Dirty Claus

“Master?” I breathe. Why do I sound like a girl from an adult film? Get a hold of yourself, I mentally chastise myself. I do that a lot really. I should work on that.

“You’re not Aelrie,” he says turning a megawatt smile on me. Oh no. Why is that working on me? This smile would start a war at any royal court in the world.

“I am not.”

“Are you the maiden?”

“Ugh,” I groan. “I suppose I am. Your afternoon milk.”

“Aenwyn, right?”

“Aye,” I say, holding the tray out to him.

He takes the glass and downs it quickly. I watch as his throat works as he gulps it down. Damn. When he’s done, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand after setting his glass back down on the counter. Why is that so fucking hot?

“How do you like working on the pole?” he asks. I pause for a moment and then burst out laughing. He leans back a little, crosses his arms over his chest and chuckles. His chuckle goes all through me in a rather delicious way. He’s tall, looks about seven feet to my pixie size of 5’6. I have to crane my neck to look at his face. His Christmas green eyes are whimsical.

“Come in. Let’s chat,” he says standing aside to let me in.

“I really should get back to work,” I say, not really thinking that it would matter. He’s the boss and what he says goes. I shiver. Why does even the thought of doing whatever he says make me feel like this. I may have never experienced it first hand before, but I know what desire should feel like and this is it.

As I walk past him, I breathe in and I know it hits me as to why I am responding to him so strongly. I hear him suck in his own breath sharply, as I walk past him. I can feel his exhale on my neck. I feel like everything is moving in slow motion.

He is my mate.

The Santa Claus with his climbable as fuck body and the green eyes to die for is my mate.

I thought I’d be a maiden forever, but this changes everything. Forty years and I hadn’t found him yet. Guess I was on the wrong continent, but now the doubts are setting in. I hate that I doubt myself so much.

What if he doesn’t want me as I want him? He can still decide he doesn’t want me even though I can feel the magic beginning to course through my veins.

He’s also a powerful holder of ancient magic, surely he’s above the will of the universe. If he is, what happens to me?

Chapter 3

Nick

It’s her. She’s mine. My inner voice chants that as I try to make small talk with the most beautiful maiden I’ve ever seen. Her long dark hair is slightly curled at the ends and looks like silk. Her eyes are golden and mesmerizing. Her curves are mouthwatering. Magic is sizzling all over the room. As she brushes past me, I grab her arm and turn her to face me. Where my fingers are wrapped around her arm, magic pools. It’s palpable. It’s like there is a direct line of fire between us. She drops the tray at our feet, but I kick it out of the way and pull her close to me. Her palms flatten on my pecs and she lets out a little gasp that makes my dick sit up and take even more notice of her. It’s straining to get out of my pants and into her. My hand leaves her arm and fists into her hair. Suddenly my lips are on hers and I am lost. Her body molds to mine. Logically, I know she was made for me but feeling it, seeing it, living it is an entirely different thing.

Kicking the door closed behind me, locking it for the first time ever.

“Master?” she asks, looking up at me through her dark lashes. I clasp both of her hands in mine.

“You are her,” I say, beginning the words that will bind us together forever.

“I am she,” she replies. “You are him.”

“I am he,” I reply.

“We are it,” we say in unison, completing the ritual. She is mine forever now. Nothing and no one can take her from me.

Literally, nothing else needs to be said. She is my other half and we have the rest of our lives to get to know each other.

“Master?” she asks again.

“Call me Nick,” I reply.

“Okay, Nick. What do we do now?”

“Whatever we want, wife. Whatever we want,” I answer, my voice deep. She smirks at me. God’s blood, that smirk could start wars.

Leaning down, I kiss her. She moans, opening to me. I take that opportunity to deepen the kiss, our tongues dueling for control. I win that fight. Her grey and green uniform is tight, too tight. I grip the top of the shirt and rip it down the middle, sending buttons flying in all directions. She gasps and tries to cover her breasts. They are spilling out of a red bra with lace accents. I move her hands to her side.