His Woman

by Cassandra Dee

  The door creaked open though, and I swiveled in my chair. It was unlike Conchita to come in without being invited, and it must have been something extraordinary. Instead, I saw a ghostly vision of Alison, thin and terribly pale, slip into my office.

  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.

  I stopped immediately. “Wildflower, is this ok?” I asked softly.

  “Oh Liam,” she sighed. “I’m just so confused,” she murmured. “What are we going to do?”

  “Baby, I don’t know yet, but we’ll find a way,” I promised, breathing into her ear and nuzzling her neck. “For now, just feel okay? You’ve been out for a while and there’s no need to stress yourself out before you’re even back on your feet.”

  She acquiesced and lay back in my arms, spread out before me like a feast. It was more than I could have hoped for, and my senses went into overdrive at once. My cock popped hard against my fly, and every muscle in my body stiffened, as if getting ready to drive itself into her.

  I leaned over her ravenously, softly kissing her neck before trailing my lips down to the vee of her robe. The material had parted somewhat, and the insides of her creamy jugs were displayed. I could see the areola of one peeping out, and took the opportunity to trail my lips against that sensitive flesh.

  “Ohh!” she sighed, her chest heaving underneath me. Her boob was delicious, the flesh soft, succulent and oh so sweet under my tongue. Her jugs were firm, yet pillowy, and I nuzzled them, letting my face get bounced between the enormous mounds. I trailed my tongue to a nipple and this time latched on, catching the little nub between my teeth.

  “Oh!” she moaned, her body twisting in my lap. Now that I knew what to look for, I could taste a few droplets of milk on my tongue. I raised my hand to her boob and began squeezing it rhythmically, milking her as I suckled. My fist started at the base of her tit, firmly applying pressure as I moved over the tip and then finished with a twist near the top. Sure enough, milk began squirting gently into my mouth, the jets warm and succulent.

  Alison realized what was happening and sat up with a gasp, struggling to cover herself as her robe fell around her hips.

  “Stop, Wildflower, shhh,” I soothed, stroking her thigh as I continued to nuzzle. “We realized you were lactating when you were in a coma, and kept pumping the breast milk for Georgie,” I murmured.

  “You … you were pumping my breast milk?” she asked with a horrified squeal.

  I sat up and looked her in the eye. “Yes baby, I was,” I stated. “And there is nothing that makes me more proud than the mother of my child nursing my son so that he gets the best nutrients. I was incredibly gratified to know that my child wasn’t raised on formula,” I growled, stroking the curve of her cheek as she flushed hotly.

  “Thank you so much for taking such good care of my baby … our baby,” I amended. “You are a wonderful mother,” I added.

  She seemed to melt beneath me, and I knew I could have my way with her. I lay her out full-length on the couch and stretched out on top of her, balancing on my forearms so not to crush her with my mass. The snake of my erection lay heavily against her thigh though, and I was happy that she didn’t squirm away with anger or shock.

  I pressed kisses against her neck and décolletage, softly undoing the tie to the silk robe so that she was completely nude beneath me. I have never seen such female perfection to this day. Her limbs were slender and pale, her skin luminous. Sweetly, she arched her back, her wet nipples begging for my touch.

  I obliged and began suckling once more, tasting the mother’s milk. Never have I experienced such an aphrod
isiac as nursing from a woman I loved. Her breast flesh was so sensitive yet firm too, the life-giving liquid pulsing into my mouth in sweet, hot spurts.

  I trailed a hand up her thigh, gently so as not to unsettle her. My fingers slipped to her warm folds and were gratified to find that they were already damp, the flesh engorged and moist. I probed her clit with a fingertip, rubbing the nub until she sighed into my mouth, and then circling it before moving lower to sample her hole.

  Her cunt was warm and hot, with liquid pouring slightly into my hand. I teased her nether lips, massaging the sensitive flesh before probing deeper into her hole. Her inner channel was steaming and hot, and I pulled apart her lips to get a better look at her insides … ah yes, she was undeniably aroused, her inner vulva deep pink and glistening, the warm folds trailing a bead of damp, white moisture.

  Eager to taste, I gave up suckling for a moment and scooted down so that I lay between her thighs. I moved them gently, careful not to manhandle my wildflower, and lowered my face to her twat for a deep sniff. She was fragrant and sweetly aromatic with the deep spice of arousal.

  I tickled her for a moment with my tongue, lightly trailing up her pussy lips. She squirmed a bit underneath me and breathed my name.

  “Liam!” she cried. My heart flipped over. She’d said my name during sex when we first became lovers two years ago, but since then, she’d remained resolutely mute during our lovemaking, only breathy cries and gasps alerting me to her needs. My name on her lips cemented my resolve to protect this girl and our baby boy forever, and I was literally trembling as I dipped my head to taste her again.

  Her hips began bucking underneath my mouth, and I suckled her clit as my finger penetrated her depths. I began a gentle rhythm in her vulva, one finger in and out, but it didn’t seem to be enough.

  “More!” she cried breathily.

  I slipped another finger into her, which assuaged her somewhat, but her bucking hips seemed to need more, and obligingly, I penetrated her with three fingers, her flesh splitting wide to accommodate my girth. My hand glistened with her juices as I continued to suckle, her sweet body writhing underneath me. With a slight shudder, Alison came hotly, a gush of wetness hitting my tongue as her body tingled and thrashed beneath me. Her cunt pulsed sweetly around my fingers, clenching down hard and then releasing and clenching again, the tremors hot and fast as they ran through her body. She gasped, her breasts hard peaks pointing towards the ceiling as she was wracked with sensation, her body beautiful and bare to my eyes.

  As she came down from the orgasm, she turned to me and ran a gentle hand down my chest.

  “What about you?” she asked softly.

  “Baby, I’m not sure you’re ready for me,” I ground out roughly. “You were sick recently and I’m so big …” I trailed.

  Her little palm went down to my hardness and encircled it. I almost came right then and there because it was sheer heaven after the torture we’d been through. She squeezed lightly, savoring the delight of hard flesh wrapped in softness, and tantalizingly ran her finger over my tip where a drop of pre-cum glistened.

  Flirtatiously, she brought her finger to her lips and tasted the pre-cum, letting her tongue lick lasciviously.

  “I think I can handle it,” she purred softly, kissing me on the lips.

  That was all I needed to hear. I rolled her over onto her back, split her legs, and plunged into her depths with my cock. She gasped, her voice breathy and hot in my mouth.

  “Liam!” she cried. The sound of my name on her lips drove me over the edge and I began pumping into her furiously, my hips like a piston as I ran in and out of her soft flesh. Her wetness encased me like a velvet glove, stimulating my glans and the hard shaft that ran repeatedly into her flesh. I pumped like a madman, trying to control myself, but totally lost in the arms of my beautiful wildflower. My arms strained as my groin tightened, and I felt my balls lift and begin to release.

  “AAH!” I roared as I pumped into her, my man milk seeding her over and over again. Rope after rope of cum emptied into her hot channel, her pussy trembling as it contracted around me, sucking up the semen hungrily. Her cunt tightened and relaxed around my shaft, milking me dry, and my balls strained and trembled as they contracted, pumping hot sperm into the only woman who was right for me.

  I collapsed on her, crushing the tiny woman beneath my massive frame.

  “Baby, ” I began. “I’ve never felt so complete. You are everything to me,” I murmured into her neck. “I love you so much, I can’t ever let you go.”

  I felt, rather than heard, her sob. What the …? What man tells a woman he loves her only to have her start crying beneath him? I lifted myself up and looked deeply into her blue eyes. They were indeed swimming with tears and she caressed my face as a drop trailed down her cheek.

  “Liam,” she said. “You can’t understand how grateful I am for your kindness to me this past week,” she said. “Taking care of Georgie. Taking care of me. It’s what every woman dreams of. But …” her voice trailed off.

  “But what?” I demanded. “What is it?”

  “But,” she said softly. “We’re still siblings. People will talk, and there will always be rumors if we’re together. And so, I’m not sure what’s next for us, but we can’t go public, do you understand? I want Georgie to have a sane and normal life, and that isn’t possible if we’re together.”

  I shushed her with a deep kiss, letting my lips do the talking.

  “Alison,” I said. “I’m not sure how to fix this, but I refuse to let the two of you just waltz out of my life again. I’ll find a way. Do you hear me? I will find a way to fix this. Just trust me on this.”

  She was quiet for an instant and then raised her hand to my cheek, stroking it softly.

  “I know you will, Liam,” she said, and gave me a gentle kiss of promise. My heart turned over, and I determined to do my best by this wildflower and her baby boy.

  14

  Liam

  I choked as I saw her walking down the aisle. She was so beautiful, small and slim, yet elegant and dignified, projecting more class than a queen. She wore a knee-length dress of white lace as we stood before the podium, her smile warm and inviting as we turned to face the Justice of Peace.

  Finally! I had my wildflower where I wanted her. My beautiful girl was about to become my bride. I wasn’t taking any chances this time. After her brush with death two weeks ago, I’d practically become her warden. I wouldn’t let her out of my sight, and trailed her from room to room through our apartment.

  Seeing her lying in the hospital bed had caused my world to come crashing down. I’d realized with sudden clarity that my life wasn’t worth living without her, that she was my everything. I’d confided my love to her comatose form, and as luck would have it, my wildflower had woken and forgiven me.

  But there was still the unsettling problem of our family relationship. You see, Wildflower and I are step-siblings. Her biological father, Robert Woodson, is my stepfather, making us some fucked-up family. She’d been reluctant to marry me at first, arguing that our son Georgie would always be tainted by the smear of incest, but I’d steamrolled her. I’d insisted, arguing that Georgie would benefit from a stable home with two parents who loved him. Beneath my onslaught of words and mindblowing sex, I’d overcome Wildflower’s defenses and here we were, at the altar at last.

  The rush to City Hall was my doing. As soon as she’d said yes this morning, I’d booked an appointment with the magistrate, intent on legitimizing our union asap. I wasn’t taking any chances. She was going to be mine, physically, emotionally, and legally. I’d whipped out the ivory dress from her closet and almost dressed her in it myself.

  She’d laughed when she’d seen how eager I was.

  “Liam,” she gasped breathlessly. “There’s no rush, I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Baby, I can’t wait,” I’d growled. “I’ve spent two years apart from you, and I almost just lost you again because of that stupid event. I’m so sorr
y,” I murmured, burying my face in her hair. “I want you to be Mrs. Miller asap.”

  She’d stroked my hair comfortingly, murmuring, “Okay, we’ll go this afternoon then. Don’t we have to find our birth certificates or something?”

  “I’ve got all that covered,” I said. “I had my staff look up your records and everything’s taken care of.”

  She pulled back. “My birth certificate?” she said curiously. “Really? You were able to locate it?”

  “Sure, why not?” I said. “You were born in Queens, right?”

  She bowed her head. “Yes, but I’ve never even seen my birth certificate. My mom was terrible with records, so I’ve always just trusted that my name is Alison Johnson. It could be Wildflower Jones for all I know,” she teased.

  “But how did you enroll in school and get all that legal stuff done?” I asked, nonplussed.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. I guess my mom was able to finagle it somehow. A student ID turned into a driver’s license, and I never needed more than that. I’ve never travelled internationally, you see,” she said shyly. “So I’ve never needed a passport.”

  I growled. That was about to change. I was a rich man and was going to shower all of my resources on Wildflower and my son, including international travel on my private jet, staying in the best hotels, and enjoying luxuries they’d never had. Okay, so she was practically an undocumented immigrant, but she was my undocumented immigrant and I was about to make her mine … forever.

  15

  Alison

  He was so handsome, brooding and dark, standing at the altar. He was staring at me so hard that my heart skipped a beat and my cheeks flushed. I knew I’d always feel this way about him. I always have and always will.

  With his raven hair and black suit, I knew I’d lucked out – how many women got to marry their Prince Charming who was loving, handsome and rich to boot? But his money made no difference to me. I would have married him even if he’d been a pauper. The blue eyes glued to my form as I moved up the aisle made me grow hot again. How had I landed a husband so persuasive, magnetic, and charismatic?