Page 8 of Milk
Perfect. She is. And fuck, I could easily fall in love with her. I might already be falling.
I kiss her again, my lips pressing against hers like I can seal the feeling between us. My thumbs brush over her nipples, gentle now, collecting the fresh beads of milk that well up. She moans softly into my mouth, her body arching into my touch.
“So beautiful,” I whisper against her lips, rolling her nipples between my fingers, watching the way her skin glows brighter as I touch her. “Every inch of you.” My cock throbs, but I ignore it. If I fuck her, it’ll seal the mating bond, and she needs to know what that would entail. What it would mean, for both of us.
I kiss her again, slower this time, loving the way she sighs against me. My hands never stop moving over her glorious breasts. I cup them, stroke them, massage gently.
Holly’s soft body curls into mine like she was made to fit here. Her tits are still heavy in my palms, warm and damp from my mouth, her milk slowing to a sweet, lazy drip. I can’t stop touching her. I brush my thumb over her nipple, my fingers tracing the swell of her breast, my touch reverent. Worshipful. Like she’s something sacred.
Which she is.
Her breath ghosts over my neck as she nestles closer, her voice soft. “What happens now?” she asks, sounding sleepy and sated. “Is this… just a one-time thing?”
I tighten my arm around her, doing my best to ignore how fucking hard I am. “What happens next is up to you.”
She pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, her brows knitting. “Up to me?”
“Mmmhmm.” I cup her breast, thumb circling her nipple in a gentle caress. “I could feed from you a few times a year. That might be enough to keep my magic stable.” My voice is low, steady. “You’d stay in Evergreen Valley. Live your life. Run your bakery. I’d visit when I needed you.”
“Or?” she prompts, lips parted slightly.
“Or…” I shift her in my lap, my hand sliding to her waist, holding her tight. “You could choose me. Choose the mating bond.” I meet her eyes, needing her to feel the weight of my words. “You would come live with me at the North Pole, where you’d be both my mate and my queen.” My voice is lower now, rougher, as the truth of what I want her to choose settles over me. “If you choose the mating bond, you’d be mine, and I’d be yours. You’d let me drink from you every day. Let me worship you the way you deserve.”
She swallows, her throat working. “That’s… a lot to process.” A shaky laugh escapes her. “Santa’s real. I’m some kind of magic milk maiden. My boobs are…” She cuts off, cheeks flushing as she glances down at herself, at the way her nipple beads with a fresh drop of milk. “And now my whole future is just… different. Regardless of what I choose.”
“I know, Holly.”
She bites her lip, then asks, quietly, “How do we… do the bond thing?”
My grip on her tightens, my voice dropping to a growl. “We fuck.” She gasps softly. “While I drink from you.” I drag my thumb over her nipple, watching her shudder. “My cum inside you. Your milk in my mouth. The magic seals it.”
The scent of her arousal intensifies, and my balls ache, heavy and full.
But I don’t move. This has to be her choice. I want her—fuck, I need her—but I’ll wait. Even if it kills me.
I press a soft kiss to her temple, inhaling the warm, sweet scent of her deep into my lungs. “Why don’t you come to the North Pole tomorrow?” I suggest, wondering if she can feel how hard and fast my heart is pounding. “See where you’d live, what life is like there. Visit my home, and see if you’d like to make it yours, too.”
She shivers, her fingers curling into the fabric of my sweater. “Will you… drink from me again?”
I pull back just enough to meet her gaze. I ache with how much I want her. “Only if you wish it, little one.”
Her lashes flutter, but she nods, her voice a shaky whisper. “I do.”
Such a good girl for me.
I kiss her one last time, slow and deep, trying my best to memorize the taste of her. When I pull away, her lips are pink and parted, her eyes hazy with lust. I lift her from my lap and help her to stand, then help her dress, my hands lingering on her waist, her hips, her softness. I can’t stop touching her. But she needs to go. Because I don’t trust myself not to take her, and I won’t until she asks me to. Until she chooses.
I summon my magic, joy sparking inside me at how easily I can access it now. The air between us shimmers with frost and starlight. “I’ll come for you tomorrow morning,” I say softly. She nods, gazing up at me with such tenderness and trust that it pains me to send her away. “Close your eyes.”
She does, and in a swirl of mint-scented snowflakes, she’s gone.
My cabin suddenly feels too quiet. Too empty. I sit back down in the armchair, the scent of Holly’s milk still lingering in the air.
The weight of her absence presses down on me like a physical ache. My fingers flex, wishing I could hold her. My cock throbs, still hard.
She’s been gone thirty seconds, and I already miss her.
Six
