"Such a perfect baby girl," he murmurs, one hand sliding beneath me to tilt my hips, hitting a spot inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyelids. "Taking Daddy so well."
I clutch at his shoulders, anchoring myself against the mounting pleasure. "Yes, yes?—"
"Gonna fill you up," he promises, his pace increasing slightly. "Gonna pump you full tonight."
The filthy promise sends heat spiraling through me. "Please, Daddy," I beg, rocking against him to meet each thrust. "Fill me up. Make me yours."
His control slips at my words, his thrusts becoming more forceful, the table creaking beneath us with each powerful drive of his hips. One hand finds my clit, circling roughly.
"Come for me," he demands, his voice a rough growl. "Let me feel this sweet pussy squeeze Daddy's cock."
The combination of his words, his touch, and the fullness of him inside me sends me hurtling over the edge. I cry out his name as pleasure crashes through me in waves, my inner walls clenching rhythmically around his length.
He follows immediately, driving deep one final time with a groan of satisfaction. I feel each pulse as he empties himself inside me, his seed hot and claiming.
We stay joined as our breathing slows, his forehead pressed to mine, our bodies connected in the most intimate way. When he finally slips from me, his release trickles onto the table beneath me—a testament to his claim, his possession.
He lifts me gently, carrying me to the couch where he settles with me in his lap, my head tucked under his chin. His hand strokes idle patterns on my back as our heart rates return to normal.
"I never thought I'd have this," I admit quietly. "Someone who wants me. Chooses me. Sees me."
His arms tighten around me. "Been seeing you since the first moment," he says gruffly. "Even before I found you. Knew you were mine from that first picture."
I smile against his chest, no longer disturbed by the intensity of his fixation. "Most people would find that creepy."
"You're not most people."
"No," I agree, looking up at him. "I'm yours."
The possessive satisfaction in his eyes warms me from the inside out. Maybe our beginning was unconventional—stalking, kidnapping, claiming. Maybe in another world, another life, I would have run screaming from a man like Gray. But here, now, in this cabin in the mountains, I've found something I never thought possible.
Safety. Love.
And I'm never letting it go.
thirteen
. . .
Beck
Two pink lines.I stare at the plastic stick in my hand, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my fingertips. Two pink lines that change everything. I'm pregnant. Somehow, despite the birth control I've been on for years, Gray's seed took root inside me. His obsession with breeding me, with filling me up, with making me round with his baby—it's no longer just dirty talk. It's reality. My hand trembles as I place the test on the bathroom counter. A month and a half since the bounty was cleared. A month and a half of freedom, of building a life together in this cabin. And now this. A child. His child. Growing inside me.
I should be panicking. Should be terrified at the thought of bringing a baby into this unconventional life we've created. A baby with a father who hunts dangerous men for a living, who has violence written into his DNA, who claimed me in a way most women would find terrifying.
But instead of fear, a warm glow spreads through me, centering in my lower belly where our child is taking form. Tears spring to my eyes, but they're not tears of distress. They're tears of wonder. Of joy.
I place my palm flat against my still-flat stomach. "Hello, little one," I whisper, feeling foolish but unable to stop myself. "Your daddy's going to be so happy."
Will he, though? Gray's breeding talk has always been a fantasy, something that drives him wild in the heat of passion. But a real baby? A tiny, vulnerable life that will depend on us both?
I try to remember when my birth control might have failed. The antibiotics I took for that sinus infection last month, perhaps? Gray had been particularly insatiable then, claiming me multiple times a day, as if making up for the nights when congestion kept me from breathing properly during sex.
The sound of his truck rumbling up the drive pulls me from my thoughts. He's home early from his supply run to town. I quickly wrap the pregnancy test in toilet paper and bury it deep in the bathroom trash. Not because I'm hiding it, but because I want to tell him properly. Want to see his face when he hears the news.
My heart races as I move to the kitchen, trying to act normal as I hear his heavy boots on the porch, the familiar sound of the door opening and closing. Will he be able to tell just by looking at me? He notices everything, my hunter, my protector.
"Beck?" His deep voice calls out, an edge of concern already present. He can sense something's different.
