Chapter 10 Lover’s Milk
Lover’s Milk
Lawrie
The no-sex rule hadn’t even lasted a day.
In my defense, the dreams I’d been having were absolutely bonkers, all of them starring a gloriously naked Ernest and all of them high-definition porn.
When I woke up in the middle of the night from a dream of Ernest fucking me while we levitated above clouds, I couldn’t bear the emptiness any longer.
His hard dick was right there, only inches from where I needed it, and without thinking, I grabbed it and put it where it belonged.
Those ridges and the enlarged cockhead sent me straight to heaven, and the fast and purposeful fuck scratched the itch without muddling my brain too much.
So maybe it was okay? Even though it felt scarily intimate when he clutched me to him toward the end, deep inside me, pressing right against my most sensitive spot.
I couldn’t bear him leaving my body afterward.
“How are you, Lawrie?”
The beast was awake. I liked his voice early in the morning, all raspy and rumbly. He seemed more human when he was sleepy.
“I’m good. You?”
He propped himself on an elbow next to me, keeping his arm over my chest, stroking along my ribs. He seemed to avoid touching my nipples, which were tingling even more than last night, oversensitive. Was he waiting for my permission to touch me there?
“Depending on how happy I can make you today,” he said.
I squinted. “Are you turning into my personal slave?”
He peered out of the window, pretending to think about it. “Maybe.”
“I’m hungry.”
At that, he laughed. “No problem. Eggs again? Or should I take you out for a nice Sunday breakfast?”
I sat up, startled by the sudden change of plans. “We can go out? I thought we were stuck here.”
“We’re stuck together,” he amended, smiling. “But we can go anywhere as long as we stay close to each other.”
“Oh.” That was awesome. I didn’t know why I’d thought I was basically his prisoner. “So I’m not a part of your hoard that you hold hidden in your lair?”
“You’re way too funny for this early in the morning. Do you want to go out or not?”
“Yes, please. Can we stop by my place? I need clothes and a charger, and my laptop is there and…” How long was I staying? Forever. I couldn’t comprehend that. I’d pack for a week, and then I’d see.
“Of course. Let’s have a quick coffee, pick up whatever you need, and we’ll go for a proper brunch.”
“Nice. But I don’t have any clean clothes.”
“I should have run the washer for you.” He spurred into action, rolling off the bed and opening drawers. “You can borrow my underwear which will be loose on you, but…”
I tilted my head to the side. “Sure, Mr. Monster Dick.”
“I didn’t mean it like… I meant because of your hips.”
I laughed, and he muttered a soft curse. After rooting in the dresser, he threw some black briefs at me, then a pair of balled-up socks.
“You’re going to do this for the rest of my life, aren’t you?” he grumbled.
“What?” I asked, batting my eyelashes innocently.
He slipped into a pair of blue briefs—goddamn, that bulge should be illegal—and gray jeans. “Teasing me and making fun of me.”
“Yes. Don’t you like it?”
Stretching and rolling his shoulders, Ernest grinned. “I love it. But I’m warning you—I’m a fast learner.”
“So am I.” I liked bantering with Ernest. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to be stuck with him as a…
boyfriend. Here was an acceptable, completely normal word.
Boyfriend. I could live with that. Hadn’t I regretted that there hadn’t seemed to be a chance of that ever happening?
Next time, be careful what you wish for, Lawrence.
“I need to shower,” I said.
“Hurry up. I’m hungry too.”
Half an hour later, we sat in Ernest’s car, zooming through the half-empty streets of the city on Sunday morning.
I navigated Ernest to my shabby part of town, and he parked a couple of blocks away because all the spots in my narrow street were full.
As we walked, I found myself automatically leaning toward him, staying so close our arms brushed against each other.
His body dragged me closer like a magnet, and I didn’t want to fight it.
Besides, strutting next to this gorgeous man wasn’t half-bad.
He wore a plain white T-shirt with a casual jacket over it and looked good enough to eat with that stubble and windswept hair.
Meanwhile, I squirmed in my outfit from Friday night.
When we were about to cross the road fifty feet from my apartment building, he put his hand on my lower back.
It must have been an automatic movement, one of these protective little gestures that he did, and it brought a smile to my face.
I decided to give him a break. Reaching behind me, I grabbed his hand and interlaced our fingers.
Ernest rewarded me with a shining grin and a couple of dimples so cute my stomach did the little flip-floppy thing again.
Hand in hand, we crossed the street and entered my building.
I was hoping Josh would be gone. I didn’t want to introduce Ernest just yet.
In Josh’s world, Ernest was my weekend hookup, with potential, but still a hookup.
Bringing him here would make Josh suspicious, and my roommate was no fool.
He’d notice Ernest’s possessive behavior toward me, and I didn’t want to face that interrogation just yet.
Hey, Josh, this is the guy who called dibs on my womb after one date. I know it sounds crazy, but he’s also half Godzilla, so it all makes perfect sense in his world.
Yeah, no. Also, the Godzilla metaphor didn’t really work since that one didn’t have wings. Were all those stories and fantasy creatures based on guys like Ernest? I had to admit, it was kind of cool.
Luckily, I could save the explanations for later because Sunday morning was Josh’s gym and swim time, and the apartment was empty. If we were lucky, he’d be meeting his parents for lunch and wouldn’t come back until the afternoon.
“I would give you a tour, but this is all there is.” I gestured around our living room with the tiny kitchen corner and second-hand couch. “That’s Josh’s door. The bathroom is next to it. My room’s that way.”
“It’s cozy,” Ernest said, sounding like he meant it.
He followed me to my bedroom, where I pulled an old duffel from my shoebox-sized closet and began putting in the basics. Socks, underwear, a few comfy T-shirts, sweats, a couple of nice slacks, some shirts, a sweater, a light jacket…
“This is gorgeous,” Ernest said, interrupting my flow.
I looked around and spotted him by my nightstand, holding the hefty photography book my dad had gotten me for our last Christmas together. It featured all sixty-three national parks, and the pictures were full-page images of mountains, cliffs, waterfalls, and lakes.
“It was a present from my dad.”
I remembered the inscription with a familiar pang of sadness. My dad had been a dreamer.
Maybe you can visit them all, one by one. Love, Dad
“Do you want to?” Ernest asked, and I knew he was looking at the dedication.
“A boy can dream,” I said.
He gestured to my duffel. “Can you take your hiking boots with you?”
Could we go for a trip somewhere? I was in. “Sure.”
I added the chargers to my smaller bag and went to collect the toiletries in the bathroom.
When I came back, Ernest was still leafing through the volume.
I took off the slacks I’d worn to the New Year’s Eve party and fished out a pair of nice dark jeans.
They were a few years old, but I’d worn them only for special occasions, so they still looked great.
That could work for a brunch, right? I unbuttoned my shirt and patted my subtly protruding stomach.
The jeans should fit. I wasn’t that big, and according to that book, in two or three weeks, the symptoms would disappear again—both my belly and my chest should get back to normal after the physical bonding was over.
I ran my hand down my chest. My pectorals were sensitive, tingly, with slight pressure inside that almost seemed to pulsate in time with my heart, and my hard nipples itched.
Would they be too obvious in a light shirt?
Maybe I should wear a sweater over it. If I got too warm, I could drape it over my shoulders or something.
As I stood there half-dressed, contemplating wardrobe choices, I heard Ernest suck in a breath.
I turned, and my knees got weak. The desire in his eyes was unmistakable.
His gaze slid down over my cotton-covered hardening cock, back up my stomach, and rested on my torso.
Heat flooded my face when I realized I’d been touching my chest, my fingers circling the areola of my left nipple.
My breath hitching, I fisted my hand and forced it down.
Except Ernest was looking at me like that, and of course, I got fully hard.
And because I was wearing boxer briefs, he saw.
He charged toward me, and I could only stand there, hypnotized by the sheer want in his face.
“Please, Lawrie,” he whispered, his features contorted with such desperate longing it squeezed my heart. “Please.” He glanced at my chest again, then up to my face.
I nodded. I couldn’t say no to him when he begged like that.
“Stop me if it gets too much,” he said, his voice breathy and strained.
I didn’t move or say a word. I expected him to kiss me, but he dove down, and I gasped. His lips wrapped around my nipple.
Oh my fucking God!
My swollen, sensitive pectoral burst with sensations when Ernest sucked. My cock throbbed, and my hole flooded with slick. I’d never felt anything like it. He growled into my chest, my back hit the closet door behind me, and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders so I wouldn’t slide to the floor.