“Because I’m going to remind you,” I say, brushing my mouth against hers, “exactly what you started when you walked into my casino.”
Her cheeks flush. Her thighs press together. And she nods.
I watch her take our daughter into the nursery, soft and radiant and mine in every universe that matters.
When she disappears through the doorway, I let the darkness inside me unfurl, not violent or cold, but hungry.
Hungry for my wife. Hungry for the life we’re building. Hungry for everything we’re going to make together.
By the time I follow her upstairs, the world has narrowed to one truth:
Fate didn’t just give me a woman.
It gave memywoman.
And I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving it to her.
Jasmine
The nursery door clicks softly behind me as I settle our daughter into her crib, her tiny eyelids fluttering shut almost instantly. She’s already drifting back to sleep, oblivious to the storm building inside me.
My heart races, a mix of anticipation and that deep, aching hunger that Adrik always ignites with just a look. Three months. Three long months of healing, of gentle touches and stolen kisses that left me burning for more. I’ve missed this, missed him, like a vital part of me was locked away.
I glance at myself in the small mirror on the wall. My body has changed since the birth. I’m curvier, softer in places, and my breasts are fuller and heavy with milk. I used to worry he’d see me differently, but the way his eyes darkened downstairs, the raw need in his voice… it erased every doubt.
He wants me more now, not less. And God, I want him to claim every inch of this new version of me.
Five minutes. That’s what he gave me. I slip out of the nursery and head through to our bedroom, my robe whispering against my skin. The air feels thicker here, charged, like the room itself knows what’s coming. I untie the belt and let the fabric pool at my feet, standing naked in the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. My nipples harden instantly, a faint bead of milk already forming at the tips from the sheer thought of him.
The door opens, and there he is. Adrik. My husband. My protector. His pale eyes lock on me like a predator sighting prey, and he crosses the room in three strides, shedding his jacket and shirt along the way. His chest is a wall of muscle, scarred and powerful, and when he reaches me, his hands are everywhere, possessive, reverent, like he’s reclaiming what’s always been his.
“Fuck, Jasmine,” he growls, his voice rough and desperate as he backs me toward the bed. “I’ve missed this. Missed you. Three months without burying myself inside you… it’s been torture. I need you,kotyonok.Need to fill you up, breed you again. Look at you. Perfect, so fucking perfect for me.”
His words send a shiver racing down my spine, heat pooling between my thighs. He’s always been vocal, but this? This is raw, unfiltered need, like he’s been holding back a dam that’s finally broken.
He lifts me effortlessly onto the bed, his large frame towering over mine, emphasizing just how much bigger he is. His broad shoulders, his thick arms, the way his cock strains against his pants like it’s too massive to contain. He’s always stretched me to my limits, and the thought of him doing it again makes me clench in anticipation.
He strips the rest of his clothes off, his erection springing free, thick, veined, already leaking precum.
“You’re going to take every inch of me,” he murmurs, crawling over me, his mouth crashing down on mine in a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue, devouring me like he’s starved. His hands roam my body, praising every curve. “Such a good girl, carrying my child, giving me our daughter. These tits… fuck, they’re so full for me. I love how motherhood looks on you. Soft, fertile, mine.”
I arch into him as his mouth trails down my neck, his dirty talk weaving through me like fire. He cups my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples until milk beads and drips.
“Look at this,” he groans, leaning down to latch onto one, sucking hard. The sensation is electric. Pleasure of having my husband’s mouth on me for he first time in months, mixed with relief as he drinks from me, his tongue swirling, pulling moans from my throat. He’s worshipping me, drawing out every drop like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.
“I’ve dreamed of this,” he rasps against my skin, switching to the other breast, his hand kneading the first to keep the milk flowing. “Sucking your tits while I fuck you full again. I need to breed you, Jasmine. Put another baby in you right now. You’re so ready for it. So wet and swollen for my cock.”
“Yes,” I gasp, my hands tangling in his hair as he suckles deeper, the pull sending jolts straight to my core.
I’m soaking, aching, and when his free hand slides between my legs, his fingers find me slick and ready. He groans in approval, pumping two fingers inside me while his thumb circles my clit, all while his mouth stays latched, drinking greedily.
He releases my nipple with a pop, milk trickling down the curve of my breast.
“Good girl,” he praises, his voice muffled against my breast. “So wet for me. You love this, don’t you? Love being bred by me, full of milk and cum.”
The words should shock me, but they don’t. They thrill me, making me grind against his hand, chasing the edge.
He positions himself between my thighs.
