I want to dedicate this chapter to @annabethgranger666 I know it's weird to dedicate a sexy chapter like this one, but you're the one who cheered me to finish writing it in time, and you always believe in me. Besides, it's a little gift during your exams period 😘✨ Merry Christmas!

The only thing staying untouched is the magical snow on the ground, and still, I'm proven wrong when a large shadow darkens its pristine white near my feet, and a deep murmur echoes above my shoulder.

"Missed me?"

"Balthazar Krampus!" I seethe, his name burning on my tongue, almost as much as the shiver shooting down my spine, though all of that is nothing in comparison with the amber of his gaze when I whip round.

Those two orbs of fire have haunted my vivid dreams since one year, and still, my breath is caught as I clash with their ardor. I haven't remembered they could shine so vibrantly with so much darkness brewing under, and before I know it, my eyes are sliding lower to check the rest.

His tall figure looks as imposing as in my memories, although today, I'm fully standing, and even if his black coat is thicker, the open front lets me glimpse the outlines of his strong arms and chest, and lower... something else is fiercer than in my memories, the leather of his pants leaving little to the imagination and too much at the same time.

I'm quickly coming back to his face, though it's too late, the corner of his plump lips is already lifting into that same crooked grin, even more infuriating than one year ago, and when his dark eyebrow lifts into a taunting arch, it's like I'm taken back to last Christmas.

"What are you doing here?" It's even the same question, the same warmth rushing to my cheeks under his smoldering gaze, and the same step he slowly takes closer.

Yet the crunch of snow under his feet, echoed by the contrasting crackles of fire, brings me back to the present time.

"If someone comes search for me and sees you, you'll be in trouble. The North Pole is forbidden territory for you," I point out, my wide eyes going to the ring of fire that is probably sticking out from a mile around in the white surroundings, though it doesn't even make him blink as he looks down at me, the shine of the flames reflecting in his twinkling gaze.

"And who would come? Mr. Pointy ears who almost pissed his pants when he saw my piece of coal?"

"Yes, he would." I narrow my eyes as he tilts his head to the side, still standing as if he owns the place and everything for miles around – and I'm less than one foot away. "Mr. Pointy– Kane is really strong, and he's always there when I need. I think you're just jealous."

"Me? Jealous?" He bursts out laughing, the deep baritone laughter reverberating around the clearing and in each of my already buzzing nerve endings, and I'm sure he can see the faint tremors when he leans closer, his long gloved finger twirling one of my blond curls. "From what I recall, you were pretty eager to ditch him and run to me with a butt plug in your sweet little ass."

"I–"

Whatever protest I've been about to form is annihilated by a new wave of vibration, way stronger than before, and as if to make sure to prove his point, he switches it up another notch, not even hiding the small remote in his hand, so close to my eyes.

He knows I don't have the strength to grab it when I'm already battling to find my breath and not fall on my knees before him, and I don't even try, as the fact that each of the vibrations, each of my nerve endings, and each of my heart beats are all hanging at the palm of his hand is sending a dangerous shiver, as strong as the dizzying buzzing down my spine.

Though that, I will never let it show, and I fight my moans and the incoherent pleads climbing up my throat to utter a somewhat targeted retort, "From what I recall, I'm not the one who ran... all the way a-cross the world?"

I guess I've hit a sensitive nerve as his jaw clenches tightly, and it's worth the zings going through all of mine when he increases the intensity once again.

At this point, I'm pretty sure it's at the maximum, and believe me, it's hard to stay mad with a vibrating toy in your butt, even when he offers me one of his infuriating smirks, his fangs peeking out dangerously.

"I'm just here to do my job. I never forget anyone on my list, and there's a spicy candy around that's earned her place on top of the naughty list."

It's incredible how his tone can be so cold and distant, yet the words are seeping like lava under my skin, fusing straight to my core with the underlying promise.

On top of his list... There are so many possible meanings to this, and they all lead my gaze to the scourge at his belt. Even if I only glimpse the stick under his coat, I don't need more to picture the worn-out leather of its fringes, as their burning sting has left vivid marks on my skin, in my nerves, and in my life, and for the last one, it hasn't been as sweet.

As unforgettable as it has been, I can't forget the 365 haunted nights that have followed and the whole year of trouble, and that's surely why I'm the one letting out a sour chuckle for once.

"I think you've made an error this time because I've been more than good all year..."

I haven't had much choice, but still, I can't let all the efforts I've made go to waste.

If you're good this year, you'll get what you wish... I'm not sure if it's Nicholas's voice or my conscience echoing inside, yet both are surely right.

"No, I never make mistakes. Should I check?"

This time, he doesn't switch up the intensity of the butt plug – I don't think it's possible – and he doesn't have to. Just a slow and intent glance of his smoldering eyes down my body and a brush of his fingers at the hem of my skirt, and I'm gasping a shuddering breath.

It's like he's already sneaking under my clothes, under my skin, seeing all the naughtiest parts of me and coaxing them to come out and... play.

I can feel the physical pull as he leans even closer, stopping just before touching me, and leaving me the choice.

If I want to be good or naughty?

It's all hanging in that half-inch separating every part of our bodies, the air crackling like fire on ice there, and I'm well aware that touching him would lead to disaster.

But I realize it's what I want when he articulates those two syllables, that one trigger, "Candy."

What I wish right now is nothing else than to feel those devious lips on mine; that's what I've been wishing for one year, and to get it, I just have to lift on my tiptoes and... kiss Balthazar Krampus.

Though I'm not even sure it can be called a kiss, feeling the strength with which my lips are crashing on his and my fingers are grasping to the back of his hair to pull him impossibly closer, and he's quick to turn this powerful collision even hotter as his lips suck eagerly on mine, and his hands reach straight for my butt.

There's not a second wasted in polite caresses or hesitant requests. No, he takes what he wants: greedy handfuls of my ass that are accentuating the pressure of the toy still inside me, and lustful nibbles with his fangs on my lower lip until I'm moaning, giving his tongue full access to invade me, and I'm already getting dizzy with his taste.

My head spinning, my heart racing, and my legs shaking, I resemble an addict. An addict that has been deprived for 365 days, and as the euphoria is shooting in my veins, I need more of his fire.

So I deepen the kiss again, my tongue clashing with his to create more sparks, while my whole mouth is melting closer, and my fingers dance along the heated and hard protrusions of his horns, which is almost literally playing with fire.

I remember too well how sensitive these can be and the wildness a simple brush can unleash in him, and I'm currently stroking them as thoroughly as I would with another hardness, fueling the flames until I'm engulfed completely, when an animalistic growl rumbles from his chest to land straight in my core.

The vibration is even stronger than the butt plug, and all together, it's burning down the oxygen in my lungs, my reason, and any shred of dignity I have left as I pull away to plead.

"Touch me, please." I barely recognize the mewling sound of my voice, and I'm already expecting him to tease me for it.

Yet I don't even get to glimpse his smug grin as I'm flipped around, his arms tugging me flush against his strong chest, back to our initial position, and I'm even more taken aback by the same desperation as mine in his tone, even though for him, it's laced in a rough command.

"Choose a safeword."

"A safeword?" I repeat breathlessly, completely lost.

But for my defense, try to think straight with a vibrating butt plug at full speed and a pair of fangs softly grazing the most sensitive spots of your neck, and I'm not even talking about the rest of his body brushing mine.

"Yes, a safeword, a word you use to stop me if it gets too much–"

"Thanks, I know what a safeword is!" Who does he think I am? "But I don't need it. Do I have to remind you last Christmas?"

I guess in this one year, he's forgotten that I'm not a sugarcoated, innocent, and pristine girl. I'm a spicy candy, and I make it clear as I rock my butt, which is still holding the buzzing toy, against his bulge – and yes, this is only pushing the plug deeper against that soft spot and torturing me in the process – and my hand reaches behind to touch his horns again.

However, I'm stopped when he grabs my wrist, lowering it and holding them both in front of me with one firm hand. The other is too busy yanking me back against his hard-on, close enough for me to feel its defined outlines even through our clothes.

"That was last year. I got 365 days to prepare this, and believe me when I tell you you're not ready for what's to come, and you'll need a safeword." The warning is punctuated by a click of metal around my wrist, and I don't know what is scarier: the handcuff as black, hot, and dangerous as his soul at my left wrist or just the roughness brewing from the depths of his chest and barely holden back by the latch of his clenched teeth. "So choose one or run away."

In that instant, he does sound like a horror movie psychopath or the big bad wolf who's just got the Little Red Riding Hood in his claws. The only difference is that he's leaving me the choice once more, and as I glance down at the handcuffs, still open around my right wrist, I'm aware that it may be my last choice before falling into something naughtier than ever, something that would burn the last remaining pristine parts of me into ashes.

That's why he's giving me time, not pressuring me into anything as the seconds are slowly ticking with his heavy breaths above my shoulder.

Yet it isn't a battle between my brain and my core happening in the silence. Both are pretty much agreeing as various images cross my mind, from him tearing off my red coat to his fangs marking my skin and to his lashes while I beg him to stop and he only gets rougher.

My choice is already made anyway. Like the Little Red Riding Hood, I've sealed my fate when I've stepped into this wood, following his dark trail of coal, and there's no turning back, safeword or not.

"Coal." I let out the only word coming to my thoughts, at least the only one that isn't a plead.

"Coal?" He chuckles before his voice turns an octave darker. "Remember it, 'cause it's the only thing that will stop me."

That's when it's really starting, something switching in the air around. Maybe it's because his gloved hands snatch off my coat in one swift motion, and I'm left shivering in the heated air, or maybe it's just the clinks of metal as his thumb brushes against my racing pulse before locking the handcuffs around my wrists.

Whatever it is, everything accelerates from now: his movements, my heart rate, and the throbbing in my core when he pushes on my lower back, bending me over.

"Let's see how much you liked my little gift..."

Oh that, he can see it as soon as he swings up my skirt, revealing my bare butt, the back of the toy between my cheeks, the wetness dripping down my thighs, and I'm sure he can even catch the goosebumps pearling under his penetrating gaze as he takes his sweet time, lightly tracing the candy cane engraving of the butt plug.

Thus, I do the only thing I can in my position to retaliate: I arch my back a little bit more, wiggling my butt, and I realize too late that it might not be the smartest idea to poke the bear, or more exactly, the wolf, seeing the wolfish grin I glimpse over my shoulder before he smacks my right buttcheek.

I almost fall face first with the strength of it – the strength of his slap, the leather of his glove only sharpening the sting, and the strength taking over my shaky legs when he takes off that same glove, and his warm fingers come massaging the burning skin.

The mix of pain and pleasure mixing along my nerves, added to the continuous vibrations of the butt plug, that does it for me. The first spark of my orgasm is arising deep inside my core, and it can't be stopped when he hums,

"It fits perfectly in that sweet little butt."

"Yes, yes, thank you!"

I'm not sure what I'm thanking him for, but surely for the tingles of flaming pleasure spreading to all my insides as I finally enjoy the release of the throbbing pressure after too long minutes, after 365 too long nights.

What I should have remembered though, is that Balthazar Krampus doesn't only give sparks. The glowing torches all around us are proof of it, and I barely get to process his tall figure kneeling down before his ardent mouth ends up on my pulsating nerves, and he gives me a whole wildfire.

His tongue is slithering like flames around my folds. His lips are circling my swelling clit, and his fangs... oh, they're the fuel, as with just a graze, they can send me spiraling down a pit of fusing ecstasy, and it isn't only his mouth. He makes good use of his ten fingers, his nails digging into the smooth skin of my inner thigh and keeping me in a firm grip when his other hand comes down on my left buttcheeks with a loud smack.

"Balthazar! Holly–" I'm cut off by my own gasp when his tongue slides in my core, going straight to my most sensitive spots as if he's memorized them by heart, and at this point, I think I'm only standing by the force of it all because my arms are dangling uselessly in front of me, and my legs are molten like toffee, yet my hips are still swaying against every thrust of his tongue, at least, until the final straw.

And no, the final straw isn't the third slap on my behind, nor the way he's slightly twisting the butt plug in my clenching back hole, not even his lips sucking every drop of wetness leaking out of me. It's a simple murmur, so soft and muffled by my throbbing heat that it's probably just a mindless thought escaping him.

"Mhm, I missed that sweetness."

Added to all the previous vibrations, this mere rasp is the final ripple engulfing me in an inferno of ecstasy, engulfing me in his fire, and if he's missed my sweetness, he definitely gets to enjoy it and quench his thirst as I'm gushing all over his tongue, my whole body melting in trembles, cries of his name, and pulsing bliss until my knees are finally giving out.

This time, I would probably fall face-first into the snow, and maybe it would be what I need to soothe the blazing hot pleasure already leaving his mark in all my cells. But his strong arms are there to catch me, wrapping me in their warmth and maintaining every last tingle seeping into my bone while he pulls me up with him.

"I told you you're not ready, Candy."

Candy, that single little word still echoes like an electroshock in my sated nerves, making me straighten up. "I am ready!"

Okay, my legs might need a few more seconds to stop their shaking, and I hate how, in the meantime, my whole body is leaning on him, and even more that he can feel it as he chuckles above my ear, trailing his wet smirk down my jaw tauntingly.

But I'm already grateful that he lowers the intensity of the butt plug – Lower, not turn down, and it clearly isn't a slip of his fingers.

"If so, then I think it's time for your long overdue punishment, Candy."

He doesn't leave me time to protest, turning my chin to him and putting his words into action on my lips.

However, this kiss feels nothing like a punishment. His lips are soft, slow, and indulgent; his whole mouth is actually, his teeth grazing ever so lightly the corner of my lips, and his tongue languidly soothing the nip. Even the touch of his fingers under my chin is like that, and I can't explain it, but there is something more in the caresses of our mouths, well, something more than the taste of my 'sweetness'.

It pulls me in more, and although I have no breath left, no possibility to move my hands, and barely any strength in my lower body, I'm spinning in his arms, melting my lips closer and closer and finding more energy to do so.

Maybe that's what this kiss is: rebuilding, slowly putting me back on my feet, even though when he leans away, I know it's only to break me more after–

"What the fuck is that?!"

Unless we're interrupted?

I know I've claimed minutes ago that Kane would come to my rescue, but when I see the wide look in Balthazar's eyes, I'm frozen.

He has just been starting, and I don't want to be saved. I want his punishment, his fire, and I'm instinctively melting closer in his arms while I risk a glance over my shoulder, the shock vivid like hot iron in his gaze making me imagine the worst scenarios... Kane, Nicholas, Tannen, any of my brothers... or worse, my parents.

In that one long second, I picture everything, and I actually need to blink my large eyes when I catch none of that, nothing red or angry. Instead, there are dancing hues of blue, green, and purple illuminating the night sky.

"The Northern Lights..." I smile as the rivers of bright colors are spreading in the midnight blue, right next to us, right on the side where there is no fire torch, and with the cliff edge, we have the best view to admire them illuminating the whole valley.

It's almost as if they are here just for us.

"You've never seen them?"

The answer is obvious as I turn back to him, the wonder in his expression glowing as bright as the sky lights. Even his smile appears more luminous, and the miraculous phenomenon has outshined the smugness on his features.

Though the most unbelievable is in his gaze, the cold hues reflecting in the amber shades, and those opposite colors that are usually canceling each other, here, they are making each other more vivid, a lot like the flames dancing around, in rhythm with the Northern Lights.

"I've seen them so many times that I forget how magical they are."

Still, my gaze doesn't stay long on the sky, quickly sliding lower on earth.

"My dad always says they're very precious and arise from a great power. My mom says they're the stardust trail of flying foxes. I remember when I was younger, I would put food for them in the hope to tame them and get to fly around the world on their back." I shake my head at the memories.

"I would wait for hours, well, while playing with my brothers and eating marshmallows..." I continue with a shrug, or at least, the hint of a shrug as the lift of my shoulders is stifled by the weight of his arms, which are still engulfing me, and I realize how much I've rambled.

It's the first time I'm telling him so much about myself. Not even when I've argued with him, in my seething fits, I've let out so much, and here, the words have slipped out so naturally.

"But you probably know what it is... campfires and sneaking out to see the starry sky..." You probably don't care about those random memories about me.

After all, he isn't here for this.

Yet he hasn't interrupted me, nor loosened his embrace, and I know he has no knowledge of politeness and manners, so he wouldn't have hesitated to cut me off if he'd wanted to. Besides, I can even glimpse the hint of a smile on his lips, before it twitches down.

"I'm an only child, and when you live in the underground of Vegas, the only starry lights you see are the ones of the five-star casinos."

Vegas... Funny how I've always dreamed about those flashing lights, wishing I could get away from my overprotective family, but the memories don't appear as bright as the Northern Lights in his dark eyes.

"Oh, I..." I'm sorry, though that, I keep it on my pinched lips.

He isn't one for 'sorry' and 'pity', and he doesn't let me see more than a shadow from the lonely boy of his past before it's quickly engulfed by the fierce sparkles in his eyes.

"And we don't have much candy there."

That's probably the sweetest thing he's ever told me as he leans his head down to dive his gaze into mine.

Of course, it's still accompanied by his crooked and glistening smile, but that only makes it better, and I reply in the same cryptic way.

"Oh really? It's a shame..." I want to add that there is no one like him in the whole North Pole either, no one that creates those sparks warmer than the whole Christmas spirit around in me.

Yet I still don't have a nickname or metaphor for him. He's unique, intense, full of surprises, addicting...

"The legends are true... Your eyes are really the same colors as the night sky here."

And he can be so soft, his fingers brushing a strand of my blond hair fallen in front of my eyes while I'm melting in the depths of his gaze, and this time, it isn't in molten and dark desire.

Actually, this moment is so precious and moving that I could almost forget I have a vibrating sex toy still in my butt and my hands are tied up.

All my attention, all the throbbings echoing inside my chest, are directed towards those amber shades that appear clearer and sweeter than ever.

Even if it's just for a second before he looks away, I know the image will be forever imprinted in my memory, like everything about him, his harsh lashes, his devious comments, his taunt body, all the hard and soft parts of him like...

"Filled chocolate."

"What?" His gaze snaps back to me, wide and gazing at me like I'm crazy, at least until I explain, and they narrow to a much more familiar look.

"I've found your nickname! If I'm a spicy candy, then you are a filled chocolate." I grin proudly, not even his eyebrow lifting dangerously bringing down my enthusiasm. "Yes, because you're intense, full of surprises... addicting... and soft like gianduja inside."

Am I making a rod for my own back?

Seeing the darkness crossing his gaze as he lifts his chin slowly to look down at me, yes, surely. But I've been waiting for my punishment after all, and as the air around switches to a more heated and crackling intensity, it's only spurring me to continue, letting my eyes run down the angles of his jaw, the veins slowly standing out on his neck, the outlines of his chest, and lower...

"All of that under a hard cover." I press my arguments literally as my hands reach for the bulge at his pants, and I lift on my tiptoes to add in his ear. "And I would love to have a taste."

If he's thought an earth-shattering orgasm and a pair of handcuffs would stop me, he's mistaken, as I still make good use of my fingers to slide down his zipper, rubbing his hardness in the narrow slit.

Besides, I have my whole mouth, my teeth nibbling his earlobe and my tongue soon following, and it looks like the spicy candy is slowly melting the filled chocolate as goosebumps are piercing through his hard cover, and when a raspy grow arises from deep inside, it's drawing me in.

"After all, it's only fair that I give you a little gift too... You've been such a good boy–"

Okay, I've gotten a little carried away here, the buzz of power going to my head – and my core. But I'm quickly brought back down literally as his fist takes a firm grip in my curls, forcing me to kneel down, and it's something else zinging through my nerves as he keeps pulling on my hair, angling my head backward so I can catch the warning in his eyes.

"Don't try to switch the roles, Candy." The dominating tone of his voice doesn't leave much room to protest, just like his hold in my hair, and yet, I'm finding myself purposefully jerking my head in the opposite direction.

"Or what?"

I can't believe how much I'm enjoying this: the searing tug at my scalp, the predatory smirk pulling at the corner of his plump lips, and this whole fight for power. It's exhilarating, and I'm discovering new parts of myself.

I've been aware of my kinky side already, especially since last year, when he's awakened a wildness in me, but here, it's fully igniting, fueled by the sparks of defiance tickling my core, the blaze of pain and pleasure fusing, and the whole wildfire he is, taking over me.

There is no stopping it, unless I pronounce that single safeword, though I have no intention of doing so as I'm trying to push him to his limits.

"Mr. soft chocolate?"

"It looks like those sweet lips are getting a little too mouthy," The pulp of his thumb brushes my smile, intently enough to make it fall into a small O and sneak in between. "Maybe I should let you feel for yourself how far from soft I am. Slide down my pants."

Everything switches so fast with the low command that I don't even get to process what is happening as he releases his grip on my hair and pulls his thumb away, his hands already working on tearing off his coat in the same second while my brain is still trying to comprehend the rush of desire pooling down between my thighs. Yet my body is complying instantly, my fingers fumbling eagerly with his belt buckle to release his hardness.

While being handcuffed, it turns out to be harder than expected, the pinch of metal restraining my rushed hands, though the fact that my gaze keeps straying to his own movements as he's stripping his upper half isn't helping either.

When he takes off the last layer of his tee-shirt, and I manage to roll down his tight leather pants, I don't know where to look between the stain of precome of his black boxers, the inked flames climbing all around the ropes of muscles, and his gaze, glowing with pure, primal energy, the same savagery that seems to be leading his hands as he slides his boxers off himself.

That man has no patience...

He doesn't even leave me time to reach for him, as his hands wrap around his hard member, stroking and spreading the precome all over his length like I've been dying to do. But I can't bring myself to be mad when I take in this whole sculptural sight of him towering over me.

It's more sinful than in my wildest fantasies, and I've got time to picture it in one year. Yet my mind couldn't make up the salacious sound of his hands pumping himself, nor the low groans in sync with the twitches of his stomach, and as I hold out my tongue, and he, inch by inch, slides his hardness towards it, I can feel how much heavier he is than what I've imagined.

Everything is more: his intoxicating taste, the smoothness of his skin, and the weakness in my legs as I'm progressively melting along with my defiance.

"Not so mouthy now..."

I've talked too soon, and the protest is already re-sparking in my insides. However, I stay silent, as I have other ways to show him how mouthy I can, coming down fully on him until he's hitting the back of my throat.

"Fuck!"

Not so cocky now... If I didn't have my mouth full, I would smirk, but instead, I let him see through my eyes as I keep them on his and hollow my cheeks.

Even when he wraps his hand around my curls in a makeshift ponytail and starts to set the rhythm of my back and forths, I still use all the tricks I know and rapidly learn what he likes the best from the deepness of his growls and the brightness of his gaze to keep that little spark of power I have over him.

A spark of power when he's still the wildfire.

"Mhm... Marie-Noel... you're so good at this."

I gotta admit it isn't the first time I hear this kind of compliment, yet the effect is hitherto unseen as his deep rasp joins the vibrations still steadily keeping me on edge in my behind and my legs are squeezing impossibly tight together.

I have a feeling I could come just watching him fall apart, along with maybe just a little push...

My hands are already trying to slide in under my skirt to get some relief of the throbbing pressure building there when he catches my sneaky attempt instantly – with his heavy eyelids already half-closed, I don't know how – and he seems to have other plans when his tall foot moves between my legs. Plans that freeze me as his firm grip is keeping me from glancing down, but I remember too well the sight of his rough hobnailed boots. There is no way I'm humping that.

I instinctively pull my mouth away from his leaking tip to protest. Although the word 'coal' still doesn't cross my mind, even when he leans down and grabs my hips, yanking them down on the... snow, a white, soft, and freezing little bump of snow.

It might be even more torturous than his boots, and I realize it as I'm gasping a moan at the difference of temperature with my blazing core, the shuddering whimper resonating on his length as he takes the opportunity to thrust in my open mouth, and the vibration makes him twitch above my tongue, which sends more burning desire in my core and accentuates the contrast of temperature.

Then begins a spiral of tremors, groans, electric shivers, incoherent curse words, instinctive thrusts – his and mine, as I find myself seeking the nip of ice on my swollen nerves – firm grips, hardness, sweetness, strong pulsations... I even hear a choked 'please', which must be mine, in the whirlwind, always faster, always closer to the release. Though I'm not sure who will come first.

It's so dizzying that I can't even distinguish my pleasure from his, and everything feels bound, as each time his hands are bobbing my head along his erection, it brings my center deeper on the punishing snow, and when my fingers massage his balls, the tensions in his abs are perfectly in sync with the ones inside my core, both tighter and tighter.

"Fuck... Candy, I'm– gonna come!"

There, the tensions in each of his muscles, especially the one above my tongue, leave no doubt: he's gonna come first, and like the sound of his strained warning is pulling my moan out, he's gonna sweep me away with him – unless I come willingly...

As his grip on my hair loosens, I quickly understand that he's leaving me the choice to pull away. He is still halfway in my mouth, letting me feel how hard he is, but the hold of his hands is so soft that if I want to, I can withdraw.

That is so sweet... He's really a filled chocolate, and my mouth is watering as everything in him hardens more, and my tongue swirls against his tip before I take him fully.

And apparently, that's all he needs to melt completely, his jaw going slack, and his shoulders slouching as the pleasure strikes him.

I can see it bursting bright like flames in his dark eyes. I can hear it in the rasps of my name tumbling out of his lips again and again. I can taste it as it fills my mouth, enough for me to catch all the nuances of his intoxicating flavor, warm and smoky, like cigarette – No, even more intense, like a drug, as tingles of euphoria are shooting through my veins as soon as I swallow.

And mostly, I can feel his pleasure becoming mine and triggering my own orgasm with just the sight of this dark and dangerous man, Balthazar Krampus, coming undone before me. That, and the overload of sensations happening down between my thighs, but this is just a bonus, sending me spiraling down deeper and deeper in this dark abyss of ecstasy as I vibrate, shudder, and seize until my eyes roll back, and heaviness sinks into my bones, exactly like drowning, yet in molten gianduja.

That's definitely what he is, especially when he withdraws from my mouth, making sure I don't forget to inhale deep breaths, and he kneels down in front of me, pulling me back to earth with soft caresses.

Though I keep that comment locked on my flushed lips and swallow it harshly when he coos teasingly,

"Don't tell me you're already tired? We haven't even got to your punishment."

Because this sweet torture hasn't been my punishment?!

Indeed, he may be soft like gianduja, but it's under a thick and bitter layer of dark chocolate.

I'm starting to understand his first warning, and I'm not so sure to be ready when I cross his smoldering gaze.

"But... I've been good all year..." I try my best innocent and pristine look, yet with the hoarseness of my voice, it doesn't sound as convincing as I've imagined. "What did I do?"

"I can't believe you're even asking, Candy," he tuts. He fucking tuts me!

In his dark and thick voice, it has to be the sexiest thing I've ever heard. No, actually, the sexiest is the low and intent murmur following.

"You've been really, really bad all year... invading my mind and body... sneaking in my thoughts every time I was with another girl... spoiling my appetite for anything else than your sweetness... and stealing me of any rest."

Does it mean he's thought about me all year too?

If that is naughtiness, then I'm glad to not be a good girl. I'm glad to not be the only that has been haunted all year, and I'll gladly take my punishment, my eyes trailing to his scourge on the ground before I meet his unforgiving gaze.

"How many lashes?" With those words, I surrender completely to him.

He's already holding my gaze with the penetrating intensity of his. He also has my breath and all the attention of my nerve endings as he grabs the flogger, and he's claimed my whole body with the previous earth-shattering orgasms he's made me experience.

But right now, I'm handing him all the control and the last part of my sanity as my sated core is throbbing with a new wave of desire, and from the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, I have no doubt he's aware of all.

"Umm, a year is a long time... 365 long nights..."

And he's starting his punishment as, with each word, he slowly strokes the fringes of his whip in his large hand, letting me picture how each piece of leather will lash down on my sensitive skin.

"So many hours... and even more minutes, seconds..."

When he leans closer, my heart is already ticking them faster and faster, the strong hammering resonating in every part of my body, so much that I don't even notice the clinks of metal until his thumbs brush the pulse there, soothing the burn the handcuffs have left behind and that I could have almost forgotten.

It has to be said that everything is searing around, especially his gaze as he commands,

"Strip."

Oh, that too, I've forgotten because, even if the thick layers can't prevent his eyes and his touches from piercing much farther than my skin, I'm still fully clothed, apart from my panties, and from the dangerous arch of his eyebrow, it isn't to his taste, and I'd better hurry...

"Now," he adds, or should I say, growls, and I have no idea how I can even move with the mush of post-orgasms and renewed excitement he's made in my members, but my body complies with the dark sound of his voice.

I even manage to make quite a show of it while being on my knees – since I don't trust my legs – sensually sliding off my skirt, tight sweater...

And with each piece of red and white taken off, his eyes darken, making the twinkles of amber even brighter, and yes, he's close enough for me to see it, as he's kneeling in front of me, his heavy breaths tickling my skin from time to time. Yet no other part of him is touching me or helping me. He's just enjoying from the front row every second of the show until the red lace of my bra falls on the pristine snow.

I only leave my stockings and garter belt on, as I remember how much he likes them, and from the sparkle in his gaze as he traces it along my thighs, he's recalling the same memories.

Nothing much has changed actually... the sinful look in his eyes, the tensions sparking between us, the white under us, me, on my knees, him, hovering over me, the anticipation buzzing on my skin–

No, that isn't the same, as the first lash lands on the top of my thigh before I can even anticipate anything, and what is ringing on my skin is the harsh bite of the leather, the surprise effect heightening the sensation, as for an instant, everything stops inside: my heart, my breath, and my brain, leaving more room for the pain to invade me, and just when everything restarts, he strikes again, on my other thigh, right at the edge of my stocking.

He does that two more times until all my senses are spinning, and my body is putty enough for his hands to move me as he pleases, urging my legs open, and pushing on my lower back to form a defined arch and mostly, to press my throbbing center back on the snow.

And this position isn't random.

As he stands up to admire his 'work', it looks like he's been preparing this for long seconds, minutes, hours... 365 nights. I wouldn't be surprised, as not a detail is left to chance. Everything is made to torture me.

Where do I even start? The obvious difference of temperature? Because now that I'm naked and not lost in the whirlwind of our bliss, I'm much more aware of the heated air on my skin and the dizzying contrast of the icy cold against my core, and in between, each shiver arising with the clash.

Then, there are also the vibrations still buzzing steadily in my behind, which are impossible to ignore with my butt pushed out like that.

My whole body is exposed and vulnerable, and I'm fully conscious of the meaning behind this erotic position as well.

It's turning me on even more as I slide my open palms on my thighs.

"No, keep your hands by your side, and don't move." He corrects me instantly, and if at first, I'm confused, it doesn't take me long to understand as I follow his instructions: it leaves me even more exposed.

We both can notice his marks on my skin, the white of my flimsy stockings only highlighting the scarlet, and he also has access to every sensitive spot of my body that way.

Yes, he's really thought through every detail, and his next whiplash is perfectly aimed at my underbreast. Although it isn't particularly strong, the sting on the sensitive flesh is enough to make me jolt forward and earn me another lash on my inner thigh for the movement – or is it for the past year?

I have no idea as, once more, he isn't counting or saying anything, just circling me with his calculative yet primal gaze, and I can only hope it won't be 365 whiplashes.

Where we at? 3? 4?

"Holly merry!"

It's one more, right between my hip and my thigh, and the hardest one so far. The others have only been a warm-up in comparison with the sharp burn, and I find back the same exhilarating thrill as last year, all these raw sensations, basic and instinctive that I can't control...

It's so basic and instinctive actually that even if I'm reveling in every second of it, my body is reacting on its own, my hand moving out of reflex to try to soothe the burn. But of course, it only worsens it when, as soon as my fingers touch my skin, the flogger ends up there, on the still searing skin and on the tip of my fingers, and he tuts me again.

"Please..." I plead helplessly, not even sure for what.

For him to stop tutting? For more lashes? Or maybe just for his touch, as I need the feeling of his rough and heated skin soothing and fueling the burn.

Yet tonight, he isn't granting me any of that. His left hand is already too busy stroking himself. The selfish devil...

The sadistic devil, as he's humming excessively loudly, teasing me, while I'm here, unmoving and panting, although I can't pretend it isn't titillating the masochist in me, and I don't need his caresses when all my senses are already overwhelmed.

Besides, I already have the brushes of his flogger, the heated air, and the unmelting ice, all those burns sparking the pleasure inside of me, even if nothing consumes me like he does.

"Balthazar!" I cry out when he whips my right breast, the tip of the fringes lashing right over my perky peak, and the zing of fire travels straight to my core, making me clench so tight that I almost come.

How is that even possible so quickly, without him touching me? I have no idea, but I'm really teetering over the edge of my orgasm, and it seems that together we're defying all the rules as he's already twitching in his hand.

"Fuck, I can't take it."

Before I can even blink, he is throwing his whip away, and I wouldn't want to blink as he drops to his knees in front of me.

Balthazar Krampus in all his naked glory, dropping on his knees in front of me and sliding a condom on his rock-hard length, with each of his muscles so tense that he looks on the verge of bursting, and the wildness in his gaze already sparking, this is a sight that will haunt me for more than 365 days, and I take in as many details as I can before he yanks me to him, and I can only close my eyes with the impact of his lips on mine.

Then, I use my mouth and my hands to commit him to memory, exploring thoroughly as much with my tongue tracing the outlines of his fangs as with my fingers running in every corner I haven't touched yet, while he makes sure to leave more of his marks on me.

"Tell me you want me to fuck you," he rasps over my ear, desperation and command pouring in each word and rushing straight to my core, and as I lean away to look in his eyes, it's the same there, except it reaches somewhere else.

"I don't want to..." I breathe out, wrapping my legs around his waist, as tight as his jaw is clenching before I add, "I need you to fuck me."

Upon those words, his expression is instantly relaxing, smoothing into a ravenous smile that looks even more spine-chilling when he chuckles. "Oh... you're a devious little spicy candy."

And he's a dark filled chocolate with a thick and hard cover, which he lets me feel as his nails dig into my butt, and he grinds me against his pulsing erection until none of us can take it anymore.

In a few seconds, he's slamming inside me, and we're both gasping at the euphoric sensation we've been craving for a year.

I could come just with the way he's filling me, twitching and pulsing against the vibrations of the butt plug, and that's surely why he turns off the toy, making sure I don't go into an overload of sensations – at least, not from something else than him when he starts moving and crashes his lips on mine again.

Between the two, I don't even know what's more breathtaking, yet I gladly return the fervor of his tongue and hips, thrust for thrust, in something that resembles a violent dance.

A violent dance, there's no other word for the erratic back and forth of our hips, the arabesques of his lips around my left breast, our frantic fingers waltzing along our bodies, and the desire swirling faster and faster in our veins, and it becomes a savage choreography when we accidentally topple over in the frenzy, and my back hits the snowy ground.

"Holly... snow!"

I've called him spine-chilling before, but I haven't expected it would be literal as goosebumps are pearling from the back of my neck to the curve of my butt, awakening sensitive nerves that I've had no idea about along the way, and when his thrusts become more and more heated to push me farther into the snow and the overwhelming rush of adrenaline, I realize it might not have been 'accidental'.

His crooked and swollen smile is way too cocky to be 'accidental', and I still want to tear off that infuriatingly hot smirk, kiss it off, or maybe... cool it off.

So in an attempt to do one of those, or all, or maybe just hold on to something before I slip into insanity, I grasp his horns, making his lips fall into an O, and taking advantage of it, I crash my mouth on his, swallowing his curse, and flip us around with all the strength I can muster.

I'm aware that I'm starting a dangerous game that I can't win with that move. But it's worth it to see the ice melting the fire, even if just for an instant, as he's the one shivering from his head tilting back to his hardness twitching inside me.

That's why I do it again and again every time my back hits the snow. Every time, I find new distractions: trailing my mouth along his Adam's apple, roaming my hands down his perky butt, clenching around him, kissing him, and every time the adrenaline is more ardent in my veins.

Every time, I end up stuck between his heated body and the snow, faster and faster, until it becomes impossible to decipher if we're shivering out of cold or pleasure anymore, and we're just rolling in the snow, fighting, kissing, fucking, all at the same time in our savage dance, where we're not battling for dominance or victory anymore, just to be even in our euphoric downfall.

Speaking of which, I don't know by which miracle we don't fall down the cliff in that messy race, but luckily, we're heading the opposite side, and we're stopped by the barrier of fire at some point.

That's the moment I know the game that has started since he's put that first piece of coal is over, and he's won.

The air here is even more heated, the flames beside us making it feel like a steam room and making the snow in my back even colder. Since both are magical, none of them can be affected by the other, yet if the snow isn't melting under his fire, I can't say the same about me.

The shivers are fusing faster and faster into thick pleasure, and the eruption is already sparking in my core, right in that deep place he's hitting again and again as his thrusts are becoming more frantic, and he puts one of my legs over his shoulder.

"Fuck... your sweet cunt is hugging me so tight. I know you're close..." he grunts in my ear, the raw sound pushing me closer and closer.

So close that my thighs are already shaking, and I find myself hopelessly trying to slow it down, gripping him tighter – and not only my hands – even if it's not the best idea when it drives him wilder, his hips pounding through me at an inhuman pace, and his fingers grasping my chin to make me look at him.

And when I meet the ardent blaze of his gaze, it hits me – the realization that I'm not ready for it to end, and also the stirrings of the mind-blowing orgasm.

I can't fight it when he adds, slamming through me with each word but not blinking away once,

"You're gonna come for me, and you're gonna scream my name... So the whole North Pole can hear."

There's not a hint of question in his eyes, nor a possible confusion about the underlying meaning. He's claiming me possessively, and if my rebellious side would usually be protesting, in this instant, he has all of me.

No one in the whole North Pole or in the whole universe can consume me like him, and as soon as I offer him a faint nod, he is the one triggering my orgasm, granting me the strongest wave of ecstasy I've ever felt.

It's searing. It's sparking. It's shattering, and it's in every part of my being, even my back as his hands are running there, bringing me impossibly closer to him, and I don't even have to think about his demand. The scream is torn out of me anyway, and not coming from my brain.

"Oh Balthazar! Yes, yes..."

I'm sure I can be heard on the other side of the world, and I don't care when his voice booms even louder.

"Fuck! Marie-Noel!" He starts to shake with me, his thrusts growing sloppier as we're both getting lost in the same tingling bliss, and I fight my eyes open to watch the vivid explosion of pleasure in his.

Dark sin, bright fire, sparks of light, it's everything going through my body right now. I even catch green, purple, and blue dancing somewhere as he tenses and releases inside of me, and I don't know if it's the reflection of more Northern lights or just the euphoria blinding me. But whatever it is, it's definitely arising from a precious and great power: the collision of fire and ice, the collision of us.

Two opposite forces that should never meet. Two opposite forces that can only lead to an earth-shattering disaster, but Holly Merry, that's a sweet earth-shattering disaster as stardust trails are rippling through each nerve of our bodies, and we're flying in zero gravity.

Even when our tired limbs have stopped moving, and the fierce ecstasy is softening to become a warm and molten bliss, we're still not fully coming back on earth, and I can't fight the heaviness in my eyelids.

Maybe it's the aftermath of our collisions or maybe it's just a way to make this last a little bit longer, but the last thing I take in is the heat of his body slumped over mine and a quiet mutter in my neck.

"There's no way I'm gonna wait one year again..."

And then, I'm floating somewhere far, far away...

I have no idea where I go, yet it doesn't feel like snow. It's cozy and warm like a fireplace, and I could stay there forever – if a cold shiver didn't jolt me awake, along with a familiar jingle that raises all my alarms.

I furiously blink my eyes, trying to make out more than a blur of white and red around and search for a piece of fabric to cover myself before I realize I'm already covered in a soft, satiny fabric, and the ground under me is smooth and warm like... a mattress, my mattress, more exactly as I finally take in my surroundings.

I'm in my room. There is no doubt, yet my gaze is still running around every corner until I'm sure that everything is the same, that he isn't there.

I could almost believe all of that has only been a 366th dream, but the soreness in all my muscles is merciless as I try to sit up, and then, I catch all these details like a scavenger hunt: the scent of spice, fire, and leather lingering, and not only on my skin, the warmth of the wrinkled sheets beside me, and a piece of paper on my opened box of filled chocolates.

When a faraway 'ho ho ho' echoes from outside, it all clicks.

Balthazar has carried me back into my room when I've passed out. He's even kept me in his arms for most of the night before he's heard my family coming back, and he's had to leave because it's forbidden for us to be together.

As for the single note on the box of filled chocolates, can it be more clear?

'Are you free on New Year's Eve, Spicy Candy?'

Merry Christmas! 

It's my little gift for all my naughty elves 😘🎄

I hope you liked it! If so, don't forget to vote ⭐ and comment!

Now, I'm waiting for Balthazar Krampus because after writing this, there's no way I'm on the nice list 😂🙈😈🔥

And if you're here, I guess, you too will be waiting for him 😏