Fresh out of nursing school, Lena Carr had only been working at St. Adrian’s for a week, but she already found herself orbiting one man’s gravity like a moon tugged toward the sun.

Dr. Marcus Vell, Chief of Surgery — 54 years old, built like he still ran track, voice like velvet smoke. Chocolate brown skin, sharp jawline, piercing blue eyes, and the quiet command of a man who didn’t need to raise his voice to be obeyed. He wore authority like he wore his lab coat: crisp, effortless, irresistible.

Lena had tried not to look at him too long during rounds. She kept her hands busy and her lips bitten, swallowing the wrong kind of heat every time he stepped too close, or murmured her name in that deep, unhurried way.

But today?

Today, she stayed late to help with a last-minute post-op.

And now, they were alone in his office.

He stood at his desk, skimming the surgical notes she’d transcribed. Her handwriting — neat, precise, eager to please — had clearly passed inspection. He looked up, and those ice-blue eyes pinned her in place.

“You’ve done well, Nurse Carr,” he said, his voice smooth and low. “Very well.”

Her heart gave a foolish flutter. “Th-thank you, Doctor.”

He stepped around the desk. Close enough for her to smell his cologne — leather, spice, heat. Close enough that the air thickened between them.

“You’ve been working hard,” he continued, tone almost... indulgent. “Showing initiative. Following direction.”

She nodded, swallowing hard.

“And you like following direction, don’t you?”

She froze. Her throat worked. Her legs felt too thin to stand on.

“I—yes. I mean, I try—”

He cut her off with a soft chuckle, deep and amused. Not cruel. Patient. Like he was watching something bloom exactly the way he expected it to.

“Good girl.”

The words hit her like a slap and a kiss all at once. She inhaled sharply, thighs instinctively pressing together.

Dr. Vell noticed.

She knew he noticed.

He took a slow step forward. She backed into the desk behind her, palms resting against the wood. Her chest rose and fell — plush curves straining beneath her scrubs. His eyes flicked down, then back up to her face.

“You like praise,” he said softly. “You like being seen.”

“I…” Her voice trembled. “Yes.”

Another step. Now he was right in front of her, towering. She tilted her head back to keep eye contact, her breath coming shallow.

“But good girls,” he murmured, “don’t keep secrets from their doctor, do they?”

She blinked. “Secrets?”

“You’ve been watching me, Lena.” Her name in his mouth was honey over gravel. “You think I didn’t notice? The way you bite your lip every time I stand behind you. The way you squirm when I call your name.”

Her cheeks flushed crimson. She couldn’t lie. Not now. Not when he was looking at her like that.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“No,” he said, tipping her chin up with one finger. “Don’t be sorry.”

A pause.

“Be obedient.”

Then he leaned down, lips ghosting against her ear.

“Take off your scrub top.”

Her hands trembled. Her mind screamed wrong — he was married, she was new — but her body burned to obey.

And as she slowly pulled the top over her head, revealing pale, flushed skin and a tight black bra barely containing her full, heaving breasts, he smiled.

“That’s it,” he said, voice gone rougher. “Good girl.”

Dr. Vell didn’t touch her right away.

He just stood there, eyes roving over the exposed skin of her chest, drinking in the way her breasts strained against her bra: full, soft, begging for attention. Lena’s breath hitched, nipples visibly hard now under the thin fabric, her skin prickling with anticipation.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, voice like dark velvet. “And you don’t even know it, do you?”

Her lips parted to answer, but no words came out. Just a soft exhale, like a confession.

His fingers brushed her collarbone, slow and deliberate. Heat bloomed under his touch, spreading through her body like fire through dry grass.

“You’ve been aching for this,” he said, fingertips trailing down the slope of her breast—not quite touching it, just tracing the air over it. “Coming in every day, looking so innocent… but I see you.”

She whimpered—quietly, like it might escape notice. But he heard it.

He leaned in close again, his breath warm against her ear.

“Tell me what you want.”

Lena’s heart pounded. Her thighs clenched. She could barely think, let alone speak, but some small, brave part of her whispered through the haze:

“You.”

He smiled against her neck. “Good girl.”

This time, when his hand came up, he cupped her breast firmly, kneading, testing the weight of it, thumb brushing over the peak. She gasped, head tipping back against the office wall.

“You’re so soft,” he growled, now fully pressing against her. She could feel the thickness of him through his pants — hard and heavy, pressed right up against her stomach.

“I should stop,” he said, even as his other hand slid to her hip, gripping her. “You’re young. Innocent. I’m your boss.”

He paused.

Then: “But you don’t want me to stop, do you?”

She shook her head, biting her lip. “No, Doctor.”

He kissed her then—not soft, not hesitant. It was deep and claiming, his hand gripping the back of her neck as his tongue slid into her mouth. She moaned into it, clutching at his shirt, pulling him closer.

When he pulled back, his eyes were darker now—hungry.

“I’m going to ruin you for every boy your age,” he growled. “You’ll only want this. Want me.”

Then he hooked a finger into the waistband of her scrub pants.

“Take them off. Slowly.”

Lena obeyed, hands trembling. She pushed her pants down her hips, revealing a pair of lace panties — damp, clinging to her. Her skin flushed even pinker under his gaze, but she didn’t look away.

She wanted him to see.

He knelt before her then — this powerful man on his knees, parting her thighs with strong, sure hands. The cool air kissed her damp heat, and her breath hitched.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me,” he murmured, eyes locked on hers. “Let me give you something back.”

Then he leaned in, tongue flicking out, tasting her through the lace first, just enough to make her cry out, one hand flying to his shoulder for balance.

Her knees buckled when he pulled the fabric aside and truly tasted her.

Long, slow licks. Deep and possessive, like he meant to memorize her flavor. He groaned into her, and the sound vibrated against her clit. She gasped, one leg hooked over his shoulder now as he feasted on her like a man starved.

She was already close — too close. But then he stopped.

She whined at the loss, blinking down at him with desperate, wide eyes.

He stood, towering over her again, his hand on his belt now.

“I want to hear you beg.”

Her breath caught.

“Please,” she whispered.

“Louder.”

“Please, Doctor. I need it. I need you.”

The sound of his zipper coming down was the only answer she got — and the only one she needed.

When he pulled himself free, her breath caught again. He was thick, heavy, already slick with pre-cum. Bigger than she’d imagined in her quietest, dirtiest fantasies.

He stroked himself once, slowly, eyes never leaving hers.

Then he cupped her face with one hand, thumb brushing her lips.

“Open.”

She did — obedient, trembling — and he slid two fingers into her mouth first, letting her suck them, letting her feel the way she’d tasted on his skin.

Then he pulled them free.

And pressed the tip of his cock against her soaked entrance.

“You ready for me, baby?”

She nodded frantically, clutching at his arms.

“Say it.”

“I’m ready, Doctor. Please.”

Then he pushed in.

He slid into her slowly, not out of hesitation, but deliberate control. Thick inch by inch, stretching her tight and wet around him. Lena’s lips parted in a silent gasp, her head falling back against the wall as he filled her deeper than she’d ever felt before.

“You take me so well,” he groaned, jaw tight. “So tight for me.”

Her nails dug into his forearms. Every nerve in her body lit up as he bottomed out, buried to the hilt.

It was too much. It was perfect.

He held still inside her, one hand gripping her hip, the other slipping around her throat — not squeezing, just holding her there, claiming her. Blue eyes locked on green.

“I want you to remember this,” he said, voice rough. “Every time you walk these halls. Every time you see me. I want your body to ache for this.”

Then he pulled back and slammed into her hard.

She cried out, high and sharp, the sound echoing off the office walls. Again. Again. His hips snapped against hers in punishing rhythm, her body jolting with every thrust. The desk behind her shook with each impact. Papers fluttered to the floor.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, instinctively anchoring him closer.

“You like this?” he grunted, sweat beginning to bead on his temple. “Being used like this? Fucked like you’ve been begging for it?”

“Yes—yes—God, yes,” she sobbed, lost in sensation.

His hand slid up her spine, curled into her hair, pulling her head back. He kissed her again — hard, messy, all tongue and teeth — before biting down gently on her lip, dragging a moan from her throat.

“Good girl,” he growled against her mouth.

The praise hit something deep and raw inside her. She clenched around him, desperate, greedy. Her body trembled — already on the edge again. Her mind was haze and lightning.

“You’re close,” he said. “I can feel it. Are you going to cum for me?”

“Yes—please—I need to—”

He reached between them, thumb rubbing her clit in tight circles, never letting up the rhythm of his hips. She screamed — not caring, not hiding — as her orgasm ripped through her, her body clamping down on him in pulsing waves.

Dr. Vell didn’t stop. He fucked her through it, letting her ride the high, milking every shudder, every twitch.

“God damn, you’re perfect when you cum,” he murmured into her ear.

Then his pace changed — faster now, rougher. He was close. She could feel it in the way his muscles tightened, in the groan building low in his chest.

“You want me to finish inside you, don’t you?” he snarled. “You want me to fill you up like you belong to me?”

She couldn’t speak — could only nod, moaning, barely holding on.

With a final thrust, he buried himself deep and came with a growl — low, primal, pure dominance made flesh. Hot and thick, she felt every pulse of it as he spilled inside her, his hips jerking against her slick, swollen folds.

He stayed like that for a moment — both of them panting, trembling, bodies locked together.

Then, softer now, he pressed his forehead to hers.

“I shouldn’t want you,” he whispered.

She looked up, eyes glassy, lips bruised.

“But you do,” she breathed.

He cupped her cheek, thumb brushing gently over her skin — the contrast of that tenderness against the feral way he’d just claimed her made her heart stutter.

“And I’m not letting anyone else have you,” he said. “Not now.”

Lena slumped against him, boneless and breathless, her heart still hammering in her chest. Her legs were trembling where they clung around his waist, and the wet heat between them throbbed with every tiny shift of his body inside her.

She’d never felt so full.

So wrecked.

So… wanted.

Dr. Vell’s arms tightened around her, one hand sliding up her bare back in slow, grounding strokes. His voice dropped — quiet now, almost gentle. “Breathe, sweetheart. That’s it.”

She buried her face against his neck, inhaling his sweat, his scent, her own need still clinging to his skin. His cock was still inside her — softening, but thick and warm, keeping his release locked deep where he’d spilled it.

Lena’s thighs twitched. She could feel him leaking into her.

“Doctor…” she whispered, almost shy now.

He pulled back enough to look at her, brushing damp strands of black hair from her flushed face.

“Call me Marcus,” he said. “You’ve earned that.”

She blushed deeper. It was such a simple thing — her name in his mouth, his in hers — but it made her chest ache.

He leaned in and kissed her again, slower this time. No fire — just warmth. Possession. His lips moved with hers like he had all the time in the world.

Then he pulled out of her with a low groan, catching her gasp as his cum slipped down her thighs.

“Messy little thing,” he murmured, his hand cupping her between the legs. “Can’t keep it in, can you?”

Her cheeks flamed. But when he dipped his fingers into her again — scooping his own release and gently pushing it back into her still-quivering pussy — she whimpered and clung to him, shivering from the overstimulation.

“I meant it,” he said, voice low and calm now, but still full of hunger. “I’m not letting anyone else touch you.”

She blinked up at him. “But you’re… married.”

He sighed, brushing a thumb along her lower lip. “That’s a complication,” he said. “But it doesn’t change what I feel when I look at you.”

He cupped her stomach with one warm, broad hand, palm splayed low, over her womb.

“Especially now.”

Her breath hitched.

“Marcus—”

“You’re going to let me fuck you raw whenever I want,” he said softly, pressing his lips to her temple. “Keep you full. Keep you mine.”

He kissed her again, slower this time. Deeper. Like a promise.

“And when you miss your period,” he whispered, “you’ll come to me first. And I’ll tell you you’re pregnant with my baby. My nurse. My girl.”

Lena trembled in his arms. Something inside her — instinct, heat, need — snapped. The idea of it… his seed in her, his baby growing inside her, hidden beneath her uniform as she walked through the hospital halls, was intoxicating.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I want it.”

He grinned against her skin. “You’re going to be perfect bred.”

Then he gently helped her onto the leather couch in the corner of his office, grabbing a warm cloth from the cabinet nearby. He knelt in front of her again, carefully cleaning between her thighs — slow, deliberate, reverent.

No teasing now.

Just care.

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Tell me.”

“I’m okay, Marcus,” she said, her voice soft but sure. “I’ve never felt… like this. I want more.”

His smile was dark, full of promise.

“You’ll have it.”

One week later.

The office door clicked shut behind her. Lena’s heart was already pounding before she turned the lock.

Marcus was waiting.

He stood near the desk, sleeves rolled up, stethoscope draped around his neck, but it wasn’t the white coat or the professionalism that made her stomach tighten. It was the look in his eyes — hunger, heat, something unspoken and dark.

He’d barely texted her all week. Barely spoken outside of rounds. But now she saw it: he’d been waiting. Letting it build.

“I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me,” she said, trying for lightness.

He said nothing — just crossed the room in three long strides and gripped her hips hard, spinning her and pushing her against the door she’d just closed.

“You know damn well I didn’t forget,” he growled against her neck. “I’ve been hard every time I looked at you. Every time you walked by in that tight little uniform with my cum still inside you.”

She gasped as he ground his hips against her ass. He was already hard — thick and insistent through his slacks.

“Did you miss me, baby?” he asked, fingers slipping under her waistband.

“Yes,” she breathed, trembling.

He yanked her scrub pants down, baring her panties — thin and soaked through. One hard slap echoed in the room as his palm connected with her ass, making her gasp.

“Say it right.”

“I missed you, Doctor. I missed your cock. I missed when you cum inside me.”

He groaned, low and guttural, then shoved her panties to the side. His fingers slid through her folds — slick, needy.

“Still wet for me. You’ve been aching all week, haven’t you?”

“Yes—”

“For what?”

“For you to fuck me and breed me.”

That did it.

He spun her again, lifted her with a grunt, and sat her on the edge of the desk, shoving papers and pens aside in a chaotic sweep.

“You’re damn right,” he growled, undoing his belt, freeing himself. He didn’t even pause — just grabbed her by the hips and slammed into her with one brutal thrust.

She screamed, back arching, the stretch too much, too perfect, after a week of being untouched.

“Mine,” he snarled, already thrusting deep and rough, rocking the desk with every snap of his hips. “You were made for this cock. Made to be filled, over and over, until you take.”

She cried out with every stroke. Her body welcomed him — slick, desperate, clutching at him like she’d been starving for this all week. Because she had.

“I dream about it,” she moaned. “You putting a baby in me. Walking through this hospital with your seed growing in my belly.”

He grabbed her throat again, not choking, just holding—owning.

“You think I haven’t thought about that? About watching your belly swell while you keep letting me fuck you raw? You're already mine. I’m just making it permanent.”

He pulled out, spun her again like a rag doll, and bent her over the desk. She gasped, forehead against the cool wood as he plunged back into her from behind.

“Look at you,” he snarled, pounding into her. “Bent over my desk. So eager to get knocked up by your married boss.”

She was incoherent now — moaning, sobbing, begging. The slap of skin on skin filled the office, her soaked pussy clenching around him as he used her like she belonged to him.

“Cum,” he growled. “I want you to milk me. I want your body to take.”

And she did — crying out his name as her orgasm tore through her, trembling so hard her knees nearly buckled.

He didn’t stop. He grabbed her hips, slammed deep once, twice — then groaned as he buried himself to the hilt and released inside her again.

Hot, thick, endless.

“Fuck,” he growled, pressing himself deep, keeping it in. “There. Take every drop. You’re not walking out of here without my baby.”

She collapsed forward, panting, full and aching.

He didn’t pull out right away. Just leaned over her, chest against her back, one large hand covering her lower belly.

“I hope it takes this time,” he whispered against her ear. “Because next time, I’m not pulling out until you’re begging me to stop.”

Lena shivered beneath him.

She didn’t want him to stop. Not ever.

Two weeks later.

The nurses' break room was dim, quiet, mostly empty during the lull between shifts. Lena stood near the vending machine, pretending to look at her phone. But her heart thumped hard under her scrubs, her pulse rising with every second that passed.

The door clicked open behind her.

She didn’t turn.

She didn’t have to.

Dr. Vell’s presence filled the room like a thundercloud. Heavy. Electric. Dangerous.

She felt him walk up behind her — felt the heat of his body before she heard his voice.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said low in her ear.

She swallowed. “I’ve been working.”

“Don’t lie to me, Lena.”

She turned to face him then, pulse racing. His eyes were sharp, unreadable. But something burned there. Something deeper than just lust.

“I can’t focus when you look at me like that during rounds,” she whispered. “I can’t even think straight when you’re near me.”

He stepped closer, close enough to pin her between the wall and his body. “Good.”

His hands moved fast, slipping under her scrub top, finding her bare skin, her breasts. She gasped as his fingers found her nipples already stiff, already waiting.

“You walk around this hospital soaked for me, don’t you?” he whispered, mouth brushing hers. “No panties. Just waiting for me to take what’s mine.”

Lena nodded, her breath catching. “I haven’t worn them in days.”

His growl was low and primal.

“You’re playing with fire, baby.”

“Maybe I like getting burned.”

He kissed her hard, one hand cupping the back of her head, the other sliding between her legs through the waistband of her scrubs. He found her soaked and needy, fingers slicking through her folds as she whimpered.

“Fuck. You’re soaked. In public. Where anyone could walk in.” He slid two fingers deep inside her, pumping hard, curling up until she choked on a moan. “You want someone to catch you like this, don’t you? Bent over in the break room with your superior's fingers deep in your cunt.”

“Please,” she whispered. “Please just fuck me.”

“No.” His voice turned cold. Commanding. “Turn around.”

She obeyed instantly, heart thudding, hands bracing against the vending machine. Her scrubs were yanked down in one swift move — exposing her pale ass, already flushed and trembling.

He dropped to his knees.

Her breath caught.

Marcus spread her open and licked her — rough and hungry, tongue plunging deep before dragging upward to circle her clit. She bit her fist, trying not to scream as he devoured her in the middle of the break room like he’d lost control.

“Keep quiet,” he warned, tongue flicking faster. “Unless you want the next shift to walk in on you dripping down my chin.”

She came hard, stifled sobs wracking her body.

He stood again, unzipping his pants, and pressed his cock between her thighs — thick, hot, pulsing. Without warning, he shoved into her from behind, burying himself to the hilt.

The moan that escaped her was strangled, desperate.

“You’re mine,” he growled, thrusting hard, fast, merciless. “Every fucking inch of you. And you’re going to take this load like a good little breeding toy, even if someone walks in and sees you getting filled.”

She nodded, tears stinging her eyes from the pressure, the bliss, the filth of it all.

“I need it,” she gasped. “Please—please cum in me again.”

And he did. With a deep groan, he pushed in hard, cock pulsing as he spilled inside her. Holding her still. Breeding her again right there in the break room.

Then — silence. Heavy breathing. Sweat. The sound of his cum dripping out of her onto the tile.

Marcus pulled her back against him, wrapping one arm around her waist, the other brushing damp hair from her face.

“You’re not just some fuck, Lena.”

She blinked, still dazed. “Then what am I?”

He kissed her shoulder, gently.

“You’re the only thing I think about. The only thing I want. And if you get pregnant—” His voice broke slightly. “I’m not going to run.”

Something twisted in her chest. Hope. Terror. Need.

“You want me to be yours,” she whispered.

“I already decided that,” he murmured, voice rough with something real. “Now I’m just waiting to see if your body agrees.”

Three months later.

Lena stared down at the stick in her hand.

Two lines.

Pregnant.

Her heart pounded so hard she thought she might faint. But beneath the fear, beneath the shock… was a dark, dizzying wave of heat.

He did it.
He really did it.

She pressed a hand to her lower belly — barely a curve there yet, but his was growing inside her.

The breakroom door creaked.

She turned fast, hiding the test behind her back.

Marcus stepped in — still in scrubs, his white coat undone, stethoscope around his neck. He paused when he saw her, eyes narrowing.

“What is it?”

Lena didn’t speak. Just reached for his hand. Pressed the test into it.

Silence.

Then his jaw clenched, his nostrils flared. He looked up at her with something raw in his expression — something close to shock, but deeper. Darker.

And then, softly: “Mine?”

She nodded. “Yours.”

He dropped the test onto the counter and crushed her to him in one motion, burying his face in her neck, breathing her in.

“You’re carrying my baby.” His voice broke. “Fuck, Lena.”

“I wanted to tell you first,” she whispered.

“You did everything right, baby.” His hands roamed her body, reverent now. “You took every drop. Let me fill you again and again. And now look at you. You’re bred.”

“Right here?” she whispered as he spun her, backing her up against the counter.

“Right now.”

“Someone could walk in—”

“Let them.”

He dropped to his knees, pushed her scrubs and panties down in one motion, and kissed the soft flesh of her belly.

“Mine,” he murmured against her skin. “All mine.”

Then he devoured her—tongue slick and greedy, mouth worshiping the swollen, sensitive heat between her thighs. She clutched the edge of the sink, biting her fist as her body shook with aftershocks.

He stood, already unzipping.

She grabbed his shoulders, panting. “You want to fuck me where anyone could walk in? While I’m pregnant with your baby?”

“Yes,” he growled, guiding his cock between her legs. “I want you to remember exactly who put it there.”

Then he slammed into her — one deep, brutal thrust. She gasped, clutching him as he fucked her against the counter, wild and reckless.

“Say it,” he growled, fucking her harder.

“I’m pregnant—fuck—I’m pregnant with your baby.”

“Good girl.” His voice was pure heat now. “You were made for this. You’re going to get so swollen, so slow and soft, and I’m going to fuck you through every stage of it.”

His hands slid around to her belly again as he filled her. “I’m going to cum inside you until the baby’s kicking while I’m still inside.”

She moaned, her orgasm ripping through her like fire.

He followed with a low snarl — cock pulsing deep inside her, flooding her again, even though she was already pregnant.

As the high faded, he didn’t pull out. He just held her, pressing his lips to her forehead.

“From now on,” he murmured, voice low, rough with emotion, “I don’t want you wearing anything under your scrubs. No panties. No bra. I want you dripping my cum every shift, every round.”

Her breath caught.

“Marcus—”

“I’ll give you everything,” he whispered. “But you belong to me. And now… everyone will know.”

Outside the door, footsteps echoed. Voices passed.

But inside, Lena only heard his heartbeat.

And the steady thrum of new life growing inside her.

Month 4 – New Shape, New Hunger

Lena’s belly had just begun to swell — a gentle curve beneath her scrubs. Barely noticeable unless you were looking closely. Marcus always was.

They met in his office between shifts now. His desk had become their altar. Some days he bent her over it and worshipped her. Other days, she knelt.

“You’re getting good at this,” he whispered, his cock resting against her lips.

Her tongue traced the length of it. He was thick, veiny, hot in her mouth — still her favorite taste in the world.

She moaned around him as he thrust deeper into her throat, gently at first, then guiding her pace. “Breathe through your nose. Relax your jaw, baby. That’s it — good girl.”

She took him deeper, her hands on his thighs, belly gently pressing against his legs as she knelt between them.

He didn’t just cum in her mouth. He held her head when he did, whispering how proud he was, how perfect she was — how full her lips looked stretched around the cock that had gotten her pregnant.

And when she swallowed, he kissed her like it meant something.

Because it did.

Month 5 – Rumors in the Hallways

Whispers started.

It was the way his hand always lingered on her back. The way he waited for her after shifts. The way he smiled at her belly like it was sacred.

“You two seem... close,” one nurse murmured over lunch.

Lena just smiled and stirred her yogurt. “He’s mentoring me.”

But everyone could see it. The way his eyes followed her when she walked. How she glowed. How he looked thinner, tired, but always hungry when she entered a room.

Then his wife stopped showing up.

And he stopped wearing his ring.

Month 6 – Public Possession

The baby bump was undeniable now.

Marcus made no effort to hide it — or her.

He took her to a conference in the city. Booked one hotel room. Walked beside her with a hand on her lower back, and another always drifting to her belly.

In the elevator, in front of other doctors, he pressed a kiss to her neck.

In the hotel lobby, he cupped her stomach with both hands, murmuring, “You’re glowing, sweetheart.”

They stared. Everyone did.

And Marcus wanted them to.

He fucked her on the hotel balcony that night, one hand on her round belly as he growled into her neck, “Let them look. Let them wonder. This is mine now.”

Month 7 – Divorce Papers & Devotion

He handed her the manila envelope without words.

She opened it slowly.

Divorce. Finalised. Clean. No custody battles. No alimony.

“I told you I wasn’t going to run,” he said, gently pressing her back onto the bed. “Now I don’t have to hide.”

He kissed her swollen belly, his lips reverent, and then slid between her legs.

“Every part of you,” he whispered, tongue circling her clit. “I claimed it the first time I touched you. But now, now you’re carrying my future. My family.”

She came in waves as he devoured her, his hands gripping her thighs, his mouth worshiping her. When he finally slid inside her, it was slow. Heavy. Deep.

“Feel how stretched you are?” he groaned. “That’s my baby making space inside you.”

She was crying by the end, overwhelmed by how full, how claimed she felt.

And he held her through it, whispering against her lips: “We’re not hiding anymore.”

Month 8 – Total Control

Lena had never felt so exposed.

Her belly had grown full, rounded, heavy with their baby, and her body seemed to change every day. She was soft now, swollen in places she hadn’t been before. But Marcus loved it. Loved the way she filled out, how his child grew inside her. It made her feel owned. And that feeling had settled into her bones, deeper than anything she’d felt before.

But he wasn’t just satisfied with her submission in their bed anymore.

It wasn’t enough for him that she’d agreed to let him fill her over and over. It wasn’t enough that she’d obeyed his every command.

Now, Marcus wanted everything.

And he started by controlling what she wore.

That morning, as they stood in the break room before her shift, Marcus turned to her and tugged at the hem of her scrubs. His hand was firm on her waist, possessive.

“Those are too loose,” he muttered, eyes dark. “I want you in something tighter today. I want everyone to see how fucking pregnant you are — how pregnant I made you.”

She hesitated. “Marcus, it’s just a shift—”

“No.” His voice was low, stern. “I’m not asking, Lena. I’m telling you. You’re going to wear what I tell you, and I’ll be waiting for you when you’re done. Understand?”

She nodded quickly. “Yes, Dr. Vell.”

He kissed her roughly. “Good girl. Now go.”

The day was long, the tension building with every hour she spent under his watchful eye. He hadn’t been subtle, glancing at her belly with each passing moment, his possessiveness tangible in every look. He never touched her in front of anyone, but the weight of his attention made her skin flush.

By the time her shift ended, Lena was practically shaking with need.

In the back of the hospital parking garage, away from prying eyes, Marcus pulled her to the side of his car.

He didn’t waste any time.

His hands were already on her, pulling her back against the cold metal of the car. The parking lot was empty, but the sense of danger and risk made her heart pound in her chest.

“You’re mine,” he growled, lifting her scrub top and pressing her against the car. “You’re always mine.”

Lena gasped as he gripped her hips, forcing her down onto his cock, the roughness of the metal against her skin heightening every sensation. She could feel the weight of his gaze, the way he devoured her with his eyes before his hands followed suit.

He was relentless, slamming into her harder than usual, his hands grabbing her by the waist, forcing her to take him deeper.

“Tell me you want it,” he demanded.

“I want it,” she whimpered. “Please, Marcus. I want it.”

His lips pressed to her ear, teeth grazing her skin as he growled. “You don’t just want it. You need it. You need me to fuck you like this because it’s the only thing that keeps you sane, isn’t it? Letting me claim you, over and over. Every fucking inch of you belongs to me.”

Lena nodded, her hands gripping the sides of the car, her legs trembling as she took him. “Yes. I need you. Please.”

He growled again, his hands moving to her belly, squeezing the soft flesh, pushing her harder against the car as he slammed into her again and again.

The sound of skin on skin, the rawness of the moment, echoed in the empty parking lot.

“You’re so fucking tight, Lena,” he hissed. “So fucking perfect for me.”

Lena’s breath caught as he hit a spot deep inside her, the sharp ache spreading, her body clenching around him as she came. She whimpered, trying to stifle the noise, but it was impossible.

Her orgasm was hard and shaking, her body collapsing into him.

He held her in place, thrusting deeper, his own orgasm taking over with a force that made her body tremble.

“Stay with me,” he ordered softly, but the command was there, even as he gently cradled her face in his hand.

When he pulled out, he kissed her deeply, his thumb brushing over her swollen belly.

“You look so fucking good pregnant,” he whispered, a possessive growl in his throat. “You’re going to keep getting bigger, aren’t you? Keep carrying my baby.”

She nodded, a shuddering breath escaping her lips. “Yes. I’m yours.”

Later that Week – Dominance in the Hallways

The following days were no different. Marcus’s control over Lena deepened, and it wasn’t just in their bedroom or in private moments. He wanted her to submit publicly, too.

As they walked down the hallways of the hospital together, his hand would often slide to her back, fingers grazing her round belly, his touch possessive and sure.

One day, they were in the middle of a crowded hallway when he pulled her close to him, his lips brushing her ear.

“I don’t want you talking to anyone but me,” he whispered. “No one else gets to touch you. No one gets to look at you the way I do. You’re mine, Lena. Mine.”

Her heart skipped a beat, and she nodded, knowing exactly what he meant.

She was his — in every sense of the word.

By the time she reached the eighth month of pregnancy, things had shifted beyond her control. Every part of her life — her work, her body, her future — felt like it was wrapped around his finger.

She didn’t resist.

In fact, there was something inside her that welcomed it.