Page 20 of Milk For The Billionaire's Little

“Drawer,” I whispered. “Bottom one.”

He moved away for a heartbeat, rummaging, and returned with one and lube. We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to. Everything was slow and careful, his hand between my legs preparing me, his kisses steady as my breath hitched. He circled my entrance then prepared me one finger at first, then another and another, until I was writing beneath him and begging for more.

He held up the condom, once again affirming that this was what I wanted. He was so Daddy, and I fucking loved it. I snatched the condom from him and rolled it over his length.

Kennan put a pillow under my hips and lined himself up with my needy hole. When he pushed inside, it wasn’t rushed. He entered me inch by inch, watching my face the entire time. And when he was fully seated, I clung to him, head tucked into his shoulder, body trembling around him, and he held me just as tightly.

He moved gently, rocking into me with a rhythm that felt like the song we’d danced to earlier. Was he humming it, too? Would it always hold a special place in his heart like it would mine?

“James,” he breathed.

He thrust into me, increasing speed and force with each moan I made, until my orgasm was so close I begged for release. He wrapped his hand around my length, jerking it as he continued to slam into me. Less than a handful of jerks later, there was no holding back my climax.

I came first, crying out his name, and he followed with a strangled groan, burying his face against my neck. We were a sweaty, sticky, hot mess. It was fucking perfect.

We collapsed together in a tangle of limbs. I wanted to stay right here forever, the weight of him over me giving me a sense of home. But then he shifted, rolling to his side and pulling me with him.Please don’t let him be leaving.

He wasn’t. Instead, he went to the bathroom, coming out with a couple of wet cloths and towels, cleaning us both up, before climbing back into bed and patting the spot beside him.

“Come here, my sweet boy.”

I nestled into his side, my cheek against his chest. Then his hand moved up and cupped my jaw, thumb stroking the edge of my mouth.

“Still hungry?” he murmured.

I knew what he meant.

“Can I, Daddy? Is that okay?” I wouldn’t have dared ask, not wanting him to think that’s all I wanted him for. But if it was offered, I wasn’t going to refuse.

“More than, my sweet boy. You need to stay hydrated after working so hard to please Daddy.”

He had called himself Daddy, and it was all I could do not to squee.

I shifted and kissed the curve of his chest before drawing one nipple into my mouth. He gasped softly, tightening his arm around me. “Daddy’s good boy.” His praise was everything.

I suckled lazily, slowly. His skin was salty and warm, his heartbeat thudding gently beneath my cheek. I let my eyes drift shut as his fingers threaded through my hair.

This wasn’t about milk. It wasn’t even about sex anymore. Something had changed, something wonderful.

I felt him kiss the top of my head, and I sighed, my lips still wrapped around him, body curling into his as I drifted to sleep.

11

KENNAN

I didn’t usually cook for anyone. Entertaining wasn’t my thing, and when I did it, it tended to be for work. Heck, I didn’t usually invite people to this house. It was gorgeous and there was plenty of room, but I needed a place for me to be me.

James wasn’t “people.” He was the exception I hadn’t been expecting. I’d have already had him over if I didn’t want to overwhelm him. He knew I had money beyond his understanding. But knowing that and seeing it were two different things. He’d brought up that stupid motel a few times already as if he had somehow wronged me by the place not being a bazillion stars and even more dollars.

We’d been seeing each other for a little over a month now. Quiet dinners out or at his place were the norm. We also had lazy weekend coffee runs, one adorable afternoon at the botanical gardens where he’d pointed out every flower like it was a friend, and a trip to the zoo. We both worked a great deal but took advantage of the time we did have.

I’d learned his preferences, his habits. And I’d learned about what he wanted and needed from his Little space. He’d told meall about his journey with flushed cheeks and soft words, and a whole lot of nervous giggles. He wasn’t the first person who called me Daddy, but he was the first person who meant it in this way. I’d read up on it, listened to his every word, and was going to do the best I could to fill that role for him. He assured me I was already naturally doing so, but that wasn’t good enough for me… for James. He deserved everything.

Rosco had been my inner excuse for not bringing him home. But really it had been fear, fear that he wouldn’t like my world, that I wasn’t a good enough Daddy for him, that he would wake up and see that my life was always going to be in the limelight. Once that realization hit, I did what anyone with more money than they should have would do—I set up a hedgehog habitat in my suite and got him a fancy carrier.

It might’ve been a little over the top. Good thing James was far more amused than anything else when I sent him the pictures.

Tonight was simple, the two of us, a quiet kitchen, and a “Little” dinner I’d researched like I was prepping for a business acquisition. Dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets, mac and cheese made from a box, a side of peas arranged into a tiny smiling face, and a glass of apple juice. I was saving the milk for later.

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