I don’t make her wait. I line up and thrust home in one deep stroke, burying myself to the hilt. She’s so wet, so ready, but still so fucking tight it makes my vision blur.
“Fuck—yes—take it all,” I groan, pulling back and slamming in again. “Going to fill this perfect pussy with my cum. Going to breed you until you’re round with my child.”
She wraps her legs around my waist, meeting every thrust, her nails raking down my back.
“Do it,” she moans, dirty and desperate. “Come inside me, make me yours forever.”
Her words are my undoing. I pound into her harder, deeper, the bed shaking with the force of it. The breeding talk, the way she’s begging for it…it’s new, raw, and it drives me wild. I’ve never wanted this before, never craved putting my seed in someone like this. But with her? It’s everything.
Pressure builds at the base of my spine, hot and insistent. “I’m going to fill you,” I grit out. “Going to fill you—fuck—now—”
I bury myself deep and explode, roaring her name as I pump into her, thick ropes of cum flooding her womb. She clenches around me, milking every drop, her own aftershocks pulling me in deeper. It feels endless, like I’m pouring everything I have into her, marking her from the inside out.
When it finally ebbs, I collapse over her, careful not to crush her, my face buried in her neck. We’re both slick with sweat, the room smelling of sex and us. She strokes my back lazily, her breathing evening out.
“Mine,” I murmur against her skin, pressing a kiss there. “Forever.”
“Yours,” she whispers back, and in that moment, with her body still wrapped around mine, I know it’s true. Mandate or not, accident or fate—this woman is my future. And I’ll spend every day making sure she knows it.
Epilogue
Florrie
One Year Later
The late afternoon sun filters through the nursery windows, casting golden light across the pale blue walls. I stand at the crib, watching Niko sleep, his tiny fist curled against his cheek, dark hair already thick like his father's.
One month old today. Born on our fake wedding date.
A year ago, I was stumbling through the wrong door in a club, running from a bad date. Now I'm standing in a nursery I designed myself, watching my son sleep, wearing a wedding ring that feels as natural as breathing.
A year. So much has changed.
I hear Leon's footsteps in the hallway before I see him. I've learned to recognize the sound. Purposeful, confident, but quieter when he's near Niko's room. He appears in the doorway, still in his work clothes, collar loosened, and something in his expression softens when he sees us.
"He's still sleeping," I whisper.
Leon crosses to me, wrapping his arms around me from behind, his chin settling on my shoulder as we both look down at our son. "Good. Means we have time."
"Time for what?"
"To talk." His lips brush my ear. "Doctor's appointment today. What did she say?"
Heat floods my face even though we're married, even though this man has seen every inch of me. "She said I'm healed. Everything looks good. I can... we can..."
"Resume normal activities," Leon finishes, his voice dropping lower. "That's what she said?"
"Yes." I turn in his arms to face him, linking my arms around his neck.
Something dark and hungry flashes in his grey eyes. "Good. Because I've been going insane."
I laugh quietly, pressing my hand against his chest. "It's only been a month."
"A month of sleeping next to you every night, watching you nurse our son, seeing you in those soft sleep shirts with nothing underneath." His hands slide down to my hips. "A month of wanting you and not being able to have you. You have no idea what that does to a man."
"You've been very patient."
"I've been suffering." But there's warmth in his voice, affection mixed with the desire.
