The water is cool against my skin.
Cold enough to make me gasp.
Warm enough to let me float.
I push off the tile edge.
Lap after lap.
Stroke after stroke.
The rooftop pool is empty.
It’s always empty when I choose it.
Because I know he won’t follow me down here.
Not until I’m ready.
Not until I’m done running.
But my legs burn.
My shoulders ache.
My breath comes in shallow, uneven pulls.
My body feels different.
Heavier.
Softer.
Changed.
I pull myself to the shallow end.
Grip the edge.
Rest my forehead against the cool tile.
The city sprawls below me.
A million lights.
A million lives.
None of them touch me.
Only him does.
Only Daddy does.
He owns the building.
The steel.
The glass.
The security system.
The keys.
The deed.
He owns the pool.
The chlorine.
The filtration.
The tiles.
The water.
He owns me.
I know that.
I’ve known it since the first time he pinned me against a wall.
Since the first time he told me to breathe.
Since the first time he filled me.
Since the first time I came so hard I cried.
I push back into the water.
Swim.
Dive.
Kick.
My stomach tenses under my hands.
I press my palms flat.
Feel the flat plane.
The smooth curve.
The secret.
The proof.
I’m carrying his.
His child.
His heir.
His mark.
I swallow hard.
Taste salt.
Taste fear.
Taste want.
I don’t want to hide it.
I never did.
But I needed this night.
I needed the water.
I needed to feel my own body before I let him take it back.
Before I let him remind me whose it is.
I push off again.
Lap four.
Lap five.
Lap six.
My thighs tremble.
My chest heaves.
I drag myself to the edge.
Climb out.
Water streams down my thighs.
Down my hips.
Down my stomach.
I wrap my arms around myself.
Shiver.
Not from cold.
From anticipation.
From dread.
From devotion.
Footsteps.
Soft.
Deliberate.
Heavy.
I don’t turn around.
I know that rhythm.
I’ve memorized it.
I’ve felt it against my back.
Against my legs.
Inside me.
He stops behind me.
I feel his heat.
I feel his presence.
I feel him own the space.
The air shifts.
Daddy breathes in.
Slow.
Deep.
Satisfied.
“Good girl,” he murmurs.
His voice is low.
Rough.
Final.
It curls around my spine.
Makes me shiver.
I turn.
He’s standing there.
Black suit.
Tailored.
Expensive.
Crisp white shirt.
Sleeves rolled to the elbows.
Tie loose.
Eyes dark.
Unblinking.
Possessive.
Hungry.
He doesn’t ask if I’m alone.
He doesn’t need to.
He sees me.
He sees the water.
He sees my shaking hands.
He sees the flat, hidden swell beneath my skin.
He sees everything.
“Come here,” he says.
Simple.
Command.
I don’t hesitate.
I step forward.
The deck is warm under my bare feet.
I stop inches from him.
He reaches out.
Fingers trace my jaw.
Thumb presses my bottom lip.
Squeezes.
“Look at me,” he orders.
I do.
His gaze drills into mine.
Heavy.
Claiming.
“You kept a secret from me,” he says.
His voice is quiet.
Dangerous.
“I didn’t mean to,” I whisper.
“You’ve been swimming for hours,” he says.
“Testing your limits?”
I nod.
He smiles.
Not soft.
Not sweet.
Predatory.
Satisfied.
“Good,” he says.
“Strength matters.”
His hand slides down my neck.
Over my collarbone.
Down my sternum.
I gasp.
His palm rests just above my navel.
I feel his heat through the wet skin.
I feel his weight.
I feel my body react.
Tight.
Wet.
Begging.
He presses.
Just a little.
I whimper.
He leans in.
His breath ghosts over my ear.
“How far along?” he asks.
I swallow.
Throat dry.
“Seven weeks,” I admit.
His finger stills.
His breath hitches.
Just once.
A crack in the armor.
I feel it.
I always feel it.
He pulls back.
Looks at my stomach.
Really looks.
His eyes darken.
Something shifts in his chest.
Something ancient.
Something feral.
“Mine,” he says.
Not a question.
A fact.
A law.
“Always,” I whisper.
He catches my chin.
Forces my gaze up.
“You think I let you hide this?” he asks.
“I told myself you needed space,” I say.
“Space is a privilege,” he says.
“I grant it. I revoke it.”
His thumb strokes my lip.
Again.
“Are you in pain?” he asks.
“No.”
“Nausea?”
“No.”
“Fatigue?”
“A little.”
He nods.
Satisfied.
“Good,” he says.
“Healthy is non-negotiable.”
His hand slides lower.
Fingers find the waistband of my swimsuit.
I freeze.
He looks up.
Eyes blazing.
“Relax,” he says.
“I own you.”
The words hit me like a physical touch.
I melt.
I always melt.
He hooks his fingers into the fabric.
Pulls it down.
Slow.
Deliberate.
I step out.
Don’t look away.
Let him see me.
Let him see every curve.
Every dip.
Every line.
His gaze drags over me.
Reverent.
Hungry.
Terrifying.
He doesn’t touch me yet.
He just looks.
Takes in the water.
Takes in my skin.
Takes in the life growing inside me.
Then he steps back.
Unbuttons his shirt.
Drops it to the tile.
Unhooks his belt.
Slides his trousers down.
Kicks them away.
He’s already hard.
Thick.
Veined.
Aching.
He doesn’t hurry.
He never does.
He strips with control.
With power.
With ownership.
I watch him.
Heart pounding.
Chest tight.
Lips parted.
He steps to the edge.
Looks at the water.
Looks at me.
“Follow,” he says.
I don’t think.
I move.
I slide into the pool.
Water rushes up my thighs.
Over my hips.
Around my waist.
I kick back.
Float on my back.
Watch the sky.
Watch him.
He steps in.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Water ripples around his legs.
His thighs.
His hips.
He doesn’t hurry.
He owns the space.
He owns the water.
He owns me.
He stops in front of me.
Straddles my thighs.
Water displaces.
Cools.
He grips my hips.
Squeezes.
I arch.
Gasps.
He leans down.
His face is inches from mine.
His breath is hot.
“Listen to me,” he says.
His voice is low.
Rough.
Final.
“You don’t get to carry my child alone.”
I nod.
Eyes wide.
Water in my lashes.
“You don’t get to hide it.”
I nod again.
Voice trapped in my throat.
“You don’t get to doubt me.”
I swallow.
Tear spills over.
“I never do,” I whisper.
He smiles.
Dark.
Satisfied.
“Good girl,” he says.
His hand slides down.
Over my stomach.
Over the tiny swell.
I shiver.
He feels it.
He always feels it.
His fingers trace the curve.
Gentle.
Reverent.
Then his hand drops lower.
Fingers part my folds.
I gasp.
Already wet.
Already aching.
Already his.
He slides two fingers inside.
Slow.
Deep.
I cry out.
Water ripples around us.
He curls his fingers.
Hits my sweet spot.
I buck.
He holds me down.
Grips my hips.
Bone-tight.
“Breathe,” he orders.
I do.
He pumps.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
I arch.
Back bowing.
Water sloshing.
He watches my face.
Drinks my reactions.
Takes in every gasp.
Every tremor.
Every flutter.
“Tell me,” he says.
“Tell me who this is for.”
I whimper.
Voice breaking.
“You,” I choke out.
“Only you.”
He smiles.
Dark.
Triumphant.
“Again,” he commands.
“You,” I say.
“Always you.”
He adds a third finger.
Stretches me.
I sob.
Overwhelmed.
Overloaded.
Obedient.
He pulls out.
I miss him instantly.
I miss the weight.
I miss the stretch.
I miss the claim.
He lines himself up.
Thick.
Hot.
Aching.
He presses against my entrance.
I feel the tip.
I feel the promise.
He leans down.
His mouth is at my ear.
“I’m going to breed you,” he says.
His voice is rough.
Final.
“I’m going to fill you.”
I nod.
Eyes closed.
Tears spilling.
I’m already his.
I’m always his.
He pushes in.
Slow.
Relentless.
I cry out.
Head thrown back.
Water swallowing my sound.
He bottoms out.
Buried to the hilt.
I feel him.
Every inch.
Every ridge.
Every pulse.
I feel him mark me.
I feel him claim me.
I feel him breed me.
He holds still.
Letting me adjust.
Letting me feel.
Letting me break.
“Look at me,” he says.
I do.
His eyes are dark.
Feral.
Possessive.
“You carry my heir,” he says.
“I own you.”
I nod.
Voice shattered.
“I’m yours,” I whisper.
“I’ve always been yours.”
He smiles.
Then he moves.
Slow at first.
Deliberate.
Testing.
Feeling.
Then he picks up.
Thrusts.
Deep.
Hard.
Relentless.
Water splashes around us.
Cools our skin.
Heats my blood.
He grips my thighs.
Lifts me.
Angles me.
Buries himself deeper.
I scream.
Water ripples.
Sky blurs.
I feel him hit my cervix.
Again.
Again.
Again.
He doesn’t stop.
He never does.
He drives into me.
Breeding me.
Claiming me.
Marking me.
His hand slides to my stomach.
Presses down.
I gasp.
He feels my body react.
Feels the life inside me.
Feels my surrender.
He leans down.
His mouth finds mine.
I taste salt.
Taste want.
Taste devotion.
He kisses me like he owns me.
Because he does.
He breaks the kiss.
Breath ragged.
Eyes wild.
“You’re going to carry it,” he says.
“I’m going to fill you.”
I nod.
Tears in my eyes.
I’m ready.
I’ve always been ready.
He picks up the pace.
Thrusts.
Hard.
Fast.
Relentless.
I wrap my legs around his waist.
Pull him in.
I want all of him.
I want every inch.
I want the mark.
I want the heir.
I want the forever.
He grips my hips.
Leaves bruises.
I don’t care.
I want them.
I want them all.
He bottoms out.
Holds me down.
I feel him swell.
I feel him pulse.
I feel him break.
He fills me.
Hot.
Thick.
Unending.
I scream.
Water sloshes.
Body trembles.
I feel him claim me.
I feel him brand me.
I feel him mark the child growing inside me.
He doesn’t pull out.
He stays buried.
Deep.
Possessive.
Final.
He leans down.
Forehead against mine.
Breath ragged.
Heart pounding.
“I told you,” he whispers.
His voice is raw.
Shattered.
Satisfied.
“I own this.”
He presses a hand to my stomach.
I feel the life inside me.
I feel his hand over mine.
I feel him.
I feel us.
I feel forever.
I nod.
Tears spilling.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Always.”
He pulls back.
Looks at me.
Really looks.
Takes in my face.
My body.
My surrender.
His eyes darken.
Not with hunger.
With certainty.
With claim.
With forever.
He stands.
Pulls me up with him.
I cling to him.
Legs weak.
Knees shaking.
He doesn’t let go.
He never will.
He carries me out of the pool.
Water streaming.
Skin gleaming.
He doesn’t care.
He doesn’t slow.
He steps onto the deck.
Kicks the door open.
Barges into the penthouse.
Closes it behind us.
Locks it.
I don’t look back.
I don’t need to.
He sets me on the bed.
Kneels.
I’m still wet.
Still trembling.
Still his.
He pulls my swimsuit aside.
Finds my entrance.
Already leaking.
Already his.
He smiles.
Dark.
Satisfied.
“Clean,” he says.
“I’ll take care of it.”
He doesn’t ask permission.
He doesn’t need to.
He presses a kiss to my thigh.
Then another.
Then one higher.
I gasp.
He looks up.
Eyes blazing.
“Relax,” he says.
“I own you.”
I do.
I always do.
He slides two fingers inside.
I arch.
Moan.
He curls them.
Hits my sweet spot.
I cry out.
He watches me.
Drinks me in.
Takes in every reaction.
Every tremor.
Every surrender.
He adds a third.
Stretches me.
I sob.
Overwhelmed.
Overloaded.
Obedient.
He pulls out.
I miss him.
I always miss him.
He lines himself up.
Thick.
Hot.
Aching.
He pushes in.
Slow.
Deep.
I gasp.
He bottoms out.
Holds still.
Letting me feel.
Letting me break.
Letting me belong.
He leans down.
His mouth finds mine.
I taste salt.
Taste want.
Taste devotion.
He kisses me like he owns me.
Because he does.
He breaks the kiss.
Breath ragged.
Eyes wild.
“Again,” he says.
His voice is rough.
Final.
“I’m not done.”
I nod.
Tears in my eyes.
I’m ready.
I’ve always been ready.
He pulls out.
Thrusts back in.
Hard.
Fast.
Relentless.
I wrap my legs around him.
Pull him in.
I want it all.
I want the mark.
I want the heir.
I want the forever.
He grips my hips.
Leaves bruises.
I don’t care.
I want them.
I want them all.
He bottoms out.
Holds me down.
I feel him swell.
I feel him pulse.
I feel him break.
He fills me.
Hot.
Thick.
Unending.
I scream.
Body trembles.
I feel him claim me.
I feel him brand me.
I feel him mark the child growing inside me.
He doesn’t pull out.
He stays buried.
Deep.
Possessive.
Final.
He leans down.
Forehead against mine.
Breath ragged.
Heart pounding.
“I told you,” he whispers.
His voice is raw.
Shattered.
Satisfied.
“I own this.”
He presses a hand to my stomach.
I feel the life inside me.
I feel his hand over mine.
I feel him.
I feel us.
I feel forever.
I nod.
Tears spilling.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Always.”
He pulls back.
Looks at me.
Really looks.
Takes in my face.
My body.
My surrender.
His eyes darken.
Not with hunger.
With certainty.
With claim.
With forever.
He stands.
Pulls me up with him.
I cling to him.
Legs weak.
Knees shaking.
He doesn’t let go.
He never will.
He carries me to the shower.
Turns the water on.
Steam rises.
Covers us.
He steps in.
Pulls me against him.
Water cascades over our skin.
Washes away the salt.
Washes away the sweat.
Washes away the doubt.
He leaves nothing.
He leaves only him.
Only us.
Only forever.
He washes me.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Reverent.
I let him.
I always let him.
He knows every curve.
Every dip.
Every line.
He knows my body like I know my own breath.
He knows where I ache.
Where I need him.
Where I break.
Where I belong.
He traces my stomach.
Gently.
Reverently.
I shiver.
He feels it.
He always feels it.
He leans down.
Presses a kiss to my skin.
Then another.
Then one lower.
I gasp.
He looks up.
Eyes blazing.
“Mine,” he says.
“Always.”
I nod.
Tears in my eyes.
I’m his.
I’ve always been his.
He pulls me back against his chest.
Wraps his arms around me.
Holds me tight.
I close my eyes.
Listen to his heartbeat.
Slow.
Steady.
Final.
I press my hand to my stomach.
Feel the life inside me.
Feel him.
Feel us.
Feel forever.
“I’m yours,” I whisper.
“I’m carrying your heir.”
He tightens his hold.
Presses his lips to my hair.
“Inhale,” he says.
I do.
“Exhale,” he says.
I do.
“Again,” he says.
I do.
“Again,” he says.
I do.
“Forever,” he says.
I nod.
Tears spilling.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Always.”
He turns me.
Faces me.
Looks at me.
Really looks.
Takes in my face.
My body.
My surrender.
His eyes darken.
Not with hunger.
With certainty.
With claim.
With forever.
He cups my face.
Thumbs my cheeks.
Wipes my tears.
“You don’t have to doubt,” he says.
His voice is quiet.
Final.
“I own you.”
I nod.
Eyes wide.
Water in my lashes.
“I know,” I whisper.
“I’ve always known.”
He smiles.
Dark.
Satisfied.
“Good girl,” he says.
His mouth finds mine.
I taste salt.
Taste want.
Taste devotion.
He kisses me like he owns me.
Because he does.
He breaks the kiss.
Breath ragged.
Eyes wild.
“Get dressed,” he says.
His voice is rough.
Final.
“I’m taking you home.”
I nod.
Tears in my eyes.
I’m ready.
I’ve always been ready.
He leads me to the bedroom.
Closes the door.
Locks it.
I don’t look back.
I don’t need to.
He strips me.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Reverent.
I let him.
I always let him.
He lays me on the bed.
Kneels.
I’m naked.
Exposed.
His.
He traces my stomach.
Gently.
Reverently.
I shiver.
He feels it.
He always feels it.
He leans down.
Presses a kiss to my skin.
Then another.
Then one lower.
I gasp.
He looks up.
Eyes blazing.
“Mine,” he says.
“Always.”
I nod.
Tears in my eyes.
I’m his.
I’ve always been his.
He pulls me back against his chest.
Wraps his arms around me.
Holds me tight.
I close my eyes.
Listen to his heartbeat.
Slow.
Steady.
Final.
I press my hand to my stomach.
Feel the life inside me.
Feel him.
Feel us.
Feel forever.
“I’m yours,” I whisper.
“I’m carrying your heir.”
He tightens his hold.
Presses his lips to my hair.
“Inhale,” he says.
I do.
“Exhale,” he says.
I do.
“Again,” he says.
I do.
“Again,” he says.
I do.
“Forever,” he says.
I nod.
Tears spilling.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Always.”
He turns me.
Faces me.
Looks at me.
Really looks.
Takes in my face.
My body.
My surrender.
His eyes darken.
Not with hunger.
With certainty.
With claim.
With forever.
He cups my face.
Thumbs my cheeks.
Wipes my tears.
“You don’t have to doubt,” he says.
His voice is quiet.
Final.
“I own you.”
I nod.
Eyes wide.
Water in my lashes.
“I know,” I whisper.
“I’ve always known.”
He smiles.
Dark.
Satisfied.
“Good girl,” he says.
His mouth finds mine.
I taste salt.
Taste want.
Taste devotion.
He kisses me like he owns me.
Because he does.
He breaks the kiss.
Breath ragged.
Eyes wild.
“Get dressed,” he says.
His voice is rough.
Final.
“I’m taking you home.”
I nod.
Tears in my eyes.
I’m ready.
I’ve always been ready.
He leads me to the bedroom.
Closes the door.
Locks it.
I don’t look back.
I don’t need to.
He strips me.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Reverent.
I let him.
I always let him.
He lays me on the bed.
Kneels.
I’m naked.
Exposed.
His.
He traces my stomach.
Gently.
Reverently.
I shiver.
He feels it.
He always feels it.
He leans down.
Presses a kiss to my skin.
Then another.
Then one lower.
I gasp.
He looks up.
Eyes blazing.
“Mine,” he says.
“Always.”
I nod.
Tears in my eyes.
I’m his.
I’ve always been his.
He pulls me back against his chest.
Wraps his arms around me.
Holds me tight.
I close my eyes.
Listen to his heartbeat.
Slow.
Steady.
Final.
I press my hand to my stomach.
Feel the life inside me.
Feel him.
Feel us.
Feel forever.
“I’m yours,” I whisper.
“I’m carrying your heir.”
He tightens his hold.
Presses his lips to my hair.
“Inhale,” he says.
I do.
“Exhale,” he says.
I do.
“Again,” he says.
I do.
“Again,” he says.
I do.
“Forever,” he says.
I nod.
Tears spilling.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Always.”
He turns me.
Faces me.
Looks at me.
Really looks.
Takes in my face.
My body.
My surrender.
His eyes darken.
Not with hunger.
With certainty.
With claim.
With forever.
He cups my face.
Thumbs my cheeks.
Wipes my tears.
“You don’t have to doubt,” he says.
His voice is quiet.
Final.
“I own you.”
I nod.
Eyes wide.
Water in my lashes.
“I know,” I whisper.
“I’ve always known.”
He smiles.
Dark.
Satisfied.
“Good girl,” he says.
His mouth finds mine.
I taste salt.
Taste want.
Taste devotion.
He kisses me like he owns me.
Because he does.
He breaks the kiss.
Breath ragged.
Eyes wild.
“Get dressed,” he says.
His voice is rough.
Final.
“I’m taking you home.”
I nod.
Tears in my eyes.
I’m ready.
I’ve always been ready.
He leads me to the bedroom.
Closes the door.
Locks it.
I don’t look back.
I don’t need to.
He strips me.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Reverent.
I let him.
I always let him.
He lays me on the bed.
Kneels.
I’m naked.
Exposed.
His.
He traces my stomach.
Gently.
Reverently.
I shiver.
He feels it.
He always feels it.
He leans down.
Presses a kiss to my skin.
Then another.
Then one lower.
I gasp.
He looks up.
Eyes blazing.
“Mine,” he says.
“Always.”
I nod.
Tears in my eyes.
I’m his.
I’ve always been his.
He pulls me back against his chest.
Wraps his arms around me.
Holds me tight.
I close my eyes.
Listen to his heartbeat.
Slow.
Steady.
Final.
I press my hand to my stomach.
Feel the life inside me.
Feel him.
Feel us.
Feel forever.
“I’m yours,” I whisper.
“I’m carrying your heir.”
He tightens his hold.
Presses his lips to my hair.
“Inhale,” he says.
I do.
“Exhale,” he says.
I do.
“Again,” he says.
I do.
“Again,” he says.
I do.
“Forever,” he says.
I nod.
Tears spilling.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Always.”
He turns me.
Faces me.
Looks at me.
Really looks.
Takes in my face.
My body.
My surrender.
His eyes darken.
Not with hunger.
With certainty.
With claim.
With forever.
He cups my face.
Thumbs my cheeks.
Wipes my tears.
“You don’t have to doubt,” he says.
His voice is quiet.
Final.
“I own you.”
I nod.
Eyes wide.
Water in my lashes.
“I know,” I whisper.
“I’ve always known.”
He smiles.
Dark.
Satisfied.
“Good girl,” he says.
His mouth finds mine.
I taste salt.
Taste want.
Taste devotion.
He kisses me like he owns me.
Because he does.
He breaks the kiss.
Breath ragged.
Eyes wild.
“Get dressed,” he says.
His voice is rough.
Final.
“I’m taking you home.”
I nod.
Tears in my eyes.
I’m ready.
I’ve always been ready.
He leads me to the bedroom.
Closes the door.
Locks it.
I don’t look back.