Free The Billionaire's Milkmaid (BBW Lactation Erotic Romance) by Meghan Boehners

The Billionaire's Milkmaid
    Jessica Browning was sick and tired of being sick and tired, but apparently her breasts were going to argue with her no matter what. Her first day back at work after a very-much-enjoyed six month maternity leave was not going well at all, and she was ragingly pissed. The sweet cocoon of home was long gone and now she was back in the office, the drudgery of work setting her off kilter.

First of all, the last thing she had expected was to have the father of her baby fall in love with the labor and delivery nurse and announce, when their daughter, Sofia, was two months old, that he was leaving her to run off with Bambi. Yes, Bambi . Bambi the husband stealer – it had a ring to it.
    It was horrifying and humiliating enough to be left for the woman who saw your hoohaw stretched in nineteen different ways and split down the middle, but to have her be named Bambi – well, that was just a cruel joke, a sign that the universe really, deeply hated Jessica.

Add in the fact that Joe, her now-ex, had decided to up and drain all their bank accounts and go off to his ancestral homeland in Slovakia, making him impossible to trace and leaving her nearly broke. Fortunately, he had waited until Sofia was five months old and, blissfully, sleeping through the night, but this shit was getting old. One month later and she still was reeling, the sense of betrayal and hurt so raw she almost winced when she heard his name.

And now her breasts were complaining, too, swollen and tingling from spending too many hours away from her baby. Her mother had stepped up and offered to watch Sofia for at least a few months, to give Jessica time to adjust and give her a little breathing space before finding a day care center, so Jessica knew that if she could just get a quiet office to pump, she could refrigerate the milk and offer it to her baby when she got home.

Unfortunately, her bosses were a bunch of knuck-dragging troglodytes who didn't understand that pumping while sitting on the toilet wasn't exactly a "nursing station." Human resources hadn't been much help, either.

"Uh," the Barbie chicky babe receptionist said between texts, never making eye contact as she used typed, "I guess you could just, like, pump in your car." She had looked up when that statement was greeted by Jessica's gasp of disbelief and twisted her face into a grimace as she stared at the sleek, discreet black carrying case for the pump as if it were a heaping pile of steaming elephant crap. "Lots of women do that until the baby is, like, a few weeks old and doesn't need to do that anymore."

Fat chance.

So there she stood in the hallway outside her cubicle, nearly leaking through her nice, trim cotton shirt, wishing her suit jacket were bigger, wondering who she could bug for twenty minutes of privacy. This wasn't rocket science; she just needed to extract a bunch of fore milk and hind milk from her breasts using a machine. How hard could the corporation make this?

Tears welled up. The weight of the past four months seemed to coalesce into this exact moment and she could feel a sob starting deep in her belly, in that place where arousal used to live, where she was a hot, sexual being with needs and feelings and wants, but that she had killed off in order to get through being a mom.

And then, a hand on her elbow. The scent of after shave. A calm, melody, deep voice of safety and command. "I am guessing that's a breast pump in your hand and you need some privacy?" he whispered, pulling in closer to her, the air seeming to change and crackle with electricity. She turned to look up, into the kind eyes of a stranger, his voice lightly accented – Spanish? Greek? – and his dark eyes inviting.

"Um," was all Jessica could say. She swallowed, hard, and felt her nipples tingle, except this time it wasn't so much from the milk but from her body's slamming response to being this close to whoever he was. Dark eyes framed by perfect eyebrows, his cheekbones