Page 12 of His to Keep

"What's got into you?" I ask, even as he lifts me onto the counter, pushing my skirt up my thighs.

His grin is wolfish. "Been thinking about putting a little girl in you," he says, and my heart skips a beat. "A daughter with your eyes and your smile."

"A daughter?" The idea makes my womb clench. We'd talked about having more children someday, but I didn't know he was thinking about it so soon.

"Mmm," he hums, spreading my thighs with those big hands of his. "Been dreaming about it. A little princess for Daddy to spoil." His fingers find me already wet through my panties. "Fuck, baby. Always ready for me, aren't you?"

I can only nod as he rubs slow circles over my clit. My head falls back against the cabinet as pleasure blooms between my legs.

"Tell me you want it," he demands, pulling my panties aside. "Tell me you want me to put a baby girl in you."

"Yes," I moan as one thick finger slides inside me. Then another, stretching me. "God, yes, Thorne. Give me another baby."

That's all it takes. He unzips his jeans, freeing his cock—massive like the rest of him—and lines up with my entrance. There's no more foreplay, no gentle build-up. He knows I don't need it. Not when he looks at me like this, like I'm everything he's ever wanted.

He pushes in with one powerful thrust, burying himself to the hilt. The stretch burns so good, my body immediately clamping down around him.

"Fuck," he growls, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. "Still so tight for me. So perfect."

He starts moving, hard and fast, each thrust jolting me back against the cabinets. The wooden spoons hanging nearby rattle with the force of it.

"Look at me," he commands, and I force my heavy eyelids open. His gaze pins me in place. "I'm going to fill you up, littlegirl. Going to flood your sweet pussy with so much cum, there's no way it doesn't take."

His filthy words make me clench around him, and he groans in response.

"You like that? Like the idea of me breeding you again?" His hand slides up to my throat, not squeezing, just holding. A reminder of his power, his ownership. "Answer me."

"Yes, Daddy," I gasp, using the name I know drives him wild in bed. "I want it. Want you to breed me."

Something feral takes over his expression. He can never control himself when I call him daddy. He pulls out suddenly, making me whimper at the loss, but then he's flipping me over, bending me over the counter. He kicks my legs wider, and then he's back, slamming into me from behind with enough force to knock the breath from my lungs.

"Mine," he grunts with each thrust. "All fucking mine."

One hand tangles in my hair, pulling my head back while the other reaches around to work my clit in tight circles. The dual stimulation is overwhelming. I can feel the pressure building rapidly, my thighs starting to tremble.

"That's it, baby," he encourages, his rhythm never faltering. "Come on my cock while I fill you up."

His words push me over the edge. I come with a cry that echoes through the kitchen, my inner walls clamping down on him like a vise. He groans, his hips stuttering, and then he's pressing so deep inside me I swear I can feel him in my throat.

"Fuck, FUCK!” he roars as he comes, his cock pulsing inside me, pumping me full of his seed. He collapses over my back, his weight pressing me into the counter, both of us panting.

After a moment, he gently turns me back around, still buried inside me, and kisses me with surprising tenderness.

"I love you," he murmurs against my lips. "More than anything in this world except those boys out there. And the little girl we just made."

I laugh softly, wrapping my arms around his neck. "Pretty confident, aren't you?"

His smile is smug. "Never failed yet, have I?"

He hasn't. He swore I’d be pregnant, and I was—with twins. Something about his virility and my fertility just works.

He kisses me again, deeper this time, his hands cradling my face like I'm something precious. When he pulls back, his eyes are soft with an emotion that still makes my heart skip.

"Thank you," he says quietly.

"For what?"

"For staying. For giving me a reason to speak again. For our sons." His hand drops to my belly, still flat but maybe, just maybe, already nurturing new life. "For everything."

I cover his hand with mine. Five years ago, I stumbled into this cabin lost in a blizzard. I had no idea I was stumbling into the rest of my life, into the arms of a man who would love me with a ferocity that takes my breath away.

"No," I whisper, pressing my forehead to his. "Thank you for keeping me."