Page 7 of Jailbreak

I nod, arching when Cash's hands slide higher. My breasts are heavy and tender, the nipples dark and sensitive. I noticed the change weeks ago when I found drops of moisture on my shirt. The ache built until I wanted to scream. They noticed too.

"Your milk's coming in," Cash says, not as a question. He leans forward, big hand cupping my breast through the thin cotton of my dress. "I can feel it. Getting full for the baby."

"And for us," Damien adds wickedly. "Gonna be so sweet. Creamy and so fucking warm."

"You both are filthy," I breathe, but I'm smiling while my fingers tangle in Damien's hair.

"You love it," Cash says, and he's right. I do.

How could I not? The possessiveness, the constant attention, the way they make me feel like the center of their entire world. I’ve never felt so loved and wanted in my whole life. This is all I ever wanted. All my fantasies and dreams are now a reality.

Cash tugs my dress down, exposing my breast, and I gasp at the cool air. He doesn't hesitate before lowering his mouth. When he sucks, I feel the small stream hit his tongue. Cash groans around me, swallowing it. The relief is instant and wrapped in unexpected pleasure. I cry out, my back arching. Damien holds my hips steady, watching with dark fascination, greedy for his own turn.

"That's it," Damien croons. "Give it to him. Let him taste how sweet you are."

Cash pulls back, lips shiny, and kisses my belly, my stretch marks, then the life we all made together.

“Your turn, brother. Give our mama some relief.”

Damien doesn't need to be told twice. He shifts up, mouth finding my other breast, and the heat of his tongue makes me whimper. He's rougher than Cash and hungrier, teeth grazing before he locks his lips and hollows his cheeks. Another stream spills into his mouth, and he moans against my skin, swallowing greedily.

"Fuck," he breathes, pulling back just enough to look up at me with those intense eyes. "You taste like heaven, Mama. Like everything good in this world."

Cash's hand slips between my thighs, finding my soaked panties. I gasp as my hips buck into them. They have me surrounded, claimed, and loved in their own savage way.

"Love you," I whisper, because I do, despite everything, or maybe because of it.

"Love you more," they say together, and I believe them.

THE END