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The Billionaire's Milkmaid #4 (BBW Lactation Menage)

excessica publishing

Heat Rating: SCORCHING
Word Count: 23,400
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What do a Sybian, a medical milking, and a menage have in common?

AT THE HEART OF A CORPORATE FEUD

Jessica Browning has no idea that her boss and lover, Antonio Bouskos, has chosen her to be his well-paid "personal assistant" after using an employment screening blood test to learn that her DNA holds a powerful cure for his cancer. She thinks the milk she provides him is part of a fetish, or possibly part of helping him with an obscure illness.

In fact, Bouskos bought her corporation for billions of dollars with one, single objective: her. Jessica's unique genetic makeup means that her breast milk has properties that, in the right biotech hands, could mean a cure for certain forms of cancer. Paying her a million a year for fresh breast milk and - for good measure - some fabulous sex on demand is the bargain of the century.

Until an enemy ruins it all...

ONE MAN'S REVENGE COULD BE DEADLY

After a life-altering sexual experience with her billionaire boss, high above Times Square, Jessica confesses all to her best friend from college, Anne - who, it turns out, holds some secrets of her own about Antonio. As the two women loosen up over drinks, Anne reveals a special present for newly-single Jessica - a Sybian - and Jessica gets in touch with her wilder side.

Duty calls as Antonio orders her to the Hamptons for work, and when the limo arrives to take her to the helicopter, she is startled to see her sleazy coworker - ex-coworker, now that Antonio fired him - Jim, in the limo. Blackness descends as she finds herself kidnapped, awakening naked, strapped to a surgical table, and the subject of a medical milking beyond any torture she'd ever imagined. At Jim's mercy, she must draw on untapped reserves to find a way out of this mess and to get home to her daughter, Sofia.

But Jim has loose lips, and if what he tells her about Antonio's motives is true, she's a pawn in a very elaborate game of chess, one so critical humanity's future may hang in the balance.

WILL THE MAN WHO SAVES HER GIVE HER WHAT SHE NEEDS...BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE?

As a commotion outside her torture room intensifies, Jessica's hope that Antonio has come to save her is dashed when the true hero emerges - James. Emboldened by Antonio's threat of a threesome, Jessica gives herself to James as a thank you for saving her. Will James break his loyalty to his employer - or is there more to the mysterious lawyer than meets the eye?

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Excerpt

“You know, I've been stood up plenty of times, Jess, but never by you.” It was 8:05 p.m. and Jeff had just left, carrying the small cooler bag she had come to know all too well, when Anne stepped out from the shadows, staring pointedly at the rapidly disappearing chauffeur and then at Jessica, one eyebrow arched in that questioning way that only Anne could pull off.

“Stood up?” Jessica squeaked. Oh, shit. What was Anne doing here? Had she figured out what Jessica was doing now? What would she think? A cascade of emotions poured over her, freezing her in place.

Anne lifted a brown paper bag. “Yep. This is the ice cream we were supposed to share yesterday. Well, some of it. June and I had a lovely time catching up. Turns out she likes mocha chip ice cream, too,” she added dryly.

Jessica smacked her forehead, horror flooding her. “Oh, man! I completely forgot you were coming over yesterday! What an idiot I am. When Antonio asked me to...”

Her voice trailed off as she realized she had just stepped into a trap. “Antonio?” Jesus, could Anne's eyebrow stretch any higher? At this rate she'd start earning frequent flyer miles if it moved more.

“Uh, he's my – ”

“Boss. Yeah. I know. June told me.” Anne shot Jess a look of exasperation. “So, while it's lovely to stand out here and get eaten by the mosquitoes, it would be so much better if you invited me inside and groveled there.” Tonight, Anne wore something she had obviously designed herself. It managed to look like a silk bathrobe, kimono, and uncarded, dyed, unspun wool. If Jessica didn't know that Anne designed most of her own clothes, she'd have thought her friend had decided to impersonate Mrs. Whatsit from the Wrinkle in Time children's book series. As it was, she would either get Tim Gunn's undying love or Clinton and Stacey would burn her at the stake.

Somehow, though, Anne pulled it all off in that special confidence Anne was born with and that Jessica had always admired – and envied. Loved, too, because it gave Anne a certain charm and strength that helped Jessica to draw on when she was struggling. And as Jessica watched her pull a carton of her favorite chocolate caramel ice cream out of the bag, she loved her friend even more.

Groveling, though, came first.

“I am the biggest fucking jerk ever!” Anne rolled her wrist, the gesture a signal for Jessica to continue. "Uh, yes – please, come in! God, Anne, I don't know what I was thinking last night. I, uh, have this new job and it has really taken over my life."

Anne set about getting spoons and began to reach for a bowl in the cupboard when she stopped, looked at Jessica, and raised her eyebrows. "Do we really need bowls?" Jessica stopped her sputtering and burst out laughing, Anne finally dropping her prickly mood and laughing, too. Then Anne brought out the piece de resistance – a giant bottle of Bailey's Irish Creme.

"Instead of chocolate sauce?" Anne laughed. Years ago, in college, they'd made ice cream pies with the liquor and gotten incredibly drunk. It was, arguably, one of their better college memories and, if nothing could help them bond, Bailey's might at least help them thaw the freeze that had descended over their friendship.

Jessica realized she was about to tell all. Might as well use a little alcohol to loosen up. She eyed her friend. "What kind of ice cream did you bring?"

"Mocha chip and chocolate caramel."

"Would peppermint schnapps be too much?"

Both groaned, remembering a separate alcohol incident involving Dr. Pepper, sloe gin, peppermint schnapps and a friend's cream-colored carpet. Between alcohol-soaked reflexes and stomachs that couldn't handle the onslaught, the bill for cleaning had been more than $300. They both shuddered and Jessica put the schnapps back in the cupboard. "Another time?"

"How about never," Anne replied. "Does never work for you?"

Laughing, they went into the living room and curled up on the couch. Sofia had just settled down for the night and Jessica's final pumping was done. She braced herself; she knew Anne was about to give her an interrogation worthy of a CIA operative at Guantanamo. Waterboarding might have been easier. OK, not really. But still...

Both women dug into their respective pints, Anne carving out a little cave in her mocha chip and pouring an ounce of the irish creme in there, letting it chill. She took a spoonful of creme-covered ice cream and ate it. "MMMmmmmmm."

Jessica leaned over and plucked her own scoop. The slick, rich taste of the chocolate and alcohol made her throat burn, warming her instantly. Ah, simple pleasures. Last night she had been treated to the finest of everything money could buy, from sushi to shellfish to Sigerson's. And left with a gaping hole of uncertainty at her core, for Antonio seemed to have figured out her attraction for James, and while he'd been angry, he'd talked about sharing.

Sharing? Did he mean a, a – threesome? Or was he in a relationship with James already? Loops of hyper thoughts and fears circled in her mind, making her heart race erratically and a numbness spread through her upper chest. Anne's appearance couldn't have come at a worse – and better – time. For while her evening with Antonio had been glorious and terrifying all at once, nothing could replace this – she needed comfort. Security. Familiarity.

"So what's really going on, Jess?" Anne mumbled around a too-big spoonful of ice cream. "June said you got a promotion and get to work from home now with Sofia, and you got a huge raise to work in the executive suite? And that you attend a lot of evening and weekend functions at work?"

"Uh, yup." She pretended her mouth was full. Maybe she could just keep eating ice cream for the next hour or two and get sick and avoid what she knew she had to reveal. Death by ice cream sounded good....

"That sounds like a total crock of shit, Jess, and you know it." Anne laughed, tossing her long, red locks over one shoulder, the tall planes of her cheekbones turning serious. "No project manager – no matter how good, even with an MBA from Harvard – gets a job like that. You can fool June, but not me. C'mon. A courier at 8 p.m. taking a cooler away? Going out with guys named Antonio and forgetting plans with friends? Totally not you." She stared Jessica down. "Spill it."

“Spill what?” Blink blink.

"So who is Antonio?" Anne shoved a huge spoonful of ice cream in her mouth and slowly pulled it out, her tongue swirling over the icy cold cream. If she hadn't been straight as an arrow Jessica would have thought she was the recipient of a pass. An outrageous one, at that.

"Oh, no one you'd know," Jessica replied, her flippant tone an obvious joke.

"Try me. In my travels, I've met plenty of people. Learning how the other half lives – or, rather, the other .01 percent lives – has given me plenty of reach in who I know."

There was no way around this. She'd have to come clean. "He's my boss. The new owner of the company. I just go to work functions for him and work the crowd. You know – that networking thing we used to make fun of people for focusing on. I've finally sold out!' She added an affect to her voice on purpose, trying to play this all off as light fluff.

It wasn't working.

Anne's eyes narrowed. "What's his name?"

"Antonio Bouskos." Jessica said it quickly, like ripping off a bandaid. Better to suffer for seconds than to prolong the agony.

The mouthful of ice cream fell past Anne's lips and plunked onto her lap. "Are you fucking kidding me?" she shouted. She slurped the remaining contents of her mouth and swallowed, then lifted her shirt to suck the rest off her clothing. The look on her face made liquid steel run through Jessica's veins. Something was very, very wrong, and she didn't want to hear whatever Anne was about to say next. Jessica was caught between shock, horror and laughter, though. She settled for nervous giggles, wishing she could prolong the inevitable. Why had Anne reacted so strongly? "No! Not kidding."

"You. You are sleeping with Antonio Bouskos?" Anne mouthed the word "you" again, leaving her lips shaped in an O. It felt like an indictment. Disbelief. As if Antonio wouldn't want someone like Jessica.

It made her blood boil and her stomach go sour. The not-so-developed part of her that defended herself rose up. "First of all, I didn't say I'm sleeping with him – you did. I said I work for him. Which I do. I'm part of the executive suite now and accompany him on business trips."

Anne stopped sucking her shirt long enough to shoot Jessica a look that said, Yeah. Right. "Jessy, I know him. I went on a three week tour of China with him and his family, for God's sake. On their private yacht. Which was basically a scaled-down version of a luxury cruise ship. Hell, I'm not even sure it was scaled down – they had an 18-hole golf course on it!" Anne cocked her head, eyes wide, lip snarled in an expression that said, Can you believe that?

"Of course you know him. Of course you do. You know everyone!" Jessica threw her hands up in the air and stared at the ceiling. Anne knew everyone. Her lifestyle gave her access to the rich, the famous, the politically connected and the fallen aristocrats. What she didn't have was the luxurious salary she would have preferred, but she got by on a six-figure sum that made her job worthwhile. Jessica had always been a bit jealous.

"Jess, what does he have you doing? What's up with the coolers?" Jessica froze. She so wasn't ready for this conversation. Stuffing her mouth with another scoop of ice cream was her only refuge.

"And are you sleeping with him?" Anne set the pint of ice cream that had rested in her lap on the coffee table, then leaned toward Jessica with a look of deep concern on her face. "Because if you are, Honey, there's something you really need to know about him."

Ah, God. Here it comes. “What?” Jessica asked, mouth full and voice muffled.

“He's sick.”

She swallowed hard, the ice cream forming a lump in her throat, the pain clearing her mind. “No, he's not! He's really nice, and very cultured, and – ”

“I don't mean sick as in perverted. I mean sick. No one on that ship would say what he had, but he had a team of doctors working with him every day.” Anne paused, her eyes rolling up in thought. “But you wouldn't know it, would you? He seems like the picture of health, in that tight-bodied, soccer- player kind of way.”

Shuffling sounds filled the room and Jessica instinctively looked at the baby monitor. The lime green light was blinking erratically, turning on whenever it detected sounds from Sofia's room. Wake up! she wished for a second, hoping the distraction would rescue her from this conversation, Rational, analytical Jessica took over, though – she knew she needed to hear whatever Anne needed to say, whether Jess wanted to know it or not.

“So what, um, what's wrong with him?” Jessica choked out. The noises from the monitor stopped, a little sigh the final sound as Sofia settled herself back to sleep. Yes! Jessica thought, then looked at Anne. Damn! She was of two minds.

“I don't know. He had all these doctors there, and even a lab of some sort. You'd see him go to the lab four times a day and he'd start to look haggard, then come back from meeting with the doctors and look great. I'm guessing he had some sort of special treatments. Whatever is going on, though, he needs those treatments to function.”

“Why do you say that?” Water from the frost on the outside of her ice cream carton began to pool on the coffee table. She didn't care. Hell, she could buy a new one. Losing out on a single detail about Antonio was her focus right now, even as Anne's words cut her deeply in a place she didn't know was vulnerable.

James had been right. Damn it.

“There was one day when his mother started shouting, and the doctors came in, and someone said 'Get him more!' and the main doctor, this very cultured Hungarian man who had a PhD and an MD, shouted back, 'She can't make any more now' and there was a tense five or six hours when Antonio had to be hooked up to IVs – I only know because I was asked to bring his mother her cell phone and had to knock on the door. When she opened it, I saw him.”

“Was he – did he look – what – ?”

Anne let out a puff of air and then groaned. “Oh, Jessy, you're in love with him, aren't you?” She shook her head, a wistful smile on her face. “Of all the men in the world you could pick...”

“He picked me, Anne. He picked me.”

Anne leaned toward Jessica and put her hand on her friend's. “I didn't mean any offense, Hon. I am sure he picked you for all the right reasons. It's just that those reasons are his right reasons. Not your right reasons.”

Jessica coughed, the spasm in her lungs catching her off guard. As she hacked, her head began to hurt. Anne jumped off the couch and Jess heard the faucet running, saw Anne bring her a glass of water, gulped from it greedily to get her cough under control.

“Just relax. Don't try to talk,” Anne soothed. The spasm slowed, Jessica's hacking erratic, winding down, and then finally stopping. Tears filled her eyes and she wiped them away, taking deep, full breaths.

“I just – whew! That came out of nowhere.” Jessica picked up her carton and spooned soupy ice cream into her mouth to coat her throat. “Better?”

“Much better.”

“Obviously, what I said scared the crap out of you and made you choke, Jess. So cough it up – ha ha – and tell me. You're sleeping with him, right?”

“He swears he doesn't have anything that could make me sick, or that I could pass on to Sofia.” Her mind sped up, processing what Anne had said. Sick. On a yacht and needing a team of doctors. Treatments four times a day. Medicine running out. 'She can't make any more' – did that phrase mean what she thought it meant?

Had his treatments been breast milk? And something more?

Were there other women who produced for him?

She'd never, ever thought that might be a possibility. James had told her she was the result of a “data sort,” of sifting through what – records? profiles? – of women to come up with the right person who could be with Antonio and who they could work with to get breast milk from for these deliveries.

She assumed Antonio drank the milk; lovemaking made it clear he enjoyed it. If he needed it, though, medically, that was quite another issue.

Yet this seemed to go far, far beyond just using the milk medicinally. If he was that dependent on it, and needed regular treatments involving the milk, then something far more complicated was going on.

Something that made James worried about rooms being bugged at the corporation?

“I don't doubt it,” Anne said. Jessica sighed involuntarily; she'd been holding her breath while thinking, and Anne's words poked through a thick fog of perseverative thoughts. “No one on that ship seemed worried about close contact with him, and the doctors never took infectious disease precautions when working with him, or made family and other passengers take precautions.” She grinned with an evil twinkle in her eye. “Then again, none of us was fucking him.”

“Oh, stop it!” Jessica laughed in spite of herself.

“Is he any good? I'd imagine he's a divine lover.” Anne took a spoonful of her own melted mess and ate it. “All the Greeks are.”

“You've slept with all the Greeks?”

Anne nearly spat out her ice cream. “Almost all of them.” She sighed. “And God, what fun that was.”

“Well, I've only managed one.” Jessica felt her fears melting. This was Anne. She could trust Anne, right? Her secret seemed so big, so life-changing (hello? it was) and so reckless. On the other hand, it was cold, calculating, and very smart, because now Sofia had a permanent $500,000 trust fund and Jessica made more than $40K a month being a milk producer, accompanying Antonio on dates and business event trips, and staying home.

She was the damn Queen of the Corporation, right? Anne should be impressed.

So why was Jessica so ashamed?

“How did you meet?”

“Uh – I – ah – ” Swallowing hard, Jessica forced herself to continue. “I needed a place to pump for Sofia on my first day back, and he found me wandering the halls looking for a good room. He guided me to one and helped me.” And I helped myself. To my pump. Her face bloomed with embarrassment at the memory of humping her vibrating breast pump.

The puzzled look from Anne was about what Jessica expected. “What in the hell was someone like Antonio Bouskos doing wandering the corporate halls helping milk damsels in distress?” She snorted. “He's not exactly that kind of guy, you know? He's the man being shuttled to a rooftop helicopter or served fine caviar on the gold-painted labia of Olympic medal winners.”

Jessica's turn to sputter. She shrugged. “He was just being nice, I guess.”

Anne's eyes narrowed. “People in Antonio Bouskos' circle don't do anything to be 'nice.' That doesn't mean that can't be perfectly pleasant and sweet and nice – but not to outsiders. You have to be one of the clan, or work for them in a very specific way, to be accepted. Otherwise they shut you out. Politely, of course. But they don't go out of their way to help a stranger unless it benefits them.”

“Huh,” was all Jessica could muster.

“So, Jessy,” Anne asked, leaning forward and piercing her with that gaze, “how do you help him?”

To tell or to hold back? Blurt it out or delay confessing? After what Anne had just told her she had her suspicions. The irish cream had loosened her up a bit. Grabbing the pint of melted ice cream, she poured another two shots into the mix, swished it around, and then gulped down the remaining contents as Anne belly laughed.

“Whoa. If you have to do that to get up the courage to tell me what's going on, this is going to be goooood,” Anne cackled, rubbing her hands together with glee.

Oh, Anne, Jessica thought. You have no idea. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Jessica slumped on the couch and sighed. “Give me a minute,” she begged.

“Take all the time in the world. I'm camping here for the night.” Anne grinned. A sleepover! They hadn't done that since grad school. “Actually, take a couple minutes. I have to go grab something from the car that I forgot.”

Jessica waved noncommittally. She could use the extra time. As long as Sofia stayed asleep she could get this off her chest and tell Anne everything and feel a thousand times better. Right?

God, she hoped so.

The sound of the door opening startled her – she must have relaxed and blipped out for a couple of minutes. Anne entered the house carrying a wrapped gift, a good-sized box too big to tuck under her arm. “What's that?”

Anne's evil grin made her stomach tighten. “Oh, just a little something I picked up for you on a long trip in southern Italy.”

“Do they make that much pasta?”

Anne giggled. “No – it's a bit more, um, rarefied than that.”

“Should I open it now?”

Anne blushed. Blushed. Anne never blushed. Hmmm. What was in that box? “Not yet.” She grabbed the irish crème and took a swig. “We need more alcohol.”

Hoo boy.

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