Two pink lines.
I don’t blink.
I don’t breathe.
The plastic stick sits on the bathroom counter like a gavel.
Final.
Irreversible.
Mine.
His.
Ours.
I press my palm to my stomach.
Flat.
Still.
Already carrying something that isn’t mine by birth.
By blood.
By claim.
His.
The bedroom door clicks open.
He’s in the doorway before I hear his boots.
Big.
Solid.
Filling the frame like he owns the air.
Daddy.
My alpha.
My ruin.
“You’re standing in the dark,” he says.
Voice low.
Rough.
Gravel and heat.
“Looking at something that just changed everything.”
I can’t speak.
Throat locked.
Chest tight.
He crosses the room in three steps.
Takes the stick from my fingers.
Reads it.
His jaw locks.
I feel the shift in him before I see it.
Something primal wakes up.
Something territorial.
Something feral.
Mine.
I’m his.
The baby’s his.
“Say it,” he orders.
“I’m pregnant,” I whisper.
He curses.
Not angry.
Shit.
Holy fucking shit.
He pulls me against his chest.
One arm bands around my waist.
The other cups my back.
Hard.
Possessive.
That’s my kid, he growls into my hair. Carrying my name. My blood. My legacy.
I nod.
Can’t speak.
Tears prick.
He feels them.
Pulls back just enough to look at my face.
Thumb wipes my cheek.
Rough skin.
Warm.
You’re carrying my son, he says. Certainty. Or my daughter. Either way, it’s mine. And it’s yours. And I’m never letting you go.
I lean into his touch.
“I’m scared,” I admit.
He laughs.
Dark.
Rich.
Good. Should be. But you don’t get to be scared alone. You got me. You got Daddy. And I’m gonna lock you down so tight you’ll forget what freedom looks like.
He kisses me.
Deep.
Claiming.
Tongue sliding against mine.
Tasting salt.
Tasting surrender.
When he pulls back, his eyes are black with need.
We’re getting married.
Not a question.
A decree.
I don’t argue.
I can’t.
I want it.
I’ve wanted it since the second he pinned me against the hotel bar and told me I was his.
Two days later, he’s back in our suite with a small black box.
No flowers.
No speeches.
Just him.
Just me.
Just the truth.
He sets it on the nightstand.
Snaps it open.
Platinum band.
Diamonds line the edges.
Center stone heavy.
Unapologetic.
Worth every cent, he says.
I stare.
“Jack,” I breathe.
“Don’t call me that,” he warns. “Not when I’m about to ask you to wear it forever.”
I swallow.
“You didn’t even have to buy it.”
“I did,” he says. “You walked into my bar and changed my whole fucking life, sweetheart. Marry me.”
The words hit like a physical blow.
I gasp.
Tears spill.
Not sad.
Full.
“Yes,” I say. “God, yes. A thousand times yes.”
He doesn’t smile.
He doesn’t need to.
His eyes say it all.
Possession.
Devotion.
Forever.
He slides the ring onto my finger.
Fits like it was cast from my skin.
Heavy.
Real.
His mark.
“Good girl,” he murmurs.
I reach for him.
Need him.
Always need him.
“Jack—”
“Daddy,” he corrects.
Always.
He picks me up.
Carries me to the bed.
Drops me down.
Coves over me.
Hands framing my face.
You’re mine, he says. Pregnant. Married. Stuck with me. And I’m gonna breed you until you’re begging me to stop. Until you’re swollen with my children. Until you can’t walk straight and you remember exactly who put you in this state.
My breath hitches.
“I want that,” I whisper.
His eyes darken.
“You will.”
He strips me slow.
Not because he’s gentle.
Because he’s savoring.
Fingers on my buttons.
Lips on my collarbone.
Teeth on my nipple.
I arch.
Moan.
Need.
He pulls off my clothes like they’re paperwork.
Like I’m his property.
I am.
He drops to his knees.
Doesn’t ask.
Never does.
Just parts my thighs.
Buries his face between them.
I cry out.
“Fuck—Jack—”
“Daddy,” he growls.
Tastes me.
Deep.
Relentless.
Tongue swirling.
Licking.
Sucking.
I grip the sheets.
Back arching.
“You’re so wet for me,” he mutters against my core. “Pregnant already. But my body’s already making room. Already claiming you. Good girl. Take it. Take every drop.”
I come hard.
Shaking.
Screaming his name.
He drags his tongue up through my juices.
Cleans me.
Swallows me.
Then he’s on top.
Kissing me.
Hard.
Hungry.
Fingers pinning my wrists.
Look at me, he commands.
I do.
Eyes locked.
You’re carrying my child, he says. And I’m gonna fill you again. Right now. Breed you deep. Mark you inside out. Make sure you feel me every time you move. Every time you breathe. Every time you wake up and remember you belong to me.
He lines up.
Heads in.
Pushes through.
I gasp.
Stretch.
Burn.
Perfect.
“Too much?” he asks.
“No,” I whimper. “More.”
He grins.
Feral.
Starts moving.
Fast.
Hard.
Thrust after thrust.
Slapping skin.
Creaking bed.
My back bows.
Nails dig into his shoulders.
“You’re mine,” he pants. “My wife. My pregnant little bitch. My everything. I’m gonna pump you full. Keep you thick with my cum. Keep you swollen. Keep you ruined for anyone else.”
I sob.
“Yes. Daddy. Yes.”
He groans.
Grabs my hip.
Drives deeper.
Hits that spot.
Over and over.
Building.
Coiling.
“Come for me,” he orders. “Let me feel you clamp down on my cock. Let me feel you shake. I’m gonna breed you so hard you’ll leak my seed for hours.”
I shatter.
Screaming.
Clenching.
Pulsing around him.
He curses.
Drives in.
Bottoms out.
Holds still.
Groans like a man possessed.
“Fuck—yours,” he growls. “All yours. Taking it. Taking every drop.”
He empties inside me.
Hot.
Heavy.
Claiming.
I feel it flood me.
Fill me.
Mark me.
He stays buried.
Chest heaving.
Eyes locked on mine.
“That’s just the first round,” he whispers.
I laugh.
Weak.
Happy.
“I’m ready for round two.”
He kisses me.
Swallows my smile.
“Good. ‘Cause we’ve got a lifetime to go.”
Later.
Wrapped in his arms.
His hand rests on my stomach.
Light.
Reverent.
But his eyes?
Still hungry.
Still possessive.
Still mine.
“You’re stuck with me now,” he says.
“I know,” I murmur.
“No escape clauses,” he adds.
“I don’t want out,” I say.
He lifts my hand.
Kisses the ring.
Then my lips.
Then my stomach.
“You’re my wife,” he says. “My pregnant sweetheart. My fucking masterpiece. And I’m gonna spend every day proving you made the right choice.”
I nestle closer.
“I didn’t just make the right choice,” I whisper. “I made my choice.”
He smiles.
Real.
Warm.
For the first time.
“Forever,” he says.
“Forever,” I agree.
His arm tightens around me.
He doesn’t let go.
Won’t let go.
And I’m never letting him.
The baby kicks.
Small.
Certain.
Already claiming me.
Already claiming him.
Already claiming us.
I close my eyes.
Listen to his heartbeat.
Feel the ring on my finger.
The weight of his hand on my belly.
The promise in his breath.
Home.
Finally home.
No more running.
No more hiding.
Just him.
Just us.
Forever.