5. Rosy
Rosy
SIX MONTHS LATER—
I awaken to the feeling of my boyfriend’s cock poking my ass.
I open my eyes, luxuriating in the feel of knowing that I am no longer alone.
Atlas sleeps behind me, his arms banded over my hips, our naked bodies close together.
His cum has dried on my thighs, and my nipples feel sensitive when his hand brushes it, thanks to all the sex we’ve been having.
This is my life now, my life as Atlas’s younger girlfriend.
I smile into the pillow, feeling his morning wood press harder against my ass.
This is how most of our mornings begin now.
His body waking up before his mind, his cock finding me in the dark like it has its own compass.
I press back against him, a slow, deliberate grind that makes him groan into my hair.
“Good morning, babygirl. Someone is horny this morning.” His voice is rough with sleep, gravelly and thick, and it does things to me that no amount of coffee ever could.
“Good morning, Daddy.” The word comes easily now, naturally, like breathing. Six months ago it felt foreign on my tongue, something I whispered in shame. Now I say it the way I say his name. With reverence. With belonging. “How can I resist the city’s most handsome billionaire?”
His hand slides down my stomach, fingers splaying across my belly, and I feel the heat of his palm against my skin. He cups my mound, his thumb finding my clit with an accuracy that makes my breath hitch. He drags his finger over my moist slit that is begging for my dominant man.
“Already wet for me,” he murmurs, his lips pressed against the back of my neck. “Were you dreaming about this?”
“Maybe.” I roll my hips, grinding against his hand, and feel him smile against my skin.
“Greedy little thing.” His fingers dip lower, sliding through my slick, and I feel two thick digits push inside me without warning. I gasp, my walls clenching around him, and he chuckles, the sound vibrating through my spine.
“Always so tight for Daddy. Even after all this time.” He curls his fingers, finding that spot inside me that makes my vision blur, and I arch my back, pressing my ass harder against his cock. “You want this inside you, babygirl?”
“Yes.” The word comes out breathless, desperate. “I love feeling your morning wood in my cunt.”
He withdraws his fingers, and I whimper at the loss, but then I feel his cock nudge against my entrance, the swollen head pressing into my soaked folds.
He climbs over me, flipping me down in a dominant gesture that makes me hot all over.
He takes the bedsheet off, revealing my naked body in the morning light.
My shapely curves and breasts come into view, marked with bites and kisses that he gave me last night. My body looks loved up.
“Look at you. I love you when you’re naked, Dr. Black.
” He brushes his fingers over the little markings.
“All those marks that Daddy left on you.” His cock pushes into my cunt, just an inch, and I groan.
On the bedside table, his phone begins to ring.
Sometimes, I forget that my boyfriend is a successful CEO.
After we got together, my career has been flourishing.
I’ve been getting new clients, and his board got off his back about therapy.
Seems like blowing your therapist is the best stress relief.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?”’
“No. This pussy is my priority tonight now.” He pushes forward, slow and deliberate, filling me inch by inch. I feel it everywhere, so much more sensitive this morning. It’s always good, but today, it is extra good. He plugs up my pussy and bottoms out, his hips flush against my ass.
“Fuck.” His voice is wrecked, and I feel his heartbeat hammering against my back. “Every time feels like the first time. I love you, babygirl.”
I swallow, still getting used to that sound. He said he loved me before when we were making love, and ever since, he’s been saying it again and again. I don’t know if he means it, but I can’t think with him inside me.
Atlas holds still for a moment, buried to the hilt, kissing my face, and I feel the stretch of him, the fullness, the way my body molds around his cock like it was designed for this exact purpose.
“I’m so lucky I get to fuck you every morning.
Seems like this is what I needed to make my stress melt away.
” He begins pulling out, and I feel the drag along my walls.
“No wonder you’re the hottest therapist in the city, Dr. Black. ”
“Hmm…I’m glad I could help—”
My words are cut off when he slams into me. The sound I make is loud enough to echo off the marble walls of our bedroom.
Our bedroom. The thought still sends a thrill through me. Because that’s what this is now. Ours. Not his penthouse that I visit. Not his bed that I sleep in. Ours. Together.
“Fuck, baby, you feel so good. I am addicted.”
He rails me hard on his bed, our bed now, his hips snapping forward with each thrust. I push back to meet him, our bodies finding that perfect sync that only comes from months of learning each other.
His hand slides up my body, over my ribs, and he cups my breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers, playing with it as he hits my G-spot casually.
“Daddy.” I am breathless, already so close to my climax. His cock dragging inside me, slamming into my sweet spot, is driving me insane.
“Come for me, baby. I want to start this morning with the sweet sound of my girlfriend orgasming.”
I don’t disappoint him. When he hits the opening of my womb, I cry out, orgasming. Pleasure sweeps through me, my pussy milking his cock and making him spill inside. He grunts as he climaxes too, filling me up with his seed, both of us in heaven.
Later, when he lies on top of me, holding me close, he whispers, “Fuck, it feels so good to come inside you. I think you should recommend this morning routine to all your patients. It’s really been helping my mood.”
I smile. “Mine too.”
I sit and have breakfast alone after Atlas leaves for work.
I don’t have to go in until later tonight, and he left early.
However, as I look at the scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon he left for me, I feel a wave of nausea rise up.
Before I know it, I’m running to the bathroom, throwing up last night’s dinner into the toilet.
“What is wrong with me?” I ask, looking at me pale face as I wash my face and brush again. I have been feeling queasy a lot, but I’ve never thrown up before.
And just like that, the answer hits me.
“Oh god. I could be pregnant.”
It seems like such an obvious conclusion, considering what we’ve been doing, but I never thought of it before. I quickly get dressed, deciding to run down to the pharmacy to grab a pregnancy test.
I’m back in the penthouse within thirty minutes, three different brands of pregnancy tests clutched in a paper bag like contraband. My hands won’t stop shaking as I lock the bathroom door behind me, my reflection staring back at me from the marble countertop.
I line the tests up on the edge of the sink like little soldiers. Three of them. I need to be sure. So, I take them all.
The first one comes back positive before I’ve even finished washing my hands.
I stare at it. The little pink plus sign stares back at me from the plastic window, bold and undeniable, and something cracks open in my chest. I pick it up, my fingers trembling, and turn it over like maybe the answer will change if I look at it from a different angle. It doesn’t.
The second one is positive too. Then, the third.
The result is unanimous. There’s no room for doubt. No margin for error. I am pregnant with Atlas Tucker’s baby.
I sink down onto the edge of the marble bathtub, the cold stone biting through my leggings, and I press my palm flat against my stomach.
There’s nothing there yet. No bump, no flutter, no physical evidence of the life growing inside me.
But I can feel it. Some deep, cellular part of me knows it’s real.
Knows that Atlas’s seed took root in my womb and something is growing, something made of both of us, something that will change everything.
“Oh, my god.” The words come out as a whisper, barely audible over the hammering of my own heart. “Oh my god, I’m pregnant. I’m going to be a mom.”
The joy hits me first. A bright, blinding wave of it that crashes through every defense I’ve ever built, flooding my chest with warmth so intense it makes my eyes sting.
I am carrying his child. Atlas’s baby. The man I love more than I’ve ever loved anything in my entire life.
His DNA is mixing with mine, creating something new, something ours, and the thought makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time.
But then the panic sets in.
Because we didn’t plan this. We haven’t even talked about having kids.
We’ve been having unprotected sex since the very first time, since that night on my office desk when he took my virginity and filled me with his cum without a second thought.
But we never talked about it. Never discussed birth control, never had that conversation about what would happen if this exact scenario played out.
I just assumed I’d get to using birth control at some point, but never did.
I crave the feeling of him coming inside me, breeding me.
And now here we are. What a good I’ve been.
I think about his career. The billion-dollar company he built from nothing. The board meetings and investor calls and the relentless, all-consuming drive that defines him. Is there a place in his life for a family? For a child?
What about me? I just got started with my career and am finally making progress. Would a child disrupt my plans? Even as I think, I know I want this baby. I know I can make it work. I will make it work.
I stand up, and that’s when the bathroom door opens.