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Lyric
FIVE YEARS LATER
My love button is swollen and tender, too sensitive for much more, but Ian doesn’t let up. Being the selfish man he is, he doesn’t care that I’m a hyperventilating mess. And ever since he became whole, my power to control him disappeared.
I can’t order him to do what I want anymore, and let me tell you, that’s a power I desperately miss.
Three of our kids are playing outside with Story and Fred, while our youngest naps in her room. My panties are shoved in my mouth as a make-shift gag while Ian feasts on me in the way only he can. It’s been a hectic few years, but I wouldn’t change any of it.
My hips lift, rocking against his mouth. I can only see the top of his curly head, since my pregnant belly is too large to see over. The twins should be here any day now.
“Please!” I cry out, the cotton fabric muffling my voice. His laughter vibrates against my funzone, and my eyes roll back. He loves torturing me. Loves watching me squirm.
“I canna stop,” he pants, lifting his head enough to peer at me over my bump. “My seed tastes too good.”
I rip the panties from my mouth. “Now you understand why I add it to my smoothie every morning,” I say, and he nods his agreement.
“I might need ye to add it to mine now, too.” I grin triumphantly. I’ve been trying to get him to drink it for years. Good to know he’s finally coming around.
His fingers spear my newly bearded clam, scooping and scraping out the cum still inside me. He sucks his fingers clean before going back to the buffet, his fingers still rooting around inside me. He finds my G-spot, and my back bows off the bed.
Doubling down on his efforts, he eats and finger-fucks me until a fine sheen of sweat coats my skin. My muscles tremble, the waves of my orgasm hurdling closer and closer.
“Ian!” I scream, resting my hand on my swollen belly. I want to reach for him, pull his hair, yank his face to mine and drink our mixture of juices down.
He shoves my legs open wider, settling his broad shoulders more between them. His finger moves down to my chocolate starfish and massages it, coaxing more pleasure from me.
“That’s it, lass,” he growls, sending goosebumps racing over my skin. “Give me that sweet cream.”
Milk leaks from my nipples, and his gaze latches onto it like a starved man. His pupils go wide as he stares at the white stream, and I watch as he grinds his hips into the bed.
“You want Mommy’s milk, hummy wummy?” I coo, reaching up and groping my tits. I squeeze, letting more milk seep from the pores of my nipples.
A low snarl rips from his throat as he watches me. He bucks against my beaver, his teeth and lips and tongue mashing at my clitty, like he’s trying to wring the last bit of pleasure from me.
He shoves his fingers inside my butthole unexpectedly, and my hands tighten around my chesticles, forcing more milk out. “Just stretching you out,” he mutters, and the only response I can give him is a mindless nod.
I’m so blissed out on pleasure, I don’t even realize my orgasm sneaking up on me. It hits me like a freight train, and my entire body seizes up.
He doesn’t stop torturing my asshole and clit with his mouth and fingers, not until I’ve collapsed into a boneless heap on the bed.
He doesn’t let me recover before his mouth wraps around my nipple and roughly sucks, drinking down my sweet milk.
“Tastes like banana,” he mutters. “My favorite.” I rake my fingers through his hair, smiling down at him as he nurses. After a few minutes, he moves away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Roll over.”
My brows scrunch together, confused, but I do as he says. It takes me a few moments, but I roll onto my hands and knees. I glance over my shoulder, finding him lining up with my entrance.
“I need ye again,” he breathes, pressing his cock-a-doodle-doo head against my entrance. I brace myself for it. Even after all this time, I’m still not used to his size.
My gaze catches on the book of him on my nightstand, and I smile. To think, this whole thing started with that book.
I bite my lip as I scan the other books there. Not for the first time, I wonder if I can make the rest of my book boyfriends come to life. Maybe I can make my very own harem.
His hand comes down on my butt cheek, and I let out a soft whimper. “We’ve talked about it,” he says tightly. “It’s not happening.”
I roll my eyes, grinning as he smacks my ass again. Not enough to hurt, but enough to entice a small bite of pain. I clamp down around his steel rod, and he does it again. He knows how much I love it.
“I’m not gonna last long,” he says through clenched teeth. He pauses for a second, and confusion fills me. But before I can look over my shoulder, something cold is dripping onto my awaiting asshole.
