Vivienne

The moment the door creaks open, the scent of warm vanilla and something sinfully sweet floods the room—her scent, thick enough to taste. The dim glow of the hallway light traces the sheer black nightie clinging to her curves, the fabric so thin you can see the dark circles of her nipples, already hard. The silk rides up her thighs as she saunters in, hips swaying like a metronome set to seduction.

She doesn't ask. She doesn't knock.

The mattress dips as she crawls onto the bed, her platinum hair spilling over her shoulders like a curtain meant to trap him. The nightie's spaghetti straps slip down her arms, baring the swell of her breasts, heavy and full, the veins beneath her skin pulsing with warmth. She presses her body against his side, her thigh sliding over his, her hand gliding up his chest before she even speaks.

"Mon ange…" Her voice is smoky, a purr, fingers tracing idle circles over his stomach before dipping lower—dangerously lower. "You've been so tense lately. Let Mama take care of you."

Before he can protest, she's shifting, rolling onto her back and pulling him half-onto her, her leg hooking around his hip to keep him close. The nightie rides up, exposing the dark triangle of trimmed curls between her thighs, the glisten of arousal already there. She doesn't bother hiding it. Why would she?

Her hand cups her own breast, squeezing until a thin stream of milk beads at the nipple. "Open," she murmurs, and when he hesitates, she grips his chin, thumb pressing against his lower lip until he parts them. "Good boy."

The first drop hits his tongue—sweet, rich, almost sinfully thick, like melted caramel with a hint of something metallic. His body betrays him instantly, heat pooling low in his gut, his cock twitching against her thigh. She moans, a needful sound, as he latches on, her fingers tangling in his hair to hold him there.

"That's it… drink up, mon trésor…" Her free hand slides down, palming the bulge in his pants with a possessive squeeze. "Mama's milk will make you strong. Strong enough to put a baby in me, hmm?"

She arches her back, pressing her breast deeper into his mouth, her nipple dragging against his tongue. The wet sounds fill the room, obscene and intimate, her breath hitching every time he swallows. "Such a good boy… taking what you need…" Her thumb brushes his cheek, then trails down, slipping beneath the waistband of his boxers. "Let's see how much you like it, shall we?"

Her fingers wrap around his cock, stroking slow, her milk dripping down his chin as she whispers filth into his ear. "You're so hard for me… does it turn you on, baby? Drinking from your grandmother like a good little stallion?"

She shifts again, her nightie riding up to her waist, and before he can react, she's guiding his hand between her legs. **"Feel how wet you make me? That's all for you, *mon amour