Page 26 of Nursing the Alpha
Gently.
I loosened it, untucking his arms one at a time and laying them at his sides. He didn’t stir. My breath caught as I pulled the robe back far enough to expose his chest.
His nipples were still red. Still long from all the milking. Slightly wet, even now. The skin around them was puffy and sensitive-looking, marked faintly where the flange had been pressed.
I exhaled shakily.
He was art.
He was mine.
What was so wrong with taking what was already mine?
I brushed a fingertip lightly along the edge of his sternum, tracing down the slope between his pecs. I wanted to kiss him. To press my face to his skin and breathe him in. He would never know.
And so, I did.
I pressed my lips to his chest, tasting the faint sweetness of milk and the warm saltiness of his skin. His heartbeat fluttered beneath my mouth, fast and fragile as a hummingbird’s wing. The vibrations rang through me, filled me, echoing in the hollow places where loneliness used to reside. I moved my hand and cupped him, brushing my thumb over his nipple so lightly that it barely registered. Hedrew a soft breath, but otherwise, he remained undisturbed.
Emboldened, I flicked my tongue over his nipple. I only meant to taste him a little. What could it hurt? He already expressed his milk for me. What was the difference if I got it directly from the source?
But the second the warm sweetness touched my tongue, my taste buds exploded. Drinking his milk from a glass before bed every night was a luxury I allowed myself to indulge in. At times, I took a jug with me to the shower and poured it down my chest, using his milk as lube to stroke my dick until I came. But nothing, nothing had prepared me for how much sweeter it was for his milk to seep into my mouth directly from his warm flesh.
I needed more.
God, it was so delicious.
I groaned softly and closed my mouth over his other nipple, pressing my tongue against the thick swell, suckling just once, gentle. And again, deeper. I sealed my lips around the length of him. Itwasa length now, drawn out from hours of stimulation, long and perfect and made to be pulled between lips. I gripped the mattress on either side of his body, keeping myself steady, controlled.
But my cock throbbed with every pull.
The first real letdown came with a rush. Warm liquid filled my mouth, almost choking me. My hips jerked involuntarily. I moaned around him and kept drinking, slow pulls, heavy swallows, my jaw working to take more and more andmore.
I couldn’t stop.
His body was made for this. This moment. This act. The way he fed me without moving, without pushing me away,even though he couldn’t. I was taking what he didn’t offer, and I wasn’t remorseful enough to stop. Just this once, I would take all of him.
I circled my cock, already leaking in my pants. I tugged once. Twice. The friction was unbearable, made worse by the taste of him on my tongue, the milk spilling in rhythm with my breath.
I stroked myself harder, faster, never once breaking the suction on his chest. He was all I could see—rosy skin, long nipple swollen between my lips, the sound of wet pulls and soft dripping as a trail of milk escaped the corner of my mouth and slid down my chin.
I sucked harder. Not because I had to. Because Ineeded to.
Needed to claim this. To be fed from the source. To taste what no other alpha had. To make him mine in the most primal, quiet, intimate way.
My orgasm hit fast—sudden, violent, earth-shattering.
My whole body tensed as I came in my pants. I stroked frantically, and the pressure snapped and spilled hot between my fingers. I groaned into his chest, milk still flowing, his nipple still pulsing against my tongue.
Fuck.
I eased back slowly, breaking the seal of my lips but keeping them close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his skin. My tongue darted out once, flicking against the sensitive bud, then letting it go entirely and leaving it glistening from milk and my saliva.
Gently, I grabbed his robe and froze. He was stirring. Stretching and moaning. Fuck. I sprang up from the sofa bed, turning my back to him.
I can’t let him see me.
I’m not ready to lose him yet.
