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The Billionaire's Milkmaid (BBW Lactation Erotic Romance)

The Billionaire's Milkmaid

excessica publishing

Heat Rating: SCORCHING
Word Count: 11,500
Available Formats
PDF
ePub
Mobi

Sometimes "taboo" is just another word for fear...

SHE NEEDS SECURITY

When new mother Jessica Browning gave birth to her daughter, the last thing she expected was for her husband to fall in love with the labor and delivery nurse, Bambi.

Yeah -- Bambi. Like the cliche couldn't get any worse...

Jessica's six month maternity leave was fabulous, and she considered herself lucky, but now that she was a single mom and needed their only income, supporting baby Sofia became even more important. Her first day back at work as a Project Manager was tougher than she expected, starting with one simple thing:

Where could she pump?

HE WANTS TO HELP HER

The company's idea of a nursing station was the bathroom. As she stood in the hallway, confused and swollen, a mysterious man led her to an empty room, a knight in shining armor -- or, at least, Armani -- who turned out to be the new owner, Antonio Bouskos.

THE Antonio Bouskos -- billionaire playboy extraordinaire, courter of princesses and fabled for his aloofness and style. When he turns his charms on Jessica and shows her exactly what he wants, soon he's drinking her in --

Literally.

His intense domination arouses her as he breaks more taboos in one encounter than she's considered breaking in a lifetime. And when he promises more -- oh, so much more -- the Jessica who came to work that morning will leave a very, very different woman...

Read the following excerpt from The Billionaire's Milkmaid, featuring career-minded, MBA-toting Jessica Browning, a BBW woman with a heart of gold, and playboy billionaire Antonio Bouskos, with more money than the Devil and a secret that makes him seek Jessica for her untapped reserves...

Don't forget to read parts 2 and 3 in the series, available now.

User Reviews
If only life was really like this.

- mower

Excerpt

"Jessica, you work in advertising, yes?" he asked as they walked down a flight of stairs and he opened the landing door for her. "The room is right this way," he explained. As she passed him she swore he inhaled deeply, making her swallow around the lump of desire that formed in her throat. Taking an unsteady breath, she tried to answer him, the heat between her legs making rational thought nearly impossible.

"Yes. I'm a project manager. PMP." She paused and looked him in the eye, some sense finally restored to her. "And what do you do?"

He laughed, flashing very white, perfectly straight teeth, and a face that looked as if he spent summers aboard a yacht in the Mediterranean. She imagined him, brown-chested on the deck of a boat, white, open shift blowing behind him as he captained the boat, not a care in the world and with more money than God. "Ah, what do I do? I, actually, do nothing here." Now he shot her an impish look and she was wordless once more.

She frowned. "You're a client?" What was a client doing showing her around the building, taking her to a breast pump room? OK, this was starting to get creepy, and yet it wasn't, because Antonio made her want to do things. Naughty things. Acts she'd only read about in books or devoured on her Kindle. He represented a little something – no, a lot something – she couldn't even touch in real life. Smooth skin and a heated look, though, were right here, aimed at her. The cognitive dissonance was too much as her mind and her core fought for control, lust starting to win out as she heated up. She felt discombobulated and was determined to let a little common sense click in, to try to get herself reined in.

"No. I am the owner. Hence," he smirked, "I do nothing." He gave her a quizzical look and she felt the blood drain out of her face. The owner? How could she have missed an announcement like this? She had read through all her backlogged emails these past few weeks, working from home, wanting a leg up before she returned. Keeping her job was absolutely, terrifyingly critical now that she had to support Sofia on her own with Joe gone. What would a change of ownership mean for her and her job?

"I, um, is this new? I read all the company emails and kept up with the daily business reports while I was out on maternity leave..." Her voice trailed off. She felt stupid, suddenly, like a girl out of college in her first entry-level position. Gone was the confident career woman she'd been just last year. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, she told herself.

His face changed, a look of concern deepening in those obsidian eyes, eyes that seemed to want to take care of her, to make the pain go away, to sweep her off to a villa and – "Oh, Jessica, do not worry. The announcement has not been made yet. In fact," he whispered, stepping close to her, his hand slipping casually to the small of her back, "you are the first to know. No – wait. The second. After the board of directors." His chuckle was infectious and she joined him, not knowing why he was laughing. She frowned after, still worried about her job and supporting Sofia, but she tried quickly to make the worry go away.

He stepped back and put his hands on her shoulders, the zing of electricity from his touch shooting through her, emanating and all-pervasive, the intensity literally catching her breath and making the hallway spin out of control as her panties were soaked in seconds from a rush of, well, everything.

He held her at arms length, his warmth so powerful she wanted more, unwilling to pull completely away as she would have with any other man at work. "Ah, I see," he said, nodding. "You are worried about your job?"

"Who isn't in this economy?" she said, trying to pass it off as a joke. But he frowned now, as if he understood, as if the sight before him of a young, blonde woman with a baby at home, a mouth to feed, finally made more sense for him, and he realized that she was just a woman with a pent-up fountain of need...er, milk...that needed to be released.

"You have nothing to worry about, Jessica." He gestured to a conference room and opened the door. The room was tiny, with four cubicles, all mercifully empty. God, how she wanted his hands on her again, her clit tingling now, itching for release, a release she hadn't had with someone else's hands on her in months. More than six months, to be exact.

And she didn't want just anyone's hands. She wanted those tanned, smooth, cultured hands. The hands she stared at. Antonio cleared his throat and she looked up, alarmed, certain the heat of her desire was spelled out on her face like a Scrabble game. He winked, inhaled slowly, and let a smile spread over his face, a Cheshire-cat look that came just short of more.

What did he want to say? And was she ready to hear it? Her throat felt like sandpaper and she licked her lips, the air charged between them. He opened his mouth and paused, closing it slowly. Ah, how she wanted to take it with her lips, to press into him and against him, all friction and heat.

Instead she nodded slowly. “I see,” she said shakily, poking her head in the room, locating a wall outlet. She pointed. “That's all I need.”

“Oh, I am sure that is not all you need,” he said in a low growl.

Startled, she jumped and turned to him, her own desire reflected in those dark eyes. And then he bowed like an aristocrat, hand hesitating on the door knob, and closed the door, leaving her trapped in the room she had so desperately wanted minutes ago, but that now felt like a prison.

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