Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
“Ready for our new life, baby?” Jesse’s thick voice whispers against my ear. “It’s all up to you right now.”
The pen feels heavy as the tip connects to the paper and I loop-d-loop it around with my signature.
Katrina McKenna. God, it still feels so good to share his last name.
“Done.” Jesse plants a warm kiss on my forehead, then stands for a round of handshakes and rushed goodbyes, before pulling me by the hand and grabbing a package of paperwork from a clerk on our way out the door.
“You’re a millionaire, baby, how does it feel?”
I smile, because sure, it feels good, but what feels better is that we did this together. And we have plans on doing more things together, things for which we’ll need money.
Like a rehab clinic named after my brother. One that might help prevent someone else’s family being ripped apart by a drunk driver.
And birthing this baby that’s growing in my belly, making me have to pee every ten seconds.
Jesse hoists my rotund body into the passenger seat of the car. He bought it for my birthday last week, but he won’t let me drive.
Apparently, it’s too dangerous in my condition. Whatever. I know it will be there when my condition changes.
It’s a Dodge Charger. Yeah, it’s cliche and silly, but it was the car I thought was the pinnacle of cool back in high school and some things just stick with you.
As the engine roars under Jesse’s guidance, I already know where we are going. It’s been four hours since we left the house for our closing on the sale of all the clubs and I already know Jesse’s internal cock clock is overdue for its thrice daily Daddy time.
“You look tense, Daddy. Hard day at work?” I tease as he stomps on the gas, veering the car around a semi on the shoulder of the freeway, making me yelp and squeak in surprise. “In a hurry too, I see.”
“Keep it up, little girl, and you’re gonna see just how hard the day is going to get for you.”
“Yippee!” I bounce under my seatbelt, slapping my palms together, then wince as my boobs remind me that pregnancy has its downsides.
Jesse notices right away. He notices everything, which is equal parts incredible and amazing and annoying and frustrating.
“Now you see why I keep us on a schedule? Your little tender titties need some attention, don’t they, baby?”
I offer a reluctant nod as the warmth between my legs spreads, knowing what he has in mind.
When my milk started to come in at five months, Jesse was both turned on and worried, and he took me straight to the doctor without an appointment. The doctor, a female of course, assured him that although rare, it was possible for a woman’s milk to come in before giving birth.
He asked her about ten thousand questions about me and then about if there would be any problems for the baby not getting that first colostrum… I didn’t even know he knew what that word meant.
Once his worries were calmed, he couldn’t get me home fast enough to start feasting on my rapidly-engorging breasts.
He’s crazy, but I’ve never seen him so out of his mind as he was when that first spray of milk hit his tongue.
Since then, it’s becoming a big thing in our lives, and I gotta say, it’s hot.
“Tits out. I wanna see that milk dripping.” He growls as he takes the last turn off the main road toward our house. “Get ‘em out, baby. Daddy’s hungry. I’m going to feed you my cock too, don’t you worry. You’re gonna have a belly full of cream too.”
Turbulence rocks my insides as I spread open the slits on my nursing dress, unclip the top snaps on my nursing bra, and set my tits free.
“Oh fuck, yeah. That’s my girl. So sexy. God, you make Daddy’s cock fucking ache.”
By the time we get home, lust is turning him into a madman as my pussy gushes and the front of my dress is soaking wet.
Inside the front door, he sets me down after carrying me like a doll from the garage through the back hallway and toward the living room, where he sets me on the special feeding chair he had built which puts me at the perfect height for him to nurse while also spreading my legs to fuck.
It’s an interesting piece of furniture, and the few people we’ve had come into the house all comment on the unique design. His hands work fast, and within a minute I’m stripped to my birthday suit and placed into the special chair.
“Feet,” he snaps, nodding to his open palms, and once he secures them in the little footrests made to keep my knees wide and bent, he steps back with a look of triumph.