Read Online Bloodchild by Andrew Neiderman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Andrew Neiderman
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permitting the sheer material to slip over her breasts and gather at her waist. Then she stretched out on the bed beside the baby, turning him toward her. He brought his right hand to her left breast and pressed his palm against it. She smiled when he giggled and smacked his lips.
She turned onto her back and lifted the baby so he could rest on her stomach, just below her bosom. She enjoyed the feel of his movement on her body, and for a while she just lay there with her eyes closed.
But it wasn't enough. Her breasts were aching. She cupped them and pressed her palms against them, but nothing stopped the dull but constant agony. She felt like she had been brought to the point of an orgasm and then left to dangle. She couldn't help herself.
She kept telling herself it was bad for the baby to feed so often. Surely he would regurgitate and maybe even get sick, but there was a force working within her that pushed all her motherly concern aside. With her eyes still closed, she reached down and grasped him at the waist. Slowly she brought him up to her breasts until she felt his lips slide over her right nipple.
For a few moments the baby did nothing. When she opened her eyes and looked down, she saw him looking up at her as if he were teasing her. Gently she brought her right hand to the back of his head and pressed him forward, urging him to feed. Then he closed his eyes and she felt the pressure when his lips tightened around her nipple.
In fact, the pressure was so strong that it seemed to her he was drawing out the very marrow from her bones. Even though there was nothing painful about it, she did experience a momentary sensation of fear because it felt as though her whole body were being sucked out through that nipple. The baby was consuming her. In her wild imaginings she saw herself deflate like a balloon and then sucked through his lips until he was left with a swollen, red stomach lying on her nightgown.
The image continued to frighten her so much that she cried out, but the baby went on feeding. She brought her hand to the back of his head and felt his neck muscles working, rippling like the thick body of a python as it ingested and then digested a rat. She couldn't pull her breast from his lips. She could only lay there and wait for him to be satiated once again. She closed her eyes and let it go on.
When she had come into the bedroom, she had left the door open, and now, under the baby's grasp, she forgot about it. In fact, she never heard Harlan come to the door. He started in, coming up to see what she was doing and why she wasn't joining him and Jillian downstairs. As soon as he made the turn into the room, he stopped and stared.
The baby was on its stomach right beside her, his head up, his lips tugging on her right breast. She opened her eyes slightly, the eyelids fluttering, and looked at Harlan. He didn't move; he didn't speak. Then she closed her eyes again. He watched in fascination for a few more moments and then left the room, chased out by the sight of the baby making such dramatic and powerful demands on Dana's body.
He was still flushed when he reached the living room. Jillian looked up from the newspaper expectantly.
"Where is she? What is she doing?"
"She's… feeding him."
"Again? Harlan, that's not normal." He shrugged and Jillian got up.
"Don't go up there," he said. "Leave her."
She stared at him. "Why?"
"We'll talk about it later. Please, Jillian. Let's not pressure her just yet."
She thought for a moment, looked up toward the stairway, and then shook her head.
"All right," she said. "But there's something wrong here, and it's more than postdelivery blues. Everything that makes me a mother tells me that," she said. "I'm sure it has something to do with the dramatic events of the past week, but still…" She looked up again. "I'm worried about her, Harlan. She's different; she's terribly different."
She turned back to him and he nodded.
"I'll get her to go to the doctor this week,"
She turned onto her back and lifted the baby so he could rest on her stomach, just below her bosom. She enjoyed the feel of his movement on her body, and for a while she just lay there with her eyes closed.
But it wasn't enough. Her breasts were aching. She cupped them and pressed her palms against them, but nothing stopped the dull but constant agony. She felt like she had been brought to the point of an orgasm and then left to dangle. She couldn't help herself.
She kept telling herself it was bad for the baby to feed so often. Surely he would regurgitate and maybe even get sick, but there was a force working within her that pushed all her motherly concern aside. With her eyes still closed, she reached down and grasped him at the waist. Slowly she brought him up to her breasts until she felt his lips slide over her right nipple.
For a few moments the baby did nothing. When she opened her eyes and looked down, she saw him looking up at her as if he were teasing her. Gently she brought her right hand to the back of his head and pressed him forward, urging him to feed. Then he closed his eyes and she felt the pressure when his lips tightened around her nipple.
In fact, the pressure was so strong that it seemed to her he was drawing out the very marrow from her bones. Even though there was nothing painful about it, she did experience a momentary sensation of fear because it felt as though her whole body were being sucked out through that nipple. The baby was consuming her. In her wild imaginings she saw herself deflate like a balloon and then sucked through his lips until he was left with a swollen, red stomach lying on her nightgown.
The image continued to frighten her so much that she cried out, but the baby went on feeding. She brought her hand to the back of his head and felt his neck muscles working, rippling like the thick body of a python as it ingested and then digested a rat. She couldn't pull her breast from his lips. She could only lay there and wait for him to be satiated once again. She closed her eyes and let it go on.
When she had come into the bedroom, she had left the door open, and now, under the baby's grasp, she forgot about it. In fact, she never heard Harlan come to the door. He started in, coming up to see what she was doing and why she wasn't joining him and Jillian downstairs. As soon as he made the turn into the room, he stopped and stared.
The baby was on its stomach right beside her, his head up, his lips tugging on her right breast. She opened her eyes slightly, the eyelids fluttering, and looked at Harlan. He didn't move; he didn't speak. Then she closed her eyes again. He watched in fascination for a few more moments and then left the room, chased out by the sight of the baby making such dramatic and powerful demands on Dana's body.
He was still flushed when he reached the living room. Jillian looked up from the newspaper expectantly.
"Where is she? What is she doing?"
"She's… feeding him."
"Again? Harlan, that's not normal." He shrugged and Jillian got up.
"Don't go up there," he said. "Leave her."
She stared at him. "Why?"
"We'll talk about it later. Please, Jillian. Let's not pressure her just yet."
She thought for a moment, looked up toward the stairway, and then shook her head.
"All right," she said. "But there's something wrong here, and it's more than postdelivery blues. Everything that makes me a mother tells me that," she said. "I'm sure it has something to do with the dramatic events of the past week, but still…" She looked up again. "I'm worried about her, Harlan. She's different; she's terribly different."
She turned back to him and he nodded.
"I'll get her to go to the doctor this week,"
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