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I shivered. “Suck it.”
“Oh.” A wicked smirk hit his face. “Now suck it?”
I bit my lip.
“The question is. . .do you deserve it.”
“I do.”
“Hmm.” His fingers brushed my nipple and I gasped.
A wicked grin curved his lips as he brought his mouth closer to my now exposed breasts. His warm breath was a tantalizing tease against my tingling skin.
“Kaz. . .”
“Shh,” he silenced me with a finger pressed to my lips. His other hand, still cradled my breast, began to apply pressure, his fingertips rolling and kneading the tender flesh until I could feel a familiar warmth spreading through me.
Oh.
I looked down at my breast as he played with it.
Suddenly, as if it had a mind of its own, milk blossomed from my nipple.
Another small gasp left me at the sight.
The white liquid dribbled down over Kaz’s hand, his fingers glistening with it.
“Mmm...” His eyes centered with animalistic hunger. “My naughty mouse indeed.”
Oh fuck.
Warm throbbing pulsed between my thighs.
His hand moved away, causing me to whimper at the loss of contact. But then he was reaching down and pulling away the front of his pants, revealing himself to me in all his hardness.
“Do you see what your milk does to me?”
That thick, long cock stood up between us.
Moaning, I grabbed his length. His cock was stiff and throbbing in my grasp, the veins pulsating with an urgent rhythm that matched my own heartbeat.
He returned his hands to my breasts and squeezed them some more.
“Oh.”
White streams of milk gushed out. Some of it coated my hand and dripped down onto the tip of his cock.
The sight was both arousing and shocking.
Groaning, he flicked his thumb over my nipple and squeezed my breasts again.
I watched in awe as more milk trickled from the tips.
Damn. Now he’s got me being nasty.
I couldn’t help it. I began stroking his milk-covered cock, right there in the center of the hallway, while all his men stood with their backs to us. I hoped they didn’t mind their boss moaning loudly around them because I planned on making him scream tonight.
Licking my lips, I increased the pressure of my hand, slipping my closed fingers up and down over the ridge and vein of his length. “You like that, baby?”
