Page 9 of Milk For The Billionaire's Little

He gasped, a little flustered, and then quickly corrected himself. “I don’t think therecanbe a next time.”

“Oh?” I raised an eyebrow.

“That was brought to you by the letters O and T—overtime,” he said, chuckling at his own joke.

“You’re being very Daddy-like,” he added after a beat. “Is that… normal?”

There was no accusation in his voice. Just curiosity.

I nodded. “It kind of is. And when you said ‘first time’… did you mean first timeusing the app, or…?”

He looked down at his shoes. “That… and the first time meeting someone to, um, drink. I’ve only ever bought it in jars before.”

“No problem,” I said gently.

I tugged my shirt off and dropped it onto the foot of the bed. There was no point in hiding. He was here for exactly what I offered. He knew what I could do. There was nothing to be ashamed of.

I sat down on the bed, James standing there unsure.

“However you’re most comfortable,” I said. “You tell me.”

He looked stunned. “I… I don’t know.”

I moved to the center of the bed, leaned back against the headboard, and held out my hand.

“Why don’t you come over here, sweet boy,” I said softly. “See what you can do.”

He crawled across the bed to me, tentative but eager. James was Little.

As he settled beside me, I gently explained how things worked. How circling the nipple with his tongue first might help with the latch. How gentle, steady pulls worked better than sucking hard. How it helped to switch sides.

Not that he needed the advice.

The moment his tongue touched me, I knew, this boy might not have done it before, but his instincts weresharp. Maybe he didn’t know it intellectually, but his body did. His mouth knew. His lips closed around me with a warmth and hunger that stole my breath.

He lay across my lap, head heavy against my chest, mouth sealed to my skin.

I had to will myself not to react too much, not to shiver or arch or give in to the heat pooling low in my belly. This wasn’t aboutthat. This was James. This was about milk.

His hands were folded against my side. His eyes were closed.

He drank slowly, and I let him.

Again and again and again.

6

JAMES

I was starting to doze off, cheek pressed to the masked Daddy’s chest, his arm around my back steady. The even rise and fall of his breathing lulling me to sleep.

It had been so long since I’d had real milk,actualmilk from a human and even longer since I’d had it from the source. But even then, it hadn’t been like this and I wasn’t sure it even counted. It had been a try it and see thirty second endeavor from a lactating Daddy who was showing off. There had been nothing tender or sweet about it. Not with this kind of tenderness.

Still, this wasn’t a true close connection. Not really. I didn’t know his real name. Heck, I didn’t even know the shape of his nose. But there was an intimacy here that I’d never felt before, not even with people I’d dated.

I felt guilty about the room. It smelled like mildew and fake citrus. The bed was lumpy and creaky, the kind where the mattress slumped toward the center like it was trying to eat any who dared try and get some sleep. The sheets were thin and scratchy, the blanket absent, and the walls were yellowed from age, or maybe nicotine from back when smoking was allowed.

I had expected him to be in a hurry. I’d assumed he’d gently, or maybe not so gently, nudge me up the second I was done, brush me off, and vanish to get dressed and disappear. That he’d collect his things, say something vague and professional, and ghost me, or worse, raise his rates in the hopes of getting more money out of me.

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