5. Lena #2
His stubble scrapes the sensitive skin of my inner thighs as he leans in.
The texture is rough, sending a jolt of pure adrenaline through my veins before his lips even touch me.
The first touch is slow and teasing: one long, broad lick from my entrance all the way up to my swollen clit.
I cry out, back arching off the couch, my fingers tangling immediately in the fabric of the cushions.
The wet heat of his tongue feels incredible.
“Mmm,” he groans, licking his lips. “So fucking sweet. You taste even better here, baby.”
He does it again, slower this time, dragging his tongue through my folds like he’s savoring every drop.
He uses the flat of his tongue, burying his face into my softness until I am completely consumed by him.
Then he focuses on my clit, flicking it with quick, rhythmic strokes that make my hips jerk.
I reach down and grab fistfuls of his short hair, holding on as pleasure sparks through me, my knuckles turning white as I try to ground myself.
“Ryker… oh god…”
He sucks my clit into his mouth and my moan turns sharp.
He’s so focused, so greedy, alternating between firm licks and hard suction while two thick fingers tease my entrance.
He applies the same rigorous discipline to making me feel good that he clearly applies to everything else in his life.
Every time my pussy clenches, fresh milk leaks from my nipples and runs down my ribs in warm trails, a physical manifestation of just how undone he is making me.
I can’t stay quiet. “Ryker…” The words slip out in a needy whimper. I bite my lip, embarrassed, but it only makes me wetter. “Ryker, please…”
He growls against me, the vibration shooting straight through my core.
The sound is feral, low in his throat, showing me exactly how much control he has lost. He pushes two fingers inside me slowly, stretching me open while his tongue keeps working my clit.
He curls them just right, stroking that perfect spot inside as he sucks harder.
The dual sensation of being filled by his fingers and devoured by his mouth completely shatters what is left of my thoughts.
I’m spiraling higher and higher. The world narrows down to the heat of his mouth, the stretch of his fingers, and the heavy scent of milk and sex filling the dark room.
Every time I get close he slows down just a little, edging me, keeping me right on the brink until I’m whimpering and begging, thighs trembling around his head.
He watches my reactions, adjusting his pace to maximize the torture, making sure I am completely begging for it.
The pressure in my belly is unbearable now, tight and hot and ready to explode.
“I’m gonna— Ryker, I’m?—”
He sucks my clit hard, tongue flicking fast, and shoves his fingers deeper, curling them perfectly into my slick walls.
I come hard.
The orgasm crashes through me like a tidal wave, violent and absolute.
My thighs clamp around his head, shaking helplessly as I cry out to the empty room.
My pussy pulses and gushes around his fingers and tongue while he keeps licking me through it, drinking every drop like he can’t get enough, anchoring me to the couch as the pleasure rips through my system.
More milk leaks from my breasts, running down my sides as my whole body convulses with pleasure, the white streams mixing with the sweat on my skin.
“Ryker— fuck—” I sob, the forbidden word pushing me even higher, breaking me completely.
My hips buck against his face as wave after wave rolls through me, each aftershock making my internal muscles squeeze tightly around his buried fingers.
He doesn’t stop until I’m a trembling, oversensitive mess, whimpering and twitching with every gentle lick of his tongue.
Only then does he pull back, his face shiny with my juices, milk and spit smeared across his chin and lips.
He looks devastatingly handsome in the dim light, completely ruined by what we just did.
His eyes are dark and wild as he looks up at me from between my thighs, his chest heaving as he draws in ragged breaths of air.
I lie there panting, chest heaving, milk still slowly leaking from my nipples, my pussy twitching with aftershocks.
The movie credits are starting to roll in the background, the soft white text scrolling up the screen and casting a pale light over both of us, but neither of us cares.
The television is nothing but background noise to the absolute wreckage on the couch.
Ryker stays on his knees, breathing hard, staring at my wrecked body like he still hasn’t had enough.
He watches the slow rise and fall of my chest, the way my thighs are still trembling, unable to close.
The heavy, unmistakable bulge in his gray sweatpants is still straining fiercely against the fabric, completely unfulfilled.
The look in his eyes says this is far from over.
He reaches up, his large, calloused hand tracing a slow path up my inner thigh, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His fingers stop just at the edge of my core, hovering over the slick warmth he just created.
"You think that's it, Lena?" he whispers, his voice so deep it vibrates in my chest. "We're just getting started."
The sheer weight of his gaze pins me to the leather cushion more effectively than his hands ever could.
My body, despite being completely exhausted and spent from the climax, instantly stirs at his words.
The deep ache in my breasts flares again, a tiny drop of milk gathering at the tip of my nipple, responding to the raw command in his tone.
I look down at him, my hazel eyes wide and completely trapped by his icy blue stare, knowing that whatever lines we crossed tonight, there is no going back to being just family.