He doesn’t give me a choice.
I’m halfway through my third set of leg presses when he steps in front of the machine.
Big. Imposing. Sweat glistening on his forearms.
“Let me spot you,” he growls.
His voice is gravel and smoke. It hits my core so hard I nearly drop the weights.
I nod before I can stop myself.
He grips the bar. His hands are everywhere. Steady. Unyielding.
Every time I push up, he’s there. Pushing back. Guiding me. His thumbs press into my hip bones.
“Good girl,” he murmurs.
My breath hitches. My nipples harden against my sports bra.
He knows. He can feel how wet I am already.
We move to the squat rack.
He spots me. Again.
The bar digs into my traps. My legs shake. I’m close to failure.
He doesn’t let me fail.
“Push,” he orders. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
I push. My thighs burn. My pussy throbs.
He leans in close. His chest presses against my back. His cock is a hard line against my ass through his gym shorts.
I gasp.
“Breathe,” he commands. “Take it all.”
I do. I take every heavy breath. Every scrape of muscle. Every filthy look in his dark eyes.
He watches me like I’m his.
Like I’ve always been his.
Instalove doesn’t hit me. It crashes over me. A wave. A flood. A claiming.
I’m already his. I just don’t know it yet.
Third set. Fourth set. His hands never leave me.
He adjusts my stance. Presses his palms flat against my lower back. Holds me upright. Holds me together.
“Feel that?” he asks.
I nod. My voice is gone. My body is humming.
“You’re trembling,” he says. “Because you’re built for me. Built to take me. Built to carry what I give you.”
I swallow hard. My throat is dry. My chest is tight.
He’s right. I can feel it. In my bones. In my blood.
My hips shift. My knees bend. My pussy leaks onto my leggings.
He feels it. Of course he does.
He always knows.
“Finish your set,” he says. “Then we’re done.”
I don’t want to be done.
I want more.
I push through the last rep. My legs buckle. He catches me. Catches me. Holds me against his chest.
His heartbeat is a drum. Fast. Heavy. Synced to mine.
“Breathe,” he whispers. “You did good. So good. So wet for me already.”
I whimper. My hands grip his biceps. My nails dig in.
“More,” I beg. “Please. I need more.”
He doesn’t answer with words.
He answers with his mouth.
His lips crash against mine. Hard. Dominant. No hesitation.
His tongue sweeps into my mouth. Tasting. Claiming. Marking.
I melt. I shatter. I give him everything.
He breaks the kiss. His eyes are black. Fierce. Hungry.
“Locker room,” he says. Not a question.
I follow.
The door clicks shut. The air is thick with steam and male musk and something darker. Desire.
He backs me against the cold metal lockers.
One hand pins my wrist above my head. The other tangles in my hair.
“Look at me,” he orders.
I do.
His jaw is clenched. His eyes are dark with hunger.
“You’ve been dripping for me since I walked in,” he says. “I felt it. Every step. Every shift of your hips. You wanted this.”
I nod. My throat is dry. My heart is pounding.
“Say it,” he demands.
“I want you,” I whisper.
“Louder.”
“I want you. Daddy. I need you.”
The word hangs in the air. Heavy. Sacred. Forbidden.
He groans. Rough. Primal.
“Then you get me.”
His belt buckles. Loud. Sharp.
My breath stops.
He drops to his knees. The fabric of my leggings and cotton panties is already soaked through. He can feel it. He knows it.
He yanks my panties aside. Two fingers slide inside me without warning.
“Fuck,” I gasp. “So deep.”
“You’re dripping,” he says. “Sitting here. Thinking about my cock. Thinking about stretching you open.”
He curls his fingers. Hits my spot. I cry out.
“I’m going to breed you,” he says. No hesitation. No doubt. Just fact. “You’re going to carry my cub. My legacy. My future.”
“Yes,” I sob. “Please.”
He stands. Unzips. Pulls out his cock.
Thick. Veiny. Heavy. Pulsing with heat.
I stare. My mouth waters. My pussy clenches.
He lines me up. Pushes in.
“God—!” I scream.
He bottoms out in one ruthless thrust. Stretches me wide. Fills me to the hilt.
I’m clamped around him. So tight. So wet.
“Mine,” he grunts. “Every inch. Every drop. Every breath.”
He pulls out. Slams back in.
Hard. Fast. Unrelenting.
The lockers shake. My hands grip his shoulders. My nails dig in.
“Look at me,” he commands.
I do. His eyes are locked on mine. Possessive. Fierce.
“This pussy belongs to me now,” he growls. “You hear me? No one else gets this wet. No one else gets this deep. You’re carrying my baby. Starting right now.”
“I’m yours,” I gasp. “Only yours. Breed me. Fill me. Keep me.”
He groans. His pace breaks into a brutal rhythm.
Each thrust hits my cervix. Each withdrawal drags a moan from my throat.
I’m close. So close.
“Come for me,” he orders. “Let me feel it. Let me mark you.”
I shatter.
My orgasm rips through me. Hard. Violent. Wave after wave. My pussy milks his cock. My back arches. My vision whites out.
He doesn’t stop.
He fucks through my climax. Drives deeper. Harder.
“Cum for Daddy,” he grunts. “Again. Take it all.”
I do. Again. My body locks. My pussy clamps down like a vise.
He roars.
His cock swells. Bursts.
Hot cum floods my core. Thick. Heavy. Claiming.
I feel it. Every pulse. Every drop. Filling me. Breeding me.
“Yes,” he gasps. “Take it. Keep it. Grow my baby.”
He stays buried. Throbbing. Pulsing. Marking me from the inside out.
I’m trembling. Dripping. Full.
He finally pulls out. A mix of my juices and his seed spills down my thighs.
He doesn’t clean me. He claims me.
His mouth finds my neck. Bites. Marks.
“You’re pregnant,” he says. Not a question. A fact. “I can feel it. The way you took me. The way your body opened. My cub is already there. Nesting. Growing.”
“Say it,” I whisper. “Claim me properly.”
He lifts my chin. His eyes burn.
“You’re mine,” he says. “Forever. Breeding. Carrying. My little girl. My mate. My wife.”
I nod. Tears in my eyes. Heart full.
“I’m yours,” I breathe. “All of me.”
He kisses me. Deep. Hungry. Sealing the vow.
Outside, the gym buzzes with noise.
In here, it’s just us.
My pussy still throbs. My belly still trembles.
But I’m not alone anymore.
He’s here.
He’s staying.
My cub is growing.
And I’m never letting him go.