Offers him some water

“You want some water?” Emily asked, her voice low, already giving herself away.

“It’s hot.”

She turned before he could respond, her shorts clinging damply to the curve of her ass, her tank riding up slightly over the plush, soft slope of her lower back. She felt the heat of his gaze on her like a hand. Chloe murmured against her shoulder as she crossed the living room, but settled quickly in the side bassinet, breath soft and steady. Emily adjusted the curtain. Quiet. Careful.

But the air was thick.

By the time she turned, he had stepped inside fully, the door quietly shut. His gaze locked on her chest, on the dark, spreading stain where her nipples pressed visibly into the thin cotton, heavy and swollen, aching from fullness.

“You’re not wearing a bra.”

“No time,” she breathed.

He didn’t ask permission.

Didn’t pretend to play coy.

He crossed the space between them in two strides, hand sliding under her breast, cupping it roughly—fingers curling under the weight, thumb brushing across her swollen nipple.

Milk beaded instantly.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “That’s so fucking hot.”

Then—he dropped to his knees.

Right in front of her. His hands gripped her hips, yanked down her shorts and panties in one rough motion, baring her flushed, glistening pussy. She was already soaked. Already swollen. The scent of her arousal hit both of them at once.

He buried his face in it.

His tongue parted her slick folds without hesitation, lapping up the mess between her legs, slow and deep and needy. His lips sealed around her clit and sucked, just once, making her legs tremble.

She gasped—hands scrambling back against the counter, her thighs spread wide as he devoured her like he hadn’t eaten in days. Her tank bunched up beneath her arms as she dragged it higher, letting her breasts spill free—round, pale, heavy with milk, the nipples stiff and leaking down her belly now in slow, glistening trails.

“Mmmf—god—” he groaned against her cunt, his voice vibrating right into her. “You taste so fucking good.”

He licked harder, tongue flicking over her clit again and again, then plunging inside her, making obscene, wet noises that filled the kitchen. Her body rocked with every pass of his mouth. Milk dripped freely now, down her stomach, spattering faintly against his shirt.

Her legs were shaking.

Her breath ragged.

And still, he held her there—mouth locked to her pussy, tongue fucking her deep, every moan he made sending heat up her spine.

Her body was going to give out.

She knew it.

Her thighs were already slick and trembling, her knees locking only because he gripped them tight, his hands firm just above her knees, spreading her wider. The kitchen tile was cool under her bare feet but everything else burned—her pussy, her face, the aching swell of her milk-heavy breasts. Her tank was bunched up under her arms now, and her nipples were stiff, flushed dark and leaking in steady rhythm with her pulse.

His mouth was everywhere.

He licked her like she was something sweet and forbidden—tongue flattening against her soaked folds, dragging upward slow and deliberate to flick her clit with just the edge of his mouth before plunging back down, pushing between her lips, twisting into her like he wanted to fuck her with just his tongue. She cried out, her hips jerking forward on instinct, but he just groaned and held her there, face buried in her cunt, spit and slick dripping from his chin.

Her fingers dug into the countertop.

“F-fuck—oh god—”

He sucked her clit again—sharper this time, lips sealing over it and drawing hard until her thighs began to shake. He moaned into her, the sound raw and hungry, and the vibration sent a pulse straight through her core.

Milk dripped faster now.

It streaked from her nipples down the heavy swell of her breasts, down to her belly, some falling in thick droplets that spattered onto the tile between his knees.

And he looked up—saw it.

He leaned back just far enough to bring his hand up between her thighs, two fingers sliding into her cunt without resistance. She was soaked, swollen, her walls already pulsing and fluttering before he even started to move. His fingers pumped deep, curling inside her, grinding right against her front wall as his lips reached for her again.

Not her pussy this time.

Her nipple.

She gasped, body seizing when he closed his mouth around the tip, sucking hard, pulling.

“Ahh—fuck—”

The milk sprayed into his mouth immediately, his throat working as he swallowed. He didn’t stop. Didn’t ease up. He sucked like he wanted every drop, like he needed it, the hand between her legs thrusting faster, wetter, the slap of palm to thigh joining the rhythm of her sobbing moans.

“Please—fuck—don’t stop—don’t stop—”

Her breast was still in his mouth, his tongue circling the areola, the suction making her body pulse in two places at once—deep in her cunt and sharp through her nipple, heat exploding across her chest with every hungry draw of his mouth.

Milk spilled over his lips.

Her pussy clenched tighter, flooding his fingers, thighs shaking uncontrollably now.

She was going to come.