her pussy, keeping her wet and ready.
"Take my ass," Ivy demanded, voice breathy, and Kevin obliged, positioning his cock at her tight hole. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, her body yielding with a mix of pain and pleasure that made her whimper. Once seated, he held still, letting her adjust, then began to thrust—shallow at first, building to a steady rhythm. Ivy reached down, rubbing her clit furiously, the fullness in her ass amplifying every sensation. The room filled with the sounds of their bodies: skin slapping, her moans, his grunts.
Kevin's pace quickened, one hand on her hip, the other tweaking her nipple. "So tight—fuck, Ivy, you feel incredible." She clenched around him, pushing back to meet each thrust, the coil in her belly tightening once more. When she came, it ripped through her like lightning, her ass spasming around his dick, pussy clenching on nothing as she squirted onto the sheets. Kevin followed seconds later, pulling out to paint her ass with hot spurts of cum, marking her in the most primal way.
They collapsed in a tangle, laughing breathlessly, the fireplace casting warm shadows over their sweat-slicked skin. Ivy traced lazy patterns on his chest, her body sated but already plotting. "Christmas miracle," she murmured. Kevin kissed her forehead. "More like a holiday heist—we stole the whole damn season."
Morning light filtered through the suite's frosted windows, turning the snow outside into a glittering mess that looked like someone had shaken a snow globe over the world and forgotten to stop. Ivy woke first, stretching languidly, her body deliciously sore from the night's indulgences. Kevin stirred beside her, his arm draped possessively over her waist. She smiled, slipping from the bed to the bathroom, emerging with a mischievous glint in her eye and a bottle of massage oil she'd spotted in the welcome basket.
"Up and at 'em," she said, pushing him onto his stomach. Kevin groaned but complied, his muscles rippling under her hands as she straddled his back, pouring the warm oil down his spine. Her fingers worked it in, kneading the knots from his shoulders, thumbs digging into the tension with firm, sensual strokes. It was foreplay disguised as care—her breasts brushing his skin as she leaned forward, her pussy grazing his ass with each pass.
Kevin sighed into the pillow, but soon his breaths turned ragged as her hands ventured lower, oil-slick fingers tracing the cleft of his ass. She massaged his cheeks, then teased his hole, circling before pressing in, the intrusion making him arch. "Ivy... shit," he muttered, cock hardening against the mattress. She worked him open slowly, adding more oil, her other hand reaching under to stroke his dick in tandem.
Flipping him over, she continued the massage on his chest, nails scraping lightly over his nipples, down to his abs, then wrapping around his shaft for a proper handjob. Kevin's eyes locked on hers, dark with lust, as she pumped him, twisting at the head, her thumb smearing the pre-cum. "Want more?" she asked, and he nodded, pulling her up for a kiss that tasted of desire.
Ivy positioned herself, sinking onto his cock once more, this time facing him, their eyes never breaking contact. She rode him with a grind that was all hips and heat, her hands on his chest for leverage. Kevin thrust up, matching her, one hand on her breast, the other slipping between them to rub her clit. The pace built to a frenzy, bodies slick with oil and sweat, the bed creaking under them.
When they came together, it was a symphony of gasps and curses—her pussy flooding him, his cum mixing deep inside in another creamy rush. They clung to each other, aftershocks rippling through, the room smelling of sex and spiced pine from the lobby's garlands drifting in.
As they finally disentangled, room service arrived with breakfast—pancakes stacked like fluffy clouds, bacon crisp and steaming. Ivy answered the door in a robe, winking at Kevin as she signed for it. Over coffee, she quipped, "Think the staff knows? That chandelier in the lounge was swinging like a pendulum last night."
Kevin laughed, pulling her onto his lap. "If they do, they're jealous. Best plot twist of the holidays: us, turning a quiet getaway into a porno."
Ivy nipped his ear. "Plot twist? Darling, this is just the director's cut. Sequel starts tonight." And with the snow falling heavier outside, promising isolation and endless possibilities, they dove into their syrup-drenched morning, the real celebration just beginning.