4. Emory
4
EMORY
“It’s Vinnie, right?”
He glanced up, his tear-stained eyelashes fluttering, much like my heart.
“Mmmm.”
“Are you hurt?”
He pushed out his bottom lip. “No, not physically.”
I wondered if he’d skinned a knee and needed a band-aid. I had some in my bathroom that were decorated with cartoon characters. Or maybe he hurt himself and needed cream rubbed on an owie.
“Let me help you up.” I’d imagined running into my neighbor one day and offering him my teat, undressing him and putting him in footie pajamas, but now that it was happening, my brain couldn’t grasp that he had been carrying raw milk.
I’d been right when I’d scented it on him as we passed one another in the corridor.
“Thank you.” His bottom lip wobbled.
“We’ll need to get this mess cleaned up.”
Vinnie nodded, staring at the spilled milk as if he’d lost his best friend.
But as I hefted him up, he leaped into my arms, tears spilling over his shirt and mingling with the milk.
“I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “But everything has gone wrong.”
I rested my head on his and hugged him close, breathing in his floral shampoo while his tears soaked my sweater.
“Tell D—” I almost blurted out Daddy. “Tell me all about it.”
“I had to go away for work.”
That was why I hadn’t seen him.
“And there’s something wrong.”
An alarm went off in my head. “Are you sick?”
He shook his head, and I carried him inside and placed him on the sofa. I handed him a box of tissues and said I’d be back in a minute.
If I was Vinnie’s Daddy, I would have insisted he help me, but I wasn’t, and until I discovered why he was so upset—it wasn’t just the spilled milk—I wanted him to stay where he was.
He was in my apartment, safe and warm, covered in a blanket, and I offered him some juice. As I reached for a glass, my hand brushed over a sippy cup. I may be longing to be someone’s Daddy, specifically Vinnie’s, but I couldn’t assume anything, and I took the glass instead.
I left him sipping his juice and sniffing, and I grabbed a mop, broom, and a garbage bag. It didn’t take long to gather the broken glass and clean the milk residue. The floor should be mopped again because the corridor now had a whiff of sour milk, but I had to attend to Vinnie.
Sitting beside him, I asked if he wanted to tell me what was wrong. “Maybe I can help.”
He sniffed again, and I handed him the tissue box. I made a mental note to cure his sniffing habit, but again, I had to remind myself we were strangers. Not Daddy and Little.
Vinnie fiddled with the tissue, his eyes lowered. Seeing him so vulnerable, my chest ached and milk leaked from my teats. He couldn’t see it as I was wearing a sweater, but if it continued, it’d be dribbling over my chest and seeping through the wool.
“I got home and the power was off in my apartment. That’s not so bad except…” He dabbed at his eyes. “Except, the fridge had been off for maybe days.”
Oh, I had an inkling of why he was so upset.
“Go on.”
“Everything was ruined. All the food, and the ice had melted.” He studied me through a fringe of dark lashes. “Everything.”
“That’s too bad.”
I could help him, but he needed to say it.
“But that’s not the worst of it.”
He was almost there, and he slid over the sofa so our thighs were almost touching.
“There were other things in the freezer, not just ice.”
“Something precious?” I was giving him a little nudge.
“Very.” He sobbed again and wiped his tears with the back of his hand. “It’s hard to say.” He chewed his lip and tugged off bits of tissues until I put the waste basket beside him. “But you know that milk I spilled?”
“Yes.” I needed a shower to rid my skin of the smell.
“I had milk in the freezer, but it was ruined, and what I dropped out there.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Was the replacement. And I drove to the other side of town to get it.”
“Raw milk?” I knew people bought unpasteurized dairy this way to avoid the legal guidelines, but milk, pasteurized or not, wouldn’t get this kind of a reaction, would it?
“Ummm.” He didn’t meet my gaze. “Not exactly.”
Not cow’s milk then. Interesting. “And now you have none.”
“I can’t sleep without a…” He looked up and caught my eye. “A bottle.” Vinnie tensed. “A bottle of milk and my stuffie.”
“I understand.”
“You do? Most people wouldn’t. They’d judge me.”
“I would never.” I longed to drag him onto my lap and have him latch on. Maybe while he was suckling, I could make him feel good by stroking his length. “There was no need to go anywhere, especially a long drive at night.”
“There wasn’t?” His thumb was creeping toward his mouth, probably because he needed a paci.
“I have exactly what you need.”
His face brightened. “You buy milk too?”
I shook my head and winced, my chest aching, milk spurting from both teats.
“No, I don't usually drink it.” I patted my chest. “But I supply it.”
His mouth formed a huge O. “You’ve been living beside me and I didn’t know.”
He needed milk so badly, and I needed relief. But more importantly, I wanted his mouth on me, his head resting on my chest and lips latched to my teat. Just the thought of him sucking made my cock engorge.
He put a finger in his mouth, an innocent expression slapped on his face.
“And you have milk now? In your fridge?”
“No, I sold it all to my regular clients and one new.”
His crestfallen face was my fault because I hadn’t explained in more detail.
“Oh.” That tiny disappointed voice brought tears to my eyes.
I pulled off my sweater revealing my stained shirt. “I have plenty.”
“You do?”
He licked his lips as I undid the buttons on my shirt, one by one. Tossing it aside, I cupped one teat as milk squirted out.
He wasn’t throwing himself at me. He was a good boy and was either waiting for me to tell him it was okay or to ask permission.
“And you can have it.”
Now he squirmed and studied his nails. “I don’t… maybe I can’t… I’m sorry, I don’t have a lot of spare cash.”
My poor boy. He thought I was expecting payment.
“Vinnie, look at me.” He lifted his head. “I’m offering this as a friend.” But I longed to be so much more. But tonight, he needed milk, and I needed his help because I was in agony. If he didn’t suckle, I’d have to pump.
“I would never expect money from you.”
“But you don’t know me,” he said in a quiet voice.
“I know you’re upset and you won’t sleep without a bottle or a teat to suck on.” I tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, hoping I hadn’t overstepped.
If he refused and left, there wasn’t much hope we’d never be anything other than neighbors who passed in the night.
“Are you sure?” He was eyeing the milk as it streamed over my fingers. I grabbed a bunch of tissues to stem the flow, not that it would do any good.
“I’m certain.”