For a brief moment, the cloth stuck against the hardened peaks of her nipples, refusing to move any farther. He adjusted his grip and tugged again, and the fabric finally loosened. His smile deepened as he paused to admire the result.
There she was.
A mature breast with the kind of beauty that belonged to a woman who had lived, borne, and still retained a figure capable of stopping thought.
The exposed skin was warm under the room's low light. Her nipples, meanwhile, stood tight and flushed, already betraying far more than her voice had been willing to admit.
Julian glanced up at her.
"Your breasts are so perfect, Mother."
Olivia blushed deeply, but said nothing. She did not need to. Her body was already answering for her.
He did not wait any longer.
Julian leaned in and took one nipple into his mouth.
"Ahhh—"
