Page 4

JAMIE

Mr. Hartley hadn’t shaved this morning, likely because he’d been running late. The stubble suited him fiercely; I had trouble focusing on work.

I caught myself staring at the contour of his jaw where the scruff darkened. He scratched under his ear absentmindedly. Now I was transfixed by his hand. He had such nice, strong hands.

Thick, long fingers.

My asshole clenched on instinct, and a stubborn ache grew in my pecs.

Was it possible that knowing I was supposed to be horny made me even hornier?

I looked away and shifted in my chair.

Mr. Hartley hummed, tapped on his tablet, and hummed again.

My heart was pounding faster. I could smell him more sharply than ever. Goddammit, the coupé was tiny. There seemed to be no air!

“You’re fidgeting,” he said, not looking up from his tablet. “Do you need a break?”

Yes. But I’m stuck here with you for days.

“Um. Thank you. I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time.”

“You have an online meeting in seven minutes.”

“I’m aware.”

“Right. Good.”

I shot up and strode to the bedroom that was mine for the ride. It was snug, with barely enough room to walk around the queen-sized bed. I squeezed past the corner and closed myself in the en suite bathroom. The train rattled, and I braced my hand against the wall.

I didn’t need to use the toilet. A cold shower would have been great, but I didn’t have time for that.

I unbuttoned my shirt and checked my pectorals.

Swollen and heavy. It was getting worse, dammit.

Did I overdo it last night and this morning with the milking machine? I must have, but it had felt so nice.

I buttoned up again. I didn’t dare to touch my nipples, worried that the tiniest stimulation would cause a letdown. I’d have to wait until the evening to milk myself again. My hole got wet just thinking about it.

My large toiletry bag hung on a hook by the mirror. I pulled out one pad and unwrapped it, then carefully taped it into my underwear. Better safe than sorry.

When I returned to the coupé we used as an office, Mr. Hartley had prepared water glasses and two cups of coffee.

“Thank you so much, sir. This should be my job, you know.”

“You’re not my butler.” He patted the seat next to him. “You need to be able to see the screen.”

I sat down by his side, and a strong whiff of his scent punched me in the nose. I bit my lip and shivered. He smelled even better than usual. This would be a long afternoon.

Good thing I was wearing a slick pad.

I couldn’t wait for the workday to be over.

After two more meetings disrupted by an unstable connection—hello, trains—we wrapped up for the day.

We ate a quick dinner in the dining car, and I excused myself as soon as I could.

Everything on the train was crammed, and we’d been plastered to each other for the entire day.

Never had spending time in Mr. Hartley’s immediate proximity made my body burn on the inside this much.

Finally alone, I stripped naked, took a warm shower, and lay on the bed with the milking machine attached. It buzzed, and I went into heaven.

I used a stronger setting from the start, and I could feel each pull in my cock and hole.

The powerful suction reached deep into my pecs, making me arch into the feeling and spread my legs on instinct.

I closed my eyes and moaned. I wanted the exhilarating arousal to last as long as possible.

I was so into this. Who would have thought that I’d be a slut for milking of all things?

My body was angled in such a way that anyone who might walk in would get a full view. I’d locked the door… but what if I hadn’t?

What if Mr. Hartley walked in right now?

My cock jerked, and my hole twitched when I imagined him striding in. He’d look me over and unzip his pants. Without a single question, he’d mount me like this and fuck me … The power of his thrusts would make the suction cups on my nipples jerk.

I gripped the silicone cups and moved them around. The tug got almost painful. Almost. They remained attached, my nipples deep inside them.

Fuck, I needed to come.

I let go of the cups and ran my hands down my body, then reached for the vibrator lying on the bed next to me.

Merely tickling my cock with one hand, I traced my rim with the blunt head of the vibrator.

I was so aroused by the milking I’d come as soon as I put it in me.

But maybe I could make myself come twice? Take the edge off and keep going…

I pressed the toy against my rim, and it surged inside me on a wave of sweet pleasure. Shameless, I imagined Mr. Hartley doing this to me. He’d hold the toy in his lovely hand and ram it in, smirking down at me. I bit back a cry.

The train zoomed through the darkness, the wheels on rails serenading me. The walls were thin, but I wouldn’t be overheard over the noise of the speeding train. I hoped.

The last thing I wanted was for Mr. Hartley to hear me come. I could fantasize about him—as long as he never knew about it.

Pushing the toy in and out, I turned my head and bit the pillow. My climax was building already. I cupped my cockhead just in time to catch my cum in my palm. I licked my hand, then turned the milking machine up a notch.

Oh, hell yeah.

I pushed the vibrator deeper and turned it on. My imaginary Mr. Hartley said something about coming deep inside me.

Holy shit.

This time, I didn’t manage to hold back a yell. The orgasm rose again immediately.

It was scary and absolutely magical.

Pushing the toy as deep as it would go, I writhed on the bed. When did my climax become a seizure? I was shaking and sobbing while my hole clenched on the toy in a staccato rhythm and my nipples throbbed.

The way my body reacted freaked me the fuck out.

Gasping for air, I pulled out the toy, fumbled for the milking machine, and turned the intensity down.

Sprawled on the bed, I tried to calm my breathing. This was nuts.

How could I make myself come so hard and so fast twice in a row? The last time I’d felt this unhinged was when Liam bred me during my heat. I’d been on contraceptives, and we’d only done it once. The searing pleasure had all but blown my head off.

My torso still prickled, and my cock tingled. My hole felt empty even as tendrils of remaining pleasure swirled around it. I wanted more—I needed more. The machine sucked, my milk flowed, and my cock drooled on my abdomen, still hard.

I spread my legs wider and reached for the dildo again. I started the cycle again, weak this time, and slowly pushed it in. Carefully. Inch by inch.

Oh yeah. That ’ s better.

Deeper. A little deeper.

“Fuuuck!”

The vibrating head nudged something deep inside me, and I arched on the bed. Ecstasy swallowed me whole. On instinct, I pushed against the base of the toy, feeding my pleasure. My nipples burst with an orgasm of their own on every suck.

“I know what you need, Jamie. I’ll fuck you deep. So deep, you’ll feel me in your womb. I’ll breed you good. You need that, little slut. I’ll knock you up, milk you hard, and fuck your mouth. You’ll be full of my cum.”

The fantasy became so real I could almost feel it. I could taste the salt of alpha cum on my tongue.

It was the vibrating head of the dildo against the mouth to my womb. In combination with the suction on my nipples, it caused a climax so intense it all but fried my nerve endings.

I must have been coming for ages before a cramp in my arm made me let go of the toy. It slid out of me on a river of slick. The milking machine turned itself off. The bottle was full. The suction cups fell off my chest, leaving my wet, swollen nipples exposed to cool air. Shit, they looked huge!

My rapid pulse thundered in my ears as I slumped on the bed.

I’d been loud, hadn’t I?

The train made a series of clickety sounds as it must have passed over a railway crossing, then returned to the steady whooshing.

My chest heaved with ragged breaths, and I listened to the faint creaks and squeaks of the train hurtling through the night. Everything else seemed quiet. Hopefully, Mr. Hartley was asleep.

Then a loud thump made me stiffen. A click. Another. Steps sounded from behind the thin wall.

He was awake.

Fuck.