Chapter 5: "The Penthouse"
The key turns.
The door swings open.
I step into a world that smells like him. Sandalwood. Clean linen. Power.
My fingers tighten around the strap of my bag. It feels suddenly stupid. Useless. I don't need to bring anything here. I never will.
He’s waiting by the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The city sprawls below him like a circuit board. He’s shirtless. A t-shirt draped over his arm. His shoulders are broad. His stance is unmovable. Those dark eyes track me the second I cross the threshold.
He doesn’t smile.
He doesn’t need to.
I’m already his.
“Put it down,” he says. Voice low. Command. “You’re not leaving it behind next time.”
I drop the bag. It hits the marble floor with a soft thud. My pulse jumps.
He crosses the room in three strides. Hands my waist. Pulls me flush against him. Heat radiates through the thin cotton of my top. His palms press flat against my stomach.
“You’re here,” he murmurs.
“I’m here.”
His thumb strokes a slow circle. He knows. He’s always known. The way my clothes drape differently. The way my skin burns when he looks at me. The way my body surrendered the second he claimed it.
He’s prepared for this. For me. For us.
He’s prepared for the life growing inside me.
“I packed my things,” I whisper. My voice trembles. “Most of them. The rest is in storage.”
He lifts my chin. Forces my eyes to his. “There’s no storage. There’s only this. Only me. Only you. You move in. Today. Or I carry you in. Your choice.”
It’s not a question.
It’s never been a question.
I nod. He kisses me. Hard. Claiming. His tongue slides against mine. Tasting. Possessing. I melt into him. I’ve been melting since the first time he backed me against that elevator door. Since the first time he used that word. Daddy.
I never wanted it to end.
He breaks the kiss. Breath ragged. Eyes dark. “Show me.”
“What?”
“Your stomach.”
I unbutton my jeans. He doesn’t hesitate. Hands inside. Warm skin against warm skin. His fingers trace the soft curve where my baby lives. Where our future lives. His breath catches. Just slightly. Just enough.
“Fuck,” he whispers. “You’re so beautiful.”
“I’m carrying your son,” I say. The words spill out before I can stop them. “Or a daughter. I don’t know yet. But it’s yours. All yours.”
His hand stills. Then presses harder. Grounding. Protective. “I’ll protect you both. I’ll build walls around you. I’ll drown the world in gold until it forgets your name. You’re mine. They’re mine. We don’t share.”
Instalove wasn’t a phase. It was a foundation. Something poured before we even knew each other’s names. Something that hit like a freight train and never slowed down. I believed it the first second I saw him. I believe it now, hands pressed to his chest, heart hammering against my ribs.
“Good,” I breathe. “I don’t want them to.”
He groans. Low. Primal. He flips me around. Backs me against the nearest wall. His mouth finds my neck. Teeth scrape. Lips seal. I gasp. My knees buckle. He holds me up. One arm under my thighs. The other tangled in my hair.
“Take it off,” he orders.
I do. He does. Fabric hits the floor. Skin meets skin. No hesitation. No pretense. Just hunger. Just need.
He lifts me. I wrap my legs around his waist. He walks us to the bedroom. To the massive king bed. He lays me down. Looks at me like I’m the only thing keeping him alive.
“Fuck me,” I beg. The words are out. Raw. Desperate. “Please. I need it. I need you.”
He doesn’t make me wait.
He strips. Shoves his pants down. Steps out of them. His cock springs free. Thick. Heavy. Veined. Already leaking. My mouth waters. My pussy clench. I’m already slick. Already drowning.
He drops to his knees. Between my thighs.
His hands grip my hips. Fingers digging in. Marking me. He spreads me open. Looks at me. Really looks.
“Look at me,” he commands.
I do.
He sinks down.
I cry out.
He’s everywhere. Stretching me. Filling me. Claiming me. His cock slides into my wet heat. I gasp. My back arches. My fingers claw at his shoulders. He’s so big. So perfect. So fucking mine.
He doesn’t rush.
He sets the pace. Deep. Relentless. Breeding. Pure breeding. Every thrust bottoms out. Hits that spot deep inside. The place that makes me see stars. The place that echoes our baby’s first kick. The place that says *stay. stay. stay.*
“I’m gonna fill you,” he growls. “Gonna pack you full. Gonna make sure you feel me all day. All night. Every time you walk. Every time you sleep. You’ll carry me inside you. You’ll carry my name. You’ll carry my child.”
“Daddy,” I sob. “Please. Breed me. Now. Please.”
He snaps.
Hips drive forward. Brutal. Efficient. Devastating. I shatter. My nails draw blood. My body clenches around him. I ride his cock like I was made for it. Because I was. He was made for me. We were made for this.
He grabs my hair. Pulls my head back. Exposes my throat. Bites down. Marks me. Claims me. I scream his name. My orgasm rips through me. Hot. Shuddering. Relentless. I clamp down on his cock. Milk him. Squeeze him. He roars. His control snaps.
He bottoms out. Holds me there. Deep. Thorough. His cock pulses. Hot cum floods my womb. Thick. Heavy. Claiming. I feel it coat me. Fill me. I feel my body accept it. Accept him. Accept our future.
He doesn’t stop. Keeps thrusting through the finish. Drives through my spasms. Fills me again. And again. I’m trembling. Drenched. Devastated. He collapses over me. Chest heaving. Heart hammering against mine.
We stay like that.
Breathing. Bleeding. Breeding.
His hand returns to my stomach. Fingers tracing. Pressing. Smiling against my skin.
“Mine,” he whispers. “All mine.”
“Yours,” I agree. “Forever.”
He rolls to his side. Pulls me with him. I curl into his chest. His arm bands around me. Heavy. Secure. Perfect. The city lights paint gold stripes across the ceiling. The baby shifts. Just a little. A tiny roll. A silent hello.
He feels it. His breath hitches. Presses a kiss to my temple.
“We’re gonna have a nursery,” he murmurs. “I already bought the furniture. Black oak. Gold hardware. I want it to match the rest of the penthouse. Match you. Match us.”
“I don’t need a nursery,” I say softly. “I just need you. I just need him. Inside me. Inside me. Inside me.”
He chuckles. Low. Dark. Possessive. “You’re stuck with me. You’re stuck with the kid. You’re stuck with Daddy. You tried to run. I caught you. I always catch you.”
“I’m not running,” I whisper. “I’m home.”
He turns me. Looks at me. Eyes soft. Dangerous. Devoted. “Good. Because I’m not letting go. Not ever. This is it. Happy ending. You and me. Our baby. My name on your ring. My cock in your pussy. My cum in your womb. Every day. Every night. Forever.”
“Say it again,” I beg.
“Happy ending,” he says. Thumb stroking my lip. “You’re mine. I’m yours. We don’t do bad endings. We don’t do open-ended. We do closed. We do sealed. We do forever.”
I kiss him. Slow. Sweet. Sure.
The next morning, I follow him to the elevator.
He presses the call button. The doors slide open. The sleek steel interior gleams under recessed lighting. But something’s different.
I step inside. He follows. Turns. Points to the panel.
A new button sits beside the floor indicators. Matte black. Engraved with three words.
*Do Not Disturb.*
I stare at it. My throat tightens.
He steps behind me. Chest to my back. Hands on my shoulders. “I had it installed yesterday. After you moved your things. After you passed out on the couch. After I realized I’d go through every building manager in this city if it meant keeping you safe. Keeping you private. Keeping you mine.”
He presses it.
A soft chime echoes. The doors close. The elevator stays exactly where it is.
“No one comes up,” he murmurs against my ear. “No one interrupts. No one looks. No one touches. Just us. Just you. Just you and the baby. Just you and me.”
I lean back into him. Close my eyes. Breathe him in. “This elevator brought you to me, baby girl,” I whisper.
His hands grip my waist. Tight. Possessive. He spins me around. Pins me against the steel wall. Kisses me like he’s trying to fuse our souls.
“It did,” he agrees against my lips. “And it’s never opening for anyone else. You’re my destination. My always. My HEA. My fucking everything.”
I wrap my legs around him. He catches me. Lifts me. I feel my body react. Already. Always. My pussy clenches. My nipples harden. My stomach flutters with our little one.
He carries us to the bed. Lays me down. Doesn’t take long. Doesn’t need to. He strips. Cocks. Enters.
Deep. Immediate. Claiming.
I gasp. Arch. Cling. He’s so hard. So perfect. So mine.
He thrusts. Slow. Devastating. Breeding. Every stroke bottoms out. Every thrust whispers *stay. stay. stay.*
“Cum for me,” he orders. “Mark you. Fill you. Claim you. Again.”
I shatter. Screaming his name. Clenching around his cock. He follows. Groaning. Pulsing. Flooding me. Hot. Heavy. Forever.
He stays inside. Holding me. Kissing me. Breathing with me.
“Happy ending,” he whispers.
“Happy ending,” I echo.
The elevator stays closed.
My belly swells.
His hands never leave me.
We’re home.