Viktor, beneath all of this, had his face buried in Helviana's chest.
Both arms around her, pulling her against him, her breasts pressed to his face from above — she was positioned across him, her chest at his mouth level, his arms holding the small of her back, pressing her down into him as if she were specifically a chest-delivery device and everything else was secondary.
He sucked.
The milk came from her in a steady, warm, continuous stream, and he took it with the focused, unhurried attention of a man who had found something he liked and saw no reason to rush.
Helviana's spine curved.
Her head fell back.
Her hands found the back of his head — not pushing, not pulling, simply 'there', the way a woman's hands find the head of someone doing something to her breasts that has made thought difficult.
'"Mmnh~— haahh~— Mas...ter~— mnh~— please~—"'
Her hips were moving.
