Divine Milking System-Chapter 50 | The Third Peak Requires His Tongue

He moved. Pulled back far enough to reach for the waistband of her shorts with both hands, and Naomi lifted her hips without being asked, and he pulled them down and off in one motion and set them somewhere she didn’t track.

The sanctum air was cool against the inside of her thighs.

She resisted the urge to press them together. Barely.

Jace looked at her. Actually looked, all of her, laid out against the cream sheets in nothing but her unfastened sports bra still bunched at her waist, and whatever his expression was doing during that moment, she was grateful she couldn’t fully read it because she suspected it would have made her lose the remaining composure she was holding by a thread.

"Naomi."

"Don’t say anything nice." The words came out faster than she intended, almost reflexive, her throat tight with something she wasn’t ready to name. "I genuinely cannot handle that right now."

He closed his mouth.

Then he moved, shifting his weight back over her, and she tracked him mostly through sensation because looking at him directly still felt like too much. He settled beside her rather than on top of her, the mattress dipping under him, close enough that she could feel the warmth coming off his skin.

His hand came to rest against her inner thigh, low, nowhere near dangerous yet, and the muscle there jumped hard at the contact like she’d been startled even though she’d seen it coming.

Nn—

He didn’t rush it. That was the part that was going to kill her, probably. He moved slow and deliberate, his palm pressing down and then drawing back up, each pass landing a fraction higher than the last, never quite arriving anywhere, just warmth and steady pressure against the soft skin there.

Close enough that she was very aware of what he wasn’t touching. She could feel her own pulse in places that had no business having a pulse.

Her hands found the sheets on either side of her hips and took hold.

"Jace—"

"I know."

"Then—"

"I know."

He wasn’t being cruel about it. He was being thorough, which landed somewhere between better and worse depending on the second, and then his fingers found her properly and the exhale she let out wasn’t something she chose to make.

Ha—

She was embarrassingly wet. She’d been aware of this for a while. He was clearly aware of this. The entire sanctum was probably aware of this.

There was no version of the next few minutes where she could pretend otherwise, and somewhere around his third slow circle she stopped trying to maintain that fiction and focused instead on the much more immediate problem of not crushing his hand with her thighs, which was a genuine concern.

Haahn— ah—

His mouth came back to her breast. The left one, the first one, and she felt the pull of the extraction settle over everything else like a second layer of sensation stacked directly on top of the first, and her brain went almost completely white. No thoughts. No self-narration. Just the dual pressure of his hand and his mouth working at the same time, pulling her in two directions at once.

Nn— Jace— haah—

He drank. He kept moving his fingers. His arm stayed braced across her stomach, holding her down against the mattress when her back tried to arch off it, and Naomi said his name into the cool air of the sanctum until the word stopped having any meaning at all.

Until it was just sound. Just breath shaped into two syllables that her mouth kept producing because it was the only thing left she was capable of.

Ah— Jace— Jace—

"Jace—!"

The second orgasm was longer than the first. It moved through her in waves that overlapped, each one hitting before the last finished, and she held the back of his head and the sheets simultaneously and made sounds that no longer embarrassed her because she’d run out of the capacity for embarrassment around the first wave.

Haahn— nn— ah— ah—

His arm kept her grounded. His mouth kept working. The milk came hard when she peaked and she felt him swallow, once, twice, keeping up, and the sensation of that during the orgasm added something to it that she couldn’t categorize and didn’t try.

She came down slowly.

The trembling in her thighs took a while to stop.

Schlk.

He released her breast. Licked along the underside of it. Chased the leak down the curve and caught it with his tongue and Naomi watched this happen from somewhere above herself, absolutely disconnected from her body in the best possible way.

"Two," he said against her skin.

"I know," she managed.

His chin rested against the top of her breast. Looking up at her.

"Still warm?" he asked.

She laughed. It came out breathless and a little broken. "Jace. I am so warm."

He pressed his mouth to the swell of her chest. Once, warm, unhurried.

"Good," he said.

Then he started moving down.

Naomi’s stomach dropped.

"Wait—"

"Told you," he said against her sternum, mouth warm on the bone, "to tell me if something’s wrong."

"Nothing is wrong, I just—" His mouth pressed to the center of her ribs, slow and purposeful, and she pulled in a sharp breath that lifted her whole chest. "I just need a second to—"

He kissed below her ribs. Then below that.

Ah.

Whatever she was going to say dissolved. Her hands went back to the sheets and she stopped trying to finish the sentence.

He moved lower, taking his time, his mouth tracing down her stomach, and her abdominals contracted with every point of contact, and Naomi stared at the sanctum ceiling with the fake moon pouring silver light across both of them and thought, clearly and simply: she was absolutely getting devoured tonight.

She’d walked in here thinking she was ready.

She was starting to understand that ready had nothing to do with it.

His hands pressed flat against her inner thighs and spread them and Naomi made a sound that started as a word and ended as pure noise, and then his mouth finally, finally found the place she’d been waiting for since field training, since four o’clock, since before she’d decided about the panties, and the sound she made this time had no shape at all.

Haahn—!

"Jace—"

His tongue moved. Slow at first. Patient. The way he always did things.

And Naomi stopped thinking in complete sentences entirely.