Page 216 of Yearn

The textbooks warned that long-term exposure to this kind of bonding could distort judgment, heighten possessiveness, and further amplify addictive pathways in the brain.

Good.

Let it.

I wanted every symptom.

Every side effect.

Every loss of control.

Because what they called a disorder, I called devotion.

What they called dependency, I called undying faithful love.

This was biology’s oldest truth: the need to protect, to claim, to stay.

And I would spend the rest of my life proving it.

In every breath.

In every heartbeat.

In every child she gave me.

Because there would be more kids.

Tons of siblings for J and Oliver.

A mansion full of life.

A long legacy of our love.

And lots of milk in between pregnancies for me.

Groaning, I sank lower, planting my mouth more firmly against her breast.

Then, I clenched my hands tight on her hips, grounding me as my world became the weight of her in my arms and the taste of her milk on my tongue and the heat of her body seeping into mine, stoking the flames of my ravenous need.

This is heaven. I can die right here.

“Good Boy, suck Mommy’s breasts.” Her hands left my hair and found their way to my cock. Soon those wicked fingers began skimming the hungry length of me before wrapping around my girth. “Oh, you make Mommy so proud. Mommy’s pussy is getting so wet for her Good Boy.”

FUCK.

I groaned.

She began to stroke my cock, triggering more moans to ripple through me and into her. The pleasurable friction combined with the taste of her milk was dizzying. I was losing myself in her, surrendering to the powerful desire that seized me.

More pre-cum leaked from my cock, coating her fingers in a slick layer that allowed them to glide effortlessly over my length. “Yes, baby. Keep on sucking.”

My hips started to rock in sync with her hand movements, a primal rhythm pulsating between us. The intensity of the moment was intoxicating, carnal, pushing me closer to the edge.

Teyonah's touches were expert, knowing exactly how to draw me in and drag me under. Those fingers worked me relentlessly, coaxing more pre-cum from my cock and driving me wild.

The erotic symphony playing within us was filthy, primal, and utterly perfect. As her rhythm increased and the sensation of her milk flooding my mouth intensified, the room started to spin and I was no longer within reality.

I floated within an erotic fever dream.