The Billionaire's Milkmaid (BBW Lactation Erotic Romance) (4 page)

Her body, her throat, ached to scream in ecstasy but some shred of decency remembered she was at work, being lapped by her boss's boss's boss's boss's boss, though a low, eager sound came from her throat, more animal than she knew she was capable of. Her hands clung to his head, guiding him to lick her like that – no, that – oh, God
that –
as her fingers threaded themselves in that gorgeous, wavy hair, his body tensed and face focused on her womanhood.

“Antonio!” she whispered, instinct urging her to thrust her hips in little twitches that concentrated his tongue exactly where it needed to be as he, too, groaned, the vibration zooming through her, his hands sliding under her tight ass to grab and knead her, making her pussy his for the taking, mouth sending her places she wanted to be forever, into a heaven of flesh.

Her hot, pink, swollen clit became too sensitive suddenly, but unlike with Joe, where she pulled back from her own cresting, this time she pushed through it, willing herself to accept so much more, the transgression of fucking her boss worth every second of taboo sensation. He lapped at her and one hand grabbed her ass while the other slid up past her hipbone, thumb strumming each rib as he reached her breast and then rolled the nipple between his fingers, suddenly pinching so hard tears sprang to her eyes, making her gasp in pain.

And that, of all things, tipped her right out of this dimension.

Jessica's entire body tightened violently, her arms and legs curling as if she were seizing, and then milk gushed from her, like a Vesuvius of breast milk, the water hose effect simultaneously alarming, hilarious, and arousing, spraying white, thin milk all over her chest, pooling in her hair, and pouring down her belly, covering the conference table in little rivers. She bucked against Antonio's face as he let go of her nipple and slid his other hand under her hips, now sliding her on the wet table surface as she crashed into orgasm after orgasm, each more intense than the last, her brain taking her inward through layers of muscled pleasure and colored clouds that represented new layers of consciousness and want.

“I've never – oh, God – what are you doing?” she huffed, digging her fingernails into the soft flesh of his neck, then raking his back as he rode with her, mouth eager to catch every bit of essence and pleasure from her as her pussy was forced against his face. Her milk spurted in time with each muscular contraction.

He stopped his work on her clit so abruptly, his finger leaving her aching hole empty as he slid up her body, kicking off the useless pants that had pooled at his ankles, no embarrassment in the motion. Just fluid grace. Then he slid up her body, using the milk quite intently as lubrication, and deftly slipped his mouth over one nipple, latching on.

“What are you – ” Her milk had poured out and she had been shocked by it; this was the first sexual experience since having Sofia, and she was humiliated somewhere deep down, but too overwhelmed to worry about it. Now, though, Antonio was focused on this – on her milk – and using his mouth, which had just been on her clit, ripping so many orgasms fro her, to suckle from her.

His eyes sought hers, a deep challenge to accept and let go, let down, and so she did.

Suckle, suckle, swallow.
Oh, how she knew the rhythm well, but she pushed any thought of Sofia from her mind, for the two were mutually exclusive. She could enjoy this and still nurse her baby when she got home. Giving birth had involved the same vagina that she used for sex, so there was a nice precedent. In fact, Joe had made it seem like her being a mother made him leave, turned off by the shift in her body. Antonio, though, savored it.

She would follow his cue.

Antonio drank from her, gulping, hands sliding on the thickening milk that covered her, his enjoyment and his taking of this precious gift from her making her swell with pride. What could she possibly give a billionaire, a man so famous he was chased by paparazzi and who traveled by private jet and helicopter wherever he went?

This, it turned out.
This
.

And oh, how he took it. “I want you on top,” he murmured, his mouth still on her as he sat up, elegantly offering one hand to assist her in sitting up. A strange sound came from her skin as she sat up, unsticking herself from the veneer top of the conference table, and she cringed. He shook his head slowly, a smile of sensuality so strong she forgot any sense of being self-conscious, and he stretched out, gloriously naked, on the conference table, his face covered with an expression of absolute confidence.

“Get on and fuck me, Jessica. I want to watch your face as I make you come,” he demanded, hands rough and imploring as he reached for her hips. She obeyed, straddling him, her slick, tired clit rapidly recovered and eager for more, her aching pussy finally getting what it wanted as she centered the tip of his cock at her passage, angling her hips just so to ride down his pole slowly, savoring each inch until the base was met, their lower abdomens touching, his flat and muscled, covered by a thick patch of black hair.

“You are so much more than you think, Jessica,” he crooned as he thrust up, making her gasp, her body stretched up and back arched slightly as her hands splayed over his thick pecs. Tiny movements as she rotated her hips made them both grit their teeth and tighten. She reveled in making him feel more, more, more than she imagined any other woman had made him feel, and then her breasts started again, this time letting go of her hind milk, the creamy, thick, fat-laden breast milk her body produced for nourishment.

“Feed me,” he gasped, his hands pulling on her shoulders and guiding one breast to his mouth, forcing her to change the angle of her hips and –
ahhhhh
, finding some spot inside her pink flesh that altered all perception, beads of sweat springing to her body and, to her shock, his. He felt it, too, but soldiered on to suckle her milk, pulling his knees up to give her ass more support, her anus sliding against one of his thighs as she moved, the effect electrifying, blending with his drinking from her and the feel of his thick cock sliding in and out, pulling something from her that she needed to give.

She pulled back and Antonio popped off, a look of hurt and betrayal on his face. Without warning she found herself flipped and her feet on the ground, his hand in her hair, the other around her waist, hot breath in her ear.

“Do not do that again. You do as I tell you. I am the one who knows what you need, Jessica. Only me,” he warned. She faced the wall of glass, poised at the edge of the table and his knee pushed against her inner knees, splitting her legs suddenly as he bent her top half onto the table top, breasts smashed hard and her hair pushed to one side of her neck, his face nuzzing her as he entered her, slowly, from behind. One of his hands reached under her breast and began to hurt the nipple on purpose, while the other hand slid around to the front and teased her clit. He thrust from behind, hitching up slightly, pushing her against the table and the wetness from her breasts lending lubed-up friction to her movements.

Still stunned by the violent control he'd exhibited, and even more horrified by her excitement at being manhandled like this, Jessica's entire body flitted into a grey world of warmth and sweat and hot fucking as Antonio murmured, “You love this, don't you? Admit it, Jessica. Let yourself go.”

His fingers were relentless, pinching her nipple hard and then finally letting go, the hand moving to her hair to grasp it with just enough pressure and roughness to seem less from anger and more from a claiming, his thrust deepening as he slammed her cervix from behind, his other hand strumming her to another world once more.

“Yes,” she gasped.

“You're mine,” he declared, his voice no longer hushed, and as she looked up she imagined he was saying it to her but also to the city that lay before them. He probably owned half of it.

“I am yours, Antonio. Please, please...” She wasn't sure what she was asking for, just that the words disappeared as her milk rubbed against her breasts, her ribs ached from being pushed against the table and she owned the sky and her pussy and her clit and he did, too, as he tightened into one body of muscle and let go of her clit, gesticulating and fucking her so hard she could only grunt now, no more words and only walls of flesh as she screamed, screamed louder than every before, and it was one word:

“Fuck!” He clamped his palm over her mouth and she bucked against it like a horse being tamed, fucked backwards against him to take in everything he gave, and then he clenched and shouted, “Jessica!” and spewed his seed into her, the pressure so intense she felt him, hot and wet in her as he claimed her whole, took her folded over a conference table at work, thirty floors above the world, her wetness everywhere now – on his mouth, on his dick, on the floor, in her hair...everywhere, everything, and
everyplay
.

Slumping against her back, she felt the weight of him on her not as a resting place, but more as a promise, a comfortable spot where Antonio could get some relief. The bliss of the encounter began to wane and she moved, imperceptibly, as her ribs began to scream in agony. He sensed it and pulled up, pulled out, then quietly began to dress, handing her her soaked clothes.

She frowned as she examined them. “Oh, God,” she muttered. He frowned, then made a face like he understood something. Reaching into his pants pocket, he pulled out a phone, held up one finger to her, and spoke in dulcet tones into the phone. “Twelve?” she heard, then he ended the call.

“Not a problem,” he said, pointing to her clothing. “Just wait here.”

Embarrassed and instantly aware of how awful the situation, Jessica's eyes filled with tears. “Okay,” she told him meekly.

"Jessica, Jessica," he crooned, cupping her face in his hands, kissing her nose and stepping back. "You like this." It wasn't a question. It was a declaration.
"Yes," she whispered, too embarrassed to admit she hoped he would offer more.
"Then come back here next week, this room, at the same time." And with that he slipped out of the room, the
snick
of the door's closing both a tearful end and a delightful promise of more.

Panting, she sat down, now dizzy and frantic over what they'd just done. The implications flooded her. Being naked with milk-soaked clothes was now the least of her worries!

Thirty seconds later there was a knock. “Ms. Browning?”

Fuck! Who knew she was in here? The door opened on its own and an older, swarthy man with balding, grey hair stepped in. He looked like a butler, dressed in a black suit that was almost a tuxedo. He carried a woman's suit and blouse.

“For you,” he said simply, hanging it on a coat hook along the wall, then slipping quietly out of the room. She scrunched her nose and stared at the now-closed door for a full minute, mouth open and gaping. What the – ?

Finally, she crossed the room on shaky legs and looked at the suit. An Italian label she didn't know. Cashmere and linen. Size twelve – who were they kidding? She wasn't a size twelve.
Better than walking back to your desk naked, Jessica
. Skeptical, she slipped the skirt on, eyebrows arching as she buttoned and zipped the back.

It fit like a glove. Ditto the blouse, which was fitted so perfectly she didn't need her bra (which was too wet to wear anyhow), and the jacket was tight where it needed to be, loose in all the right places, and when buttoned concealed all traces of milk.

Had he prepared for this? Had it tailored for her? Slipping her heels on, she looked down and hoped she was pulled together just enough. Her hair was a rat's nest, but fingers and some old braiding techniques at least gave her a fighting chance. Her eyes lit on her breast pump and – sweet relief – she realized she had shoved her small purse in the bag.

Ten minutes later she had fixed her makeup and slunk back to her office, setting her breast pump down and taking a few deep breaths before heading off to the bathroom. There, she washed up as best as possible, hoping the scent of milk and sex weren't obvious. One was fine; the other overt, and she wanted to blend in, be inconspicuous, not raise attention. Combing her hair made a huge difference, though the dried and, in some cases, still-wet milk made her look more rumpled than she wished.

But better.

She looked at the clock. Forty-five minutes left to the day. A quick email check and a few emails answered made it look like she had done enough. It was time to go home, even if she took flack for leaving on time. Staying late was the new normal, but she felt like anything but the good corporate drone right now. Loading up her briefcase, Jessica was startled when her boss, Mike Carmichael, appeared.

Mike was a mid-50s, middle management, balding guy with a former athlete's build and three kids at home, two in college. A nice guy, but still a corporate yesman, and while he'd been sympathetic to her problems with Joe, he still ran a tight ship, giving her six months but not a day longer. He blue eyes were professional but eager as he reached behind him to introduce –

Antonio.

“Jessica Browning, please meet Antonio Bouskos. He's the new owner.”

All she could think to blurt out was “Oh! I didn't get the memo!”

Antonio bit his lips together to avoid laughing, then held out his hand, widening his eyes as if sending a telepathic signal. “Pleased to meet you.”

Mike cleared his throat, sending his own message to Jessica, who clasped Antonio's warm palm and replied, “I am so pleased to meet you as well.”

Antonio pointedly looked at her breast pump, which rested on the floor near her trashcan. “I hope you have found the new mother's facilities to your liking?”

Gulp.

Stammering, she avoided eye contact with both men, wishing for a sinkhole right now. “Yes, yes,” she nodded.

“Good. Employee satisfaction is my number one goal.” And with that, he winked, turned on his heel, and was fast in conversation with Mike as Jessica lowered herself into her seat, dazed and confused.

To be continued in
The Billionaire's Milkmaid #2
, now available on Amazon.com