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By now, Grason is screaming so hard that his chin is quivering as he continues to root, growing increasingly frustrated. Without consciously deciding to do so, I unclip my nursing tank and pull one side of the triangular fabric down. The baby latches onto my nipple like a pro, as I figured he would. His cries immediately subside as he takes deep gulps of milk. I had felt the telltale signs of a let-down as soon as I heard the baby crying when James opened the door, and it’s a relief now to have him nurse.
I coo at Grayson, running my fingers over his baby-fine dark brown hair as he nurses greedily. Nursing him will mean that I won’t have as much milk for my daughter in the morning, but at least I have breast milk saved in the freezer at home.
Keeping my voice soft, I tell James, “It can be hard to transition from the breast to the bottle so quickly. Poor thing must be beside himself without his mother.” I gasp at the reminder that this little boy no longer has a mother. Mom told me how James came to be his nephew’s guardian, and I feel so thoughtless. “Oh my god, James. I’m so sorry about your sister. You must be—” I cringe at seeing James’s expression.
His sharp jaw has dropped again, and his eyes are rounded and locked on his nephew nursing at my breast. My pallor must be the complete opposite of his as heat rushes to my cheeks in mortification at what I’ve done—just whipped my tit out and started feeding Grayson, who is very much not my baby.
“I am so sorry. I-I didn’t think before I started nursing him. Should I…?” I start to pull Grayson from my chest, and he begins to cry again in distress when he’s forced to unlatch.
Once again, James snaps out of his shocked stupor, and he rushes to say, “No, don’t stop. It’s okay. I’m just a little…I didn’t mean to stare.” His eyes drift up to the ceiling, and red colors the tips of his ears like he’s the one embarrassed. “You…I didn’t know you had…milk.” The way he says it comes out like a question instead of a statement.
“My daughter is still nursing, so yes, I have milk.”
He breaks his stare with the ceiling, dropping his eyes back to meet mine, his brows shooting up to his hairline. “You have a daughter?”
“Yeah. The little girl with blonde hair? Always squealing? She’s only seven months old, but she keeps me on my toes.” I laugh, though in truth, it scares the crap out of me, and I have to watch her like a hawk. I wasn’t prepared for how early she learned to crawl or how fast she could be. She finds it hilarious when I have to chase after her the minute someone opens the front door, which is about every five seconds with the number of people living at our house and all their friends.
“Oh. I thought she was your sister.” He tilts his head and looks at me appraisingly like he sees something different about me. It’s more curious than judgmental, but I still feel my hackles rise. There’s been no shortage of jeering and downright insults thrown my way at school for being a teen mom, and I have to temper the familiar defensiveness I feel simmering just under the surface of my skin.
Before I can say something that I’ll probably regret later, the baby unlatches and whimpers. He’s drained one side, and he must still be hungry, so I unclip the other side of my tank top and bring him to my full breast.
“Is there somewhere I can rock him while he nurses?” I ask without looking up, not wanting to see any judgment in case I misread his expression before.
“Oh. Yes. Sorry, I didn’t think to show you. Um, follow me.”
I smile a little when he stumbles over his feet, and I follow him down a dimly lit hallway on the right past the living room with a little blue whale night light plugged into the wall. There’s a matching night light inside the room he leads me into on the left side of the hallway. It’s as sparse as the rest of the house, with just a crib, an old-school wood rocking chair, and a few plastic bins full of diapers and clothing.
I take a seat in the chair to the right of the door, gently rocking it back and forth. I keep my eyes focused on Grayson, whose eyelids are starting to drift closed. His fist clutching my tank top strap starts to loosen until it eventually drops. I may not be looking at James, but I’m fully aware he’s standing in the doorway, silently watching us.
After a few more minutes, Grayson falls sound asleep on the breast, no longer nursing as his lips part and his breathing evens out. I carefully maneuver him to my shoulder to burp him without waking him, then check his diaper. He’s a little wet, so I lay him on my lap and motion to James to hand me a diaper and wipes. I change him quickly, then move him to his crib, laying him on his back gently, hoping he won’t wake up the minute I set him down. I also don’t want to risk waking him up by trying to redress him in his pajamas when he needs his sleep so badly.
James does, too, by the looks of him. I tiptoe out of the nursery behind him and follow him back into the living room, where we can talk. His feet are dragging, and I’m sure he’s had little to no sleep these past four days. Been there, done that.
“I can’t thank you enough…?” he begins to say over his shoulder and stops abruptly after turning around, and I realize he doesn’t know my name. I’ve been in this man’s house for over an hour, have been living across the street from him for almost a year, and he doesn’t know my name.
“Shayla.” I’d laugh at the breathy way he repeats my name back to me, except he makes this weird kind of strangled noise in his throat and goes slack-jawed. He seems to do that a lot.
But when I realize his eyes are glued to my chest, hardly blinking, I gasp and bring my hands up in front of my breasts, which I had forgotten to cover up after nursing Grayson.
“Oh my god! I am so, so sorry. I can’t believe—” I spin around, giving him my back while I re-clip my nursing top and adjust my now depleted girls, then sheepishly turn back around with what I’m sure is a flaming red face.
Chapter 3
James
I feel like the air has been repeatedly knocked out of my chest ever since this angel stepped onto my front porch and graced me with her presence…and her tits. Her full, glorious, life-sustaining tits that have been hanging out for the past hour.
Jesus, help me.
I was floored when she first unclipped her top and nursed Grayson like he was her son and not an infant she had just met minutes beforehand, but that was nothing compared to her standing in my living room with both sides of her her top hanging loose and her large, supple tits on display without the baby skewing my view.
I close my eyes and try to stifle a groan when she turns her back on me to cover herself, apologizing to me all the while. I want so badly to tell her that it was a gift, that I’d die to have her waltzing around my house all day without a shirt on, but that would be extremely creepy and probably scare her off, even if it’s the God’s honest truth. I’ve never seen something or someone so beautiful in all my life.
Neither of us can look each other in the eye when she turns back around, her in embarrassment, me in the hopes that I don’t keep making a fool of myself or let her see just how much she has affected me.
Oh fuck, my dick. I was so busy ogling her tits that I didn’t think to hide my erection that is most definitely, exceedingly obviously, bulging in my pants.
It’s my turn to give her my back with the excuse of opening the front door so I can discreetly adjust my hard cock, tucking it behind the waistband of my boxer briefs and sweatpants. I hope like hell she hasn’t noticed what a sicko I am, sporting a hard-on after just meeting her face to face for the first time. It’s already bad enough that she’s caught me staring at her before. If I want this angel to come back and help again—something I desperately need and want her to do—then I don’t want to scare her off.
