Chapter 4
Four
Nick
I can’t believe I found her.
Well, I suppose technically Theodore found her. So, I can’t believe that we finally found her. But there’s no mistaking it. Holly Snow is a Winter Maiden. I could smell her magic the second I set foot in her bakery. I could smell her milk, and the way she leaked in my presence? A dead giveaway.
I don’t think she has any idea who or what she is, though.
I have to figure out how to ease her into this without scaring her away.
Both because I need her—literally, my magic will die and Christmas will fade into oblivion without her—but also because I want her.
Something happened to me when I first laid eyes on her.
I felt…rearranged. Obsessed. And it might be because she’s my fated mate, but there’s something about Holly that got under my skin and stayed there all morning.
She’s beautiful, and sweet, and warm. I can’t stop thinking about her.
I don’t want to stop thinking about her.
I want her, more than I’ve ever wanted anything in the one hundred and thirty years of my life.
The bell above the bakery door jingles as I step inside, the scent of sugar and cinnamon wrapping around me like a warm blanket. Holly whirls around, her cheeks flushed, hands twisted in her apron.
“You came back.” Her voice is soft, a little breathless, and definitely surprised, like she didn’t expect me to keep my word. “And you look different.”
I’m not wearing my Santa outfit anymore. Instead, I have on a black sweater and jeans, with a dark gray peacoat over top. Even I find the Santa gear a bit…stifling, at times.
I shut the door behind me, the lock clicking into place.
The snow outside swirls against the glass, but in here, it’s just us.
I can’t stop staring at her. She’s so achingly beautiful, with her blond hair woven into two thick braids, her green eyes wide.
She’s soft and feminine, her body a work of curved art.
I want to discover every inch of her, from her gorgeously swelled breasts, to her gently rounded stomach, to her full hips and luscious ass.
I want to bury my face between her thick thighs with her milk still coating my tongue.
“You didn’t think I would?” I ask, clearing my throat when my voice comes out rougher than I intended.
She swallows, her gaze dipping to the floor. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to think about any of this.”
“Holly.” I reach for her, my fingers brushing the honey-coloured strands that’ve escaped one of her braids. She shivers. “Look at me.”
She does, finally, those green eyes wide and bright. I cup her face with my hands, my thumbs stroking over the pretty flush in her cheeks. Her skin is so soft. She feels precious.
Because she is.
“That’s my good girl,” I say softly.
Her breath catches in her throat, and I can see her pulse fluttering there.
I trail my hands down from her face, over her shoulders, along her arms, tracing the curve of her waist before settling at the small of her back.
She’s trembling, but it’s not from fear.
It’s from need. I know, because I can smell it.
I can smell the milk in her breasts, just like I can smell the cream she’s getting all over her panties.
Her body’s responding to me, just like mine’s responding to her.
Heat pulses low in my gut. It’s the same hunger that’s been gnawing at me since I first tasted her cookies.
She leans into my touch, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. And she doesn’t understand it yet, but she will.
“So…what do we…I mean, what do you…” She stammers, blushing sweetly.
I snap my fingers, and the bakery dissolves in a whirl of snowflakes and gold light. Holly gasps and clings to me. Transportation magic can be disorienting the first few times someone experiences it.
I’ve brought us to my cabin in the North Pole, and I’m well aware how taxing that was on my magic.
I’ve had to use the sleigh more and more, which isn’t the most efficient way for me to get around.
With my magic weaker than ever, I don’t know how I’m going to control time and transport myself around the world on Christmas Eve.
Every year, it’s gotten harder and harder.
I’ve found her in the nick of time, it would seem.
The fire crackles merrily in the hearth, casting flickering shadows over the plush, woven rug, the red leather armchairs, the tree decorated in hand-carved ornaments. Frost laces the windowpanes in delicate patterns, and the scent of pine and cloves lingers thick in the air.
But mostly what I smell is her. Holly smells like vanilla and cream.
The rich, heady sweetness of her milk is like a drug, calling to me.
Her sweater red and white sweater clings to her breasts, the fabric damp in two dark, spreading circles right over her nipples.
My cock twitches, my magic flaring in response, gold sparks flickering in the air around us.
She’s stunning. Gorgeous. Perfection. I can’t stop staring at her. I can’t believe she’s here. I can’t believe how much I want her.
Her lips part as she takes in our surroundings, her chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths that only emphasize the swell of her massive tits. They strain against the fabric of her sweater, her nipples hard little points begging for my mouth.
Her gaze snaps to me, eyes wide. “Where are we?”
“This is my cabin.” My voice comes out rougher than I intended. I clear my throat, but it doesn’t help. Nothing will, not until I’ve tasted what’s mine.
I take her hand and lead her toward one of the armchairs, electricity shooting up my palm at the feeling of her small hand in mine. The firelight dances across her flushed cheeks, her lips parted in that way that makes my cock throb.
Her eyes widen as I settle into the chair and pull her onto my lap, so she’s sitting much the same as the kids do.
She’s soft against me, her curves pressing into me, and I can’t resist running my hands over her.
I drag my fingers over her hips, her waist, teasing over the outer swells of her breasts.
She squirms slightly, and I wonder if she can feel how fucking hard I am right now.
“Do you know who I am, Holly?”
She hesitates, fingers twisting in the hem of her sweater. “I think you’re… Santa?” She blushes as she says it, her eyes darting up to meet mine.
A low chuckle rumbles in my chest. “I am.”
“Holy shit.” She lets out a little laugh, but doesn’t look freaked out. No, she looks curious. Intrigued, even a little thrilled.
“And while I’m the one who travels the world on Christmas Eve, leaving presents for children and spreading Christmas cheer, there’s more to me than that,” I say, my voice quiet.
“I’m King of the Winter Fae. My magic, and the magic of the other three Fae kingdoms, keeps the world turning.
Our magic powers the changing of the seasons, the weather, the natural way of things.
We also affect more abstract things, like love, kindness, sex, fertility.
The Christmas spirit isn’t made up—it’s Winter Kingdom magic.
” I clear my throat, pausing to savor the feel of her against me.
“But my magic is fading, because I haven’t found my mate. Until now.”
Her breath stutters in her chest as my thumb brushes the underside of her breast, teasing but not touching where I know she aches. “Your magic is fading?”
I nod, my lips grazing her temple. “And I need the magic of a Winter Maiden, my fated mate, to restore it.”
She lets out a nervous laugh, squirming in my lap. “And you think that’s me?” She sounds adorably incredulous.
My fingers trace higher, skimming the curve of her breast, feeling the heat of her through the damp fabric.
“I know, little one.” My voice drops, getting lower, rougher.
“I can feel you. Your magic. Your milk.” I press my palm flat against her chest, right over her heart, and her nipples leak more milk, the wet spots growing. “It’s calling to me.”
She whimpers. “That’s… that’s not possible.”
“But it is. You’re a Winter Maiden and my fated mate, Holly. Your milk will restore my magic to its full power. Tell me—when did you start leaking?”
She moans softly when I drag my thumb over the damp fabric of her sweater, right over that tight, leaking nipple. The scent of her milk thickens, rich and sweet, and my cock jerks against her ass, painfully hard.
She squirms in my lap, her thighs pressing together. I can smell her arousal as well as her milk. “I…I’ve always had a little. When I…touched myself.” A pretty blush stains her cheeks. “But since you walked into the bakery, it’s like my body’s gone crazy. I’ve been a mess all day.”
Fuck. My fingers tighten on her breast, kneading the soft weight, and she gasps. The wet spot darkens under my palm, her milk soaking through the fabric. I can feel the magic of it, so close, so beautiful.
“That’s because you’re mine,” I growl, pinching her nipple between my fingers.
“My Winter Maiden. My mate.” She whimpers, arching into my touch.
“Your milk isn’t just milk, Holly. It’s magic in its purest form.
A gift from the old gods. And when I drink from you…
” My thumb circles her nipple, pressing just hard enough to make her moan.
“My power will burn bright again. The Christmas spirit will be restored.”
Her breath comes in short, needy pants as I tease her, rolling her nipple between my fingers, feeling the wet heat of her through the fabric. “You’re saying… you want to drink from me?”
“More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.
” I drag my other hand up, palming her other breast, squeezing just enough to make her leak more.
The fabric clings to her, translucent with milk.
“I want your tits in my mouth, Holly. I want to feel you dripping down my throat while you come apart for me.”
She whines, grinding down against my lap, her hips rolling in desperate little circles. “That’s…oh god, that’s so dirty.”
I chuckle darkly, pinching both her nipples now, twisting just enough to make her moan loudly. “Dirty?” My lips brush the shell of her ear. “Maybe so, little one. But it’s also sacred.”
My hands drop to the hem of her sweater, my fingers brushing the warm, soft skin of her waist. The scent of her fills my senses, making my cock throb painfully against my zipper.
“May I?” My voice is rough, barely more than a growl. I’m so fucking hungry right now.
She nods, her breathing unsteady, her cheeks flushed pink. Fuck, she’s perfect. So responsive, so eager, even if she doesn’t fully understand yet.
I peel her sweater up slowly, watching the way her nipples tighten further as the cool air hits them through the thin fabric of her bra.
It clings to her, damp with milk, the dark spots over her nipples making my mouth water.
I toss the sweater aside, my fingers already moving to the clasp of her bra.
One flick, and it falls away, her breasts spilling free, heavy and full, her nipples a deep pink, milk beading at the tips.
“Fuck,” I groan, my hands cupping her immediately, feeling the weight of her glorious tits, the heat of them. “Look at you. So fucking beautiful.”
Her skin shimmers faintly under my touch, her magic waking up, responding to me. I drag my thumbs over her nipples, collecting the thick droplets of milk, my cock jerking at the sight. She’s dripping for me, her body already knowing its purpose.
“So full,” I murmur, squeezing gently, watching as more milk wells up, glistening. “So milky for me, little one. You were made for this, weren’t you? Made to feed your king.”
She whimpers, her back arching as I roll her nipples between my fingers, pinching just enough to make her gasp. Her tits are perfect. Soft and heavy, the weight of them overflowing my palms. Her skin is so smooth, so warm.
And she’s all mine.