Chapter 11 PLUTO MONROE #2
He kissed the top of his head, and he shifted in his arms like he knew who was holding him. We got on the elevator, and I just watched Pressure. He looked tired but peaceful. When we made it to our room, we sat on the edge of the bed with Prestyn between us.
Pressure touched his tiny hand and smiled. “Look at him, Pluto. That’s really us right there.”
I leaned against his shoulder and nodded. “Yeah. That’s us.”
We both sat there in silence, watching our baby sleep, our hearts full and calm for the first time in a long time. Everything outside could wait. In this moment, it was just us… me, him, and the little life we made together.
I woke up in the middle of the night with my breasts aching.
They felt full, sore, and hot against the fabric of my gown.
When I sat up, I could already feel the dampness seeping through.
Prestyn was sleeping peacefully in his bassinet beside the bed with his little chest rising and falling like he didn’t have a care in the world.
I leaned over and brushed my fingers across his cheek, hoping he’d wake up, but he didn’t even flinch.
I picked him up and tried to guide him to my nipple to latch on just to ease the pressure, but he kept his mouth shut tight and turned his head away.
I didn’t want to force him, so I laid him back down and wiped at the milk that had started to drip.
When I climbed back into bed, Pressure shifted beside me. His voice came out low and rough from sleep. “Everything good, baby?”
“My breasts are leaking,” I whispered. “The baby won’t wake up to feed.”
Pressure hummed lowly, barely opening his eyes as he slid closer.
His hand found its way under my gown. The moment his fingers brushed my stomach, my body tensed.
My nipple was already tight and tender, and when he circled it with his thumb, a trembling sigh broke from my lips.
His expression didn’t change much, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he’d heard exactly what he wanted to.
His thumb pressed against my nipple again, slower this time, dragging another soft moan out of me before his heavy voice came out low.
“You hurtin’, ain’t you?” he muttered, his eyes drifting down to the small wet spot on my gown. His tone changed, softer but still deep, that sleepy rasp carrying something that made my stomach twist. “You full… that’s what it is.”
He lifted his head a little, his eyes locked on mine. “You want me to help you, baby?” The question came out like he already knew the answer.
Before I could respond, he slid the strap of my gown to the side, exposing my breast to the cool air.
Milk glistened against my skin, and his gaze darkened as he brought his mouth close.
The warmth of his breath hit first, then his tongue traced slow circles around my swollen nipple, catching the drops of milk that dripped out.
He sucked slow and it felt so good my eyes crossed.
The pull of his mouth was so tender and patient, like he wanted to worship every inch of me.
His tongue flattened and licked up every bit of milk that ran down the curve of my breast before drawing my nipple back into his mouth again.
The way he nursed me made my body melt, his lips tugging just enough to make my back arch while his free hand gripped my thigh, keeping me still.
He kept his hand pressed against my stomach, caressing me while his lips moved with care, drawing out the ache until it turned into something soft and sweet.
Each slow pull felt like him saying I got you, like he wanted to take every bit of pain and make it feel good instead.
When he glanced up at me, his eyes were heavy with that kind of love that didn’t need words, and the way he kept sucking, licking, and breathing against my skin made me feel seen, tended to, and adored all at once.
My nipple throbbed between his lips, and every time he swallowed, a low moan rumbled from deep in his chest.
My fingers slipped into his waves before I even realized it. A soft gasp broke through as the pressure eased under his mouth.
Part of me felt like I should stop him, but the tenderness in how he held and sucked me made it impossible to pull away.
The ache eased, and was replaced by something calm.
Pressure didn’t say a word. He just stayed there, giving me that comfort I didn’t know I needed from him.
By the time he was done draining my breasts, my pussy was soaked.
He slid up slowly, kissing my chest before his lips found mine. His tongue was warm, and I could taste the sweetness of my milk on it, and when his hand slid down between my thighs, I froze.
“Pressure…” I whispered against his mouth, trying to breathe through the heat rushing over me. “It’s only been five weeks. I’m not supposed to yet.”
He looked at me, his eyes low and full of hunger. “You still bleeding?”
I shook my head.
“Then you straight,” he said. “I ain’t waitin’ one more week to feel my pussy, baby.”
Before I could answer, he eased my legs apart and came down over me, his weight pressing into mine in a way that felt too good to fight. The kiss deepened. Every slow drag of his tongue made my body tremble harder, and when he removed his briefs and pushed inside me, the breath left my chest.
I couldn’t describe it, but Pressure had a juicy dick that just made me squirm whenever he entered my body.
It always gave my body a rush and a strong urge to arch my back.
The feeling wasn’t just pleasure; it was a deep craving.
Every time he pushed deeper, it felt like my body was feeding on him, like I had been waiting for that exact sensation all along.
It wasn’t just the stretch or the heat; it was the way he filled something in me that nothing else ever reached.
It was an overwhelming yearning, a slow ache that turned sweet, like my body didn’t want relief, but only more of him.
The rhythm of it made my thoughts blur and every motion fed that craving instead of easing it.
I could feel the pull in my stomach, the tension in my thighs, and the helpless way my hips tried to meet him again and again.
It was satisfaction that bordered on hunger, too good, too heavy, too much, and still I wanted it to last forever.
It was a helpless kind of pleasure that stripped me of control, where all I could do was take it and want more.
No one else could make me feel this way.
It was his rhythm, his weight, his heat, his body type, the size of his dick; it was everything.
It was Pressure, and only Pressure, who could pull this kind of surrender out of me.
Each stroke was heavy, his body grinding deep like he needed to feel every pulse of me.
The bed shifted under us, his breath mixing with mine, and his skin damp with heat.
His hand stayed on my neck while his thumb brushed my jaw as if to remind me he was right there.
His eyes stayed locked on mine the entire time, and that look he gave me, had my body giving up to him completely.
I tried to keep quiet, but a soft moan slipped out when he hit that spot deep inside me.
My nails dug into his back. The pressure built until I couldn’t hold it anymore.
My legs locked around his waist, but he pulled them apart and brought them higher until the heels of my feet were resting on his shoulders.
My legs were pushed so far back, my knees were damn near pressed against the pillow my head was resting on.
The way he was handling me, I never would’ve thought he was still healing from the gunshots.
He was relentless but careful, like he knew exactly what my body needed and wouldn’t stop until I got it.
I could feel the burn of my legs from being pushed all the way back, but I didn’t care.
“Babbbyyy,” I cried as I rubbed the back of his head, running my nails through his waves.
Pressure pressed his lips to my ear, and whispered, “Yes baby? Talk to Daddy.”
“You feel so fucking good,” I whispered as tears filled my eyes from the pleasure.
“You feel better baby.” Then he sucked my neck until it felt raw. His breath was heavy against my ear, the sound of it alone enough to make my pussy walls pulse around him.
I couldn’t handle it. I was tapping out. “Pressure… I’m about to cum.”
He pressed his lips against my chin, sucked it and then bit down on it. “Cum on it, baby.”
I closed my eyes as a deep rush rolled through me, starting low and spreading until every part of me was trembling.
The throbbing was so strong it almost felt unreal, like my body couldn’t handle the pleasure it was being given.
I couldn’t believe a man could pull this kind of feeling out of me.
It was wild, consuming, and maddening in the best way.
I wrapped my hand around Pressure’s throat and squeezed so hard, my fingertips burned. I closed my eyes and came so hard, I screamed. My toes locked up, and chills invaded my body.
Pressure made me cum so hard, I was gushing everywhere. I could hear our son making light sounds in his sleep, but I was too far gone to get up like I normally would.
Pressure wasn’t done with me. He sat up, releasing my legs, and the soreness rushed in, but I didn’t care. My body was still trembling, sensitive and open, exposing my clit.
I felt weak at the sight of Pressure’s gaze as he stroked my pussy and rubbed my clit. His fingertips glided through the slickness he’d caused, moving in lazy circles that had my hips jerking up to meet him.
“Damn, it’s swollen baby,” he said, rubbing my clit as tears streamed down the side of my face.
I was already overwhelmed from cuming vaginally and now I was on the verge of cuming from my clitoris being stimulated. Every slow rub felt like lightning. My breath came out in shaky gasps, and I could feel the pulse between my legs matching the rhythm of his strokes.
Pressure’s dick was still inside of me. The way he thrust his hips into me, had my titties bouncing up and down with each motion, and I didn’t know how much more I could take. His name left my lips over and over like a cry tangled together.
“I’m about to cum again, Pressure,” I cried, my face now covered in more tears.
He didn’t say anything. He just gave me a hazy look that told me he felt just as good as I did.
The way his mouth parted, and his eyebrows furrowed turned me on because he looked like he was on the verge of crying too.
His strokes slowed, then deepened, every one dragging through me like he wanted to stay inside me forever.
Finally, I closed my eyes and came again, biting through the skin on my bottom lip.
Pressure threw his head back and let out a moan that sounded more like a whimper. He sounded vulnerable and it weakened me.
After a few hard thrusts, he came inside me, and I didn’t care about anything else.
I was too far gone, and too lost in him to even think about pulling away.
All I felt was the warmth from his semen spreading through me and the deep, dizzy peace that came with it.
In this moment, I didn’t care what it meant or what would come after.
I just wanted to keep feeling all of Pressure.