The register beeps. Another customer. I hand over the receipt. Smile. Nod. My body moves on autopilot. My belly doesn’t. It’s swollen now. Heavy. Round. A perfect curve against the cheap polyester of my work shirt. Eight months. Seven if we’re counting. Doesn’t matter. He counts. I know he does.
Footsteps behind me. Heavy. Familiar. The floorboards know him before I do.
He doesn’t speak at first. Just warmth. Arms sliding around my waist. Fingers splaying over my stomach. His hands are calloused. Big. They fit there like they were carved for it.
“Morning, baby girl,” he murmurs. Voice rough. Low. Vibration hits my spine.
I lean back into him. Breathe him in. Diesel and leather and him. Always him.
He presses a kiss to my neck. Lips lingering. Teeth grazing. My knees weaken. Just like the first night. Just like every night.
“This is our life now,” he says. “Ours.”
Ours.
The word settles in my chest. Warm. Final. No more running. No more hiding. No more pretending I had a choice.
I didn’t. Not really.
He took what was his. Claimed it. Fought for it. Locked it inside me and swore I’d never leave.
And I didn’t.
I let him. I begged him to.
The station hums around us. The automatic doors slide open. Cold air rolls in. Someone’s waiting at the pump. Doesn’t matter. Time slows when he’s touching me. When he’s holding me.
His thumb strokes my hipbone. Grounds me.
“You good?” he asks.
I nod. Can’t speak. Not with him this close. Not with his cock hardening against my back just from holding me.
He knows. He always knows.
I shift. Feel the baby kick. Right where his hand is. He smiles. Big. Slow. The kind that reaches his eyes. The kind that used to terrify me. Now it just makes me melt.
“He’s showing,” Colt says.
“He’s always showing,” I whisper.
He chuckles. Low. Dark. Possessive.
“Gonna be a fighter. Like his mama.”
I turn in his arms. Face him. Look up. He’s older. Rugged. Lines around his eyes from years of squinting at the sun and the road. Jaw shadowed. Dark hair messy. Shirt open at the collar. Sweat on his brow. He’s been working the morning shift before me. Like always.
He didn’t let me work late. Not since he found out I was pregnant. Not since he decided I’m his responsibility. His treasure. His fucking wife in every way that matters.
He cups my face. Thumbs my cheeks.
“You tired?”
“A little.”
“Go sit. I’ll close it out.”
I shake my head. “I’m fine.”
He stares. That look. The one that used to make me shiver. Now it makes me feel safe. Wanted. Owned.
“Go,” he says. Soft. But firm. Alpha. Always.
I comply. I always do. He makes it so easy. So right.
I walk to the small table near the office. Sit. Rub my belly. Feel the life growing inside me. His. Mine. Ours.
He watches. Doesn’t look away. Like he’s memorizing me. Like he never wants to forget a single second of this.
I used to be scared of him. Terrified. A broken-down girl at midnight in a dead zone. All I wanted was a mechanic and a way home.
He gave me something else.
He gave me him.
He took me into that back room. Threw me on the desk. Told me I was his. Fucked me until I screamed. Until I begged. Until I couldn’t remember my own name.
And when my family sent the cops… he didn’t flinch. Fought like a animal. “She’s mine.” Said it like it was a law. Like it was God’s truth.
I believed him. I still do.
He bred me that night. Desperate. Raw. Claimed every inch of me. Filled me up. Marked me from the inside out.
I let him. I wanted it. I needed it.
Now I’m carrying his heir. His baby. The reason he looks at me like I hung the moon.
The office door clicks. He’s coming out.
Boots stop. He stands in the doorway. Arms crossed. Watching.
“You gonna sit there all day?” he asks.
“Depends,” I say. “You gonna join me?”
His eyes darken. “I’m gonna take you to the back. Where it’s quiet. Where I can touch you. Where I can hear you scream.”
My breath hitches. “Colt—”
“Now,” he says. “Before I drag you there myself.”
I stand. Slow. Careful. Belly heavy. Legs shaky. Not from fear. From want. Always from want.
He grabs my hand. Pulls me close. Presses his mouth to mine. Hard. Demanding. Tongue sliding past my lips. I taste him. Salt. Coffee. Him.
I melt. Again. Always.
He guides me backward. Into the office. Door shuts. Locks.
The world outside disappears.
Just us.
Just this.
Just him.
He turns me around. Pushes my work shirt up. Fingers under my waistband. Skirt rides up. He doesn’t care about the customers. Doesn’t care about the register. I’m his. Right now. In this room.
He unbuttons his jeans. Zips them down. Cock springs free. Thick. Heavy. Veined. Already leaking.
I stare. Heart pounds. Pussy twitches. Already wet. Always wet for him.
“Look at you,” he growls. “My pregnant girl. Still so fucking perfect.”
He grabs my hip. Pulls me back against him. One hand under my chest. One hand between my legs. Fingers slide through my soaked slit. I gasp. Back arches.
“You’re leaking,” he says. Voice rough.
“I’m always leaking,” I whimper.
“Good.” He presses two fingers deep. I cry out. Back arches. Eyes roll back. He smiles. “Gonna fill you up again. Gonna make sure you stay soft for me. Gonna make sure you carry this baby like the queen you are.”
I turn in his arms. Face him. Grab his cock. It’s hot. Heavy. Throbbing.
“Colt,” I beg. “Please.”
He doesn’t make me wait. Doesn’t tease. He lifts me. Sets me on the desk. Paperwork slides to the floor. Doesn’t matter.
He steps between my thighs. Unhooks my panties. Kicks them away.
I’m bare. Open. Ready.
He doesn’t rush. Never does when I’m like this. He traces my lips. My jaw. My throat. Down to my breasts. Squeezes. Nips.
“Mine,” he murmurs. “Every inch. Even this baby. Especially this baby.”
He lines up. Pushes in.
I gasp. Back arches. Eyes roll back.
He’s so deep. So thick. Stretching me. Filling me. Claiming me.
“Fuck,” he groans. “You take me so well. Even swollen. Even full. Still take my cock like you were made for it.”
I nod. Can’t speak. Just grip his shoulders. Feel him bottom out. Feel him pulse inside me.
He starts slow. Deep strokes. Each one hitting my cervix. Each one making me see stars.
“Look at me,” he demands.
I do.
His eyes are black. Feral. Devoted.
“You’re mine,” he says. “Baby girl. My girl. Mother of my child. You’re never leaving this station. Never leaving me.”
“I don’t want to,” I whisper.
He groans. Grabs my hips. Pulls me down on his cock. Takes me all the way.
I scream. Back hits the desk. He catches me. Holds me.
“God, you’re so wet,” he growls. “So fucking perfect. Gonna breed you again. Gonna make you carry twins next time. Gonna keep you right here. Right where you belong.”
He fucks me. Hard. Fast. Each thrust slamming into my womb. Each one pushing me closer. I’m clenching. Drooling. Breaking.
“Cum for me,” he commands. “Let it go. I’ve got you. Always.”
I shatter. Screaming his name. Back arching. Body locking around his cock. He groans. Drives deeper. Hips snapping.
He’s close. I can feel it. The way his thighs shake. The way his breath hitches.
“Mine,” he gasps. “All mine.”
He buries himself to the hilt. Hips still. Groans. And I feel it. Hot. Thick. Pulsing. Cum flooding my pussy. Filling me. Marking me.
I cry out. Again. Clinging to him. Feeling him spill inside me. Over and over. Claiming my womb. Claiming me.
He stays inside. Groaning. Forehead against mine. Breathing me in.
“Told you,” he murmurs. “Ours.”
I nod. Tears in my eyes. Not from fear. From peace. From belonging.
He pulls out. My belly dips. A drop of cum escapes. He catches it with his thumb. Wipes it. Doesn’t care.
He cleans me. Gently. Carefully. Wipes my legs. Pulls my skirt down. Buttons my shirt.
Then he sits. Pulls me into his lap. Cradles my belly.
“He’s moving,” he says.
I smile. “He’s always moving.”
He kisses my neck. Lips on my shoulder. Arms tightening.
“We’re good,” he says. “You and me. And this little shit. This is it. No more running. No more hiding. Just us. This station. This life.”
I rest my head on his chest. Listen to his heart. Steady. Strong. For me.
“I’m yours,” I whisper.
He holds me tighter. “I know. Always.”
The register beeps in the other room. Doesn’t matter. We’re closed. Or we will be. Doesn’t matter.
He’s here. I’m here. The baby is here.
Ours.
Forever.