Divine Milking System

Chapter 416: 416 | The Lesson Begins

Not gentle. Not slow. Not the careful exploration of a first encounter. This was the continuation of something started in a farmhouse, the sequel to a story that had been building since the first time she’d looked at me with disgust that couldn’t quite hide curiosity. Her mouth opened under mine and she tasted like cherry candy and aggressive intent, her tongue pushing forward to meet mine with the same competitive energy she brought to combat.

My hands found her waist. Bare skin where the lingerie left nothing to the imagination. Her body was warm and solid against me, muscle and softness in proportions that made fashion designers weep. I pulled her closer and she gasped into my mouth, the sound vibrating against my lips.

She bit me.

Not hard enough to draw blood. Hard enough to make a point. Her teeth caught my lower lip and tugged, and when she released me her violet eyes were burning with something that looked like triumph.

"Too slow." Her voice was breathless but smug. "I expected better from someone with your reputation."

"My reputation?"

"Aurora talks. A lot. Especially after drinking." Her hands slid down from my shoulders to my chest, fingers spreading wide against the fabric of the hospital gown I was still wearing. "She told me what you did to her. How you made her feel things she didn’t know she could feel. How you ruined her for anyone else." Her nails curled slightly, dragging against the thin cotton. "I want that. I want you to ruin me so thoroughly that every person I’m with afterward feels like a consolation prize."

"That’s a high bar."

"I have high standards." She started pushing me backward. Toward the rows of student desks. "And right now you’re not meeting them. So either show me why Aurora can’t shut up about you, or admit that you’re all talk and no substance."

My back hit the edge of a desk. The cheap wood creaked under the sudden impact. Addison kept pushing until I was half-sitting on the surface, my legs splayed on either side of her body as she pressed forward into the space between my thighs.

"Sit down, student." She put both hands on my chest and shoved. I went backward onto the desk, the awkward angle making me catch myself on my elbows. She climbed up after me, knees on either side of my hips, straddling me on a surface designed for taking notes and pretending to pay attention during lectures. "Class is in session."

She kissed me again before I could respond. Her weight settled across my hips and the pressure made things very obvious very quickly, the thin fabric of the hospital gown providing zero concealment of my body’s reaction to having a goth goddess in black lace grinding against me on a classroom desk.

Her hands pulled at the gown. The cheap ties at the back gave way immediately and she pushed the fabric aside with the impatience of someone unwrapping a present they’d been waiting months to receive. Her palms pressed flat against my chest and her eyes widened slightly at what she found there.

"When did you get abs?"

"Six weeks of training with a system that accelerates physical development."

"Six weeks." Her fingers traced the definition that hadn’t existed when I’d first arrived at the academy, the muscle that had replaced the softness of the lottery winner’s body. "Six weeks and you look like this. That’s bullshit. That’s complete and utter bullshit."

"Life’s unfair."

"Clearly." She leaned down and kissed my collarbone. Her black lipstick left a mark against my skin, a dark smudge that looked like a brand. She kissed lower, following the line of my sternum, leaving more marks as she went. "I hate you. I hate that you’re this hot. I hate that Aurora saw you first. I hate that I’m jealous of my best friend for meeting a guy who was fat and disgusting six weeks ago."

"You’re really selling the seduction here."

"Shut up." She bit my chest. Not gentle. The pain mixed with the pleasure of her mouth moving against my skin and the combination made me hiss through my teeth. "I’m processing. Let me process."

Her mouth traveled lower. Across my stomach. Along the ridges of muscle that still surprised me every time I looked in a mirror. She paused at my navel and looked up, her violet eyes meeting mine from the expanse of my own torso.

"I’m going to make you feel so good you forget you’re dying." Her voice dropped into something serious. Something real beneath the aggression and the posturing and the elaborate display of not caring. "And then you’re going to drink from me until you’re not dying anymore. And then we’re going to do this again. And again. Until neither of us can walk."

"That’s an ambitious agenda."

"I’m an ambitious woman."

She kissed the spot just above the waistband of my boxers. I reached down and tangled my fingers in her hair, pulling loose the bun entirely so black and purple strands spilled across my stomach like ink in water. She made a sound that might have been approval or might have been challenge, and then her teeth caught the elastic of my waistband and she started pulling with her mouth.

I stopped her.

My hand tightened in her hair. Not painfully. Controlling. She froze with the elastic between her teeth and looked up at me with something flickering behind those violet contacts that might have been surprise or might have been excitement.

"Not yet."

"Excuse me?"

I sat up. The movement pulled her with me, my hand still tangled in her hair, and suddenly our positions were reversed. She was kneeling on the desk and I was sitting upright with her face level with my chest, close enough that her breath warmed my skin where her lipstick had left marks.

"You came here to save me." I released her hair and cupped her face instead, tilting her chin up to meet my eyes. "You walked through a hospital in lingerie and demanded access to my dimension and you’ve been telling me what to do since you got here. But that’s not how this works."

"Oh?" Her voice wavered slightly. Just enough to notice.

"They told you about the farmhouse. About the blindfold. About what I did to her." I stroked my thumb across her cheekbone, just below the dark smudge of her eye makeup. "But she didn’t tell you everything. She couldn’t. Because what happened between us wasn’t just physical. It was about trust. About surrender. About giving up control to someone else and discovering that letting go feels better than holding on."

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