The hallway carpet swallows our footsteps.
My heels click.
His boots don’t.
He’s behind me. Close enough that I feel the heat radiating off his chest. Close enough that his breath ghosts over my neck.
I don’t look back. I don’t need to.
The neon exit sign paints our skin in sickly green.
My pulse hammers in my throat.
My nipples harden under the thin cotton of my top.
He stops.
I almost walk into him.
His hand slides around my waist. Fingers dig in. Possessive. Final.
“Let me walk you to your room,” he says. Voice low. Rough. Like gravel and whiskey.
I nod. Can’t speak. Can’t trust my voice not to break.
He steers me.
Not left.
Toward the far end of the corridor.
Toward the suite with the polished brass plaque.
I know what’s happening.
My stomach flips. Not fear. Hunger.
Something primal uncoils in my belly.
I don’t stop him.
I lean into him. Let his arm bracket my shoulders. Let his body shield mine from the cold draft of the elevators.
The elevator doors slide open.
He steps in. Pulls me against his chest.
The mirror shows us.
Me. Small. Trembling. Eyes wide.
Him. Towering. Jaw set. Eyes dark with something feral.
The bell dings.
Floor twelve.
His keycard clicks against the reader.
The door swings open.
Warm light spills out.
Floor-to-ceiling windows. City skyline glittering like shattered diamonds. Leather furniture. Dark wood. A king bed that looks like it could swallow me whole.
He kicks the door shut.
The lock engages.
I’m trapped.
Good.
His hands are on me immediately. Not frantic. Deliberate.
He backs me against the heavy oak desk.
“You’re sure,” he says. Not asking. Telling.
I nod.
“Say it,” he orders.
“Yes,” I breathe. “Please.”
His fingers find my belt buckle.
Slow. Methodical.
He undoes it. The sound is loud in the quiet room.
Jeans drop to my ankles.
I step out of them.
His hands slide up my bare thighs. Thumb pressing into my hip bone.
The skirt rides up. He hooks his fingers in the waistband and pushes it down.
I lift my arms. Let it fall.
He doesn’t rush my top.
He unbuttons it. One by one. Takes his time.
I shiver when the fabric parts.
Cool air hits my skin.
His palms replace it.
He cups my breasts. Squeezes. Rolls my nipples between thick fingers.
I gasp.
He smiles. Dark. Satisfied.
“You’re shaking,” he murmurs.
“Because you’re touching me,” I whisper.
He leans down. Lips brush my collarbone. Teeth graze.
He pulls my top over my head.
My bra follows. He unhooks it from behind. Doesn’t bother dropping it. Just lets it fall.
I’m bare. Exposed. Completely his.
He steps back. Looks at me.
My breath catches.
He’s staring like I’m the only thing in the world. Like I’m sacred. Like I’m a sin.
Both.
He undoes his own belt.
Slides off his jacket.
Unbuttons his shirt.
Chest hard. Muscular. Scars and ink. A tattoo curling over his ribs.
He kicks off his boots. Pants. Boxers.
He’s fully naked.
Thick. Veined. Already hard. Aching.
He doesn’t give me time to process it.
He grabs my waist. Lifts me.
I wrap my legs around his hips.
He carries me to the bed.
Drops me onto the duvet.
The mattress dips. I bounce. Look up at him.
He’s kneeling between my legs.
His hands slide up my thighs. Push them apart.
I spread for him. Open myself.
He doesn’t tease. Doesn’t play.
He lines up. Pushes in.
I cry out.
He’s huge. Stretches me. Fills me.
Heat blooms. Pain blooms. Then pleasure. Sharp. Electric.
He stops. Buried to the hilt.
“Breathe,” he growls. “Let me in.”
I do.
He groans. Low. Animal.
His forehead drops to mine.
“You’re his now,” he says. Voice raw. Absolute.
I nod. Tears prick my eyes. Not from pain. From rightness.
“Say it,” he demands.
“I’m his,” I gasp. “All his.”
He pulls back. Slides out.
I whine. Miss him already.
He lines up again.
This time he thrusts.
Hard. Deep. Unrelenting.
I scream. Clutch his shoulders. Dig my nails in.
He doesn’t flinch. Just grips my hips. Holds me in place.
Drives into me. Again. Again.
The bed creaks.
Skin slaps skin.
Breath comes in ragged gasps.
He’s inside me. So deep. Claiming every inch.
“Look at me,” he orders.
I do.
His eyes are black. Pupils blown. Full of something dangerous and devoted.
“I’m going to fill this pretty pussy up,” he says. “Got that? You’re taking every drop.”
“Yes,” I sob. “Please. Daddy.”
The word slips out.
He stills.
Then he moves. Faster. Harder. Like I just lit a fuse.
“Fuck,” he curses. “Say it again.”
“Daddy,” I whimper. “Daddy, please.”
He slams into me.
The rhythm is brutal. Perfect.
I meet him. Thrust back. Chase the friction. Chase the heat.
My toes curl. My back arches.
He grabs my hair. Tilts my head back.
Bites my neck. Hard.
I scream.
Orgasm hits like a freight train.
I shatter. Clench around him. Squeeze.
He groans. My name. My broken, desperate name.
He doesn’t slow.
Fucks me through it.
Rides my waves. Drives deeper.
“Gonna breed you,” he grits out. “Gonna plant my seed right where it belongs.”
I nod. Nod fast. “Do it. Fill me. Please.”
He’s there.
The tension snaps.
He thrusts one last time. Deep. Final.
Holds me tight.
Groans. Shudders.
Hot. Heavy. Pumping into me.
I feel every drop.
I come again. Harder. Screaming his name into the leather pillow.
He collapses over me.
Heavy. Warm. Solid.
His breathing is ragged. Mine is worse.
He doesn’t pull out.
Stays buried. Inside.
Keeps me full.
His hand slides up my stomach. Rests over my womb.
“Mine,” he whispers. “All mine.”
I wrap my arms around his neck. Pull him closer.
“Yours,” I promise. “Forever.”
He lifts his head. Looks down at me.
Wipes sweat from my forehead. Thumb traces my lip.
“We’re staying,” he says. “Not leaving this room. Not until I’ve bred you proper. Until you’re glowing with my child.”
I smile. Nod. “Yes.”
He shifts. Rolls onto his side. Pulls me against his chest.
Still inside me. Still connected.
His arm bands my waist. Leg hooks over mine.
He kisses my temple.
“No more bars,” he murmurs. “No more pretending. You’re my woman now. My wife. My mother.”
“I’m his,” I repeat. Voice steady. Certain.
He squeezes me tighter.
“I know,” he says. “Now rest. I’ve got you.”
I close my eyes.
Feel him pulse inside me.
Feel my body adjust. Take him. Keep him.
The city lights paint the ceiling in gold.
My heart is full.
My pussy is sore.
My soul is home.
He’s mine too.
And I’m never letting go.