The clock on the wall doesn’t matter anymore.
I stopped checking it on day two.
Now, I just follow his rhythm. His breath. His touch.
The back room smells like him. Gasoline. Sandalwood. Heat.
I wake to the sound of his boots on concrete. Heavy. Grounded. Mine.
The door creaks. He’s there. Tall. Broad. Unforgiving in the dim light.
Black tank. Worn jeans. Those dark eyes locked onto me like I’m oxygen.
“Morning, little one,” he rumbles. Voice rough from sleep. Honey-thick with possession.
I sit up. Sheets pool at my hips. My body still remembers last night. Still aches. Still throbs.
“Morning, Daddy,” I whisper.
He crosses the room in three strides. Rough palm cups my jaw. Thumb drags over my swollen bottom lip.
“You stayed.”
“I know.”
“You should’ve run.”
“I couldn’t.”
A low growl vibrates in his chest. He leans down. Lips brush my ear.
“Good girl. You’re not running anywhere now.”
He pulls back. Studies me. Like he’s memorizing every freckle. Every shiver. Every surrender.
Then he’s dressing me. Literally.
Black sweater. Soft jeans. His clothes. Smell like him.
“Gonna need you warm,” he says. “Gonna need you fed. My girl can’t be starving when I’m filling her up.”
My stomach flips. Not from hunger. From anticipation.
“I’m always hungry for you,” I admit.
He freezes. Eyes darken. Heat flares in his gaze.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “Say it like that again and I’ll take you right here on the floor.”
I don’t move. Don’t blink. “Do it.”
He doesn’t. Not yet.
He pulls me into his lap. One arm around my waist. The other cradling my neck.
We sit like that for a long time. His heartbeat against my back. My head on his shoulder.
The radio hums static. The pumps click in the distance.
World outside keeps turning.
Inside, we exist in a bubble. Hot. Heavy. His.
“You’re gonna carry my child,” he murmurs against my hair. Voice quiet. Certain.
“I want to,” I whisper back.
He tenses. Pulls back just enough to look at me.
“Look at me,” he commands.
I do. Dark eyes. Unbroken focus. Raw need.
“You sure?” he asks. “Once I start, I don’t stop. I’ll breed you until you’re swollen. Until you’re carrying my legacy. Until you’re mine in every way that matters.”
“Yes,” I breathe. “Please. Fill me. Keep me. Make me yours.”
He groans. Rough. Deep. Hands slide down to my hips.
“Then stop talking,” he rules. “And take what’s yours.”
He stands. Pulls me with him. Boots on concrete. Back to the mattress.
He doesn’t strip me slow. He tears.
Sweater up. Jeans down. Underwear kicked aside.
I’m already wet. Dripping. Aching.
He stares. Mouth drops open. Eyes go black.
“Fuck,” he curses. “You’re so fucking ready.”
He drops to his knees. Hands on my thighs. Pushes them apart.
Fingers slide inside me. Thick. Unforgiving. Two. Three. Stretching me open.
I gasp. Back arches. Hands grip his shoulders.
“Look at you,” he rasps. “So wet for your Daddy. So greedy for my cock.”
“Please,” I beg. “Need it. Deep. Now.”
He pulls out. Stands. Unzips. Unbuttons.
His cock springs free. Thick. Veined. Already leaking.
I reach for it. He catches my wrist. Pins it above my head.
“Not yet,” he growls. “You wait. You take me when I say.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He lines me up. Pushes in.
I cry out. Stretching. Filling. The heavy head crowning inside my core.
He bottoms out. Groans. Forehead drops to my shoulder.
“God, you’re so tight,” he rasps. “So fucking perfect.”
He pulls back. Drives in again. Hard. Fast.
I wrap my legs around his waist. Let him take what’s mine.
He fucks me right there on the mattress. Rhythm punishing. Deep. Relentless.
Each thrust slams into my cervix. I whimper. Cling to him.
“Gonna breed you,” he grunts. “Gonna plant my seed deep where it belongs.”
“Yes,” I sob. “Fill me. Keep me.”
His pace breaks. Raw thrusts. Hips snapping against mine.
I feel it building. Coiling. Tight.
He grips my hips. Drives hard. Buries himself to the hilt.
“Take it,” he roars. “Take my cum.”
I clench around him. Orgasm rips through me. Hot. Shaking.
He follows. Groans my name. Cums deep inside my pussy. Hot. Thick. Claiming.
He stays buried. Panting. Forehead against mine.
“Mine,” he breathes. “Forever mine.”
The stockroom becomes my second bedroom.
Shelves of motor oil. Racks of tires. Boxes of filters.
He lifts me onto a metal cart. Sits me down. Kneels between my thighs.
Pulls down my panties. Bares me.
“Open up,” he orders.
I do. He takes me from behind. One hand in my hair. One gripping my hip.
Fucks me hard against the shelves. Boxes rattle. A can of lubricant falls and rolls.
I don’t care. Only feel him. Stretching. Filling. Growing me.
“You’re swelling up already,” he growls, thrusting deeper. “Gonna be so fucking full of me.”
“Daddy,” I pant. “Harder. Please.”
He obeys. Drives in. Hits my womb. I scream. Claws rake down his back.
He turns me around. Lifts me. Hips slamming. Back against the wall.
“Mine,” he snarls. “Say it.”
“Yours,” I choke out. “Only yours.”
He cums again. Hot. Flood. I feel it spill over my cervix. Soak into me.
He doesn’t pull out. Holds me tight. Kisses my neck. “Good girl. Keeping my babies.”
Afternoon. The customer bathroom. Small. Tiled. Mirror fogged with heat.
I lean against the door. He pushes it shut. Locks it.
Boots off. Belt undone. Jeans drop.
He doesn’t even ask. Just lifts me onto the sink. I straddle him.
Guiding him in. He groans. Eyes roll back.
“Fuck,” he curses. “You’re so wet. So ready.”
I ride him. Slow circles at first. Then faster. Harder.
The pipes groan. The mirror vibrates. I bite my lip to keep from crying out.
He grabs my hips. Fingers digging into soft flesh. Pulls me down.
“Take it deep,” he commands. “Let it settle.”
I nod. Bounce on his cock. Feeling it brush my cervix. Stretch me. Claim me.
“You’re not leaving,” he growls. Voice rough with need. “Not ever. You stay. You bear my children. You live in my bed. My world.”
“I want to,” I whisper. “I’ve always wanted to.”
He flips me. Pins me against the wall. Kneels. Pulls me over his shoulder.
Fucks me from behind. Hard. Unforgiving. Deep.
“Say you’re pregnant,” he demands.
“I am,” I sob. “I can feel you. In me. Growing.”
He thrusts harder. Fast. Relentless. “Mine. All mine.”
I come again. Shaking. Screaming into his arm.
He cums inside me. Hot. Heavy. Claiming.
He stays buried. Breathing me in. “That’s it. Keep it. Carry it. You’re mine now.”
Night falls. The back room. Again.
He strips me. Lay me out on the mattress. Like a bride. Like a treasure.
His hands roam. Cupping my breasts. Thumbing my nipples. Tracing my belly.
“Getting so soft,” he murmurs. “Gonna be perfect for my babies.”
“Yours,” I whisper. “Only yours.”
He enters me slow. Deep. No rush. Just worship.
Each thrust is a vow. Each groan is a promise.
“I’m not letting you go,” he rasps. “Not ever. You’re carrying my name. My blood. My future.”
“I’m scared,” I admit.
He stops. Looks at me. Eyes softening. “Don’t be. I’ve got you. Always.”
He kisses me. Deep. Possessive. Tasting my surrender.
“Let me love you,” he murmurs against my lips. “Let me build you a life. Full of my cock. My cum. My children.”
“Yes,” I breathe. “Please.”
He moves. Slow. Rhythmic. Deep.
I feel him. Inside. Everywhere. Claiming every inch.
When he cums, it’s a wave. Hot. Thick. Filling me.
He collapses beside me. Pulls me against his chest. Arm heavy across my stomach.
“Feel that?” he whispers.
“Your seed,” I say.
“Our baby,” he corrects. Voice rough with emotion. “Growing inside you. Right where it belongs.”
I place my hand over his. Press it against my lower belly.
Already warm. Already changing.
“We’ll keep it,” I whisper.
He kisses my temple. Holds me tighter. “We’re keeping it. Keeping you. Forever.”
Outside, the highway hums. Cars pass. World moves on.
Here, time stops.
He owns me. I’m his.
And somewhere deep inside, a new life is taking root.
My Daddy. My man. My forever.
I’m home.