Page 46 of Milk & Cookie

My legs buckle, and he supports my weight and lowers me down on top of him as he lies on the ground, so I’m straddling his stomach, and my breasts are crowding his face. He laps at my nipples, teasing them into needy peaks. “Vince.”

“I know, beautiful angel. Everything’s going to be wonderful.”

He latches onto my breast and tugs hard, like he was teasing himself and now can’t wait any longer. He wants his milk.

And I want to give it to him.

The letdown hits in a heady rush, and I spray into his mouth. He rumbles and claws at me, pulling me closer as he devours my flow like a man possessed. He thrusts his hips, and I slick his abs while his massive dick smacks at my ass.

He releases one breast and takes the other into his mouth, sucking and drinking my milk like it’s going to disappear before he can get his fill.

“I made you plenty,” I whisper, rocking my clit against him, and then wriggling my ass closer to his dick. I trap the bulbous head of his cock between my thighs and soak it in the juices he’s inspired. I love how thick and big he is. It makes my pussy gush when I think about him driving into me. I buck, trying to coax him inside.

He moans into my flesh and grips my hips in his big hands. He pushes me at his cock and tugs at my breast, until I start to pant and whimper and spread for him.

My pussy stretches to its limits, and I try to take him inside in a rush, the way I did last time, but he’s stronger and keeps me from doing so. I’m forced to take his slow, torturous pressure that pulls my entrance so taut, I feel wrong for loving that it’s starting to hurt.

But then he rocks my hips and switches breasts again, confusing my body with an intoxicating mix of rhythm and pleasure.

The urge to come sneaks up on me in a rush. The tugging at my breast intensifies, and it’s hard to catch my breath, as I pull tight inside.

Vince grunts and forces his fat cock a tiny bit deeper, stretching me even more, until I can’t bare it.

I cry out and come on the head of his cock in powerful, jerky waves, and he moans like I’m the most wonderful thing in the world. Cum shoots from his dick so hard, I feel it. Warm spurts, spreading through my pussy as it flutters and spasms.

The pressure at my entrance increases and then eases. Once, twice. He pushes inside me, lubricated by his own seed. My pussy clamps around his girth, rippling with delight at having him home at last.

“I love you,” I say on a moan.

He stills. My breast slips from his mouth, and he licks his lips as he meets my gaze. His cock strains within me, and I shiver until another thread of spasms settles around the throbbing fullness.

“That’s the first time you’ve said that.”

I nod and press a kiss over his heart. “And I mean it.”

The corners of his mouth twitch in an almost-smile, as if he’s not quite sure if he believes me, but then he beams fully, his whole face aglow in the light of the moon. “I’m glad.”

“Good.” I slide upward, to kiss his lips, and then I ride his semi-hard cock for a while, loving the way he fills me so nicely, and the way his slippery cum cools on my skin in the night air. “I’m keeping you, Vincent Monaghan.”

16

VINCE

The bell jingles, and Gail’s eyes shoot to the ceiling before she glares and points her rolling pin at me. “Is there going to be a day when you don’t come in here to intimidate me?”

I raise my hands in the air. “I come for the garlic twists. But I’ll stay for the conversation — if you want to have one.”

She lowers her roller back onto her cookie dough. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“Why not? It’s not like you could incriminate yourself further. Well, unless you want to confess to pushing the first Adam into the train, but that guy had it coming more than the other one. Breaking his baby’s arm? You should have shoved a pointy stick through his balls and roasted him like a marshmallow before you threw him into that caboose.” I help myself to one of the garlic twists and put a twenty on the counter.

“I’m sure Frederica wouldn’t want you paying for those anymore.”

I shrug. “I like to support women in business.” I look around the store. “Does she know there were two Adams? That the first one was her actual father, and the second one was your attempt at providing something better? Not that it’s your fault that he wasn’t. He made his choices, and he suffered the consequences.”

“He didn’t suffer enough,” Gail mutters, viciously stamping her dough with bunny-shaped cutters. “No,” she says after a while. “She was young enough not to remember the first Adam.”

I nod. “I’ll be sure not to mention him, then.”

---