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 overher 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.
