Page 11 of Marked by my Stalker (Inked and Possessive. Rugged Mountain Ink #1)
Kera
Two Years Later
Milk drips from my nipples. I’m still a month away from delivery but apparently, this is normal. I wasn’t prepared for this level of intensity quite yet. I’m not sure what it is about the moment your breasts go from sexual to functional, but it’s giving me whiplash.
Jack kneels before the fireplace with a stack of cut wood he’s brought in from outdoors.
It’s nearly winter, and he’s been doing everything to make sure we’re extra ready considering the baby’s arrival next month.
In the last nine months, he’s renovated an old cabin on the west side of the mountain, helped decorate our baby boy’s room in a full-on forest theme, and he’s picked up my slack as this belly proves to be a giant beach ball that’s in the way of bending forward or standing for long periods of time.
I’m a lucky girl, and I know it. Still, that doesn’t stop the tears from falling as I stare down at my leaking breasts.
He stands from the fireplace, flannel sleeves rolled up, his dark ink showing. “Oh no. What’s wrong with my little girl?” He kneels on the hard floor next to me, his rough, warm hand cupping my cheek. “Are you in pain?”
I shake my head and wipe away another tear as I gesture toward my chest like it’s betrayed me. “No, I’m leaking.”
His gaze drops, then softens. “It means we’re close, right? Our baby boy will be here soon.”
“No.” I narrow my eyes, wiping away more frustrated tears. “I mean, yes. But… I wasn’t ready for this. I… I don’t want to feel like a dairy cow! I want to feel sexual. I just… I don’t. Not with this giant belly and these huge soaking tits.”
Shame curls in my chest, tangled with frustration and the aching loss of a version of me that used to feel powerful and wanted. I stare down at the evidence of transformation, evidence of motherhood, and all I can see is a stranger in my own skin.
Jack’s brows draw together, not in pity, but something deeper as he lifts my shirt with reverence. “Little girl,” he says, softly but firmly, “I think this is sexy as hell.”
My throat tightens and I flinch like he’s trying to rewrite my reality. “What? No. This is not sexy. This is a mess.”
“You are most definitely not a mess.” He kisses my full breast, licking up the milk that’s spilled from inside of me.
“You’re more beautiful than you’ve ever been.
” He licks his way up and over my nipples, suckling at my tit, drinking my milk like he’s accepting every part of me, like he wants every part of me, but I’m not sure how to take it.
“Jack, stop. What are you doing?”
“I’m enjoying you,” he growls, then goes back to drinking as his rough hand squeezes my breast for more.
Is this turning me on?
My clit throbs and my panties moisten as he continues to suckle, milk dripping down his chin as his free hand presses against my soaking pussy.
Heat rushes over me and my hips thrust up into his touch as his teeth scrape over my sensitive nipple. It’s heaven, like everything else the last two years.
We moved my mom up to Rugged Mountain, and though she was hesitant at first, she’s loving it now.
We found her a little cottage tucked into the trees, with a porch that catches the morning sun and a view of the valley.
And though I know she’ll never replace my dad, she’s found a nice man to garden with from time to time.
Jack and I got married up on the ridge, the one that overlooks the valley and the wild horses.
They came galloping through just as we said our vows, like nature itself was blessing us.
I wore a dress I found at the thrift store in town.
It wasn’t perfect. In fact, it was frayed in places, but it felt right, like it was made for me.
Shortly after that, I quit school and poured everything I had into photography. I started with landscapes, then portraits, and now I’m doing a mix of both. I love telling stories with my camera. Stories of the land and the people who live here.
With every step of our journey, I was excited, scared, and sometimes… downright terrified of all the change happening, but this man holds me close through every step. He reminds me of my worth every day and lays me down to show me how wanted I am every chance he gets.
“Good girl,” he growls as his thick fingers slide deep inside of me. “I want you to come for me, okay? Come hard while I drink up all this delicious milk you’ve made.”
I’m not sure what this feeling I’m having is. Maybe it’s that he’s accepting me fully. Maybe it’s that he makes me feel beautiful. Or maybe, I’m a super freak who just discovered she likes being milked by her husband. Either way, I buck up and come hard.
“That’s my girl,” he groans as he drinks, sending the orgasm I’m having to overload. Every nerve in my body is on fire, tingling, aching, sensitive to his touch.
People can frame it however they want, but to me, this is what life is about.
Freedom, the wild, and love. It’s about a little cabin in the woods a million miles from nowhere, and a big ole boy in flannel appreciating your breast milk.
It’s about hopes and dreams, and living life to the best of your ability.
It’s about living fully without restraint.
It’s about being free, like a horse that was never meant to wear a bridle.
Muscle and spirit in perfect rebellion, carving its own dusty path straight into happily ever after.
THANK YOU FOR READING.
READ PENNY’S STORY HERE.