Chapter Two
Nicholas
I shouldn’t be here. There are some lines that can never be uncrossed, and I’m crossing numerous ones right now as I’m grabbing Bianca’s hand and guiding her to the couch.
Even as I move the mechanical pump to the small coffee table, there’s a tiny voice telling me to turn back around before I do something foolish.
She’s only twenty-two years old. Not only am I old enough to be her father, but I’m also her ex’s father.
Her ex, who just dumped her only a few hours ago.
Bianca should be completely off-limits. I should be running for the door, burying every guilty impulse under a mountain of denial and shame. Go home and take care of my desires for her with a bottle of lube and a tight grip on my cock like I’ve been doing since the day I laid eyes on her.
But seeing her like this is too much. A man can only take so much.
Bianca’s body is trembling beneath my touch, her lips parted in that cute, uncertain way that makes every protective, possessive instinct ignite inside me. I want her, and I want to take care of her, and those two urges are impossibly, shamefully tangled up.
She’s so beautiful it guts me. Her long, silky dark hair is framed around her face, cheeks blotted from crying, and her eyes so green it’s almost unnatural. Her chest shakes with every stuttering breath.
I can’t stop staring at her breasts. They’re huge, swollen, and painfully full, the areolae so dark I can see the outline through her top, and the two peaks are poking out as if they’re purposely tempting me.
Her shirt is soaked through, the milk beading at both tips and trickling down, and I realize I’m actually salivating.
How did it come to this? How does this woman dominate my mind more than anyone I’ve ever met? I’ve been divorced for ten years, but not even my ex-wife made me feel like this.
My son, Cody, called me a few hours ago, still petulant and worked up, bitching about how his girlfriend was “sick in the head.” He couldn’t understand how anyone could be into what she did for a living.
Hell, he called me just to prove that I’d agree with him, that there was something wrong with Bianca.
I didn’t agree with him, not even close. My mind was fuzzy from the images of Bianca pumping her beautiful, massive mounds, softly whimpering to herself while streams of delicious creamy milk spilled into the bottles. I couldn’t help wondering how much she produced for the clinics.
When Cody told me that some of the milk was sent to the hospital, I thought it was admirable. But as he droned on about Bianca possibly enjoying it too much, I played along and told him it was probably for the best to end things.
Ten minutes later, I found myself driving to her apartment. A part of me just wanted to check on her, make sure my son wasn’t too harsh on her. I was half convinced she’d slam the door in my face, half hoping she would.
She didn’t. She let me in, blinking up at me with those huge, wounded eyes, and I felt something inside me snap.
When I told her I wanted to help, I expected her to laugh in my face, or maybe tell me to get the fuck out. To my surprise, she accepted, and now she sits there, eyes locked on me. Like she’s tired of fighting it and finally wants to give in to her cravings.
I sit next to her. For a long moment, we just breathe. Then I reach for her, barely brushing the fabric of her ruined shirt, and she shivers so hard I feel it in my fingertips.
“You’re sure?” I whisper, giving her a chance to back out if she wants. “If you want me to stop, I’ll stop.”
She looks up at me. “I don’t want you to stop.”
I am not a gentle man by reputation. Divorce and a decade of high-stakes real estate law have sanded down whatever softness I once had. But with Bianca, I want to be gentle. I want to cherish her.
For a few seconds, I keep my hand on the underside of her left breast, letting her lean into my touch.
Bianca’s breath comes out ragged, but God, the look she gives me—nothing about it is innocent.
She wants this, and even if she’s nervous, she’s not turning back.
I try to keep my voice steady, but my pulse is a thunderstorm in my neck. “If anything hurts, just tell me.”
She nods, swallows, and nibbles her bottom lip.
I brush my palm carefully over the damp spot on her shirt.
Her nipple is swollen and hard beneath the fabric, the skin around it warm and wet with a trace of her own milk.
I press my thumb gently against the tip and milk beads instantly, soaking through, trickling so much that I can feel it on my skin.
I want to taste her so badly my mouth waters.
While my cock is throbbing beneath my jeans, I lift her shirt slowly, giving her every chance to stop me, but she just tilts her chin up, watching with glassy eyes, and lets me expose her.
Her tits are ridiculously sexy. Perfectly round, the skin stretched tight and glossy, veins like rivers under the surface. Her darkened areolas are enormous, and each nipple is so distended it looks painful. The left one in particular is already beading with thick, ivory drops.
I can’t stop myself. I lean in and flick my tongue against the tip, and Bianca makes a noise halfway between a moan and a gasp. “Does that hurt?” I ask.
She shakes her head, then places her shaky hands on the back of my head, tugging me closer.
For now, I go slow. Licking, then gently suckling, letting my mouth fill with the first rush of her delicious cream.
The milk is warm, a little nutty, a little sweet, and the taste of her is so fucking primal I nearly lose it.
She arches into me, clutching me to her as though she needs me to survive, and the flow increases, each new gush rolling over my tongue and making her shudder.
I close my eyes and drink, lips sealed and tongue circling, and Bianca’s body vibrates under my hands. If my son weren’t such a goddamn idiot, he’d be here instead of me. But unfortunately, he takes after his stepfather, and Bianca will be mine now, for as long as she’ll let me have her.
When her breathing settles, I switch to the other side. It’s even more swollen, the nipple so sensitive she whimpers when I graze it with my teeth. But she doesn’t ask me to stop. The milk is everywhere, streaking my chin, dripping onto her stomach, and freely flowing from the other peak.
“Is that better?” I ask, voice hoarse.
She looks at me, eyes shining with a mix of relief and excitement. “You can keep going,” she whispers, and her voice is so small, yet so needy, that all my guilt vanishes. “Please don’t stop yet.”
She’s begging me to take more, and the animal in me howls at the invitation. I’d gladly devour her for as long as she needs.
“You want to give me all your milk, baby girl?” My voice is barely above a growl. “You love feeding me?”
She nods, and her hands are in my hair, threading through the strands, tugging me to her.
I switch breasts again, alternating between gentle pulls and firmer suction, until she’s sighing in relief and melting against me.
I don’t think she realizes how much I’m enjoying it, how ravenous I am for her, how the act of drinking from her is more erotic than anything I’ve ever done.
After a while, the tension in her body shifts to pure pleasure.
Her thighs flex, squeezing together, and the tiny noises escaping her lips change timbre.
I slide a hand down her side, over her soft belly, and rest my palm high on her thigh.
She doesn’t flinch. If anything, she spreads her legs, inviting me closer.
“Do you want me here, too?” I murmur, breath hot against her skin as my hand cups her pussy.
She looks down at me, cheeks pink and eyes half-lidded. “Yeah,” she whispers.
“You want to cum for me, baby girl?” I slide my hand higher, under the waistband of her shorts, and she gasps when my thumb finds the seam of her panties. She’s soaked through, warm, slick, and desperate to be fucked.
Cody told me that she’s still a virgin, and that she didn’t seem interested in having sex with him any time soon. Another reason why he ended things with her. Yet with me she feels safe and ready for it. More than ready, she’s aching for it.
As if she needs me to unlock something inside her that’s been caged for years.
I tug her panties aside and stroke her gently, just enough to let her feel me, and the way she arches into my hand almost undoes me. I’m rock hard, painfully engorged, and I want nothing more than to bury myself inside her, to claim her in every possible way, but I force myself to go slow.
“Such a wet pussy,” I murmur, giving her right nipple a teasing lick. “You’re so perfect, Bianca. Can you feel how wet you are for me?”
Her eyes roll back, and she nods, speechless.
I slowly circle her swollen clit with my finger, watching the tension build in her body.
She’s so responsive, so pliant. Every little touch and word draws a new sound from her, and when I slip my finger into her, her eyebrows shoot up, and her lips form an O of shock.
Fuck…she’s so fucking tight. It should be uncomfortable, but her body is practically begging for it, drawing me deeper.
Bianca grabs my wrist for stability, her hips canting up to meet every push of my hand.
I press my thumb harder against her clit and work her slowly, reading every clench and flutter, and suddenly her legs are shaking, and she’s moaning my name in a desperate, breathless tone.
“That’s it, baby. Give it to me,” I whisper, adding a second finger into her, and curling both just right. “Be a good girl and show me how good I make you feel.”
Another moan slips from her lips. Higher than the last. The sight of her sweet, trembling mouth is too tempting. I lean in and kiss her before she can release another sound. The kiss is soft at first, but her lips part for me, and I lose every trace of restraint.
Our tongues meet, mingling her moans with the taste of her milk on my lips.
For a second, I swear the world drops away, and it’s only us, two feral animals desperate for each other.
Bianca is the first to pull back, gasping, her cheeks and chest flushed pink.
She stares at me with such raw hunger I’m unsteady.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, a rational voice starts reciting every reason why I should stop. But it’s not even close to loud enough to stand a chance. I want her, more than anything, and I’m going to have her.
I squeeze her breast, thumb circling the sensitive, milk-glossed tip. “You taste so good,” I murmur, my breath hot against her cheek. “I could drink from you forever.”
She shudders, her lips parted. “It feels amazing when you do that,” she whispers, barely audible.
I rub the swell of her tit, then lower my mouth to her nipple and suck again, drawing a long, desperate moan from deep in her chest. This time, I let my fingers work faster between her thighs, plunging deeper between her velvety walls, feeling her grow impossibly wetter as I drink from her.
The more I take, the more she gives. It’s as if her whole being exists for this moment.
God help me, she feels so incredible; I don’t even know if I can last when I finally get inside her. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” I tell her, and I mean every word. “Sexiest body I’ve ever seen.”
My hand kneads her breast, causing white fluid to jet into the air and splash onto my shirt. “Look at these perfect tits, Bianca. I could drink from them all night. Let you keep feeding me when I bury my cock inside of your tight little pussy. Do you want that?”
She whimpers, her hand fisting the cushion at her side, and nods. “Please,” she says, and my cock throbs at the hunger in her voice. She’s so close now, barely hanging on.
My lips wrap around her swollen, pebbled peak once more and suck harder, and I tap my fingers against her G-spot. “Aahh…Nicholas…Nick…”
The word cuts short as her body convulses and the room fills with her cries.
The unconstrained sound of it sends a primitive thrill through me.
Bianca writhes on my hand, milk streaming down her body, tits heaving, and her pussy clenching and fluttering around my fingers, drawing them in as if her body refuses to let me go.
I keep working her clit with my thumb, gentle but insistent, watching the orgasm roll through her.
The noises she makes are loud, unashamed, nothing like the shy, uncertain girl who opened the door less than an hour ago.
She’s not shy now. Now she’s in my hands, and I’m the one who gets to see her like this.
And I’m going to make sure that I’m the only one who ever will.
“Fuck, that’s it,” I murmur. “That’s my good girl.” The words seem to push her even higher.
She shakes, body arching off the couch. More milk spurts out in little jets, coating my lips, chin, and shirt. I greedily lap it up, tongue swirling over her nub, refusing to miss a drop.
When the spasms finally slow, she falls back against the cushions in a breathless heap. I withdraw my hand and lick her slick arousal from my fingers, deliberately making sure she sees me do it. Her eyes are glazed, her cheeks blotched red, and she’s breathing so fast I almost worry she’ll faint.
As she’s coming down from her high, I pull her onto my lap, holding her tight against my chest. Her head lolls onto my shoulder, and she’s shuddering all over. I kiss her forehead, the crown of her head, and she nuzzles deeper into me. Somehow, it feels more intimate than anything else we’ve done.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, and I feel the words brush against my collarbone. “No one’s ever made me feel like that.”
I’m the grateful one. “And no one else is ever going to. You’re mine now, Bianca.” I stroke her hair, her back, the side of her breast. I could sit here forever, but my dick is so damn hard it’s painful.
Without saying another word, I rise from the futon couch with her legs wrapped around me and walk toward her bedroom.