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I palm the back of his head and pull him forward at the same time as I lean closer. He doesn’t do anything but dig his fingers into my ribs, holding me in place when my nipple brushes his bottom lip, and I think I’ve made a terrible mistake. That I’ve done something so crazy and disgusting that he’s going to push me away and tell me to leave.
But then he licks the underside of my nipple and pulls me closer. I arch my back slightly to press my breast against his mouth until my nipple is between his parted lips. His panting breaths match mine and warm my skin. I shiver as goosebumps pepper my arms. I cup his chin, lifting it until his lips close around my nipple, and I moan when he takes a tentative suck.
There’s a tingling in my lower belly when he holds my gaze without blinking, opens his mouth wider, and draws my nipple deeper. His lips suction around it, and he takes a longer suck. I squeeze my thighs together and drape my free arm around his neck at the same time as he moves his hands from my ribs to my back. We’re both pulling each other closer until there’s no space between my belly and his firm chest.
His eyes roll back in his head, and he moans when my breast milk lets down, the first stream of milk hitting his tongue that hasn’t stopped moving on the underside of my breast. The tingling I feel in my core builds along with desire at the knowledge that James is drinking my breast milk.
This should feel so wrong. What he’s doing—what we’re doing—should fill me with revulsion. But it is night and day different from nursing a child, which is strictly biological. This is nothing like that. It’s intimate and erotic, and it’s because of who I’m doing it with.
“James. Oh god, that feels so good.” When he draws on my nipple harder and another stream of milk jets into his mouth, I tip my head back and moan louder. Arousal gathers between my thighs, and my clit pulses. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before, and I rub my thighs together, searching for friction.
His hands haven’t stopped moving over my back, dropping low until the sides of his pinkies brush along the top of my ass, then make their way up again. He moans each time he swallows, and he opens his lips wider to draw more of my breast in his mouth as he increases the suction.
I place one knee on his chair to the side of his thigh, then the other, straddling his lap. James’s hands finally drift all the way down to palm my ass. Electric sparks dance up and down my spine when his fingers flex over my cheeks, and he pulls my lower half closer, dragging my core over his thighs and directly on top of a large, hard bulge trapped beneath the zipper of his jeans.
“Shayla. Angel. Oh fuck,” he moans when his bulge twitches beneath me.
I gasp when he drags me back and forth harder over his bulge and moans so deeply that I feel it vibrate in my chest. He becomes insatiable as he greedily suckles my breast, and his bulge swells even larger. I instinctively rock my hips against it, the fire in my core building and building until it’s an inferno of need.
“Oh god, James. What…?” I can’t finish asking What are we doing? as my words are cut off by a throaty moan when he lifts a hand to unclip the right side of my top and tugs the fabric down. He switches to suckling my right breast, which is already leaking from my let-down. He swallows every jet of milk, all while holding onto my ass cheek, using his hand to jerk my hips back and forth roughly.
I claw at his hair as I pick up the pace, flexing my hips and grinding down as hard as I can. The friction is delicious, even with my leggings and panties on, pleasure rocketing through me. I know I’m being too loud, but I can’t bite back my moans as I rock harder and harder, adding a slight bounce to the movements of my hips.
“James, oh god, James!” I cry out with intense pleasure when he starts lifting his hips beneath me, grinding up against my core. I’m half delirious with desire, and without thought, I slip my hand between us, then down under the waistband of my leggings and panties, and press the tip of my middle finger against my clit.
I don’t know what I’m doing, having never done anything so brazen before. All I know is that it feels so good, so right, and I rub circles over my clit as he continues pumping up under me. His hands are all over me now, sliding over my waist, my hips, my ass, and up to squeeze my breasts, forcing more milk out of them.
From out of nowhere, lighting strikes my core, and waves of heat wash over me. I moan James’s name over and over again as my lower body convulses with my orgasm. I watch with hooded eyes as James detaches from my swollen nipple, a little milk dribbling from his bottom lip and down his chin.
“Oh fuck, angel, did you just cum?” I can’t speak yet, so I nod my head, and he groans. “You’re so beautiful. So unbelievably sexy. You’re gonna make me cum.”
His eyes roll in the back of his head when he tips it back against his chair. My name comes out strangled in his throat when he grabs my hips and slams my ass down over his lap. The vein on the side of his bared neck pulses wildly, and I impulsively lick a line from the base of his throat to his chin and whisper with a sultriness I’ve never used before, “Cum for me, James.”
“Angel, angel, I’m cumming.” I bounce my hips twice more, drawing more groans of pleasure from him as I feel his swollen bulge jerk beneath me multiple times.
When he slumps in his seat, and his hands drop to my thighs, I don’t know what to do. He just gave me my first orgasm, which had warmth blooming all over my skin. But now that it’s fading, I shiver, feeling cold with my top open and my breasts wet with his saliva and my leaking milk. My eyes drop to my chest while he recovers his breath. My nipples are swollen and dark from the intensity of his suckling.
All of a sudden, I’m unsure about what I’ve just done. I exposed myself to a man who was in pain and somehow turned my offer of comfort into all about me and my pleasure. Did I take advantage of him while he was hurting? Taken it too far with him? This went beyond a little comforting and support to something I’ve never done or even just thought of before, and I’m left reeling with conflicting emotions.
When I hear one of the babies cry from the nursery, I’m saved from having to make a decision about what I should do. I hastily climb off his lap and clip my top back in place. I’m out of his office and into the nursery within seconds.
I exhale in relief that it’s just Lainey moving around in her travel crib to get more comfortable and not that either of them has woken up hungry. My breasts are drained of milk, the thought of which makes my eyelids flutter and my breath hitch, though I try to push thoughts of why they’re drained out of my head.
I slowly back out of the room and close the door. When I turn, I bump into James, who has been standing silently in the hallway behind me. I catch myself with a hand on his chest so I don’t fall, and he steadies me with his hands on my hips.
“Oh, James. Um…”
“Thank you, angel,” he whispers and brushes a quick, light kiss against my cheek. “For comforting me.”
Heat fills my cheeks, though I’m sure he can’t see how fiercely I must be blushing in the dark. I shift on my feet, and he drops his hands when I don’t respond. He takes a step back, adjusts his jeans, then turns and walks into his bedroom, closing the door softly behind him.
I take a few moments to clean myself up in the hall bathroom. I look half wild with my cheeks burning red, and my breath is still a little shaky. I splash water on my face, inhale deeply through my nose, and release it slowly out of my mouth while trying to forget the incredibly sexy noises James made when he orgasmed.
Once I’ve calmed down and my breathing is under control, I pull on a sweater over my tank top, shoulder Lainey’s diaper bag, and then tiptoe into the nursery to pick her up and take her home.
James appears just as I’m about to close the front door behind me. His hair is wet from taking a shower, and he’s changed out of his jeans and T-shirt into a gray sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. His movements are relaxed, totally at odds with the uncertainty I see on his face, and I know it’s my fault. I may have…satisfied him…physically, but I still ran out of the room before we could discuss what happened, probably leaving him feeling as confused as I do.
We’re silent as he locks up, the baby monitor tucked into his pants pocket, and he walks us across the street. When I unlock my front door and step inside, he flattens his hand against the door like he’s preventing me from slamming it closed on him, which I would never do. There’s no trace of the euphoria I saw on his face when he suckled at my breast and came in his pants. Instead, his eyebrows are pinched with concern.
