I moved up her body slowly. My mouth dragged across the milk trails on her stomach and cleaned them with each pass.
Silver-tier essence flooded my system with each pass. The System pinged points I ignored, because counting them right now felt like checking your phone during a fireworks show.
Naomi's hands found my shoulders and pulled. Not gently. She had a fisherman's grip and a fisherman's daughter's stubbornness, and when she wanted me somewhere, arguing wasted everyone's time.
I let her drag me up until my mouth reached her left breast again. Milk beaded fresh at the nipple, and I sealed my lips around it and pulled.
The taste of her flooded my throat, vanilla and warmth and that thing underneath I still didn't have words for after six weeks of drinking it. Naomi's back arched into my mouth. Her fingers threaded my hair and held me against her chest like she was worried I might leave.
