The screen door creaks open. Bare feet pad onto the premium oak finish-boards I’ve just finished nailing down as the final layer of this fortress.
"He’s not leaving the club, Logan," Courtney’s voice rings out, steady and strong. "But he’s not leaving me, either."
Logan looks past me to where she stands on the porch, wearing one of my black t-shirts and nothing else. A slow, rare grin spreads across his face. "Took you ten years," Logan mutters, turning back to his bike. "About damn time."
He gives Courtney a respectful nod—the kind reserved strictly for an "Old Lady"—and peels out of the driveway. I watch him go until the sound fades, then turn back to the woman on my porch. She leans against the railing, holding two glasses of ice-cold water.
"You told him no," she says softly as I walk up the steps.
"I told him the truth," I reply, stopping in front of her. I take one of the glasses, condensation cold against my calloused palm, and drain it in one go. My thirst vanishes, replaced by a much older, deeper hunger as my eyes track the sun hitting her swollen lips. "I’m nesting, Court. Making sure it’s safe for you. For us."
She reaches out, fingers tracing the line of muscle on my abdomen, heedless of the grime. "You’ve been working out herefor hours, Austin. I brought you water because you looked like you were about to drop."
"I told you to stay inside," I growl, stepping into her space until her back hits the railing. I set the empty glass down on the wood. "I don't need water, Court."
"No?" she teases, eyes heavy-lidded. "What do you need?"
"Trouble," I say roughly, hands dropping to her waist. "I was looking at that window wishing for a drink, but you walking out here like this? You’re bringing me a whole different kind of trouble."
My control snaps. I lift her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around my waist instantly. I carry her inside, letting the screen door slam shut behind us. The living room is cool and dim, smelling of old wood and the fresh lemon polish she’s found. I don't stop.
I march her straight into the dining room, her legs locked around my waist while my cock throbs against her pussy with every heavy step. I slam her back against the wall, the impact rattling the windowpane.
"You think you can just walk out there without any panties while I’m working?" I growl, grinding my hips into her, letting her feel the massive, rock-hard length of the 'trouble' she’s about to handle.
"I was being helpful," she lies, breathless.
"You were being mine."
I kiss her, devouring the sound she makes. A claiming kiss, deep and wet.
I haul her over to the heavy oak sideboard, dropping her onto the polished wood and shoving her thighs wide. I yank her shirt up, exposing her tits—heavy, perfect, and straining for my touch. Her nipples are engorged, purple and hard in the cool air, begging to be claimed.
"You're so beautiful it hurts," I mutter, burying my face in her neck. "I’m going to fill you to the brim, Court. I’m going to pump every drop of my seed into you until there’s no doubt left whose baby is growing inside you."
She lets out a desperate, broken whimper, her fingers clawing into my hair. "Do it," she sobs. "Please, Austin. Breed me. Fill me up."
The beast inside me roars. That breeding imperative is no fantasy. It is the only way I know how to knit our souls together permanently.
I rip at my belt, my hands shaking with a starved, violent need. I shove my jeans down, my cock springing free—thick, heavy, and leaking precum. I line myself up at her soaking entrance, finding her pussy drenched and swollen, begging for the intrusion. I thrust forward with everything I have, burying my cock to the hilt in one brutal motion.
She screams as I stretch her pussy to the absolute limit, her body taking the full, thick length of me while the heavy oak sideboard slams against the wall with the force of my entry. I groan as her walls clamp around my dick like a vice. Better than any fight I've ever won. It is peace.
"You fit perfectly," she gasps, legs tightening around my waist.
I set a punishing rhythm—fast, hard. I want to leave my mark on every inch of this house, on every inch of her. Every thrust is a statement:Mine. Mine. Mine.
"Austin, I’m close," she cries out, nails drawing blood from my shoulders. "I’m—oh God!"
"Show me," I demand, driving harder into that deep spot that makes her toes curl.
She comes apart. I feel her pussy spasming around me in violent, rhythmic pulses, her walls milking my cock and dragging me over the edge.
I roar, all my control snapping as I drive in deep, bottoming out against her cervix one last time. I empty myself into her, my seed hitting her womb in hot, thick jets, filling her pussy to capacity. I stay buried there, pulsing deep inside her, ensuring every drop of my cum stays right where it belongs—marking her as mine forever.
I hold her there, pressing her against the wall, refusing to pull out even as the waves subside. I want her soaking in me. I want her to smell like my claim for days.
We stay like that for a long time, our breathing the only sound in the house. Slowly, I pull back, kissing her salt-slicked forehead. "I love you," I whisper. "I’ve loved you since the third grade, Court. I’m just sorry I was too stupid to realize I didn't have to push you away to keep you safe."
