“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.
Five
Nick
