12. TWELVE
TWELVE
Natalia
Despite playing it cool in front of Colton, by the time I make it back to the guest bedroom, the wetness is dripping between my thighs and my nipples ache where they press against my bra.
I shut the door behind me and lean back against it, knees trembling.
The sweet vanilla taste of Colton’s semen lingers in my mouth like the most delicious dessert, and I can’t help slipping a hand beneath my pajama shorts and sliding my fingers between wet, swollen pussy lips.
I smother a groan against my other hand at the sensation.
I’m so wet my fingertips slide easily over my clit, sending a spike of pleasure shooting through my whole body.
My legs shake so much I slide to the floor with a gasp.
I’ve never felt so wound up, so needy. It was torture to hide it from Colton and pretend all I was doing was performing the ritual to begin lactation, when the reality is so much more complicated than that.
I like Colton. I more than like him, but what sort of person does that make me days out from my failed wedding to someone else?
And if I’m right and this is all some sort of rebound reaction, then what happens when the intensity of this feeling fades?
It’s not fair to Colton to act on feelings I’m far from certain about.
Much better if we keep this arrangement straightforward. Impersonal.
I flush as I think of the way he kissed me so hungrily. My fingers move faster over my clit, sending a flurry of sensation through me.
That kiss was far from impersonal. We both got carried away.
Reliving the moment when I climbed into his lap and felt his hardness pressing against my inner thigh so close to where I wanted him—where I want him still—I rub myself faster.
I sigh as the pleasure increases, wishing I had a toy to help me feel full.
I don’t think I’ll ever be satisfied with any of my old toys again, even if I had brought them with me.
After seeing what Colton is working with, I don’t know if I’ll ever stop thinking about what his huge cock would feel like sliding into me. And that knot? Forget about it.
My pussy clenches around nothing and I moan. I’m getting closer. I shouldn’t be doing this at all. Not when my mind is a tangle of erotic thoughts about Colton mixed with the guilt I feel for thinking about him that way.
As my fingers swipe across my clit in frantic strokes, though, the guilt is swept away in a surge of feeling that blooms into an intense peak.
I shudder as pleasure warms me all the way though.
Clamping my lips around my cry of pleasure, I press my knees together and cum hard, shaking and quivering as it eases and my body relaxes.
When it’s over, I’m breathing hard. Sweat drips between my breasts and sticks tendrils of hair to my neck. I gather myself up and stumble on shaky legs to the bed.
Wow.
Will this really work? Can drinking his cum each night really give me milk?
If every night is like tonight, I’m going to love finding out. That’s the trouble, though, isn’t it? I love it way too much.
Jayden wakes and is so restless when I try to feed him that it takes every trick in the book to get him to accept the bottle. After playing and rocking in the chair and walking with him in my arms, he finally takes it, but he drinks only half before his eyelids drift closed again.
I smother a yawn of my own and watch as his sucks become slower, and he eventually stops feeding altogether.
I wait another ten minutes with him in my arms, letting him settle into deeper sleep before I attempt to put him down. But when I do his eyes snap open again and his little face crinkles with displeasure.
“Shhhh. You just can’t settle tonight, can you? That’s OK. You still hungry?”
When I offer the bottle, he lets out a squawk of protest.
I end up on the floor with my arm shoved through the bars of the crib, patting his bottom until he finally succumbs to sleep again. I rub my eyes and drag myself back to bed.
Being a live-in nanny is surreal. If feels dangerously close to having my own baby.
It already feels like the boundaries are blurred. What will it be like once I can feed him myself?
On my way past Colton’s room, I can’t help slowing to peep through the open door.
In the dim light, I can make out his large form, laying on his back with one muscular arm draped over his face.
A gentle snore fills the room, and I have a nearly irrepressible urge to pull up the blanket, which he seems to have kicked off in his sleep.
He’s so large he takes up almost all the space in the generous king bed. Which surprises me because, even though he’s a big guy, he never seemed that huge.
Then I realize he has partially shifted in his sleep; the arm slung over his face partially disguises the way his jaw and nose have elongated into a snout, and the bull’s horns I saw today on the field have sprouted from his head.
Despite myself, I creep closer, incredibly curious.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him during the game today.
In his shifted form his muscular body looks so powerful it seemed like he could crush cars or fling the entire team of opponents out of his way.
Seeing him in action, seeing the way his muscles bunched and moved beneath the snug uniform, made my mouth water.
I would love nothing more than to see him up close like this. To run my hands over his body and explore—
Shaking my head, I turn away, frustrated with my own lack of self-control. It’s like every time I’m around him my mind goes straight into the gutter. There’s no way he’d want me spying on him in his sleep.
I hurry back to my bed before my thoughts get the better of me, tucking myself in and out of trouble. I’m sure the novelty of all this will wear off. Give it a few nights and this will all feel normal, right?
Feeling too guilty to face my mom’s messages, I ignore my phone and switch off the light.