Milk Fed - Melissa Broder Page 0,60
kind enough to feed me. She moaned into my mouth. Her throat clicked a little, and I drank up all the sounds.
Gently, I kissed her lower lip, the side of her mouth, her chin, and then the plump white area under her chin. I began to suck on her there, not hard, just enough to nurse for a moment like a calf drinking of its mother. Then I moved my mouth to where her Adam’s apple was, just underneath all that flesh, and sucked there for a while. I was hungry to taste each of her moles, but I took it slow and teased myself like I was just beginning a big feast.
I moved first to the milk chocolate drops on the side of her neck, then made my way to the dark chocolate drop, right at the center of her throat. She made new sounds as I tongued at them, as though they each mapped a different locus of pleasure on her body. As I sucked, it was as though they were the phantom moles cut from my body years ago, and I was sucking myself. Only instead of my inner arm, they resonated in my pleasure points: my throat, my chest, my pussy.
I longed to take off Miriam’s shirt and enjoy those heavy breasts of hers. I wanted to lick her down her belly, all the way to her cunt, taste all of her. But I didn’t dare go past that center mole, no lower, although I was wet, then wetter, and my pulse beat hard. I felt queasy with desire, weakened by it. But I could also keep going. I kept my mouth on her neck, slowly moved my hands to her breasts, cupping all that I could over her shirt. She was in my hands and spilling out. It was touch heaven.
She was an infinite planet with so many different territories on which to set up camp and play. If I had eons, I’d still never finish exploring her. I sensed that I could feel what she was feeling. She shivered at my every touch, and I wanted to make her feel even more. I wanted us both to go even higher.
Without removing any clothing, I pinched her nipples through the fabric and squeezed her breasts harder, circling my fingers around her areolae, gently milking her with my hands. I swore that I could smell her pussy now, earthy and creamy, like a cool basement, wafting up from between her thighs. Then, suddenly, she pulled away.
“It’s getting late,” she said, my spit still on her upper lip. “I’m going to have to go.”
I wanted to say, Stay! Sleep over!
But instead I kissed her on the forehead and on each of her eyelids.
“You’re going to come back, aren’t you?” I asked.
“Oh, Rachel,” she said in a way that sounded sad.
She paused for a moment.
“Yes,” she said finally. “I will come back.”
“When?” I asked. “Tomorrow! Come back tomorrow!”
Her face lit up at the possibility.
“Yes!” she said. “I guess I could come back tomorrow!”
“Good,” I said, stroking her hair.
I walked her to the door and put my mouth on her mouth a final time.
I love you, I mouthed silently into her mouth.
If I did not love Miriam, if it was purely attraction, then I felt that I would never know what love was—and I did not care to know. And when she left, I got down on my knees and touched my face to the ground.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I said to who knew what.
I wasn’t even sure if Jews prayed on their knees. But I was so grateful.
CHAPTER 52
I was drinking Lipton in the office kitchen, because Ana hadn’t offered me Harney & Sons. The Lipton was fucking good. I’d forgotten how much I loved Lipton.
“You seem happy,” she said suspiciously, blowing on her tea.
“Oh god, that’s a terrible thing to say to a person,” I said.
“I’m serious.”
But it was true. I couldn’t hide my joy. The change was obvious. I was putting milk in my Lipton with regular sugar, lots of it, stirring it into a sort of milkshake-type concoction with a jaunty yet circular motion. There were some leftover shortbread cookies from a meeting that had taken place earlier in the day. I picked one up, dunked it in the tea, and bit it.
“Are those good?” Ana asked me, scrunching her nose.
“They aren’t bad,” I said.
“You’re happy,” she said. “Now tell me why.”
“No real reason,” I said.
“Oh, come on. This wouldn’t have to do