"A Very Holt Christmas" with Olivia Holt

[TheLW]

A Very Holt Christmas
With Olivia Holt
Written by TheLW
Codes: MMF, Anal, Blowjob, Facial, Handjob, Incest
Disclaimer: This FICTIONAL story was written for entertainment purposes only.

Olivia Holt had cleared her schedule with a level of finality that surprised even her team. For once, there were no compromises, no “just one more interview,” no holiday appearances squeezed between flights. The recent success of Jingle Bell Heist had cemented her status as both Disney royalty and a dependable Netflix lead, but the timing had worked in her favor. Christmas was non-negotiable. She wanted home, and she wanted it uninterrupted.

The flight had been quiet, the drive familiar. As her rental car turned onto the street she had known since childhood, something in her chest eased. The neighborhood looked almost suspended in time, each house dressed in lights and wreaths as if competing for attention, but her parents’ home still stood out. It always did.

Mark and Kim Holt’s house sat comfortably back from the road, a wide, two-story place with a wraparound porch that practically begged to be decorated. White lights ran cleanly along the roofline, evenly spaced and meticulously maintained, Mark’s handiwork. The porch columns were wrapped in thick evergreen garlands tied with deep red velvet bows. Lanterns flanked the front steps, glowing softly as dusk settled in, and a massive wreath hung centered on the front door, decorated with pinecones, dried orange slices, and sprigs of holly.

Snow crunched beneath Olivia’s boots as she stepped out of the car. She paused for a moment, taking it in. The windows glowed warm and inviting, and faint music, something classic and instrumental, drifted through the glass. The air smelled sharp and clean, but underneath it lingered wood smoke and spice, the unmistakable scent of her mother’s Christmas cooking.

Inside, the house was alive.

The entryway was lined with framed family photos, now accented with strings of tiny lights woven carefully along the frames. A small table held a ceramic village dusted with faux snow, each miniature house lit from within. Garlands ran up the staircase banister, studded with ornaments collected over the years, some elegant, others clearly the work of a child with too much glitter and ambition.

The living room stopped Olivia in her tracks, just as it did every year. The Christmas tree stood tall and full, nearly brushing the ceiling, its branches heavy with ornaments that told their family’s story. Glass baubles reflected the lights in soft colors, while handmade decorations Cade had made in elementary school still held places of honor. A few ornaments from Olivia’s early acting years, commemorative pieces from premieres and milestones, were tucked discreetly among them, never treated as more important than the rest.

The fireplace mantle was dressed with thick greenery, white candles, and four stockings stitched with their names. Olivia’s stocking still hung in the same spot it always had, slightly crooked, as if it had never accepted the idea that she lived anywhere else.

Voices carried from the kitchen.

Mark Holt stood at the counter with his sleeves rolled up, methodically checking something in the oven while humming off-key. He moved with the unhurried confidence of someone in his own space, in complete control. Kim hovered nearby, adjusting a centerpiece that had already been adjusted several times, a mix of pine branches, cranberries, and candles arranged just so. She stepped back, tilted her head, frowned slightly, and nudged it again.

Cade was stretched out on the couch in the living room, phone in hand, pretending not to care about the exact moment Olivia walked through the door. His foot bounced faintly, betraying him.

The sound of the door closing gave her away.

Cade was on his feet instantly. “You’re late,” he said, grinning as he crossed the room and pulled her into a hug that was quick but solid, the kind that said everything without lingering.

Kim followed immediately, wrapping Olivia in a longer embrace, hands firm at her back. “You look tired,” she said, already inspecting her daughter’s face. “Too thin. We’ll fix that.”

Mark joined them last, resting a hand on Olivia’s shoulder, his smile steady and proud. “You made it,” he said simply, as if that alone mattered more than anything else.

Olivia laughed, the sound lighter than it had been in weeks. She shrugged out of her coat and set her bag down, the weight of it suddenly irrelevant. The house hummed around her, pots clinking, music playing softly, the murmur of overlapping conversations. No one asked about premieres or numbers or what came next. There would be time for that later, if she wanted.

For now, there was hot cider pressed into her hands, teasing comments from Cade, and her mother already outlining plans for the week ahead. The world she had stepped out of felt distant, almost unreal, as if it belonged to someone else.

As Olivia stood there, surrounded by warmth, light, and the quiet certainty of being exactly where she belonged, she realized something important. No matter how far her career took her, no matter how crowded her life became, this house, and the people in it, remained unchanged. And for the first time in a long while, that constancy felt like the greatest gift she could have asked for.

The truth was, Olivia’s bond with her family went far beyond the usual holiday warmth. To outsiders, Mark and Kim Holt might have seemed like any devoted parents, and Cade like a typical younger brother, but the connection Olivia shared with each of them was far from ordinary. It was why she loved coming home for the holidays, why every December filled her with a quiet excitement no premiere or award could ever match.

With Mark and Kim, her relationship was steady and grounding. Mark’s quiet authority and dry humor had shaped much of her childhood, and even now, no matter how high-profile her career became, his presence reminded her that someone always had her back. Kim’s energy was different, warm, persistent, endlessly caring, and somehow able to make even the smallest details of Christmas feel monumental. Together, they created a space where Olivia could set aside the pressures of stardom and simply be their daughter, laughing at old jokes, absorbing their advice, and sharing the little stories she didn’t tell anyone else.

With Cade, being her younger brother, the connection was more playful, full of teasing, challenges, and a steady undercurrent of loyalty. Cade had grown up watching Olivia chase a career most kids only read about in magazines. He had been her confidant, her first audience, and occasionally, her most relentless critic. They sparred endlessly, laughing over pranks or over-the-top exaggerations of family stories, but beneath the humor lay a rare trust. Cade could read her moods without words, sense when she needed space or when she needed someone to just sit with her.

During the holidays, these relationships came alive in ways the rest of the year never allowed. She’d help her parents in the kitchen, rolling dough or arranging candles while listening to Mark’s dry commentary or Kim’s running commentary on “holiday perfection.” Cade would sneak around, stealing cookies, exchanging knowing glances with her, or provoking playful arguments that ended in laughter. Late at night, when the tree lights cast soft shadows across the living room, Olivia and Cade would curl up on the couch and talk, uninterrupted, about anything and everything, from school memories to wild dreams about the future.

**The Next Day**

The next morning, Olivia woke to the soft light of the winter sun filtering through the curtains, dusting the living room in pale gold. Outside, the world was quiet, blanketed in fresh snow that had fallen overnight, muting the usual sounds of the neighborhood. Inside, the house smelled of pine from the tree and lingering cinnamon from yesterday’s baking, and Olivia felt a sense of calmness settle over her.

Kim, as usual, was up early, bustling around the kitchen with her list of errands and shopping plans. “I’m heading out,” she announced brightly, checking her phone. “You two behave yourselves while I’m gone. Don’t burn the house down.”

Olivia smirked, brushing her hair back. “Don’t worry, Mom. Cade and Dad can handle me,” she said, her tone playful.

Kim gave her a knowing glance, smoothed her scarf, and left, jingling the door as she stepped out into the crisp air.

She looked over at Cade, who was still in his pajamas, sprawled on the couch with a mug of cocoa in his hands. “Morning,” she said, sliding into the armchair across from him.

“Morning,” he replied, stretching. “So... just the three of us, huh?”

Mark, already in a worn sweater and with the beginnings of a crossword in front of him, looked up and nodded. “Morning, kiddo. Looks like it’s our day. Don’t let her outshine us too badly, Cade.”

"Trust me, dad," Cade snorted. "I can more than keep up, with you two."

"We'll see about that," Olivia said with a sly grin.

**Five Minutes Later**

Five minutes later, Olivia Holt and the two men in her family, found themselves upstairs in her bedroom, the three of them naked as the day they were born. Both Cade and Mark sat on the edge of Olivia’s queen size bed, while Liv herself was kneeling on the floor in front of them.

A smirk played at the corner of Olivia’s lips as she shifted her knees on the carpet, feeling the heat rising from the bodies above her, her dad’s familiar bulk, and her brother’s jittery, almost bashful presence. Cade’s thigh trembled under her left palm, rhythmically tensing every time she squeezed at the base of his cock. The air was thick with their breathing and the faint, almost medicinal tang of detergent from the bedsheets, which mingled with warmer, fleshier scents. She looked up, meeting Mark’s expectant gaze.

Olivia spat into her own palm, worked it over her father’s shaft, loving the way the veins stood out against his pale skin, before she leaned in and closed her lips around the head. Her mouth filled with his salt-tinged taste, both familiar and oddly comforting. Her hand kept a steady pace on Cade, slow and deliberate, twisting at the top just the way he liked it, the way that always made him bite his lip and look away.

Liv pulled back, dragging her tongue along the underside of Mark’s cock, teasing him with a look that said she knew exactly what she was doing and dared him to admit it. He grunted, a low sound, almost embarrassed, and brushed her hair behind her ear, thumb lingering for a moment.

Both men, their cocks jutting toward her as if they’d been waiting all morning for this, which, in a sense, they had. Mark’s was thick and heavy in her hand, the head already flushed a deeper shade that matched the winter-pink at his cheekbones. Cade’s, she’d always noticed, was longer but less imposing, more eager to curve up and meet her mouth halfway.

She played them against each other. Suck dad’s cock deeper, feel the pulse and flex of his thigh under her arm, the controlled intake of breath. Let her tongue swirl under the crown, tasting salt and a hint of soap, then pop off with a lewd, practiced twist and immediately turn her head to Cade. Her little brother was shivering, watching her, pride and nervousness written all over the way he held his hips rigid and his hands in his lap, so obviously resisting the urge to guide himself into her mouth.

Olivia rewarded him with a slow, wet lick up his shaft, feeling how his cock twitched at the touch, how his hand wavered above her head and then thought better of it, fingers curling into a loose fist.

She could feel Mark's hand in her hair, as if keeping her grounded. A weird comfort, and it fueled her a little further. She bobbed her mouth along her father's cock, soft grunts echoing into her mouth, then switched back to Cade, letting her tongue swirl under the crown. She liked the way Cade couldn't help but buck his hips, just a little, when she stroked him right behind the ridge.

"Jesus, Liv," Cade muttered.

Liv tasted a pre-cum saltiness on her tongue, knew she was driving him absolutely nuts. She relished having their attention, her dad's measured, patient, always letting her set pace, Cade's melting away into neediness.

Olivia licked a long, slow stripe up Cade’s cock, savoring the near-silent gasp he let slip, and then took him all the way to the back of her throat. Her nose bumped against the wiry hair at his base, and she held there a moment, listening to the ragged, embarrassed breathing above her. She liked the power in it, the way her little brother’s knees knocked faintly against her shoulders, like he was built on springs. She bobbed her head slow at first, letting spit collect at the corner of her mouth, then braced a hand low on his thigh and took a little more initiative, faster and deeper, each time drawing a whisper from him.

She pulled off with a wet pop and jerked her wrist fast at the base, milking a quick shiver out of him, then angled her head and let his cock slap her cheek. For a second, she just looked up at him, mouth open, tongue showing, before she turned and grabbed Mark’s cock with both hands, almost greedy. She dragged the head along her lips, not quite letting him in, just letting him know he’d get it when she wanted.

“God Liv, you’re the best daughter ever.”

Liv worked them both, alternating every few seconds, a twist of her wrist, a glancing tongue, then a greedy swallow. Her jaw stretched, lips glossed with spit, Olivia timed the transfers, making the handoff feel seamless, like some obscene Olympic relay. Cade let out a stuttering gasp when she took him deeper, and Mark’s hand tightened at her crown, almost apologetic, like it was his job to keep her steady on the course.

She giggled around Cade’s cock, feeling his shudder pulse against her tongue. He was so damn eager, thighs taut, the lean muscle of his hip flexing every time she bottomed out on him. She figured he wouldn’t last long, not that she minded. Liv let him slip out, cupped his balls in one hand, and gave them a gentle squeeze. “Hold it,” she said, voice syrupy and low, and Cade’s desperate little nod nearly made her laugh again.

“Sis, you’re amazing.”

She let go of Cade and turned her mouth back to Mark’s cock, sloppier now, spit foaming at the corners of her lips. Mark tasted bitter and earthy, like the smell of the chopped wood he stacked every winter in the garage. He was breathing harder, too, soft huffs through his nose as she bobbed her head, hollowing cheeks, as she worshipped her dad’s cock.

Mark’s cock was hot and heavy on her tongue, and she could feel the slick anticipation of him, the heat and heft of years of knowing exactly how to make a man tip. She pumped her hand at the base, squeezed the tip between her lips, working up to the head and pausing to savor his taste, almost nostalgic, oddly enough. His thighs flexed every time she twisted, a barely-there shiver that said she was getting to him. Liv loved that. Loved that she could do this to her dad, loved that she could take everything he threw her way.

She felt a thrill at the way Mark held still for her, letting her set the pace, his hand curved gently over the back of her head, not pushing, just guiding, stroking her hair as she took more of him. Liv could practically feel his pride in her, the nearly parental satisfaction in the way his hips tensed when she got him right at the spot where the head flared. She locked eyes with him, lips stretched, cheeks hollowing with effort, and swirled her tongue under the rim, feeling him pulse, hearing the thick, approving grunt above.

“Fucking hell, Liv,” Mark growled, the praise vibrating through her mouth, “you’ve gotten too good at this.”

She smiled with her eyes, then let him slip from her lips with a thick, wet gasp. “Maybe you should’ve taught me not to be an overachiever,” Liv quipped, her chin slick, her hand still busy at the base of his shaft. She let her tongue trail along the length before dipping her head to suck one of his balls into her warm mouth, rolling it before switching to the other. A flavor of clean sweat and something purely male filled her sinuses. Mark shuddered, made a soft approving noise that sent a deep rush of pride through her.

Olivia would continue to show off her impressive oral skills, working her magic over both her dad and brother, for several more minutes, before she got off of her knees, crawling onto her bed, that oh so perfect ass of hers on display, as Mark and Cade grab a handful of cheeks. squeezing them.

A moment later, Cade shifted onto his back, scooting toward the headboard with awkward, hungry intent. Olivia climbed up after him, her knees making soft impressions in the thick blue comforter, hair swaying into a golden veil as she straddled her little brother. Cade’s cock jutted out, flushed and straining toward her, and the sight of it made her grin, a greedy little smile that said she might drag the morning out forever.

Olivia hovered there, just letting him stare at her, his eyes ravenous on her body. She could feel his hands quiver, uncertain where to touch. Olivia made it simple for him, she cupped her own tits, squeezing them together so that the pale slopes overflowed her fingers, nipples stiff and pink and pointed straight at his face.

Cade made a sound, and she leaned forward, lowering herself to him. He didn’t hesitate now. He cupped the weight of her breasts, hands trembling, and flicked his tongue over one nipple, then the other. The sensation was electric, sharp as biting into a tangerine, and Olivia suck in a breath, letting the feeling settle low in her belly. She smothered his face with her chest, her perfect tits cradling his cheeks, her skin soft and warm against him.

Cade’s tongue was frantic, desperate to impress, and it sent shivers down her chest and through her arms, enough that she had to brace herself on one palm to keep from collapsing entirely. The friction of his mouth on her nipples was relentless, loud and slavering, like he wanted to devour all of her at once.

Liv raked a hand through his hair, pulling him up by the roots, forcing him to look her in the eyes. Cade gazed up at her, mouth wet and open, every exhale a tremor against her skin. She watched the way his cheeks hollowed around the nipple, the way his hands kneaded into the flesh of her breasts as if he was afraid they’d vanish if he let go.

Somewhere behind her, Olivia could hear the rhythm of Mark’s breathing. He’d been content to watch for a moment, savoring the sight, but now she felt the mattress shift as he climbed up behind her, heavy with every movement. Olivia could sense his focus and gravity on her, like a spotlight, and it charged her from the inside out.

Cade’s cock slid, warm and velvet-hard, against her thigh as she rocked above him, as she angled herself. Liv gripped it and pressed him against her slit, wet enough to coat him instantly. She sank onto him with a moan, the stretch sweet and sharp all at once, her thighs trembling. Cade’s hands shot to her hips, anchoring himself, and his back arched, voice catching in his throat.

Liv rode him slow, savoring the build, the way every inch of her little brother filled her, the way his cock curved inside, just right for her. She squeezed around him and rolled her hips, letting him feel every nuance, every practiced grind.

Cade muttered, “holy fuck,” again and again, and Liv’s chest swelled with a smug satisfaction that was almost as heady as the pleasure.

She bounced, picked up the rhythm, letting her ass slap down against his groin with obscene little smacks. Cade’s hands dug in tighter, fingers leaving marks. Every time she came down, he met her with an upward thrust, uncontrolled and messy and desperate. Liv felt a zigzagging thrill in the pit of her gut, she could make him lose it with nothing but her body, her pace, and her self-control.

Behind her, Mark’s hands gripped her hips, fingers splayed and possessive. She could feel his cock slide up against the crack of her ass. Mark pressed a palm between her shoulder blades, bending her forward, making her arch her back and jut her ass high. Liv’s heart pounding as she realized what he meant to do.

The anticipation was a knot in her gut, tight and hot and somehow comforting. She angled her head just enough to catch Mark in her peripheral vision, saw his broad frame looming over her, his cock lined up at the entrance to her ass. She shuddered, clenching her teeth around a moan.

“Give it to me, daddy,” Olivia said.

She felt Mark’s fingers tighten around her waist, felt the slick nudge of him at her puckered rim. Liv relaxed, more out of trust than choice, and let Cade keep her steady from beneath. The first push was careful, Mark’s discipline ironclad, but Liv wanted more than the tease. She rocked her hips back, impaling herself on Cade even deeper and opening up, coaxing Mark’s cock to breach her. There was the bright-sting of entry, sharper than her memory even with all the prep, but then her body remembered, her brain got out of the way, and she let herself be filled.

The sensation was molten, impossibly full, both holes stretched and throbbing with pressure, and she couldn’t tell which urge was stronger, to melt into it or to clench or to let go. Cade’s cock stuttered inside her, pressing even deeper now, and she moaned so loud the whole house must have heard it.

Mark was thicker than Cade, the fit almost impossible, but he worked in slow, biting increments, a grind forward, a stretch, another deep push while his hands anchored tight on her hips. Olivia’s mind blurred at the sensation, every nerve in her lower body firing, a heat blooming sensation across her skin, sweat cooling instantly on her back.

“F-fuck, Liv,” Cade stuttered, hips jerking on every upstroke.

Liv grinned, or tried to, her face just collapsed into a snarl of need, all jaw and teeth, spit pooling at the corner of her mouth. Both holes filled, brother and father moving in awkward, then perfect tandem, Cade bucking from beneath, Mark grinding from behind, pressing in until his thighs slapped against her ass.

She rocked with them, meeting every thrust, refusing to be just a toy between them, keeping her own pace, her own rhythm. The sounds were a messy chorus, breath, grunts, skin. Someone, she wasn’t sure who, kept saying her name, as if it were a prayer.

Mark leaned over her, chest grazing the curve of her spine as he buried himself inside her, the crush of his body holding her in place. Liv pinned down by them both, her own pulse thrumming hard in her throat. The friction, the stretch, the perfect helplessness of her position, it all coiled together into something frantic and passionate, something she’d craved without knowing.

She widened her knees on the bed, bracing her palms to either side of Cade’s shoulders, feeling the way her brother’s arms wrapped desperately around her waist. He clung there, hips pistoning in jerky bursts that sounded obscene against the bedspread. Liv could feel his breath against her chest, each gasp a wet starburst beneath her collarbone.

Mark’s pace picked up, hips grinding, cock pistoning in and out in deep, relentless strokes. Liv’s whole body arched to follow the movement, ass bouncing back to meet him. The two cocks moved in counterpoint, trapping her in maddening sensation, so that every withdrawal from one hole was matched by a thrust in the other. She wasn’t sure where one man ended and the other began, and that mess, her family, all mixed together, all inside her, made Liv look forward to their Christmas tradition.

Olivia heard Mark’s breath close by her ear. “Good girl,” he told her, barely more than a rumble, and the approval in it, the sick pride, shot through her.

She rode Cade for the both of them, every bounce of her body making Cade’s eyes roll back or his hands claw at her hips, his mouth gone slack and needy. Olivia grinded hard on the downstroke, making every bounce count, making her brother’s cock flex and throb, making him whine with every squeeze.

The tension in her gut wound tighter with every second. She’d always thought of herself as a slow-burn, marathon kind of girl, but now, with both of them inside, the pressure built like a storm, twisting and snapping between her legs, her nerve endings jangling with a fever she couldn’t name. Her thoughts flared, scattered, then flickered out entirely.

Olivia could hear Cade’s voice, babbling, desperate, getting higher and more ragged with every thrust. His fingers dug marks into her hipbones, holding for dear life as if she’d float away if he let go. Liv’s breath hitched as Mark’s cock drove in deeper, then paused for a heartbeat, grinding as if he wanted to brand this into her forever. Cade stiffened and bucked hard, cock jackknifing against the grip of her cunt, and Liv knew he was going to finish.

She grabbed his jaw and forced his face up. She wanted to see him, to make him watch her as she used him.

“Cum for me,” she whispered, pressing her forehead to his, her sweat slicking their skin together. Cade’s whole body cinched up, every muscle strung out, and then his cock exploded deep inside, a flood of cum and a helpless groan tangling in his throat. The feel of him set her trembling, a ripple that traveled up her spine and shocked loose a stuttering, wordless moan.

Olivia barely had a second to brace when he pulled out, his cock slick and shiny and still twitching. She felt a sudden loss, an emptiness, but that was quickly replaced by Mark’s hands, strong and urgent, yanking her hips high. The mattress dipped and bobbed as Cade scrambled out from beneath, his panting mixed with a low, ragged laugh, proud, amazed, a little broken. Liv let her head drop, hair spilling in a curtain along her forearm, and rocked back on her knees, offering everything up for her dad.

“Please,” she whined, grinding back, her ass flushed and trembling, hole still blooming open from the slow stretch. “Fuck, Daddy, do it. Give me all of it. Ruin your little girl.”

Olivia’s knees barely had time to catch her balance before Mark hauled her ass back, his cock already lined up at her slick, throbbing asshole. He didn’t tease this time. He didn’t ease in. He grabbed her by the waist and buried himself to the hilt, his thighs slapping against her flesh hard enough to make her yelp.

“Fuck! Daddy, God, fuck me,” she spat, face mashed into a pillow, spit pooling in the corner of her mouth as Mark pistoned in and out, using every inch of his size. Mark wasn’t holding anything back. His palm pressed flat on the small of Olivia’s back, pinning her, while his other hand wrapped her hair and twisted until her neck bent at the perfect angle.

Eventually, Olivia let herself collapse onto the mattress, arms limp, face pressed into a heap of blankets, ass in the air for her father. Mark’s cock was a battering ram, stretching her wider with every slam. The angle let him go deeper, and the grind of his hips against her was white-hot, all friction, hunger, and desire. Olivia’s hips jerked into every stroke, no matter how hard she tried to hold on, she wanted to be pushed over, to have every last ounce of control fucked out of her.

Behind her, Mark’s hands squeezed tight around her waist, his breath hissing through his teeth. He was persistent, and relentless, pounding into her with the kind of focus that only her dad could muster, a single-minded drive, like all those nights when he’d stayed up late helping her learn lines or build some impossible school project. Now he was pouring all that energy into her, every thrust forward, every groan, was for her and her alone.

She could feel the wetness of Cade’s cum still leaking out, wetting her thighs, smearing down to her knees. The mess should have embarrassed her, but all she could think about was how it made everything needier, how it squelched every time her hips smacked together. She was completely open, ruined for anyone else, just a sleeve for her father to use as he liked. How could anything matter but this?

Mark’s thrusts became ragged, deeper, slower, every slam wringing a new sound from her throat. Olivia bore down, squeezing around him, making her body a vise, and kept up the motion, punishing and perfect, her muscles burning with exertion and ecstasy. Every slap of skin, every pull of hair and squeeze of flesh, every groan from behind her, crashed together until she couldn’t sort which sensations were pain and which were pleasure.

Liv wanted it all to last forever and to end right now. She wanted Mark to throw her down, to pin her, to fuck her until she couldn’t even beg. She wanted to see herself in his eyes, to know he was proud of her, not just his daughter but, Christ, she was losing the words. She had nothing left but this trembling, gasping body, fucking itself open for him, for her family.

She was gone, squeezing so hard her whole body spasmed, all the muscles in her back and thighs and core going haywire, jaw clamped around a primal scream. Olivia came... messy. Olivia could barely hear herself, but somewhere, she caught how Mark roared her name, how he called her a good girl.

Olivia tried to hold on, but her arms gave out and she collapsed onto the mattress, cheek mashed against the comforter, still gasping and wrung-out. Mark didn’t stop, not even a little. His hands punishing her hips, he slammed into her fast and hard, then froze with a full-body shudder, locked tight around her.

She could feel his cock throb inside her, sharp and hot, and then his weight dropped onto her back, pinning her for a long, desperate second. He pulled out then, sudden and brutal, spattering the last gasp of her orgasm across her thighs. Liv collapsed, face turned to the side, hair a wild snarl over her cheek and sweat cold between her breasts.

“Get up,” Mark grunted.

Liv understood without thinking, rolling over on sore hips and propping herself on her elbows. She saw his cock right above her, massive and gleaming, fist wrapped around the shaft. Mark’s hand was shaking. The sight of it, her father, undone, meat-red with effort, made a new warmth light in her, molten and liquid, lapping at every nerve. She wanted to open her mouth for him.

Mark groaned, a rasp-edged bellow, and the first stripe of his cum blasted onto her cheek and chin, hot and almost stinging against the winter-coolness of her skin. The next shot painted her lips, thick and clinging, and Liv let it smear, let it drip onto her tongue, the taste of him so much more intense than she remembered. She leaned in, hungry to catch the next pulsating burst, but Mark’s hand steered her face, his thumb spreading the mess up to her temple, his fingers splayed possessive in her hair, holding her right where he wanted.

Olivia kept her eyes up, watched him watching her, the two of them locked tight as his cock spasmed out the last of it. She let her tongue flick out, caught a glob from the corner of her mouth, swallowed it slow, showing him she was made to take it. The rest streaked her face, warm and gooey, even spattering up to a brow, and Mark’s palm raked over her cheek and jaw, collecting every stray glob. He thumbed it into her lips, pushing them open, and she licked him greedily, never breaking eye contact. When he finally let go, Olivia sat back, face glazed with the sticky mess, and felt satisfaction ripple through her.

For a second, Mark just stared at her, then reached out and patted her cheek with a tenderness that prickled at the corners of her vision. Liv nuzzled into his palm, letting her tongue flick the underside of his thumb before he pulled away. Liv found Cade at the edge of the bed, watching her with wide, shell-shocked eyes, cock softening but still wet with her. He looked almost shy, almost, and Liv grinned at the way he chewed his lip, like he was weighing whether he’d get in trouble for staring.

"You okay there, Liv?" Mark said, voice ragged around the edges.

"Never better, daddy,” she answered back.

The End