Chapter Two
Jack:
The spreadsheet on my computer screen blurs, the neat columns of numbers dissolving into meaningless patterns.
I’ve been staring at it for twenty minutes, but all I can see is her face.
Maya. I pinch the bridge of my nose, a futile attempt to banish her from my mind.
She’s off-limits. My sister’s best friend.
Twenty-one years old. I’ve known her since she was a kid.
But she’s not a kid anymore. The image of her from last summer, when I’d seen her for the first time since she started college a couple of years before, sears itself into my brain again.
She’d blossomed. All long legs, soft curves, and those wide, innocent blue eyes.
And I’d wanted her. Instantly. Deeply. It’s an obsession that hasn’t lessened, and has only grown stronger with every passing day.
My dick stirs in my slacks, just from the memory of her, and as I reach down to adjust myself, a low growl of frustration emerges from somewhere deep inside my chest. This is getting out of control.
I have a nightclub to run. I don’t have time to be mooning over a girl I can’t have.
I force my attention back to the security monitors lining the far wall, a grid of twenty small screens showing every corner of my kingdom, hoping to distract myself from thoughts of her.
My eyes skim over the dance floor, the bar, the entrance. And then I freeze. There. Coming through the main doors. My sister, Alison, and beside her... Maya.
My breath catches in my throat. She looks like a fallen angel, dressed in sinful black.
The dress is short. Way too short for my liking.
I can’t help imagining what all the other men in the club are thinking as I watch her walk.
It’s tight, too, clinging to a figure that’s even more incredible than I remembered.
Her long blonde hair is piled up in a messy bun, with a few soft strands escaping to frame her face.
She looks anxious, her eyes wide as she takes in the scene, and I have to resist the urge to go down there and wrap her in my arms, to shield her from the stares and the noise. She’s too delicate for this place.
I watch them navigate their way to the bar. I can see the tension in Maya’s shoulders as she orders a drink. Then, of course, a guy approaches Alison. I watch as my sister flashes Maya a wide smile before letting the stranger drag her onto the dance floor.
A hot, sharp spike of anger hits me. Alison just left her. Left Maya there. Alone. Vulnerable.
I track Maya’s every move. She clutches her drink and finds a small, dimly lit corner, trying to make herself small.
My gaze narrows as a man, tall and dark-haired, approaches her.
I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I can read the body language.
Maya’s defensive posture. The guy’s persistent advance.
My hands clench into fists on my desk. I see him grab her arm, and a protective rage unlike anything I’ve ever felt erupts in my chest.
I’m out of my chair and through the office door before I’ve even made a conscious decision.
I take the back stairs two at a time, the anger pulsing through me with every thudding footfall.
When I hit the main floor, I spot them instantly.
He has her pinned against the wall, his face close to hers. Her expression is one of pure terror.
I don’t remember crossing the distance. One minute I’m on the edge of the crowd, the next my hand is wrapped around the back of the guy’s neck, squeezing tight. “Get your hands off her,” I growl.
He flinches, turning to me with a sneer. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m the man who’s going to break your arm if you don’t let go of her. Now,” I say, my voice deceptively calm.
He looks at my face, at the sheer murderous intent in my eyes, and thinks better of it.
He releases Maya’s arm as if it’s burned him and stumbles back a step.
I don’t waste another second on him. I nod to Marco, one of my security guys who’s already heading our way, drawn by the commotion.
“Get him out of here. And make sure he never comes back.”
“You got it, boss.”
I turn my full attention to Maya. She’s trembling, her face pale, her beautiful blue eyes wide and swimming with tears. “Maya,” I say, my voice immediately softening. “Are you okay?”
She just shakes her head, and a soft sob escapes her lips.
My heart clenches. Without another thought, I wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her flush against my side.
I tuck her small body into mine, shielding her from the prying eyes and the pulsating music.
“It’s okay,” I murmur into her hair. “I’ve got you now. ”
I guide her toward the private staircase that leads to my office, my body tense, and once we’re inside, I close and lock the door. The sound of the club is instantly muted, replaced by the quiet sound of her ragged breathing. I lead her to the plush leather couch and urge her to sit.
“It’s okay,” I say again, sinking to my knees in front of her. “You’re safe now.” I reach out and gently cup her cheek, my thumb stroking away a tear that has escaped.
She leans into my touch, her sobs quieting to soft hiccups. “He... he grabbed me,” she whispers.
“I know, princess. I saw. And he’s gone.
He’ll never bother you again.” I wait for her to calm down, my heart aching for her.
I’m so focused on her, on the fear still clinging to her, on the relief I feel at having her here, safe with me, that it takes me a moment to notice the dark, damp patches on the front of her dress, right over her breasts.
My breath hitches. Two perfect circles are spreading slowly, glistening under the soft light of my desk lamp.
My eyes are drawn to them, and a wave of arousal so intense it’s almost painful washes over me.
My dick, already semi-hard from her nearness, goes rock solid.
My mind races. I know what this is. I remember Alison mentioning it once, in passing, her tone full of pity for her friend.
A “hormonal imbalance.” That’s what she’d called it.
My imagination, always running rampant when it comes to her, had latched onto that tidbit of information with a vengeance.
Ever since that day a few months ago, I’ve been tormented by fantasies of what it would be like to taste her.
To have her milk on my tongue. And now, here she is.
In my office. Upset. Vulnerable. Leaking.
And I have never wanted anything more in my life.
I have to force myself to clamp down on the desire.
Now is not the time. She’s upset and scared.
She needs comfort, not some horny bastard trying to get his hands on her.
So I move to sit beside her on the couch and pull her gently into my arms. She comes willingly, burrowing her face into my chest, her small frame trembling against mine.
I hold her close, one hand stroking her back, the other cupping the back of her head.
I focus on the simple act of giving comfort, on the feeling of her body in my arms.
Her sobs gradually subside, replaced by the occasional, shuddering breath.
She stays in my arms for a long time, and I let her, my own body a tense wire of need.
When she finally pulls back, her cheeks are flushed, her eyelashes wet.
She looks up at me, and then her gaze drops down to her own chest.
Her face turns bright red. “Oh god,” she whispers, her hands flying to cover the wet patches on her dress. “I’m so sorry.” She stands up, pacing a few steps away from me. “I... I have this condition. Sometimes, when I’m stressed or upset, it gets worse.”
The embarrassment radiating from her is almost tangible.
“Hey,” I say, standing and moving toward her.
I gently take her wrists, pulling her hands away from her chest. “Stop. Don’t be sorry.
And there’s no need to hide.” My gaze drops to the dark circles on her dress, then lifts back to her face. “It’s beautiful, Maya.”
Her eyes widen in disbelief. “Beautiful? It’s... it’s weird.”
“No,” I say, my voice low. “It’s not weird. It’s your body’s way of preparing. Getting ready for all the babies you’re going to have in the future.”
The thought of her being pregnant with my child sends a jolt of lust through me.
My dick, already rock hard, begins to ache, pressing painfully against the zipper of my slacks.
I can feel my own pulse thudding in the strained fabric.
As I’m looking down at her, I notice the exact moment her eyes drop from my face to my crotch. Her breath hitches, and she freezes.
“It... it doesn’t bother you?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper. “That I leak... all the time?”
“It’s the opposite,” I say, taking a step closer, eliminating the space between us. “It doesn’t bother me at all, princess. In fact... it just makes me curious.” I lower my head, my lips almost brushing her ear. “It makes me wonder how sweet you taste.”
She gasps, a small, sharp intake of breath that sounds like pure shock. Her eyes, wide and dazed, lift to meet mine. And then she does the last thing I expect. She surges forward, rising onto her toes and crashing her lips against mine.
I’m stunned for a split second, surprised by her boldness.
But then, all my self-control evaporates.
I wrap one arm around her waist, pulling her flush against my body, and cup the back of her head with my other hand, tangling my fingers in her silky hair.
I deepen the kiss, my tongue tracing the seam of her lips before sliding into her mouth.
She meets me with an eagerness that is both shocking and intoxicating, and as her body melts against mine, soft and pliant, I can feel the hard points of her nipples pressing against my chest, even through the layers of our clothes.
I hold her close, my hands roaming her back, wanting to touch every inch of her.
Slowly, I start walking, guiding her backward until her legs hit the edge of my large oak desk.
I break the kiss just long enough to lift her onto the polished wood, her short dress riding up her thighs.
I position myself between her legs, pulling her forward so she’s pressed against me.
Then, I capture her lips again, unable to get enough of her taste, of her soft moans.
Finally, I pull back, both of us breathing hard.
I pull my leather chair up between her spread legs and take a seat.
The position puts my face at the perfect height.
My gaze drops to the wet patches on her dress, my dick throbbing in response.
I reach up and cup one of her breasts, feeling its weight, its warmth.
My thumb brushes over her nipple, and she shudders, a soft gasp escaping her lips.
“You must be so full, princess,” I murmur, my gaze never leaving her face. I can see the arousal mingled with a lingering trace of embarrassment in her eyes. “But it’s okay. I’m going to make it feel better.”
My hands move to the thin straps of her dress.
I push them slowly down her shoulders, peeling the top half of the tight black fabric down to her waist. Her breasts are released from their confinement, and they are magnificent.
Full and pale, with pink, puffy nipples that are already beaded with moisture.
I lean forward, my breath ghosting over her skin.
I flick my tongue out, licking a slow circle around one taut peak, tasting the sweet essence of her milk that glistens there.
She whimpers, her hands coming up to tangle in the short strands of hair at the nape of my neck, as if she wants to make sure I don’t stop.
I repeat the action on her other breast, savoring the taste of her, the way her body reacts to my touch.
Then, I close my mouth over her left nipple, latching on.
The first spurt of milk hits my tongue, and my entire body goes rigid.
It’s sweeter than I ever could have imagined, warm and rich, like melted vanilla ice cream.
I suck hungrily, and more of it flows, filling my mouth.
I swallow, the taste of her going straight to my head, making me dizzy with want.
I groan against her skin, the sound vibrating through her body, and feel her tremble in response, her nails digging into my scalp. I can’t believe how good she tastes, how right this feels, how much I never want to stop.