Page 11 of Milk For The Billionaire’s Little (The Lactin Brotherhood #20)

KENNAN

I didn’t usually cook for anyone. Entertaining wasn’t my thing, and when I did it, it tended to be for work. Heck, I didn’t usually invite people to this house. It was gorgeous and there was plenty of room, but I needed a place for me to be me.

James wasn’t “people.” He was the exception I hadn’t been expecting.

I’d have already had him over if I didn’t want to overwhelm him.

He knew I had money beyond his understanding.

But knowing that and seeing it were two different things.

He’d brought up that stupid motel a few times already as if he had somehow wronged me by the place not being a bazillion stars and even more dollars.

We’d been seeing each other for a little over a month now.

Quiet dinners out or at his place were the norm.

We also had lazy weekend coffee runs, one adorable afternoon at the botanical gardens where he’d pointed out every flower like it was a friend, and a trip to the zoo.

We both worked a great deal but took advantage of the time we did have.

I’d learned his preferences, his habits.

And I’d learned about what he wanted and needed from his Little space.

He’d told me all about his journey with flushed cheeks and soft words, and a whole lot of nervous giggles.

He wasn’t the first person who called me Daddy, but he was the first person who meant it in this way.

I’d read up on it, listened to his every word, and was going to do the best I could to fill that role for him.

He assured me I was already naturally doing so, but that wasn’t good enough for me… for James. He deserved everything.

Rosco had been my inner excuse for not bringing him home.

But really it had been fear, fear that he wouldn’t like my world, that I wasn’t a good enough Daddy for him, that he would wake up and see that my life was always going to be in the limelight.

Once that realization hit, I did what anyone with more money than they should have would do—I set up a hedgehog habitat in my suite and got him a fancy carrier.

It might’ve been a little over the top. Good thing James was far more amused than anything else when I sent him the pictures.

Tonight was simple, the two of us, a quiet kitchen, and a “Little” dinner I’d researched like I was prepping for a business acquisition.

Dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets, mac and cheese made from a box, a side of peas arranged into a tiny smiling face, and a glass of apple juice. I was saving the milk for later.

I set the table with colorful divided plates, and laid out the utensils decorated with puppies from a popular cartoon and a folded blue cloth napkin with stars stitched along the edge.

Next to the plate, I placed the new stuffie I’d picked out: a soft, brown hedgehog with bright button eyes and a tiny fabric bowtie.

It wasn’t Rosco, of course. But it was Rosco-adjacent. And maybe James would like having a cuddle version of his little guy.

The doorbell rang, exactly on time.

I opened it and there he was, pet carrier in hand, looking a tiny bit nervous and a whole lot stunning. He had a tote bag slung over one shoulder.

“Hey,” he said sweetly. “I think Rosco would like to not be moving anymore.”

“Of course, sweet boy.” I reached for the carrier. “Come in. I’ll show you where it is.”

Having a purpose was good. If I stopped to give a tour, I had a feeling this place would feel every bit the square footage it contained. We’d get to that, once he was more comfortable with the setting. At least that was my plan.

We got Rosco settled in.

I kissed James’s cheek. “Would you like to change into your Little clothes before dinner?”

He nodded shyly. “Is that okay?”

“It’s more than okay. I set up the guest room with your things. Come on, I’ll show you.”

I didn’t love the idea of the guest room, but I’d read that it was good to have a separate place for your Little for them to be alone if they wanted. I’d ask him after tonight if he liked it that way or not. This was a learning curve for me.

He followed me, his hand brushing against mine before slipping into it completely, fingers twining. When we reached the guest room, he gasped.

I’d laid everything out on the bed—a few new Little clothes I’d picked out just for him. A soft onesie in pastel blue with tiny stars. Matching knee socks. And a hoodie shaped like a dinosaur, with fabric spikes running down the back.

“You got me presents?”

I cupped his cheek. “Of course I did. I saw them and thought of you. I wanted you to feel special tonight.”

“You didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to.” I kissed his forehead. “Go ahead and get changed. I’ll wait downstairs.”

There would come a time where I would want to help him get dressed, but we’d discussed it, and easing into things felt like our best choice for now.

By the time he padded into the kitchen, he looked like every bit the darling Little I’d hoped to see tonight. He wore the blue star onesie and socks, his hair slightly tousled. The stuffie tucked under his arm made my heart feel too big for my chest.

“You look adorable,” I told him.

James blushed and peeked up at me. “Thank you, Daddy.”

I pulled out his chair, and he climbed in, carefully settling in with his legs swinging just above the floor.

“You made dinner?”

“I did.” I set the plate down in front of him and handed him a sippy cup filled with juice. “I hope it’s okay.”

“Nuggies! And happy peas!”

I chuckled. “And mac and cheese. I even remembered to put it in its own section, away from the ketchup.”

“You’re the best, Daddy.”

We ate together. He nibbled while making dinosaur sounds, kicking his feet. I let myself watch him, soaking in every bit of the delight he gave off.

After dinner, I led him to the least formal living room. I’d moved the coffee table out of the way and laid out a thick blanket and pillows on the floor, with another soft blanket draped over the back of the couch in case he got cold.

James sat on the floor with his stuffie, who he named Junior, and I sat behind him, gently guiding him into my lap. He fit there perfectly, leaning back against my chest.

“Would you like some milk, Jimmy?” I asked softly, testing out a Little name for him. He said he didn’t have one but that he never really thought about one either. Now he would get to see if he liked it.

He nodded. “Yes, please.”

I unbuttoned my shirt slowly, and once it was, I helped him turn so he was lying across my lap, cradled securely in my arms. He looked up at me, wide-eyed. I stroked his hair back.

“I’ve got you,” I said, and he nodded again, then leaned in and latched onto my nipple, first circling it and then bringing it into his mouth for the first long pull.

The way his body relaxed against mine flooded me with emotions. The first time he’d drank from me, it had been fabulous. But this time, it was on a whole other level. I couldn’t even pinpoint what was different about it, but I wanted to hold onto these emotions with both hands.

I felt the rush of milk respond, and his soft hum of satisfaction. It was everything.

I leaned my head back and started to tell him a story about a hedgehog prince who got lost in a library and had to find his way home by following a trail of glitter stars. I made sure my voice was soft, rhythmic, soothing.

As I spoke, I felt his body sink further into me, the tension draining from his shoulders, the little sighs between swallows. He looked up at me once, milk-drunk and sleepy, and I smoothed my hand over his cheek.

“You’re safe,” I whispered. “I’ve got you. Just rest.”

His eyes fluttered shut again, his suckling slowing. He was full now, and sleepy, and warm.

When he finally slipped into sleep, I held him there, brushing my fingers along his hairline, the rhythm of his breath against my chest slow and steady.

And for the first time in a long time, the mansion didn’t feel too big.

It felt just right.