Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Her long blonde hair hung loosely down her back, and she wore nothing but a white silk robe that I’d put next to her bed. Bastard that I was, my eyes immediately roved over her figure, noting the pale face and thin hands, but also the fact that she must have been naked underneath the robe. I could see the tips of her breasts cresting against the white satin, and her thighs were smooth and delicious under the short hemline.
“Alison!” I started, bolting out of my chair. I rushed over to her and grabbed her in my arms, holding her close, being careful not to break her fragile bones. Her scent wafted up to me, sweet and natural, just like a wildflower.
She relaxed against me momentarily before pulling away again.
“Liam, don’t …” she said quietly.
I wasn’t sure if she meant “don’t” physically or emotionally. She was mentally fragile, sure, but it was also possible that she’d felt my burgeoning erection against her tummy. I couldn’t help it. Everything about this woman turned me on, even when she was just up from her sickbed.
“Down boy!” I mentally commanded my unruly dick. Fortunately, the gravity of the situation seemed to restrain him somewhat, and he didn’t grow further, even if he didn’t exactly deflate.
“Alison, are you okay?” I growled. “How do you feel?” My outpouring of love and support was impossible to stop. Now that I knew that this woman meant the world to me, I could hardly mask my feelings, instead carrying on like a twelve year-old boy.
“Liam, I’m okay,” she said softly, her hands lying on my chest. She was so tiny against me, a gust of wind could blow her over in an instant. And yet this brave, beautiful woman had borne a child on her own, and raised him as a single mother for two years. My heart turned over again, and I dropped a sweet kiss on her neck.
“Wildflower, tell me how you feel,” I rumbled into her ear, nibbling at her lobe and pressing more kisses against her neck. I felt her stiffen but then relax in my arms, growing boneless and loose. I swept her up and sat in the big couch in my office, cradling her like a child.
“Tell me what it is,” I breathed. Bastard that I am, I could feel her little rump against my erection and he was growing hard again. I could also see into the vee of her neckline, and the sight of those pale, creamy mounds didn’t help.
“Liam, I’m so confused,” she murmured against me, nestling into my chest as if seeking my heat. “How long was I out for? My head still hurts and there’s a pounding behind my eyes that just won’t stop.”
“Honey, you were out for a week. I was so worried. Everyone’s been so worried, including Georgie,” I said. “But our baby boy is fine,” I continued. “He misses his mama, but he’s been eating and growing like a hungry two-year old.”
“Oh my god, Georgie!” she cried. “I’d been breastfeeding him. What happened with that? Were you able to use the extra breast milk that I put in the freezer?”
“Yes,” I hushed. “We found the spare supply in the fridge and Conchita has been feeding him a combination of your milk and formula. Georgie’s never been happier,” I reassured her.
I didn’t tell her that it’d been a delightful shock to discover that she’d been lactating. When I’d seen that first wet spot on her patient gown, I’d been confused. Georgie was almost two, wasn’t he too old to be breastfeeding? But the nurse had explained that some children breast feed for much longer, and evidently my son liked the taste of his mother’s milk.
Plus, I’d been in charge of pumping her during her coma. The nurse had explained that she needed to be pumped twice a day, and I’d dutifully attached the mechanical pump to her nipples and let it whir as she lay in her hospital bed. My feelings were mixed and deeply, dangerously dirty. On the one hand, I was sad that my baby wasn’t getting his milk straight from his mother, but at the same time, I was secretly coveting the warm, nutritious liquid he drank each day. On more than a few occasions, I’d cleaned her up by lapping at her nipples after a pumping session, savoring the taste of my Wildflower in a delicious new way.
Even now, I could see a damp stain on the front of her white silk robe. The material was so sheer that even a few drops would cause it to become transparent, and I could make out her rosy nipples pressed against the white fabric, her creamy mounds looking ripe and ready.
Without thinking, I let my index finger trail up the curve of her cleavage to circle one of the wet peaks with the pad of my finger. She tossed her head and moaned, almost in pain.