Chapter Two
Rhys:
The moment my office door clicks shut behind us, I have her backed against it, my body flush against hers.
I’ve been dreaming of this for six weeks.
Six long weeks of watching her, wanting her, keeping my distance because she’s my student, because she’s twenty-one years younger than me, because this is so fucking inappropriate.
But it’s her last day. And after what I just saw, what I just learned about her... I’m not waiting another minute.
My lips crash down on hers, and I pour every ounce of my frustration and longing into this kiss. She’s soft and pliant, her mouth opening beneath mine with a gasp of surprise that quickly turns into a soft moan. She tastes of mint and surrender.
Christ, I’ve wanted this since the moment she walked into my clinic, this little slip of a thing with her long brown hair and big brown eyes, looking up at me with a combination of terror and determination.
I’d never felt a pull like it before. I’ve had relationships, sure.
A few casual things with women my own age, but nothing that ever made me want more. Nothing that made me imagine a future.
Then Layla showed up, and suddenly I’m thinking about rings and babies and a life I’d long ago decided wasn’t for me.
It’s fucking insane. I’m forty-five years old.
I should know better by now. But every time she looks at me with those wide, trusting eyes, my resolve crumbles a little more.
I’ve spent the last six weeks in a state of constant arousal, my mind filled with filthy images of her.
Bent over my examination table. On her knees for me.
My cock buried deep inside her tight little body, filling her up until she’s carrying my child.
And now, with the knowledge that her body is already preparing for motherhood... that she’s producing milk... it’s like something has snapped inside me. The possessiveness I’ve been trying to keep in check is roaring to life. She’s fertile. She’s ripe. And I want to be the one to claim her.
My hands find her breasts, and I cup them, my thumbs brushing over the fabric already damp with her milk.
She whimpers into my mouth, and I feel a fresh surge of liquid against my palms. I squeeze, gently at first, then harder, and more of that sweet sustenance soaks through her scrubs.
The scent of it fills the air, and my cock throbs painfully against the confines of my pants. I need to taste her. Now.
I break the kiss, ignoring her soft cry of protest, and guide her toward my desk chair. I sit down, pulling her into my lap. Her legs straddle mine, and I can feel the heat radiating from her core even through our clothes. Her hands flutter nervously, unsure where to rest.
“Let’s get this off you,” I say, my voice rough with desire.
My fingers fumble with the hem of her scrub top, then I’m pulling it over her head.
Her bra is a simple white cotton thing, but it does nothing to hide the perfection of what’s underneath.
I reach behind her to unhook it, my fingertips brushing against her spine, and then it’s gone.
And, fuck, they’re even more beautiful than I’d imagined.
Full and heavy, with dusky rose nipples that are already dripping with milk.
They sit high on her chest, defying gravity, and I can’t tear my eyes away.
I’ve been dreaming about this moment for six weeks, but my dreams were a pale imitation of the reality.
My hands return to her, this time with nothing between us. I massage them, working from the base to the nipple, and she gasps, her back arching. Fine, misty sprays of milk erupt from her tips, coating my chest and face. The scent is so fucking intoxicating.
“Rhys,” she whimpers, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “You’re making such a mess.”
“Don’t care,” I growl, my eyes locked on her face. “Don’t ever be embarrassed about this. Do you have any idea how fucking sexy this is? How fertile you look, already so ready to feed a baby?” My cock throbs at the image. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
I lean forward, my tongue darting out to catch a droplet from her right breast. The taste explodes in my mouth: warm, sweet, creamy.
I groan, deep in my chest, and then I’m latching on, my mouth closing over her nipple.
She cries out, her hands coming up to my shoulders so she can hold on to me.
I suck gently at first, drawing more of her essence into my mouth, savoring the taste of her.
“Jesus, Layla,” I murmur against her skin before switching to the other breast. “You taste so good. Better than anything I’ve ever tasted before.”
Her breath hitches, and I can feel her squirming on my lap. She’s moving unconsciously, rubbing herself against the hard muscle of my thigh, seeking friction. My hands find her hips, and I guide her, helping her find a rhythm that feels good.
“That’s it, baby,” I encourage her between pulls at her breast. “Ride my thigh. Take what you need.” I switch back to the other side, my tongue flicking against her nipple before I continue to nurse from her.
Her movements become more frantic, more desperate, and I can feel the heat of her even through the layers of our clothes.
Her head falls back, her long brown hair spilling down her back as she moans, a high, breathy sound that goes straight to my aching cock. I’m so fucking hard I think I might die, but I’m not rushing this. She needs this, needs to know that this is about her pleasure, not just my greed.
“Rhys, please,” she gasps, her body tensing. “I... I think...”
“Let go for me, Layla,” I command, my voice low and husky. “Come on my thigh. Show me how much you like it when I suck the milk straight from your tits.”
My words are all it takes to push her over the edge.
She cries out, her body trembling as she rides out her orgasm, her nails digging into my shoulders.
I can’t tear my eyes away from her face, the way it’s flushed with pleasure, her lips parted as she pants for breath.
She’s beautiful. So fucking beautiful it hurts.
I’m so mesmerized that I even forget to continue nursing from her, and I keep my hands on her hips, encouraging her to move through the pleasure until she collapses against my chest, limp and sated.
She’s breathing hard, her face buried in the crook of my neck, and I wrap my arms around her, holding her close.
I can feel her heart pounding against my chest, and I know mine is doing the same.
I kiss the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her hair, and I feel something shift inside me.
Something I’ve never felt before. This is more than just lust, more than just a fleeting attraction. This is everything.
But I’ve been so patient so far, and I can’t wait any longer. I need to be inside her. I need to claim her sweet little body and make her mine.
“Stand up for me, Layla,” I say, my voice still rough with desire. She looks up at me, her eyes wide with confusion, but she does as I ask, her legs shaky as she pushes herself off my lap. “Good girl,” I murmur, and she preens under my praise.
“Now,” I continue, my eyes locked on hers as I start to work my scrubs down over my hips, freeing my aching cock.
“I want you to take your pants and your panties off. All the way.” Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t hesitate, her fingers fumbling with the drawstring of her pants.
“Then I want you to come back over here,” I say, stroking my length slowly, watching her eyes widen as she takes in the sight of me.
“And I want you to straddle my lap. And I want you to sink down on my cock.”
I watch her as she steps out of her pants and panties, her movements clumsy with nerves. She’s even more beautiful than I’d imagined, all soft curves and pale skin. I can’t wait to leave marks all over her. Reminders that she belongs to me.
But once she’s standing naked in front of me, her hands twisting nervously in front of her, she hesitates. Her eyes are fixed on my cock, her lips parted, and I see a flicker of fear in their depths.
“What’s wrong, baby?” I ask, my voice softening slightly. “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”
She shakes her head, her gaze finally meeting mine. “No,” she whispers. “It’s not that. It’s just... I’ve never...” She trails off, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I’ve never done this before. I don’t really know what to do.”
My blood runs hot, then cold, then hot again.
A virgin. She’s a fucking virgin. And I’m going to be her first. The thought is so powerful, so intoxicating, it makes my head spin.
My heart hammers against my ribs, but I force myself to stay calm, to not let the sheer, overwhelming magnitude of this moment show on my face.
This is a gift. A precious, fragile gift, and I will not fucking break it.
“It’s okay,” I say, my voice low and steady. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. We can just... we can just kiss for a while. Or I can make you feel good with my hands. Or mouth. Whatever you want, Layla. This is about you.”
“No,” she says, her voice stronger this time. “I want to. I really do. It’s just... I’m worried I won’t be any good at it. And I want it to be good for you.”
I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face.
“Oh, baby,” I say, my hands reaching out to pull her closer, bringing her to stand between my parted legs while I remain seated.
I run my hands up her thighs, my thumbs stroking over the soft skin.
“Don’t you ever worry about that. Just the thought of being inside you is enough to drive me crazy. You’re going to feel so fucking good.”
I can feel the tension leaving her body, her muscles relaxing under my touch.
I reach up with my other hand to tangle my fingers in her hair, slowly drawing her head down to me so I can brush my lips against hers.
“Let me take control,” I whisper against her mouth.
“Let me take care of you. I’ll show you what to do.
All you have to do is feel. Can you do that for me? ”
She nods, her breath catching in her throat. “Yes,” she whispers.
“Good girl,” I murmur, and then I’m kissing her again, slow and deep this time, pouring every ounce of my possession into it. Her arms wrap around my neck, her fingers tangling in my hair, and she kisses me back with a desperate hunger that makes my cock ache with need.
And I’m already thinking about all the things I want to do to her that will have my sweet, perfect Layla moaning for me again.