The canvas drops with a heavy thud.
Dust motes dance in the afternoon sun slicing through the penthouse windows.
I gasp.
My hand flies to the swell of my stomach.
There I am.
Captured forever.
Jessa.
Glowing.
Drenched in sweat and sin.
My back is arched so far my spine aches just looking at it.
My head thrown back.
Lips parted in a silent scream.
One hand grips the rumpled sheets.
The other cups my heavy belly.
Fingers splayed over the roundness.
Worshiping the life I carry.
And him.
My Daddy.
Kneeling behind me.
Face twisted in raw, unadulterated worship.
His hands grip my hips like he's trying to break bone.
His cock buried to the hilt.
Veins bulging.
Eyes black with obsession.
The lighting is chiaroscuro.
Dark shadows cling to the edges of the frame.
But you... you are illuminated.
Golden light washes over your skin, making you look divine.
A single tear tracks down your cheek in the painting.
Not of sadness.
Of surrender.
Complete and total surrender to me.
My hands in the portrait are red.
Not blood.
But I gripped so hard I left fingerprints.
I left my mark.
And my cock... it's buried so deep you're stretching.
The title plate is gold, engraved on the frame.
*The Masterpiece.*
"Like it?"
A rumble vibrates against my back.
His arms wrap around my waist.
Large palms cover my stomach.
Calloused thumbs circle the hard ridge of my navel.
"It's you," he murmurs, lips brushing my ear. "My masterpiece. My beautiful, pregnant girl."
He nips my shoulder.
Sharp.
Possessive.
"Every time I look at this, I see you. I see how you took me. How you begged. How you proved you were bred for me."
He spins me around.
Fast.
My heels clack on the hardwood.
He backs me against the wall beside the canvas.
Our reflection isn't the point.
He is.
He grabs my hips.
Fingers dig in.
Bruising.
"You're swollen," he growls, looking down at my belly. "So full of my son. So perfect."
He rips my skirt up.
Humps my thigh.
His cock is already hard.
Thick.
Veins like rope.
The tip weeps pre-cum.
I whimper.
"I need to feel you," he snarls. "I need to fill you. Again."
He doesn't ask.
He never does.
Daddy takes.
He shoves my panties aside.
My pussy is already dripping.
Soaked for him.
Always for him.
"So wet," he praises, voice rough. "My breeding hole. My wet little toy. Look at you. Melting for Daddy."
He lines up.
Buries himself.
*Shhhk.*
The stretch makes me gasp.
He's huge.
Filling me completely.
Hitting my cervix.
"Gonna paint you cumming," he grits out.
He grabs my waist.
Pounds.
Hard.
Fast.
*Slap. Slap. Slap.*
Flesh meeting flesh.
The sound echoes in the room.
I wrap my legs around his waist.
Dig my heels in.
Pulling him deeper.
"Daddy! Daddy!" I cry out.
He grins.
Dark.
Predatory.
"That's it. Scream for Daddy. Let the walls hear who owns you."
He slaps my ass.
Stinging.
"Every thrust claims you. Every drop brands you. You're my wife. My baby maker. My everything."
He leans in.
Bites my neck.
Marks me.
"Look at us."
He forces my head up.
I have to look.
At the canvas.
At the painting.
At the proof of our sin.
"I captured the moment I knew you were mine," he growls, thrusting deeper. "The moment I saw you in that studio. You became my whole world, Jessa. Before that, I was nothing. Just a camera. A lens. Empty."
He groans.
His pace hammers.
Rhythmic.
Relentless.
"You walked in. You took my breath. You ruined me for anyone else."
He bottoms out.
Balls-deep.
"I'm going to fill you up. Gonna breed you until you're leaking my cum for weeks. Until everyone sees how big you get for me."
He grips my hair.
Pulls my head back.
Exposes my throat.
"Take it. Take Daddy's cock. Take my seed. You're pregnant now, but we're making sure it stays that way. You're carrying my heir. My legacy. My treasure."
He hits a spot deep inside.
My vision whites out.
My toes curl.
"Daddy! Please!"
He laughs.
A dark, possessive sound.
"Please what? Please breed you? Please keep you pregnant? Please make you my wife?"
I nod frantically.
"Yes! Yes! Daddy, yes!"
He groans.
"You're getting married. Not to save you. To own you. To keep you safe in my kingdom. You're my queen. My pregnant queen."
He slams into me.
Again.
Again.
"Feel that? That's my claim. My love. My fucking obsession."
He pulls out.
The sound of our joining is wet.
Loud.
He steps back.
Tears his shirt off.
Throws it aside.
"Turn around. On your knees. Face the canvas."
He wants me to watch.
He wants me to see the painting while he fucks me.
He pushes my face toward the art.
"Look at her. Look at what I made."
He grabs my hair.
"Spread wide. Take Daddy's cock. This is where you belong. On your knees. In Daddy's sight. Taking my cock like a good girl."
I scramble.
Kneel on the rug.
Back to him.
Eyes locked on the canvas.
On my painted self.
He lines up.
Slams back in.
*Thwack.*
I cry out.
He grabs my hips.
Pumps.
Violent.
Ecstatic.
"Every time you cum, you get closer to my cock," he grunts. "You're made for this. Made to carry my children. Made to glow for me."
He hits my clit.
With his knuckles.
Rough.
"Take it. Take my cum. Take my love."
I sob.
The pleasure is too much.
The sight of us.
The feeling of him.
It breaks me.
"Daddy! I'm cumming! Daddy!"
He roars.
"Take it! I'm cumming!"
He grips my hips.
Bruising.
"Look at the painting! Look at your Daddy fucking his masterpiece!"
He pulses.
Hot jets of cum flood my pussy.
*Spurt. Spurt. Spurt.*
He pumps me full.
Marking my womb.
Claiming my soul.
"Mine," he whispers against my neck. "You're mine. Forever. HEA. Happy Ending. Our life. Ours."
He stays buried.
Twitching.
Pulsing.
Filling me.
I collapse forward.
Hands on the floor.
Breathing hard.
He pulls out slowly.
A leak of white cum escapes my pussy.
He smears it.
"Don't waste a drop," he murmurs.
He cleans me up with his hand.
Then lifts me.
Carries me to the bed.
Lays me down.
Covers me.
Sits beside me.
Pulls me onto his lap.
My belly rests against his chest.
He strokes my hair.
His breathing slows.
His heart beats against my ear.
Strong.
Steady.
"Do you know what this is?"
He points to the canvas.
His voice is softer now.
The alpha mask slips.
Just for me.
He looks at me.
Eyes dark.
Intense.
Vulnerable.
"It's not just a photo."
He touches the canvas.
"It's a promise. I'm going to keep you pregnant. Keep you glowing. Keep you safe."
He kisses my forehead.
Then my lips.
Slow.
Sweet.
"I love you," he murmurs. "God, I love you so much it scares me."
He looks at the painting again.
"This is my greatest work. Not because of the light. Or the composition."
He turns back to me.
Grabs my face.
"Forces me to meet his gaze."
"Because it's you. You became my whole world, Jessa. You're the light. The heat. The love. You walked into my life and filled every empty space."
He nips my lip.
"And this little one? They're the best frame I ever found."
I smile.
Tears prick my eyes.
"I'm yours, Daddy. Forever."
He growls softly.
"Good girl."
He kisses my belly.
"I'm going to keep filling you. Every week. Every month. Until you're huge. Until you can't walk. Until you're round with my babies."
He looks at me.
A smirk returns.
Alpha.
Predatory.
"Now... let's see if we can get that belly bigger by tomorrow."
I laugh.
"You're obsessed."
"I'm addicted," he corrects.
He nips my neck.
"My masterpiece. My wife. My heart."
"HEA," he whispers.
"Ours. Forever."
He rolls me over.
Lifts my skirt.
"Because Daddy still has a lot of breeding to do."
"Daddy's work is just beginning."
"Mine."
"Always."