Chapter 6 #2
I laugh, joy bubbling up inside me, and the sound rings like bells, clear and bright. When I brush my fingers over a pine cone, it shimmers, suddenly dusted with gold. The magic in me thrums, alive, and hungry for my king.
Nick turns me to face him, his hands rough on my waist, as if he can sense my hunger.
He kisses me without hesitation, his mouth hot and demanding, and I sway into him.
Above us, mistletoe blooms in thick clusters, their white berries glowing like moonlight.
My breasts ache, heavy and full, and when his palms cup them through my sweater, I moan into his mouth.
His thumbs graze my nipples, and milk drips from them, leaving fresh wet spots.
“Fuck,” he growls, pulling back. His eyes are dark, his chest rising fast. He swallows, his jaw clenched, and I can tell he’s holding himself back.
“There’s more to show you,” he finally says, his voice rough around the edges.
I can feel his reluctance as he steps back and takes my hand again, leading me out of forest. I’m wistful at leaving the beauty of it behind, but I’m eager to see what else he has to show me.
So far, I’ve fallen completely in love with everything I’ve seen.
We walk back through the village, the path a blur of twinkling lights and laughter. Ahead, a glittering silver palace rises, looking like something out of a fairytale.
Its spires pierce the lavender sky, each one crowned with a star that pulses gently, like a heartbeat.
I’m in awe as we approach, eyes wide and mouth open as I take it all in.
The ice walls catch the light, shifting from opal to sapphire as Nick leads me up the steps, his hand warm on the small of my back.
“This is my home,” says Nick, glancing at me with those twinkling eyes.
It’s a look that makes me want to kiss him again.
“And…maybe yours, too.” He doesn’t try to disguise the hope in his voice, and a thrill surges through me.
This is all so crazy, but it also feels so incredibly right.
As though my entire life up to this point was just some kind of extended prologue.
“I thought you lived in a cabin,” I tease, glancing over at him.
My stomach flips when I do, just like it does every time I look at him.
He’s so ridiculously sexy, with his thick, white hair in a man bun, his blue eyes flecked with gold, his massive frame.
He grins and then lets out a low, warm chuckle.
“The cabin is for solitude.” He pauses, looking up at the castle. “This is our home.”
Our home. The words send my heart skittering against my ribs.
The massive carved wooden doors swing open before we touch them, revealing a cavernous hall that glitters like ice.
My boots sink into a fur rug so thick it might as well be cloud.
Everywhere I look, the palace shines, not coldly, but like moonlight on fresh snow.
The walls are carved with scenes of winter feasts and tangled lovers, the ice so clear it could be glass.
Candles float in the air, their flames blue-white, casting shifting shadows over the glittering murals.
We turn down a long hallway, where Nick points out various rooms—a ballroom, a feasting hall, the Winter Fae council chambers, and the biggest library I’ve ever seen in my life.
At the end of the hallway, we come to another set of double doors that look like they’re carved out of giant slabs of diamond.
“This is the throne room,” he says, and then pushes open the doors.
My breath catches in my throat when I see the throne.
It’s not a single chair, the way most people would think of a throne.
It’s not one seat, but two, twined together like vines, the arms curved to cradle a body against Nick’s.
My heart hurts to think of Nick sitting in that throne alone, hoping to find his mate.
Hoping to find me.
“This is where we would sit,” Nick says, studying my face carefully, cataloging my reactions. “Where we would rule our Kingdom, together.”
Emotions clog my throat as I stare at the throne, trying to envision sitting there beside him. “I…I don’t know anything about ruling a Kingdom,” I say quietly, and Nick strokes a hand down my back.
“I think you’ll find it comes naturally to you. It’s what you were born for. And I’ll guide you every step of the way, little one.” My nipples bead when he calls me that, a drop of milk dripping out. Nick inhales and lets out a soft groan.
“Can you smell me?” I whisper, and he nods, his throat working.
“Yes. Your milk is calling to me.” He moves closer, a dormant fireplace roaring to life in response to our magic.
The embers glow a soft violet colour, and the floor beneath us warms almost instantly.
My sweater clings damply to my skin now, the wet spots dark and spreading.
The weight of my heavy, aching breasts feels so good, and my sweater is stretched so thin I can see the shadow of my nipples through the fabric.
Nick’s gaze drops, his pupils blown with lust and hunger. “Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice deliciously deep. “Such a pretty milkmaid. So full for your king.” He kisses me then, holding me tight against him, tasting me with long, slow sweeps of his tongue.
Gah. Making out with Santa is one of my new favourite hobbies.
“I have one last thing to show you,” he says, slightly breathless, after he breaks our kiss. “Do you trust me?”
I nod, because I do. More than I should given how short a time I’ve known him.
His hand is warm against the small of my back as he guides me out of the throne room, his touch both possessive and reverent.
The hallway we step into is narrower, the lighting dim and soft.
It feels more intimate here, and that feeling makes my pulse throb in my ears, makes my nipples tingle in anticipation.
The door at the end of the hall glitters softly, carved with intricate vines of frost. We step inside, and I’m struck by how soft the room is.
More of those thick furs are strewn across the floor, and the fire crackling in the hearth casts flickering gold light over everything.
Garlands of glowing white berries hang from the ceiling, their light pulsing gently.
It’s small and cozy, clearly meant for only one or two people.
In the center of the room sits another throne.
At least, I think that’s what it is, but when I move closer, I realize it’s not a throne, but a chair.
Wide, curved, and padded with deep red velvet.
It looks plush and soft, and I have the instinctive urge to sink into it.
I move towards it, inexplicably drawn, when something behind it catches my attention.
It’s machinery, made of polished brass, gleaming nozzles, and crystal tubes coiled like ribbon.
From behind me, Nick’s fingers trail up my spine, his other hand cupping my breast through my sweater. I’m so full it aches, the weight delicious, the damp fabric clinging to my skin. “This is the milking chamber,” he says quietly. “Where Winter Queens have fed their kings for centuries.”
My eyes go wide as I study the machine with a new awareness. “What is that?” I ask, even though I think I already know. And maybe I’m a kinky freak, because I’m getting wet and turned on just thinking about it.
“It’s a milking machine. Your milking machine.” He guides me closer to the chair and the machine behind it so I can take a closer look. Empty crystal bottles line the shelves on the far wall. There are dozens of them, empty and waiting.
I stare at the chair, my pulse thrumming in my throat, my nipples, my clit. The machinery behind it gleams, calling to me. Hot, prickling arousal washes over me as I imagine being hooked up to it, and another slow drip of milk soaks through my sweater.
“How does it work?” My voice comes out breathy, aroused. I think I know, but I want to hear him say it.
Nick’s fingers trace the curve of my waist, his other hand still cradling my breast, thumb brushing over the damp fabric. “Sit,” he says, guiding me forward.
The velvet is even softer than I expected, molding to my body as I sink into it. The chair cradles me, warm and cozy. Nick kneels beside me, his big hands sliding up my thighs, making my pussy throb. My sweater isn’t the only wet item of clothing I’m wearing right now.
“These,” he says as he nods toward the gleaming nozzles, “are the collection nozzles. They’ll seal to you here.” His fingers graze over my nipples, and I can’t stifle my moan. “Gently. Like my mouth.”
I swallow hard, watching as he adjusts one of the crystal tubes.
It’s smooth and tapered, with a tip flared like flower petals.
“The suction is controlled by the pump.” His knuckles brush my knee as he points to a lever on the armrest, making sparks dance across my skin.
“You set the rhythm to whatever you need. The more aroused you are, the more milk you’ll produce. ”
He turns the machine on with a flick of his fingers, and it whirs softly to life.
“The milk flows through here,” he says, his finger tracing a coiled tube, “and into the bottles. Every drop is preserved. Sacred. You’ll make more than I can drink from you in a day, so this is necessary, both for your own comfort, and to create a store of milk to ensure the kingdom’s magic continues to thrive. ”
His hand slides higher, his palm cupping my breast again, squeezing just enough to make me gasp. A fresh gush of milk soaks through the fabric, dripping down my ribs. Nick’s nostrils flare, his eyes darkening.
“You’re dripping, little one,” he growls, his thumb flicking over my nipple through the fabric. A fresh wet spot blooms, the milk soaking through. I’m a complete mess. “Would you like to be milked?”
I nod and whimper, arching into his touch.
“Take off your sweater, then. Your pants, too.”
I lean forward on the chair and whip my sweater off over my head, knowing I look eager and horny right now and you know what? I don’t care. I want this.
My bra follows, and I sigh happily at the feeling of having my breasts out. It feels good to be bare. Exposed. They’re huge, firm and achingly full.
I wriggle out of my jeans, and then meet Nick’s eyes. “Panties, too, Santa?”
He grins, a feral glint in his eyes. “Yes, little one. Panties, too.”
I shimmy out of them and toss them aside, then settle back into the chair, completely naked. Nick reaches up and cups my breasts, lifting them, weighing them in his palms. “So heavy. So full for me.”
The machine hums softly, the nozzles gleaming. I can feel moisture trickling out of my pussy, the anticipation of what’s about to happen making me throb.
“Will you…” I take a breath and lick my lips. “Will you fuck me while it takes my milk?”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “No, sweet girl. If you decide to accept the mating bond, then we can fuck. In the future, if that’s what you want, I’ll happily fuck you in this chair.
But today, I just want you to experience everything the North Pole has to offer, should you choose the mating bond.
” His fingers pinch my nipple, just hard enough to make me gasp. “Today, I just want you to feel good.”
I nod, because I already do.
His thumb swipes over my nipple, collecting the bead of milk there, bringing it to my lips. “Taste how sweet you are for me.”
I open and suck his thumb into my mouth. The first drop of my own milk hits my tongue, and I moan at the taste. It’s rich and sweet, warm and alive with magic. My eyes flutter shut as pleasure curls low in my belly.
“That’s it. Let me take care of you.” He picks up one of the nozzles, and I moan in anticipation.