Page 6 of Milk For The Billionaire’s Little (The Lactin Brotherhood #20)
JAMES
I was starting to doze off, cheek pressed to the masked Daddy’s chest, his arm around my back steady. The even rise and fall of his breathing lulling me to sleep.
It had been so long since I’d had real milk, actual milk from a human and even longer since I’d had it from the source.
But even then, it hadn’t been like this and I wasn’t sure it even counted.
It had been a try it and see thirty second endeavor from a lactating Daddy who was showing off.
There had been nothing tender or sweet about it. Not with this kind of tenderness.
Still, this wasn’t a true close connection. Not really. I didn’t know his real name. Heck, I didn’t even know the shape of his nose. But there was an intimacy here that I’d never felt before, not even with people I’d dated.
I felt guilty about the room. It smelled like mildew and fake citrus.
The bed was lumpy and creaky, the kind where the mattress slumped toward the center like it was trying to eat any who dared try and get some sleep.
The sheets were thin and scratchy, the blanket absent, and the walls were yellowed from age, or maybe nicotine from back when smoking was allowed.
I had expected him to be in a hurry. I’d assumed he’d gently, or maybe not so gently, nudge me up the second I was done, brush me off, and vanish to get dressed and disappear.
That he’d collect his things, say something vague and professional, and ghost me, or worse, raise his rates in the hopes of getting more money out of me.
But he didn’t.
Instead, his hand moved slowly over my hair, fingers soothing and rhythmic, like it was the most natural thing in the world to let me curl up against him and drift off.
And drift I did.
I don’t know how long I slept. But when I finally cracked my eyes open, I was still wrapped in his arm. He looked down at me, smiling gently.
“I think somebody needed this,” he said softly.
I blinked. “I… I did. Thanks.”
I started to push myself up. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. How long were we here?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I hope long enough that you feel relaxed.”
I bit my bottom lip and nodded. Reluctantly, I slid off the bed, reaching for my phone on the bedside table. One glance at the screen told me this hadn’t just been a catnap—I’d been asleep for at least two hours.
Two full hours in a stranger’s arms, after drinking from him like it was the most normal thing in the world.
I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. I’d pay you more, but I… I don’t have it right now. I had to save up for this already.”
Great. Now I sounded like a loser.
“I’ll be right back,” I muttered, bolting for the bathroom before he could respond. I needed a minute to pull myself together… desperately . My emotions had gotten tangled up with my nerves, and the longer I stood there, the more my brain started to spiral.
What if he was annoyed? What if he thought I’d wasted his time? What if he was expecting more money and was just too polite to say anything?
My brain was feeding me the worst possible scenarios, and I knew none of them made sense. If he wanted something from me, he would’ve said something—or at least woken me up. But try telling my anxiety that.
I turned on the sink, meaning to splash some water on my face, but the second I touched the knob, the spigot blasted water like a fire hose.
I yelped, stumbling back, drenched from neck to waist. “Shit!”
Seconds later, the door swung open.
“You okay?” he asked, concerned. “Did you see a bug?”
“No,” I said, laughing nervously. “The faucet’s just broken. And I mean… there are probably bugs too.”
He stepped in, took one look at me, and winced. “You’re soaked.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, wringing out the hem of my shirt.
He reached for one of the motel’s towels, then paused mid-grab like it had personally offended him. He let it go instantly. “You’re not touching that. Who knows what that brown is on it.”
“Is it that bad?” I asked, glancing at it. The brown stain near the edge didn’t exactly reassure me. “Never mind. It is.”
The Daddy gently reached for my shirt, pulling it up and over my head. He was careful. Unrushed. Like it wasn’t weird. Like helping someone dry off was just… a thing you did.
Back in the main room, he handed me his T-shirt. It was the softest thing I’d ever felt. It smelled like laundry and cologne and something just faintly earthy.
“I’ve got a jacket. You use this.”
No way I was turning that down. I slipped it on, tugging it down over my hips. It was a little big and still felt like a hug.
“Thank you,” I said quietly. “I, um… I know this is probably forward, but… could we maybe do this again?”
He hesitated. “I don’t know if that’s the best idea.”
Oh gods. I had sounded like I was asking for a freebie, hadn’t I? Way to ruin a vibe.
“I meant—just, you know, maybe next time I’ve got enough overtime again. I’d pay. I just…”
His voice softened. “How about this?”
I wanted to reach out and take his hand, but I kept mine tucked at my sides. My palms were too warm. My chest too tight. My nerves too shot.
“If you decide you want to, you can reach out to me through the app. I promise I’ll see it.”
“Oh. Yeah. Okay,” I said, not really trusting my voice. It wasn’t a yes, but at least it wasn’t a no.
“I’m guessing you don’t want to stay here for the night,” I offered. “But if you do, I can leave you with the key.”
He smiled. “Thanks. But yeah, I should get going. Early shift tomorrow.”
It took everything I had not to ask him what he did for work. If he was wearing a mask, he didn’t want me to know anything about him. I might not like that, but I was going to respect his boundaries.
“Do you need a lift?” I offered. “I saw you took a ride share here.”
“Yeah, maybe…” He pulled out his phone. “No—I gotta make a phone call first.”
“Oh, okay. Well—thanks. Really.”
Our parting was awkward. Way more awkward than it had any right to be, considering how intimate the night had been.
“I’ll return the key,” he promised.
I nodded. “Just drop it in the box.”
He nodded back.
I left.
Only… I didn’t get far.
Once I made it to my car, I sat down in the driver’s seat and gripped the wheel. My eyes burned. I blinked fast, telling myself it was just the bad lighting or the mildew smell or leftover nerves.
But it wasn’t.
I was already attached. To his voice. His touch. To the way he held me.
This wasn’t supposed to be anything. Just a transaction. A soft one, yes. A good one. Sure. But still… a one-time exchange. But the thought of going back to jars, of holding a tepid bottle?
I didn’t want that.
I wanted him.
But what was I going to do? Ask him to be my Daddy after two hours and a broken faucet?
I sighed, forehead resting against the steering wheel, trying to breathe.
Just as I reached for the ignition, a car pulled into the lot.
And not just any car.
This one was sleek. Expensive. Black with deep-tinted windows. I didn’t know much about cars, but even I could tell, this one cost more than the entire motel was worth.
Whoever was about to check into this place was going to be very disappointed.