I hesitate. He watches me, waiting for me to take the first step, reaching for a towel.
I flush hot, begin to undo the buttons from top to bottom. The fabric clings, wet and warm, and when I look down, I find my white cotton bra is soaked through and transparent, revealing my wide, dark nipples. Milk glistens on the skin of my belly, and I can’t meet his eyes, but thesound of him exhaling through his nose like a frustrated bull makes me jump. The veins on my breast are prominent blue scars across pale flesh.
“You poor thing,” he whispers, stepping closer. Without warning, he flicks the clasp at the center of my bra so fast that I don’t have a chance to anticipate what it will be like when it falls away, and I’m left bare.
The air is cool on my damp skin, but my face is a raging inferno.
Heat thrums through me, pooling between my thighs. Jesus. Am I getting aroused by this? I can’t get aroused by this.
With fear coursing through me, I risk looking up to be met by his serious gray eyes.
“It’s okay, girl. I’ve got you,” he says, with a surprising amount of tenderness.
He reaches up and cups one breast, his large hand supporting the heavy weight. His thumb brushes over my nipple, and milk wells up instantly, releasing a slow, aching trickle onto the towel.
“Jesus,” he murmurs.
His other hand joins the first, and he kneads gently, carefully, thumbs pressing in a rhythm I didn’t know I needed. The milk flows, slowly at first, then a little more. Relief floods through me so fast I nearly cry, but it hurts too, and I flinch with the pain.
My head tips back as I grit my teeth. My knees wobble.
“Easy,” he says, catching me by the waist, guiding me down to the bench seat by the kitchen table. “You have to relax to let it out.”
He kneels between my legs, both hands still working, mouth inches from my chest. His breath is warm. With afurrowed brow, he mutters, “This isn’t gonna release enough. I’m gonna have to suck.”
My eyes widen, then focus on his plush lips. He’s seriously suggesting he’ll suck the milk out of me.
“Is that okay, Joelle?” he asks, his ethereal eyes almost swamped by huge black pupils. He seems as dazed as I am about what we’re doing.
The voice in my head screams,“No.Of course it isn’t.”This man is my stepbrother, and I need a job here. This whole situation is making everything weird. How will I work here after this without dying of embarrassment every time I see him? But my body betrays me. Relief is so close, and all I want is to be rid of this ache.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Okay. So I don’t get sick.”
And then his mouth is on me, hot and possessive, sucking hard so the milk rushes out, and Imoanwith relief. I can’t help it. The letdown is immediate, and his eyes widen as his tongue strokes the underside of my nipple, teasing out more and more.
He drinks like it’s water, and he’s been stumbling through the desert for days. He drinks like it’s nectar from the gods and drawing it into his body will make him a hero. And I watch his eyelids lower, his dark eyelashes fanning across his cheeks, his expression blissed out.
And as wrong as it is, I don’t want him to stop.
Chapter 4
Wade
The first taste of her hits me like a damned freight train. It’s warm, sweet, and richer than I imagined, flooding my mouth in a rush so fast it knocks the breath out of both of us. She moans with relief, and my cock throbs behind my fly like it’s trying to punch through.
Goddamn.
She’s clinging to the edge of the bench, body trembling, shirt half-off, chest rising and falling like she ran ten miles. I’ve got one of her breasts cradled in my hand, the other in my mouth, and it’s taking every shred of discipline I’ve got not to spread her out across the table and show her just how good surrender can feel.
She’s not some hookup. Not some girl I’ll forget by morning.
She’s Joelle. The girl I tried not to think about for years. And now she’s in my kitchen, leaking and flushed, looking at me like I’m the only thing keeping her from falling apart.
Her milk fills my mouth, and I suck carefully, working her slowly. She gasps, her head falling back as more lets down, and it’s the sound that undoes me, like I’m hurting and healing her at the same time.
“You were so full,” I murmur, breath brushing across her damp skin as I switch sides. “Your body needed this, darlin’. Look at how much you were holding.”
She whimpers. It’s the kind of sound that goes straight to a man’s gut because it’s not from pain, but from pleasure.
