Page 110 of Born for Lace

Groaning…Fuck.

Too turned on.

Groaning harder…

Dangerously turned on.

I snarl viciously as I eat her, hearing fragile uncertainty pitch her whimpers, but that doesn’t stop her from coming. Doesn’t frighten her pleasure away.

Her pussy clings to my tongue, her climax tearing through her quickly. She pulses in my hold, her moans belting the room with sweet, wild abandon.

I didn’t even suck her little clit.

I drag my tongue slowly up and then latch onto the tiny hood, pushing with my lips to bring the little pink member out so I can flick it with my tongue.

“Oh!” Her legs spasm. “Lagos… Please, it’s too much.”

I hold her the fuck still. Not unlike holding a wounded animal as it thrashes to keep from the clutches of pain, she thrashes as I force her to come again and again, despite her sensitivities. I want her twitching with sensation.

As she comes apart for the fourth time, I lick down to her entrance again and hum. I lick her for my enjoyment. Only mine. Messily and hungrily and without consideration.

I squeeze her left nipple and roll it between my thumb and finger—Fuck.Then, I nearly blow my load on the blankets when the tight bud weeps with a thick fluid. She is lactating into my fucking hand.

I bet she doesn’t even know.

Arousal hits my temples. I don’t stop stimulating and squeezing as something—some kind of emotion—spreads warmth through my chest.Pride. It’s fucking pride. I’mproudof my little flower.

Crazed with need, I’m prowling up her body, trailing my tongue over her wet, shuddering skin as I move.

Dropping my elbows to the blankets on either side of her, I stare down at the way her milk glistens in tiny rivers from each nipple.

Fuck. Me.

My tongue darts out instinctively before I can stop myself, and I lick the milky fluid from her. As I take her small breast into my mouth, drawing in, her nipple squirts. Warm, sweet liquid streams down my tongue. I swallow hungrily, humming and greedy for more.

“Lagos!” She yelps, panic and embarrassment ripe in her sweet voice. It only fuels me.

To get away from me, she tries tugging at my hair, and the small sting fuels me.

“I’m… I’m… Stop,” she pleads. “You don’t understand. You have to stop.”

Hell no!

Drinking from her, my mind in a haze of pleasure, I fist the blankets by her head and fuck her leg, losing control momentarily, but then stop… Because she needs me to stop. She needs to feed the fucking infant.

I tear my mouth from her nipple, heaving because I forgot to breathe. “You need more food.” It’s the first thought to axe through my arousal.

Her needs… She needs more food if she is to let that infant suck nutrients from her body. “I’ll be back with food.”

Without a second thought, I am standing and walking from the room.

The hallway is almost pitch-black except for the glow of one of our flashlights in the kitchen.

I enter to find Tomar sitting with his elbows on the kitchen table, his face buried in his hands. Darkness crinkles around the edges of the space, but the torch in front of him beams upward, creating a dot on the ceiling.

Stirring displeasure digs claws into my thick skin. “Were you listening to her come on my tongue?”

He lifts his head, a pained gaze hitting me, before snapping away with a hiss. “Get some clothes on, Lagos!”

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