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The squeezable handle makes a little noise when I work it. Once, twice, a few more times — until the suction tugs her swelling nipple into a stretch that makes her hot little cunt cinch tight around my cock.
Kira’s gaze has been locked on mine the whole time, but when I squeeze the pump handle again, and her pussy quivers in response, she glances at the other pump before returning her full attention to my face. “Do it.”
I fuck my fat cock in and out of her, working just the one manual breast pump until she’s squeezing my cock tight and begging for the other one. I pin her again and do as she asked, loving the way she looks at me with utter trust and devotion, while I trap both her breasts with a powerful suction.
Her cunt grows tighter around me with every pumping tug I give her, and she trembles with the need to come, but I want my hands free to get her at a better angle.
“Take over the pumps, baby. Show me how much you like the suction, when I fuck you. Show me how much you’re going to love being a sweet little milky mama to my babies.”
Kira’s core clamps even more tightly around my cock, and she works the breast pumps like a maniac. “Quin.”
I grip her hips, tilt them to open her more for me, and piston my big cock in and out of her juicy heat, feeling her climax building fast. “That’s it, babe. That’s my fucking girl.All mine,” I growl, forging deep and spurting at her limits, as she throws her head back and moans her pleasure in loud, rolling waves, in perfect harmony with the fierce contractions around my cock.
I slump against her and rumble my absolute adoration.
She’s limp by the time I recover my mind, and I carefully detach the breast pumps, set them aside for another time, and suckle gently at her swollen teats to ease them back down to size. I cleanse her soft, spent little body, dry her, clothe her, and carry her downstairs, to get some snacks to take with us to Curty’s school.
I’m going to need to restore her sugar levels after the full afternoon of reunion-sex we’ve had.
* * *
We wait outside,leaning against the new car Curty won’t recognize. I bought it for Kira, because we ruined the other one with fake blood and brains. It didn’t seem right to keep it.
We’re both excited to show Curty, since it was his suggestion that Kira get a big truck, like mine. It’s the smaller, sports model, so it’s easier for her to reach the pedals, and I — for one — am looking forward to seeing his face.
I’m also eager for some huge hugs from my boy, before we tell him any truths about his paternity.
Kira was scared out of her mind to get the test done, in case it turned out Jack was Curty’s father. I told her it wouldn’t keep me from loving Curty or her, and I’ve had a feeling in my gut since the day he was born, but we got the paternity results after we left Jack to rot.
Curty is my son.
The love Kira and I share was always stronger than Jack’s hate.
I glance down at my strong, enduring, fierce little woman and smile when she stands on her tiptoes and cranes her neck to search for Curty over the pickup crowd of parents.
I collect her into my arms and sit her up on my shoulder, while she squeals about me, not dropping her.
“Baby, I’m never letting you go. Don’t worry about it. Where’s our boy?” I say, spotting his hair, as soon as I’ve asked. “Hey, Curty. You want to get ice cream?”
Our little man tears through the crowd at the promise, and I set Kira back on her feet, so I can catch him when he flies at me.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, eyes huge, as he looks between me and Kira. “WithMom? You never come together.”
“Today, we did.” I smirk at Kira, take her hand, and give it a little squeeze. “We have some things to tell you, and we want to get ice cream. At the store, and not in a cone. We want a lot of it, so we need tubs. And we want multiple flavors — maybe all of them. We’re celebrating.”
His little eyebrows tug downward in the center. “I like the cones. Can we get a box of cones?”
I raise my eyebrows at Kira. “What do you think?”
She looks down at our clasped hands, and then at our son, seeming surprised he’s not interrogating us about it.
“We can get a box of cones,” she says, beaming. “Sprinkles, too.”
“Sprinkles?” I laugh and shake my head. “Now you’re taking it too far.”
“And chocolate chips,” Curty adds, poking me in the stomach. “We like chocolate chips.”
He stares at our interlaced fingers a while, and then looks up at us — first at me, then at Kira, who appears to be holding her breath. “Quin likes you,” he tells her.
