The Billionaire's Milkmaid (BBW Lactation Erotic Romance) by Boehners Meghan

Author:Boehners, Meghan [Boehners, Meghan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2012-10-03T21:00:00+00:00

"Yes," she whispered, too embarrassed to admit she hoped he would offer more.

"Then come back here next week, this room, at the same time." And with that he slipped out of the room, the snick of the door's closing both a tearful end and a delightful promise of more.

Panting, she sat down, now dizzy and frantic over what they'd just done. The implications flooded her. Being naked with milk-soaked clothes was now the least of her worries!

Thirty seconds later there was a knock. “Ms. Browning?”

Fuck! Who knew she was in here? The door opened on its own and an older, swarthy man with balding, grey hair stepped in. He looked like a butler, dressed in a black suit that was almost a tuxedo. He carried a woman's suit and blouse.

“For you,” he said simply, hanging it on a coat hook along the wall, then slipping quietly out of the room. She scrunched her nose and stared at the now-closed door for a full minute, mouth open and gaping. What the – ?

Finally, she crossed the room on shaky legs and looked at the suit. An Italian label she didn't know. Cashmere and linen. Size twelve – who were they kidding? She wasn't a size twelve. Better than walking back to your desk naked, Jessica. Skeptical, she slipped the skirt on, eyebrows arching as she buttoned and zipped the back.

It fit like a glove. Ditto the blouse, which was fitted so perfectly she didn't need her bra (which was too wet to wear anyhow), and the jacket was tight where it needed to be, loose in all the right places, and when buttoned concealed all traces of milk.

Had he prepared for this? Had it tailored for her? Slipping her heels on, she looked down and hoped she was pulled together just enough. Her hair was a rat's nest, but fingers and some old braiding techniques at least gave her a fighting chance. Her eyes lit on her breast pump and – sweet relief – she realized she had shoved her small purse in the bag.

Ten minutes later she had fixed her makeup and slunk back to her office, setting her breast pump down and taking a few deep breaths before heading off to the bathroom. There, she washed up as best as possible, hoping the scent of milk and sex weren't obvious. One was fine; the other overt, and she wanted to blend in, be inconspicuous, not raise attention. Combing her hair made a huge difference, though the dried and, in some cases, still-wet milk made her look more rumpled than she wished.

But better.

She looked at the clock. Forty-five minutes left to the day. A quick email check and a few emails answered made it look like she had done enough. It was time to go home, even if she took flack for leaving on time. Staying late was the new normal, but she felt like anything but the good corporate drone right now. Loading up her briefcase, Jessica was startled when her boss, Mike Carmichael, appeared.

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