Damien's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise breaking through his otherwise calm expression.
For a brief moment, he thought he might have been mistaken—but no. The sight before him was unmistakable.
'She's… milking herself…?' he thought, his gaze fixed on Nora in disbelief.
The rhythmic squeeze of her fingers, the faint wet sound as milk spurted softly into the small bowl before her—it all looked so surreal, almost out of place in the quiet of the room.
But then… the sight of her breasts, and even the milk spurting out of her nipples looked so beautiful at the same time.
He had never known about this—never even imagined that Nora's breasts could produce milk.
After all, it had been years since her child died, so technically, he doubted she should still be producing milk.
Her breathing was shallow, her hands trembling just slightly as she pressed her palms against her breasts and squeezed again.
