My sister's wedding is over, but my story just began. Three months later, I'm standing at the altar of our own church. The stained glass casts colorful shadows on the white lace of my dress. The dress is fitted. No secret. The fabric hugs the swell of my stomach. Two months along. The baby is already a secret promise between us.
Daddy waits at the end of the aisle.
He's terrifying. Beautiful. Older. Six years my senior, he's a mountain of muscle and authority in a sharp black tux. His jaw is set, his eyes dark as night. He doesn't smile. He doesn't have to. His gaze drags down my body, heavy and hot, landing on my midsection. His lip curls. Possessive. Hungry.
I grip my bouquet until my knuckles turn white. My knees knock together. Just seeing him makes my pussy throb. Three months of breeding, and I'm still dripping for his cock.
"Walk to me, baby girl," he rumbles. His voice is a low growl that vibrates through my chest.
I move. The guests are blurred faces. They don't matter. Only Daddy matters. Only Daddy knows how to wreck me. Only Daddy can make me forget my own name.
I reach him. He's already reached out. His hand, broad and calloused, slides beneath my arm. His palm settles over my belly. The contact sends a jolt of electricity straight to my clit.
"You look so good for me," he murmurs. His thumb strokes the curve. "So full of me."
Heat pools in my core. "I'm always full of you, Daddy," I whisper. The taboo thrill of the title still makes me shiver. He was my best man. My first love. The man who taught me everything. Now he's my husband. My master.
The officiate stammers. Daddy ignores him. He pulls me flush against his hard chest. His fingers dig into my waist. He's squeezing the baby bump. Claiming it. Claiming me.
"She's mine," he announces, his voice carrying over the silence. "Every inch. Every breath. Every drop of cum I've planted inside her."
My face burns. He doesn't care about modesty. He cares about ownership.
"Say it," he commands, leaning down. His lips brush my ear. "Tell them who you belong to."
"I belong to Daddy," I choke out. "I'm his wife. I'm his breeding sow."
A dark chuckle vibrates in his throat. "Good girl."
The vows are a blur. He doesn't do soft promises. He makes declarations.
"I, Silas, take this woman. Her body is my sanctuary. Her womb is my legacy. I promise to fuck her until she can't walk. I promise to breed her until she's swollen with my heirs. I'm never letting her go. She's mine forever."
The congregation gasps. I don't care. I lean into him. My hand covers his over my stomach.
"I, Lily, take Silas," I say, my voice strong. "My Daddy. My protector. My everything. I give you my life. My pussy. My heart. Breed me, Silas. Keep me safe. I'm yours."
"You may kiss the bride," the officiate whispers, looking relieved to move on.
Daddy doesn't kiss my lips. He captures my mouth with a bruising force. His tongue invades, tasting, demanding. His hand stays locked on my belly, rubbing circles. He's marking me. Even in public. Even with everyone watching.
"Mine," he growls against my lips.
"Yours," I gasp.
The reception is a haze of toasts and smiles, but I only feel one thing. The weight of Daddy's presence. He sits me in the head chair. He stands behind me, his hands resting on my shoulders. When I shift, his knuckles graze my neck. A reminder.
Every time someone clinks a glass, his grip tightens. He's a predator protecting his mate. And his mate is carrying his child.
Finally, the dance floor empties. The band plays a slow number. Daddy pulls me onto the floor. He doesn't dance. He holds me. His arms are a cage. His chest is a wall.
"Upstairs," he orders. His voice leaves no room for argument. "The honeymoon suite. Now."
"The guests—" I start.
"Let them wonder," he snaps. "I need to check on my girl. Make sure my baby is safe. Make sure you're wet for me."
He hoists me up. My dress swishes. He carries me like I weigh nothing. I wrap my legs around his waist, instinctively. My pussy clenches at the friction. He's already hard. I can feel the thick ridge of his cock straining against his trousers.
He strides down the hall. Keycard. Door open. He kicks it shut with his heel.
Darkness. Then the bed. He throws me onto the mattress. I bounce. Before I can sit up, he's on me. He straddles my hips. His hands tear at the laces of my dress. Rough. Urgent.
"Daddy," I whimper. "I need you."
"I know," he snarls. The dress falls away. His hands are on my breasts, pinching my nipples. "You've been aching for three months. Waiting. Wearing that ring. Growing my seed."
He pushes my skirt up. His fingers hook into the waistband of my panties. He slides them down. Kicks them off.
My pussy is exposed. And yes, I'm soaked. His scent fills my nose—sandalwood and musk and pure man. My juices bead on my lips. I'm leaking for him. Always.
He stares down at me. His eyes drop to my stomach, then back to my face. Hunger. Devotion. Madness.
"Look at you," he whispers. "Two months swollen. Glowing. My perfect breeding vessel."
He leans down. His lips brush my belly. A kiss. A claim. "Hello, little one. Daddy's here. And I brought Mommy home."
A tear slips down my cheek. He notices. His hand moves up. He catches the tear with his thumb.
"No crying," he orders softly. "Just feeling. You feel how much I love you? You feel how much I need to fill you?"
"Yes," I sob. "I feel it."
He stands. He pulls his tuxedo shirt off. Buttons fly. His chest is a map of power. Veins. Scar from a long-ago fight. I trace it with my mind. He pulls his trousers down. His cock springs free. Thick. Veiny. Heavy. Pre-cum beads at the tip. It glistens in the dim light.
"Spread," he commands.
I spread my legs. Wide. Offering myself.
He doesn't use lube. He doesn't need it. I'm too wet. He lines up. The head of his cock presses against my entrance. I groan. The stretch. The fullness.
He pushes in. One thrust. Deep. So deep he hits my cervix.
"Fuck!" he roars. His forehead drops to mine. "You're so tight. Even swollen. You take my cock like you were made for it."
"Made for Daddy," I cry. "Made to breed."
He pulls back and slams home. The impact knocks the breath from my lungs. He's setting a brutal pace. Up and down. Slapping of flesh. Wet sounds.
"I told you I wouldn't let you run," he grinds. His hands grip my hips. His fingers dig into my soft flesh. "Three months. Three months of keeping my hands off you during the day. Pretending to be polite. While I was imagining fucking you against every wall. Breeding you again. Making you carry triplets."
"Don't," I gasp. "Please, Daddy. One is enough. Or... or more if you want."
"I want more," he growls. "I want to fill you until you're so heavy you can't leave. Until you're so full of cum you leak it for days."
He changes angle. Grabs my hips and lifts. Drives deeper. Hitting that sweet spot. My toes curl. My pussy clamps down on his shaft.
"Cumming," I wail. "Daddy, I'm cumming!"
"Cum for Daddy!" he orders. "Let go!"
I shatter. My orgasm rips through me. My inner walls spasm around his shaft. I feel him twitch. I feel him pulse.
"Fuck! You squeezed me dry," he curses. "Take it! Take every drop!"
He grabs my ankles and pulls them up to my chest. Opens me wider. That deep angle. He's aiming for my womb.
"I'm going to breed you again," he threatens. "Right now. On our wedding night. I'm going to paint your insides. I'm going to make sure the baby feels me."
He pounds into me. Faster. Harder. The bed frame groans. My pussy throbs, full of his seed. I'm leaking. I can feel it dripping down my thighs.
He stays buried. Shaking. His heart hammers against my chest. His breath is hot against my neck.
"Still wet?" he asks, his voice rough but tender.
"Soaking," I whisper. "Full of you."
He kisses my shoulder. "Good. That's how it should be. You're my wife. My broodmare. My baby girl."
I snuggle closer. His hardness softens against me. He wraps his arms around us both. Me and the baby.
"I told you, baby girl," he murmurs into my hair. "Forever."
"Forever," I echo.
He presses a kiss to my forehead. "No more running. No more hiding. Just us. And our growing family."
I close my eyes. My hand covers his on my stomach. The baby kicks. A tiny flutter. A promise.
He's here. I'm home. Daddy has me. And he's never letting go.