Chapter 1
My three-month-old son was always fed, but my breasts were still painfully engorged. Pumping hurt, and my husband, David, refused to help, totally grossed out by the idea. Then, I stumbled upon an online ad: “Wet Nurse Needed.” The requirements were simple: abundant milk supply, able to satisfy a hungry baby. The pay? $300 a session. I was ecstatic. Money and relief from my discomfort? Sign me up! One afternoon, after feeding the client’s baby, Mr. Smith, the father, walked in, his eyes fixated on my chest. I heard a gulp, like a wolf eyeing its prey. My name is Sarah Miller, I’m 26, married, and my son, Leo, is three months old. My problem? Too much milk. Even after Leo’s had his fill, I’m still painfully engorged. My arms stick out; I can’t even put them down. At night, the throbbing keeps me awake. Forget cute nursing bras; my breasts are constantly leaking, leaving noticeable wet spots that draw unwanted attention. Ironically, I haven’t gained any baby weight. In fact, I’m curvier than ever. “David, please help!” I begged my husband, hoping he could relieve some of the pressure. He just scoffed, “Sarah, are you serious? You want me to suck on where our son eats?” Then, his buddies called, and he went out for a beer. This wasn’t the first time David had rejected me, but his coldness stung. I tried using my breast pump, but it was painful and ineffective. I squeezed my rock-hard breasts. No give, no bounce, just pure firmness. I sighed. Other husbands would be all over this, but David couldn’t even look. I tasted my milk. A little sweet, a little metallic, not bad, actually. Slightly relieved, I scrolled through my phone and saw the ad. “Wet Nurse Needed.” Must have ample supply to satisfy a hungry baby. $300 per feeding. Bingo! This was the answer to my prayers. I called immediately. The client asked me to come over for a trial run. If the baby ate well, I was hired. I got the address and eagerly prepared for my interview that afternoon. I chose a white blouse and a wrap skirt. Thanks to breastfeeding, my breasts were bigger than ever. The top two buttons of my blouse wouldn’t close, so I skipped a bra. The outline was definitely visible. I looked even sexier than usual. I grabbed my bag, kissed Leo goodbye, and left him with my mother-in-law. I gave myself a pep talk in the mirror and headed out, feeling confident. I found the house easily, took a deep breath, smoothed my blouse, and rang the doorbell. Mr. Smith opened the door, his eyes widening, glued to my chest. I blushed, tucking a stray hair behind my ear. “Hi, I’m Sarah Miller. Are you Mr. Smith?” He blinked, snapping out of it. “Yes! Please, come in.” I sat awkwardly on the couch, noticing his gaze lingering on me. I felt a flush of warmth. It was a look I hadn’t received in ages, and it stirred something within me. But when I glanced up again, the intensity was gone. Had it just been a fleeting moment? A pang of disappointment washed over me as I studied Mr. Smith. He wore a tailored suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and muscular physique. Clearly, he worked out. He had an air of sophistication, every movement graceful and controlled. And those eyes… deep, dark, and intense, framed by sharp, handsome features. My heart skipped a beat. I thought of David… grumpy, impatient, especially since Leo was born. Always out with his friends, coming home reeking of beer. And when we did get intimate, his beer belly got in the way. Mr. Smith and David were polar opposites. What had I ever seen in David? I sighed. “Mr. Smith, where’s the baby?” “Right this way.” His voice was smooth and deep. I blushed again, following him, my eyes trailing over his perfectly sculpted back. He was breathtaking. I imagined him pinning me down, wild and passionate… He led me to the nursery where the nanny was trying to soothe a crying baby. The baby was wailing, clearly starving. I took a deep breath, pushing aside my fantasies, and smiled at the nanny. “Hi, I’m here to feed him.” As if sensing my milk, the baby reached for my chest, rooting around. I blushed again, glancing at Mr. Smith. “Take your time. I’ll be in the living room,” he said, sensing my discomfort. He smiled and left the room. Another point for Mr. Smith. I sat down, unbuttoned my blouse, and let my full breasts spill out. I began to feed the baby. Even after Leo’s feeding, I still had plenty of milk. The baby latched on, gulping hungrily, milk dribbling down his chin. The pressure in my breasts eased. My rock-hard breasts softened. Finally, some relief. But I felt a strange sensation… like someone was watching me. I glanced at the doorway a few times, but no one was there. I frowned. Was I imagining things? The baby finished eating and drifted off to sleep. I gently laid him in his crib. “All done?” Mr. Smith’s voice startled me. He was standing at the door. “Yes, Mr. Smith, come in.” He entered, smiling at the sleeping baby. “Thank you, Ms. Miller. He would have cried all night otherwise.” I blushed. “You’re welcome. It’s my pleasure.” “Let me get you paid.” He tapped on his phone and sent me $300. “Same time tomorrow?” “Thank you so much!” I beamed. Mr. Smith was not only charming but generous. He chuckled. “It’s what we agreed on.” I nodded, my breasts jiggling beneath my blouse. The tips brushed against the fabric, sending a shiver down my spine. That feeling again… “Well, Mr. Smith, if there’s nothing else, I should get going.” I wanted to escape the sudden awkwardness. As I bent down to put on my shoes, strong arms wrapped around me. My hand accidentally brushed against his hardness through his pants. “Mr. Smith… what…?” I stammered, looking up at him. His eyes were fixed on my cleavage, his face a mask of desire. I swallowed nervously. I tried to pull away, but his grip was firm. My struggle felt half-hearted. One arm was around my waist, the other cupping my breast. His fingers teased my nipple, and I felt a dampness between my legs. He smirked. “Ms. Miller, the baby’s fed, but Daddy’s still hungry.” My eyes widened. “Mr. Smith, no… my job is to feed your baby…” I couldn’t form a coherent sentence, my heart pounding in my chest. “I can pay you extra. You have plenty of milk to share. Consider it pain relief.” His eyes were filled with lust. My body flushed, my legs rubbing together involuntarily. The thrill of the forbidden, the excitement of the unexpected, washed over me. “Mr. Smith, I… I…” I couldn’t explain the turmoil inside me. I wanted to say no, but his gaze was mesmerizing. It had been so long since I’d been intimate with anyone, not since before Leo was born. I craved it, but we were both married. The thought of David’s perfunctory lovemaking flashed through my mind. Compared to the passion in Mr. Smith’s eyes, my body responded with a yearning I hadn’t felt in months. His warm breath tickled my ear. “Sarah,” he whispered, his voice husky, “I think you want this too. I know I do…” He scooped me up and carried me towards the bedroom. “No, Mr. Smith, you’re mistaken!” I cried, speaking faster than I ever had before. He chuckled and nibbled my earlobe. I shivered, biting my lip to suppress a moan. He tossed me onto the bed, his large body covering mine. His hand slipped inside my blouse, his rough fingers exploring my sensitive skin. A wave of pleasure washed over me, and I squeezed my legs together, a soft moan escaping my lips. “Can’t take it already?” he whispered against my ear. His hot breath on my neck sent shivers down my spine. “Mr. Smith, please… please stop…” I pleaded weakly, the last vestiges of resistance crumbling. He nuzzled my neck, his teeth grazing my skin, sending another wave of tremors through me. I moaned again, the sound undeniably seductive. His hardness pressed against me, and the scent of his cologne filled my senses. I was lost in the moment. “You’re wet, Sarah,” he murmured, his hand sliding beneath my skirt, finding my heat. I gasped, my body arching involuntarily. “Mr. Smith, you can’t…” I whimpered, tears welling in my eyes. “Please, don’t…” I wanted to kick him, to run, but his legs pinned mine. His lips found my center, sucking, drawing me in…