The Billionaire's Milkmaid #2 (BBW Lactation Erotic Romance)

excessica publishing

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 15,600
4 Ratings (4.5)

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

AN OFFER SHE CAN'T REFUSE

When Jessica Browning goes to work on the Friday of her first week back from maternity leave, a mysterious letter holds her fate: a bonus check for $25,000.

That she earned by sleeping with the owner earlier that week.

Crushed, what she had thought was passion turns out to be a business deal -- for her body and her milk. Nervous, she keeps the check, though cashing it could solve so many problems.

But what if it just makes more?

HE NEEDS SOMETHING SHE HAS

Antonio Bouskos and his lawyer, James, get to the point with Jessica: half a million dollars per year if she becomes Antonio's "personal assistant." His VERY personal...assistant.

The terms are simple: access to her body four times a week. Accompany him internationally as he wants. And a contract for milk that makes her marvel at how seven years of grad school never brought her the income something nature provides could...

As she negotiates for her future, passions flare between Antonio and Jessica...and James, the lawyer? The Billionaire's Milkmaid #2 picks up where the first installment left off and promises a cup that runneth over...and over...and even over Manhattan...

The Billionaire's Milkmaid #2 (BBW Lactation Erotic Romance)
4 Ratings (4.5)

The Billionaire's Milkmaid #2 (BBW Lactation Erotic Romance)

excessica publishing

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 15,600
4 Ratings (4.5)
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Excerpt

The conference room was perfectly empty.

Her relief and chagrin fought for dominance. Slumping into a chair, she plopped down, resting her chin in her hand, and started out the wall of windows. What had she been thinking? Of course he wouldn't come. Of course he wouldn't want her again. Guys like Antonio Bouskos claimed women and threw them away, the chase – the tease – the thrill – come and gone about as fast as they came and went. She was just a notch in his Gucci belt and all she had to show for it was one hot, hellish memory that would feed vibrator-led fantasies for months.

Years.

Uh, decades.

She snorted. Oh, yeah – and she had $15,000 to stick in the bank. The check was folded neatly in her breast pocket now, her jacket loose and swinging as she stood. Not cashing it, not running to the bank in a heated frenzy, had been so, so hard. God, what an extra fifteen grand could do right now for her. If nothing else, it covered Sofia's daycare for most of the next year. She could breath easy and not regret giving Joe a financial out. Given the choice between his trying to take Sofia away and getting rid of financial obligation, she hadn't been hard pressed. But now, as the bills rolled in and the expense of full-time infant daycare loomed large, she was in a bit of a panic.

All of those feelings seemed so petty, so ridiculous as she sat here in the same conference room, elbows resting on the work table that Antonio had absolutely ravished her on last week. Worrying about money or Sofia seemed so...pedestrian. Commonplace. Boring.

She liked boring.

Boring meant she didn't have to be challenged, or think about her reaction to such a kinky spectacle they had made of themselves last week. Sex at work was bad enough; sex with the multi-billionaire owner of her company was worse.

Letting said boss suckle off her overflowing breasts as they made love openly on a conference table over the Manhattan skyline?

Yeah – not boring. Well, not to her.

The fact that Antonio wasn't here, at the time and place he'd ordered her to appear, told her what she needed to know. It wasn't a subtle message. She had brought her breast pump, needing the facade of going to pump to get away from her desk and escape scrutiny. Now that she was here and had privacy, might as well get it out of the way and give her aching breasts a break.

Jessica pulled out the pump and assembled the horns and tubes, careful to keep it as sterile as possible. Then she unbuttoned her blouse, unclipped her nursing bra, slipped down the openings on both cups and attached the horns, using her upper arm to awkwardly keep one pump horn and bottle in place while turning the dial to start the pressure to extract her milk. The "pump dance" was becoming second nature, even on day six back at the job. Closing her eyes helped, shifting to a quieter mental place where the stress of commuting, her job, Jim, mystery man James, and Antonio faded away.

Click. The conference door opened abruptly, jarring Jessica and making one of the bottles slip from her grasp. As it was attached to the pump horn, it fell with a thud, an ounce of milk already extracted from her tingling milk glands. Whee! Whee! the pump wheezed, suction lost as the machine continued to do its job.

There stood Antonio, his eyes alive with barely-concealed merriment, those dark eyes turning determined and sensual in the seconds she met his gaze. "Oh, my goodness. Ms. Browning. Have we interrupted you in the middle of...?"

We? What did he mean, we? As Jessica scrambled to stop the pump and pick up the fallen bottle, she saw Antonio enter the room, followed by a tall, blond, ruddy linebacker. Okay, not quite, but he could have been. Basically a wall of muscle wearing a suit, this man was at least 6'6", had the back of a cobra, and carried himself like fluid steel. And when his eyes locked with hers, she almost thought he was made of steel, as grey-blue eyes pierced hers.

Something familiar about him – she couldn't put her finger on it.

"Hello?" he said, laughter in his voice. She realized how exposed she was, one hand clamping the good horn to her breast, the other frantically flailing about, trying to get the other. Once she had it, and had turned off the pump, she pivoted away from both men, finally catching her breath.

"Would you both please excuse me? I can introduce myself in a moment, but would like to disengage." That was the best she could do. It was better than screaming Oh, my GOD get out of here and give me some privacy, you assholes!

"Oh, we're just fine, Jessica," Antonio told her in a smooth, seductive tone. He sat down next to her and reached for her arm, his gold watch glistening against his wrist hair, a scent of something citrus and musk suddenly rendering her mute.

"Really, Ms. Browning, it's fine," Mr. Superbowl said, puling out a lambskin briefcase and clicking it open. "We're here to discuss business."

"And what you are doing right now," Antonio said, leaning down to kiss the back of her hand, "is my business." The air tingled with something she didn't understand, as if Antonio had ushered in some force of nature, some physical shift, that made the room its own dimension, ruled by a different law of physics, a metaphysical anomaly. This couldn't really be happening, right? Sitting at the conference table, two gorgeous – though radically different – men staring her down, her top open and leaking breasts exposed at work.

At her workplace. Where she was a certified project manager. She had a damn MBA, for God's sake! And now she was a dripping fool, stumbling over her words as she tried to speak.

"James Mitchell," the blond wall said, extending one hand, biting his lips as he realized the predicament he put her in. If she accepted his handshake she would drop the bottle pressed to her breast. If she ignored his hand, she would be rude.

Rude? Who cared about being rude? she screamed to herself. This went way beyond following a professional code of conduct. Jessica stood.

"I'll shake your hand in a moment. Whatever game you two are playing isn't one I'm part of." She turned away, broke the seal of the horn on one breast, clasped her bra and repeated the action on the other one, buttoning up just enough before Antonio's voice shook her to her core.

Wait a minute. James? His name was James? Her dream from the other night flooded her with an unwelcome heat. James? Could this get any more awkward? How was it possible for her to have a sex dream about a man she hadn't met yet? And a threesome dream, at that?

"Leave it unbuttoned enough so that we can both enjoy ourselves, Jessica." We? What was he thinking? That he could just pass her around? For a brief second she wondered if he had somehow invaded her brain – quite literally – and implanted thoughts of James there. If she were a bit mad, the thought might have stuck, but she shooed it away. There was more than enough in this interlude that tested the bounds of reality – she didn't need to add a paranoid science fiction element to it.

Her core began to swell and throb, his faceless voice enough to get her wet, making her start to hate herself for being so deprived that she could respond involuntarily. As if on cue, her breasts leaked just enough for her to notice. And the other guy – James what? He wasn't a bad piece of eye candy, either.

You should know, she thought to herself. You conjured him in a menage dream.

Obeying Antonio's order, she turned around, the swell of both breasts obvious. Then she reached into the breast pocket of her jacket, pulled out the check, and slid it across the table. "I take it you are both here about this?"

Bold. Perhaps too bold? Antonio's face went slack and unreadable. Fuck fuck fuck. She didn't know what she was doing, so unsure of herself, turned topsy-turvy and inside out. What she did know, though, was that although all her instincts screamed to give in to this man, she had a child at home who needed her more than her body needed Antonio.

In that she was resolute.

Whatever he expected of her for that figure, she needed to know now so she could make some serious decisions about her life. Decisions that may have already been made, she realized, as the full depth of her situation began to sink in. This wasn't some lightweight office frolic. Here sat Antonio Bouskos and his – what? Lackey? Some guy who was at this impromptu meeting to lend support to one of the richest men in the world as he showed up late for some office dalliance?

It all made less and less sense by the minute, and Jessica felt her confusion melt into anger, a slow simmer that made her eyes narrow and her back ache.

"Jessica, first let me finish introducing myself. I am Mr. Bouskos' personal counsel as well as one of the company's lawyers." James had a voice that sounded like a cross between Jim Morrison and Howie Long, as if he were comfortable in a hashish-filled brothel or ordering men around on a football field. It inspired confidence. Demanded attention. And her body attended, alright, alarm creeping through her veins. How could she respond like this to some new guy when Antonio was right there?

She willed herself to focus, choosing to be as clipped and impersonal as possible to hide the fact that she was very much out of control right now. "Isn't that a conflict of interest?"

One corner of Antonio's mouth lifted. "Sexy and smart, too."

"It doesn't take being a genius to figure that out," James retorted. "Whether she's smart or not depends on whether she takes your offer."

"Offer?"

Four eyes lasered in on her. "This," Antonio nudged the check, "was for you to cash."

"How could I cash it not knowing the conditions? I don't routinely get five-figure bonuses out of the blue after sleeping with the company owner." Antonio's eyes flashed with surprise and something darker. She almost regretted her words. Almost. She was lashing out in confusion and overwhelm and gave herself a little leeway here. It wasn't every day she found herself in a situation like this. Being a bitch was the least of her issues right now.

"You mean strings." James had her figured out already. She huffed a bit, squared her shoulders, and realized her breasts were in desperate need of letdown, still full and expecting their morning pumping. Damn. Hopefully this meeting would be short and she could get back to – business? As she took a deep breath a creeping sensation told her there was nothing resembling business as usual here.

"Yes, strings. $15,000 is a lot of money in my life."

Antonio whirled on James. "I said $25,000!"

James shook his head ruefully. "That's after taxes and," he shuffled some papers, "Ms. Browning's 401k contribution." He nodded appreciatively. "Good financial planning."

"I am so glad you approve." She steeled her voice on purpose, making sure the sarcasm oozed out. Antonio frowned.

"Let's get to the point, Jessica. The check is the first of many,” he explained, opening his mouth to continue.

"In return for what?" she asked, incredulous. Many? Many checks like that? Her mind raced. He wanted to buy her? Pay her to have sex with him? Give her a check every time he drank her milk, fucked her, went down in her, had her go down on him? She wasn't a whore. Not a call girl. Last week had been about desire, not money. Now he'd gone and ruined it all.

A better woman would have stormed out of the room. Jessica cringed inside as she realized she wasn't as good as she had always convinced herself she was.

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