2. Soren
SOREN
The sight of Selena’s full, leaking tits pressed to me, warm milk soaking through my shirt, burns in my mind.
Protective instincts I’ve carried for years now tangle with something much hungrier. Dangerous. But no, she’s way younger than me. Besides, she’s still my stepdad’s innocent little girl.
But still, the way her flushed nipples dripped for me, the way her body trembled and softened in my arms…
Fuck.
I’ve never looked at her like this before. Never wanted to. She was just my stepsister, quiet and obedient. Someone I gave orders to when I was home and otherwise kept at a careful distance. That was all she ever was.
Until now.
This condition of hers cracks something open, and I’m not sure I can stop myself from walking through it.
Dinner is torture.
We sit around the long oak dining table like the perfect family. My stepdad at the head, carving his steak with precise, authoritative cuts. Mom beside him, smiling softly. Selena directly across from me, trying her best to look normal in a modest cream sweater.
But I notice everything.
The way she shifts uncomfortably in her seat.
The subtle press of her arms against her front.
The faint flush on her cheeks.
She clearly didn't finish pumping earlier. Every small movement seems to cause her discomfort, and it makes my cock stir under the table. My hands grow restless under the table, fingers flexing against my thighs as if they’re searching for something solid to grip and steady the restless hunger building inside me.
“So, Soren,” my stepdad says in his usual commanding tone as he cuts into his steak. “Six months overseas closing that big deal. Are you planning to stick around this time or are we going to see you disappear again after a week?”
I lean back in my chair, forcing a relaxed smile while my gaze drifts to Selena. “I’m home for a while, Rick—I mean, Dad. Got some things to handle here.”
The slip-up hangs in the air for a second. Mom smiles warmly at the correction, but I catch the brief flicker in Rick’s eyes.
Rick gives a short, dismissive grunt. “Closing ‘a’ big deal is cute, son. When you’ve built something that actually lasts instead of chasing the next shiny contract, then we can talk about you finally settling down.”
I meet his eyes steadily. “I’ve built more than you think.”
“Have you?” He sets his knife down. “Because from where I’m sitting, you still look like a man who doesn’t know how to stay in one place. You show up, make your money, then vanish the second things get real. That’s not building. That’s collecting temporary wins.”
Mom reaches over and gently squeezes his arm. “Rick, please. He’s only just gotten home. Can we not do this tonight?”
“I’m only saying what needs to be said,” Rick answers, still looking at me. “A real man puts down roots. He doesn’t keep one foot out the door forever.”
I keep my expression calm, but inside, the old irritation flares. Still, I remember I’m not the foolish twenty-three-year-old anymore, who came home from college to find his mother already remarried, walking into a new house and a new family for the first time.
I’m thirty now. I’ve built a million-dollar company from nothing, and I don’t need his approval.
Still, his words land heavier than usual tonight. But for the first time in years, part of me doesn’t want to leave.
My attention drifts to Selena. She’s barely touching her food.
Her left arm is pressed tightly against her chest under the table, and every time she shifts in her seat a tiny crease appears between her brows.
She’s hurting. I can see it in the tight line of her shoulders, in the way she keeps adjusting her posture like she’s trying to relieve pressure that won’t go away.
The memory of her whimpering while the breast pump sucked on her swollen tip flashes through my mind again. My cock twitches hard under the table. To ease the erection, I shift a little bit in my chair, jaw tightening.
I hate that my body is reacting like this. I hate that I’m sitting across from her at the family dinner table with a full erection because I can’t stop thinking about how her milk soaked my shirt less than an hour ago.
Mom tries again to steer the conversation. “Don’t mind your Dad. It’s so good to have you back here. The house feels fuller with both my kids under one roof again.”
She glances at Selena, noticing her unusual quietness.
“Selena, honey, you’ve been so quiet tonight. Everything okay?”
Selena’s fork pauses mid-air. She gives a small, shy smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah. Just… tired from reviewing.”
Mom tilts her head with concern. “Has college life been that rough lately? You’ve been looking a bit pale these past few weeks.”
“It’s been really hard, actually,” Selena admits softly, her voice a little strained. “The workload this first semester is already intense. I have three major projects due in two weeks, then midterms. I’m barely sleeping. Everything just feels… overwhelming right now.”
Rick nods approvingly. “That’s good. Means you’re being challenged. A little pressure builds character. Just make sure you’re managing your time properly, young lady. No distractions.”
The dinner continues with Rick launching into his usual lecture about responsibility, family legacy, and the importance of putting down roots. I nod at the right moments, offering vague responses about future plans, but my attention never leaves Selena.
The longer I watch her, the harder I get. I hate myself for it. She’s my stepsister. She’s nineteen. She’s sitting at the same table as our parents while milk is probably already starting to leak again, and all I can think about is getting my hands on her.
When the conversation finally hits a lull, she pushes her chair back.
“Excuse me,” she says softly, voice strained. “I’m going to grab some dessert from the kitchen. Anyone want anything?”
“I’ll take some of that apple pie if there’s any left, sweetie,” Mom says.
Selena nods quickly and slips away, moving a little too fast. I wait a few beats, then stand.
“I’ll help her carry things,” I say casually.
“Oh, how sweet of you two. Go ahead. Just be quick. Me and your dad can’t wait any longer.”
My stepdad barely glances up, he doesn’t seem to care.
The moment I step into the kitchen, I find her standing at the open fridge, one hand subtly pressing against the ache in her chest. Her face twists in discomfort, brows furrowed as she searches for the pie. She looks like she’s in real pain.
I don’t call out to her right away. I just watch her from the doorway.
A minute later, she decides to remove her sweater, maybe because it’s starting to get visibly damp from her seeping tits.
With a frustrated little sigh, she peels the sweater off, revealing a thin tank top with the same style as the white one she’d been wearing earlier, but this one’s a soft pale pink.
The thin fabric clings to her skin, outlining every lush curve of her back and sides.
She shifts slightly to reach deeper into the fridge, and that’s when I notice she isn’t wearing a bra.
Her nipples are faintly visible through the soft fabric, already stiff and wet.
The tight little shorts she’s wearing ride up just enough to show the soft underside of her ass, full and round, the fabric stretching tight across it with every small movement.
The sight steals the air from my lungs.
A soft ‘Wow’ slips out before I can stop it.
She spins around with a sharp gasp, eyes wide. “Soren?—”
I close the distance and corner her smoothly against the counter. I’m the one who closes the fridge ‘cause she forgets to close it in her panic.
“You’ve been in pain since dinner,” I say, voice firm as I step closer. “Stop hiding it.”
Her breasts look so full and swollen, as if they’re begging me to cup them.
“I think I know what you need.”
Selena doesn’t react or move away. She just stares at me for a long time, waiting for my next move.
I place one hand on her waist first, grounding her, then slide the free hand up slowly until my palm settles on the heavy weight of her right breast through the thin pink tank top. She’s so full she overflows my hand. The heat of her skin sinks straight into my palm.
I don’t squeeze yet. I just hold her there, feeling the way her breath stutters.
Her eyes flutter. A soft, shaky exhale leaves her lips.
I give the first gentle squeeze.
Milk immediately spurts through the fabric, warm and sudden, soaking my palm. A quiet moan escapes her before she can stop it. Relief floods her expression so fast it’s almost painful to watch.
The moment I feel how much the pressure eases her tension, I make a decision. I lift the hem of her tank top, exposing both bare breasts completely.
I cup her right breast, the heavy flesh overflowing my fingers so completely that even with my palm stretched wide, I still can’t contain all of her. Selena bites her lip hard, a soft, needy whimper slipping out.
I start massaging deeper, thumb circling under the nipple, working the ache out of her in steady, controlled strokes. Thick streams of milk run over my fingers and drip to the floor.
“There it is,” I murmur, low. “That’s what you needed.”
Selena’s body shudders in front of me. My thumb brushes over her stiff nipple, and I watch fresh beads of milk run down her skin onto mine.
Her head falls back against the cabinet. A soft, filthy little sound slips out of her throat. The noise shoots straight to my cock, but I keep my face calm. I don’t let her see how close I already am to losing it.
She trembles harder. “Soren…”
“Don’t fight it,” I tell her, voice controlled. “I’ve got you.”
I switch to the left breast and give it the same slow, thorough attention. Kneading. Squeezing. Circling the swollen flesh until the milk runs freely.
Her body is trembling now, soft little shivers running through her as her thighs squeeze tight against each other in a desperate attempt to contain whatever else is building underneath the relief.
“That’s my girl,” I whisper into her ear. “Good. Let it all out. No one’s in here.”
Her legs lock together as another wave of milk spills over my fingers but she's still fighting the relief. She keeps trying to convince herself it's only the pressure easing. Just her stepbrother being kind. But her body is honest. It presses itself into my palm, craving for more.
More milk pulses out in continuous waves, dripping onto my hand. The wet, obscene sounds of it filling the quiet kitchen only make me harder.
She tries to twist away slightly. “Oh, Soren—” she gasps, voice shaky.
I pull her closer, holding her firmly. My hand continues its work. Each stroke sends visible ripples through her heavy breast. Milk flows more freely now, soaking us both.
I keep going, working the rest of the pressure out of her breast. My thumb circles her nipple again and again, feeling it pebble even tighter. She arches into my touch now, chasing the relief even as embarrassment burns on her face.
Then my grip shifts. I squeeze just a little too firmly.
A powerful spurt of fresh milk shoots straight onto my face and lands directly on my tongue as my mouth parts in surprise. The taste is incredibly sweet and rich.
I freeze.
For one long second, I just stand there with her milk on my tongue, the flavor sinking in deep. Something dark and hungry cracks wide open inside me. I lick my lips slowly, catching the droplet that runs down my stubbled chin, and when I look back at her my eyes are no longer calm.
Selena’s eyes go wide with horror. “Oh God. I’m so sorry,” she whispers, voice shaking with mortification.
She wants to pull away but I don’t let her. Instead, I hold her tighter, the sweet taste of her milk still lingering on my tongue, only feeding the fire raging inside me.
Before I can say anything more, Mom’s voice calls from the dining room.
“Selena? Soren? Did you two get lost in there? Bring the pie out, we’re waiting!”
Selena tenses instantly in my arms, still dripping into my soaked hand. Her heart is hammering against my chest.
“Coming, Mom!” Selena breaks free from me, pulls down her tank top and quickly puts her sweater back on.
Before she can grab the pie and slip out of the kitchen I catch her wrist and lean in close, wrapping one arm firmly around her waist again while my lips brush the shell of her ear.
“Don’t hide this from me anymore,” I whisper, my voice drops and stays firm. “And forget the pump. I’m taking care of it. All of it.”