She's breaking right in front of me.
This new mother, trapped in her milk-soaked suburban cage, body betraying her with relentless fullness. Veins pulse like live wires under skin stretched too tight, every breath a whimper she bites back. The stalker circles her world, unseen but closing in, and they dumped her protection in my lap. Me. Steady hands, unyielding watch. Except now those hands itch to cradle what hurts her most.
I told myself distance. Watch the blinds, check the locks, keep the shadows at bay. But proximity is a cruel joke. Her confessions slip out in the dim glow, raw-edged pleas about the pressure building inside, the need she fights naming. And damn if my body doesn't answer, hunger gnawing through restraint like teeth on bone. One night, bodies pressed in trembling hush, breaths syncing as warm rivulets escape, tracing slick paths over fevered curves. My mouth waters. My control frays.
Healing her shouldn't mean this fevered unraveling. Shouldn't mean palms cupping ballooned weight, thumbs coaxing release in guilty ecstasy, her gasps filling the safehouse like smoke. Survival demands evidence, proof to bury the predator forever. Sanity clings to fragile threads, her isolation cracking under my gaze. But every yielding moan risks it all. The stalker hungers for her ruin. I hunger to drown in hers.
What if easing her desperation pulls me under too? One overflowing surrender, and nothing left to fight for. Or with.
A full-length lactation desperation erotic romance featuring a reluctant protector and a desperate new mother.
