The elevator doors slide shut. I lean against the mirrored wall, checking my watch. 4:12 PM. I’m late. Again. My heels click a frantic rhythm against the steel floor. I just need to get to the top floor. The board meeting. My career. Everything rests on this pitch. My heart hammers. My palms sweat. I smooth my skirt. Breathe. Count to ten.
A shadow falls over me. I turn.
He’s already inside. The doors closed on him.
My breath hitches.
He’s tall. Broad. Built like a god carved from marble and dark suits. The fabric of his charcoal jacket clings to his shoulders. His tie is silk, perfectly knotted. A silver cufflink glints. But it’s his face that stops me. High cheekbones. Sharp jaw. Eyes the color of storm clouds. Older. Maybe late forties. The kind of age that means experience. Power. Control.
He looks at me. Really looks.
My pulse jumps to my throat.
“You’re staring,” he says. His voice is low. Rough. Like gravel wrapped in velvet.
“I—” I swallow. “Sorry. The elevator—”
He steps closer. Just one step. The space shrinks. I smell him. Sandalwood. Expensive scotch. Pure man. His gaze drags down my body. Lingers on my chest. My hips. My face. Heat floods my core. I should look away. I don’t.
“Don’t apologize,” he murmurs. “You’re beautiful.”
My nipples peak under my silk blouse. My pussy clenches. Just from his voice. Just from his look.
He smiles. Small. Confident. “I’m Cassian.”
“Jessa.”
“Jessa.” He rolls it off his tongue like a promise. Like a vow.
The elevator shudders. A loud groan echoes. The lights flicker. Then—blackout.
Emergency brakes slam. The car drops a fraction. Stops.
I gasp. “Oh god.”
He doesn’t flinch. Just presses a button. A soft chime. “Looks like we’re stuck, sweetheart.”
My name doesn’t fit in this moment. Sweetheart does. I bite my lip. Nod. “We’re trapped.”
“No,” he says. He steps into my space. One hand braces against the wall. The other lifts to brush a stray curl from my cheek. His fingers are warm. Calloused. “We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.”
My breath stops.
He’s looking at my mouth. Then my chest. Then back to my eyes. The hunger in his gaze is raw. Unfiltered. It hits me like a physical blow. My knees weaken. My breath hitches.
“Cassian,” I whisper.
“Daddy,” he corrects. Soft. Absolute. “Call me Daddy.”
The word drops between us like a spark in dry grass. I should say no. I should step back. Instead, I lean in. “Daddy.”
He groans. A low, primal sound. His hand slides from my cheek to my jaw. His thumb presses my bottom lip. “Good girl.”
The elevator hums around us. Forgotten. We’re in our own world now.
He backs me against the mirrored wall. His body cages me in. Heat radiates off him. I press my hands to his chest. The fabric is thick under my palms. I feel the hard plane beneath. The power. The control.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he murmurs. His other hand slips down my side. Over my hip. My thigh. “Since the moment I walked into this lobby. You’re mine now, Jessa.”
“I’m not—” I start to protest. He cuts me off with his mouth.
His lips crash into mine. Hard. Demanding. I melt. My tongue meets his. He tastes like dark chocolate and power. I moan into his mouth. My hands tangle in his hair. He groans again, deeper this time. His hips press against mine. I feel him. Hard. Heavy. Already awake. Already claiming.
“Fuck,” he breathes against my lips. “You’re so wet for me.”
I gasp. He’s right. My panties are soaked. I haven’t been this turned on in years. Maybe ever.
His hand slips under my skirt. Up my thigh. Over my hip. He finds my clit through my silk panties. Rubs once. Twice.
I cry out. My back arches. “Daddy—”
“Yes,” he growls. “Let me hear it. Let me feel you break.”
He peels my panties down. Kicks them away. His hand slips inside. Two fingers. Deep. Straight to my core. I gasp. His thumb finds my clit. The dual pressure is electric. My knees buckle. He catches me. One arm around my waist. The other works me like he was born to.
“Look at me,” he commands.
I lift my eyes. His storm-gray irises are dark with lust. Possessive. Fierce.
“You’re mine,” he says again. “Body. Mind. Womb. All of it.”
“Yes,” I whimper. “Yes, Daddy. I’m yours.”
He pulls his fingers out. I whine at the loss. He unbuckles his belt. The leather slides free. I watch, mesmerized, as he pushes his trousers and boxers down. His cock springs free. Thick. Veined. Heavy. Already leaking. The sight makes my pussy clench. Droplets of my slick hit the elevator floor.
“Kneel,” he says.
I don’t hesitate. I drop to my knees. The polished steel is cool against my shins. I look up at him. He’s already unbuttoning his shirt. Buttons fall. Chest muscles ripple. Veins trace his forearms. He’s perfect.
He grabs my hair. Not hard. Firm. A promise. “Open.”
I part my lips. He guides himself to my mouth. I take him in. He’s thick. Gags slightly, then swallows. He groans, hips rolling. His hands grip my shoulders. I suck. Slide. My hand wraps around his base. Strokes. He’s so big. My mouth stretches. My throat opens. He lets me take him deep. Teases me with the head. Swallows me until my nose brushes his stomach. I hum. The vibration makes him tense.
“Fuck,” he curses. “You’re gonna ruin me.”
I pull back. Look up. “Please, Daddy. I need you inside me.”
He doesn’t make me beg twice. He lifts me. Turns me. Faces me against the mirror. I press my palms flat. My skirt rides up. He grips my hips. Positions himself. The tip presses against my entrance. Already soaked. I’m dripping for him.
“Breathe,” he murmurs. “Take it all.”
He pushes in.
I cry out. Stretch. Fill. He’s so large. My walls clamp down. He stills. Lets me adjust. “You’re taking me so well,” he whispers. “Perfect little pussy. Built for me. Built to carry my babies.”
The breeding fantasy hits me like a lightning strike. I never thought I wanted it. Never let myself want it. But him? I’d take his cock. His cum. His heir.
“Yes,” I gasp. “Fill me. Breed me.”
He grabs my hips. Hard. Drives in. Deep. To the hilt. I scream. My head falls back. His chest presses against my back. His breath hot on my neck.
“Mine,” he growls. “Every thrust. Every drop. You’re mine.”
He pulls out. Slams in. The impact knocks the air from my lungs. He sets a ruthless pace. Fast. Deep. Relentless. His cock stretches me. Hits my cervix. I whimper. He doesn’t slow. His hands grip my hips. My breasts bounce. My skirt bunches around my waist. The mirror shows us. Him. Towering. Commanding. Me. Drenched. Broken open. His.
“Look at us,” he commands. “Watch how I claim you. Watch how my cock fills your womb.”
I lift my head. Watch. His thick shaft disappears into me. My slick coats him. The sound is wet. Raw. Erotic. He’s pounding me like a man starved. Like he’s been waiting for this. Waiting for me.
“I’m close,” I sob. “Daddy, I’m close.”
“Come for me,” he orders. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
I shatter. My back arches. My walls clamp down on his cock. I scream. He groans. His hips stutter. He doesn’t stop. Drives through my orgasm. Keeps pounding. Keeps claiming.
“Cum inside me,” I beg. “Please. Breed me.”
He grips my hair. Pulls my head back. Bites my shoulder. I cry out. He thrusts hard. Once. Twice. He stops. Buried to the root. His body tenses. A guttural roar tears from his throat.
“Take it,” he growls.
He pulses. Hot. Thick. Pumping cum deep inside me. I feel it flood my core. My womb swells. He empties himself. Again. Again. I whimper. Clench around him. Drinking him in. Every drop.
He collapses against me. Chest heaving. Sweat on his skin. Still hard. Still inside. I hold him. My hands slide up his arms. His shoulders.
“God,” he breathes. “You felt that. Felt me fill you.”
“Yes,” I whisper. “I felt it. I felt you.”
He turns me. Faces me. His storm eyes are soft now. Fierce. Devoted. He cups my face. “You’re staying. With me. You hear me?”
I nod. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Good.” He presses his forehead to mine. “We’re building something. A family. You’re carrying my child. And I’m never letting you go.”
The elevator doors groan. Lights flicker back on. But neither of us moves.
We don’t need to.
He’s inside me. Still. Still cumming. Still mine.
And I’m already pregnant with his love.