Page 60 of Beautifully Shattered
Starting from the outside, we gently squeeze the plump flesh, working in towards her nipple.
And fuuuck… milk doesn’t just bead… it squirts from her.
My dick jerks, and she groans.
“Shit, am I hurting you?”
Fuck… is this wrong?
She shakes her head. “The let-down feeling… it’s relieving.”
Again, she guides our hands, repeating the motion, getting the same result.
Another soft squirt, and another sigh from her lips.
After a few tries, she drops her hand, leaving me to it, and fuck me… as horny as this is making me, it’s got nothing on how good it feels to help her like this.
There’s nothing hotter than easing her pain with my own hands.
After a few minutes of attention on one side, I switch to the other, careful not to grind my cock into her back again, even though every groan from her has me on edge.
Never in a million years did I think I’d be doing this. Helping my wife express milk from her tits.
Some mightthink it’s fucked up. Others would probably be just as turned on as I am.
But to me, there’s nothing vulgar about it. This isn’t about a baby, even though that’s technically why it’s happening. But right now, it’s about my wife. The woman I love. The woman who’s been through hell, suffering in pain both physically and emotionally.
I’ll do whatever the fuck I can to get her through this for as long as it takes, until hopefully, one day, the physical pain fades, and the emotional scars start to heal. Even if it’s just small stolen moments of peace.
After a while of expressing the milk, the tightness on Abbey’s tits eases, so I stop and gently turn her in my arms.
Her eyes meet mine, tired and glassy, but shining with something like gratitude as she looks up at me. I cup her cheek, staring into her stunning caramel orbs that still aren’t as bright as they used to be.
“I love you, Abbey. Nothing will change that, okay?”
Her lips kick up a fraction, but not enough that you’d call it a smile.
“Not even when I point a gun at you?”
I smirk. “Especially not then. Just remember if you do that again, I’ll consider it foreplay.”
She lets out a soft, one-breathed laugh, like that’s all she can manage, yet fuck, at least it’s something.
“Was this foreplay?” she asks, and I know she means everything that’s happened since walking into this bungalow.
“If you’re ready for it to be, then yeah.”
“I can’t have sex yet,” she repeats what she said earlier, and I let out a sigh.
“Iknow. That’s not what I’m talking about.”
Frowning, she pulls back a little, and I’m not even mad, because it gives me a better look at her tits.
Fuck… would she let me kiss them? Suck on them?
“What are you talking about then?”
“You can still climax, right? That part of you still works?” I ask, and she frowns, her eyes dropping to my chest as she considers my words.
