I built my career on twelve-hour days and zero weakness.
Postpartum body be damned, I powered through the merger crunch like a machine.
Until the ache hit mid-pitch, silk blouse turning traitor, translucent under the fluorescents, my swollen curves screaming for relief I refused to give.
He saw it first.
The boss who owns this skyline, his leather-scented office a throne room of polished oak and city lights.
One gravelly command later, and I'm locked behind his door, blouse shoved up, his hands claiming what's leaked for days.
Warm jets arc across his desk, rhythmic, relentless, shame twisting into something filthy and freeing as he growls that my fight only makes him hungrier.
I hate how good it feels.
Snarky denials die on my tongue when he pins me to the leather chaise, merger charts scattering like confetti, sweat slicking us both.
He's ruthless in boardrooms, tender in this twisted caretaking, owning my milk, my moans, blending corporate dominance with a possession that brands me deeper than any promotion.
My ambition? It craves the humiliation now, body begging for his grip even as my mind screams run.
One leak too many, one witness to our desk-drenched secret, and it's over.
Career torched, respect in ashes, the deal imploding under scandal.
But pulling away means denying the only relief that's ever felt like home, the man who milks my vulnerability into ecstasy.
How long before surrender costs everything, or saves the parts of me ambition buried?
A full-length lactation power play erotic romance featuring an ambitious junior executive and her dominant CEO boss.
