And Then They Were Four
By Elna Holst
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About this ebook
Malmö/Lund, Sweden, 2000
A radical feminist turned cop and a former Lucia candidate are expecting—twins. A gender studies professor burns her candle at both ends. A lovelorn bus driver is feeling fragile, until an unexpected visit brings her some queer holiday cheer; and an obstetric nurse single mother delivers the expected, while her past catches her unprepared.
In the final A Tinsel and Spruce Needles Romance, the crew from Candlelight Kisses, Little x and Wild Bells make their way through Advent 2000, celebrating the first X(X)mas of a new millennium.
Elna Holst
Elna Holst writes lesbian erotic fiction, reads Tolstoy and plays contract bridge. A devoted fan of the short story form, her publications include bite-sized textual effusions in anthologies like the longstanding Best Lesbian Erotica series, The New Urge Reader 2 and Rule 34: Weird and Wonderful Fetish Erotica.She is currently at work on a novel-length project.
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And Then They Were Four - Elna Holst
A NineStar Press Publication
www.ninestarpress.com
And Then They Were Four
ISBN: 978-1-64890-154-6
© 2020 Elna Holst
Cover Art © 2020 Natasha Snow
Published in November, 2020 by NineStar Press, New Mexico, USA.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact NineStar Press at Contact@ninestarpress.com.
WARNING:
This book contains sexually explicit content, which may only be suitable for mature readers.
And Then They Were Four
A Tinsel and Spruce Needles Romance
Elna Holst
Table of Contents
Dedication
Names and Diminutives
First of Advent
Second of Advent
Third of Advent
Fourth of Advent
Glossary
About the Author
For my favourite new mother of 2020. Love you, sis.
Names and Diminutives
Erika Stolt — Rickie, Rick
Padma Lindgren — Paddan, Lucia, Lucy boss, Bearer of Light
Astrid — Ms Storyteller Par Excellence
Harriet Lindgren — Nan
Helena Hansen — Helle, Fair Helena of Lund, Professor, Prof
Fahriye — Fahri
Natalya — Natta
Märta Sofie Andersson — Sofie, Fiffi, Fi, Soph, Soffipropp, Soffan, Hell on Wheels
Sandra Ling — Rolling Goddess, the Shrew
Mia Andersson — Mi, Miffi, the Dykemaker
Rosalind Hawkins — Roz
Gunilla Andersson — Gunsan, Nilla
Rut Berggren — Rutan
First of Advent
Malmö, Sweden, 3 December 2000
Rick’s hand slid over the striated orb of Padma’s stomach. She looked like a giant walnut. Yes, a walnut, that was how Padma Lindgren felt about herself as she entered the ninth month of her pregnancy: she was moving slow as a walrus and going nutty into the bargain. Her enormous middle was striped with indelible stretch marks, distended like a carapace, overwhelmingly ever-present, forcing her to sleep in positions she had never slept in before.
The wan white of Rickie’s freckled hand stood out against her belly, her touch making Padma’s skin break out in goosebumps. She hissed out air between her teeth. She knew her registered partner—or wife, as she called her for short—was just saying good morning to the babies. It didn’t matter. Her sex ached in readiness. Her huge, dark mother-to-be nipples puckered. Her pulse pounded in her ears.
Morning, love,
Rick mumbled into her hair, and Padma whimpered. Erika’s hand stilled. You okay?
She turned in her arms, meeting Erika Stolt’s soft, grey-green gaze. Her thin, pink lips were pointing down in an expression of worry. Padma groaned. Rick, please. Don’t stop. I’m—I’m incandescent.
Erika smiled goofily. You really are.
Padma snorted, but Rickie’s eyes held a promise: one promptly delivered on as she moved her tantalising palms up the sides of Padma’s bump to cup her swollen breasts.
A sharp quiver cut through Padma, from chest to groin. These last few months her tits had been ridiculously hypersensitive. Erika had always been a fan of them, it was true—ever since their school days, Padma suspected—but now she was close to enlisting in the Holy Order of the Sacred Boobs. She grazed the undersides with her thumbs and Padma moaned.
Rick flushed with gratification. She flushed so easily it was just silly. And utterly fucking adorable.
Padma gripped her head, the semi-outgrown buzz cut tickling her fingers. She pulled her face up close. Yeah, I’m going to need you to suck them. Hard.
Rick didn’t need telling twice. She crushed their mouths together, swallowing Padma’s rough gasps as she continued to stroke her, but the kiss, for all its scintillating intensity, was nothing but a few seconds of foreplay before she progressed to Padma’s pebbled, painfully erect peaks.
She started with the left one, circling the areola with her tongue as she palmed the right. Padma sighed her encouragement. Her fingers brushed along Erika’s scalp, itching to pull, but endeavouring not to. She had to pace herself, or the moment would be over before it had properly begun; she knew this, although it was only the hard-earned self-discipline of the certified fitness instructor that managed to hold her in check.
Rick licked directly across her nipple and Padma’s hips bucked, her belly jutting into the warm, lean abdomen of her lover.
Fuck, babe.
Rick’s whisper had a gulpy, watery quality. Her right hand skimmed along Padma’s obliterated waistline, sweeping the underside of her bump before finding the jungle-like swelter of her bush.
Sparks of hot, treacle-sweet arousal ran the length and width of her. Padma’s fingers clamped around Rickie’s skull. She was whimpering again. She couldn’t bloody help herself.
Rick chuckled, but after six years together, Padma knew exactly what that chuckle meant: Erika was skating the edge herself, the joy of sexual fulfilment gathering in her loins.
"Do it. I fucking