The ocean roars outside our window, but it's nothing compared to the thundering of my heart as Morgan's body arches above mine like a goddess demanding worship.
It's been three days at the beach house, three days of paradise, really. No phones, no interruptions, just us consuming each other like we're the last meal before the apocalypse. My hand still throbs occasionally, but the pain has faded to background noise, especially during moments like this.
The silk scarves binding my wrists to the bedposts are tight enough to hold me in place but loose enough around my bandaged hand. Morgan was meticulous about that, checking and double-checking that nothing pulled at my injury. Even in her most feral moments, she's careful with me in ways that make my chest ache.
"You look so pretty all tied up for me," she purrs, her back still turned as she rides me with expert precision. Her red hair cascades down her spine, swaying with each roll of her hips. The afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows turns her skin golden, highlighting every perfect curve.
I strain against my restraints, desperate to touch her but equally thrilled by my helplessness. "Morgan," I whimper, the word barely audible as she grinds down particularly hard.
She glances over her shoulder, her green eyes dark with something primal. A wicked smile spreads across her face as she slows her movements, circling her hips in a way that makes me see stars.
"Get me pregnant," she says, her voice dropping to a husky command.
The words hit me like an electric shock. "Wait, what?" I gasp, my eyes widening as my brain struggles to process what she's just said.
Instead of answering, she increases her pace, bouncing harder on my cock. "Get me pregnant, Adam," she repeats, louder this time, her voice taking on an almost hypnotic quality.
"Morgan, we should talk about…"
"Get me pregnant," she chants, cutting me off. Her movements become more urgent, more demanding. "Get me pregnant. Get me pregnant."
Something inside me shifts, a primal switch flipping as her words sink in. The thought of filling her, claiming her in the most ancient way possible, sends a surge of unexpected heat through my veins. I shouldn't be turned on by this, it's reckless, it's life-altering, but my body responds with a ferocity that startles me.
"Get me pregnant!" she's practically screaming now, slamming herself down on me with abandon. Her nails dig into my thighs as she takes what she wants, what she's demanding from me.
"Morgan, can you..." I whimper, my voice breaking as her movements become frenzied, "can you really get pregnant?"
She turns her head fully now, her eyes locking with mine. There's something wild there, something loving and possessive. She nods slowly, deliberately, never breaking her rhythm.
"Yes," she hisses, her voice raw with need. "Get me pregnant, Adam. Give me your baby. Commit to me forever."
Something about her words, the desperate plea in her voice, the thought of my cum filling her unprotected womb, it excites me. My back arches off the bed as far as my restraints will allow.
"Fuck, Morgan, I'm…" I groan, unable to hold back any longer. My cock pulses violently as I empty myself inside her, thick ropes of hot cum shooting deep into her waiting body. I thrust upward with each spurt, instinctively trying to plant my seed as deep as possible.
"Yes, yes, that's it," Morgan moans, grinding herself against me, milking every last drop. "Fill me up, make me yours."
My entire body shudders with the force of my orgasm, vision blurring at the edges as pleasure crashes through me like a tidal wave. It feels different somehow, more intense, more meaningful, knowing my cum might actually take root inside her.
When the last tremors subside, Morgan spins on me and collapses forward, her forehead resting against my chest. Her body trembles slightly as she catches her breath. I can feel my cum leaking from where we're still joined, hot and sticky between us.
"Don't move," she whispers, her voice suddenly gentle. "Stay inside me. Let it take."
Terror overcomes me as reality crashes through my post-orgasmic haze. "Wait, Morgan... are you really not on any form of contraception?" My voice cracks, panic rising in my throat like bile.
She squeezes around me, our bodies still intimately connected, and leans forward to capture my lips in a deep, possessive kiss. I can feel her smile against my mouth.
"Would that be so bad?" she whispers when she finally pulls away, her green eyes searching mine. "To become a father?"
My heart hammers against my ribs as I struggle against the silk restraints, suddenly feeling trapped in more ways than one. "Morgan, that's a huge decision. We've only been together for a few days, not even officially dating…"
"Shhh," she places a finger against my lips, silencing me.
Her eyes bore into mine, intense and unwavering. "I think you'd make such a good daddy, though," she says, her voice soft but insistent as her fingers trace patterns on my chest.
My stomach knots with anxiety. "And I'm sure you'll be a great mother but it's crazy to just jump to this," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady despite the panic rising within me.
Her expression darkens, the warmth in her eyes cooling as she frowns. "So if I get pregnant now, you'll just run away?" The hurt in her voice is palpable, cutting through me like a knife.
"That's not what I meant," I backpedal, wishing my hands were free so I could reach for her. "I wouldn't abandon you or a child, ever. But shouldn't we plan something this important? Talk about it first?"
Morgan's eyes soften, and she leans in close, her lips brushing against my ear. Her breath is warm against my skin as she whispers, "I'm just joking, Adam. I just wanted to know you wouldn't abandon me if you knocked me up."
Relief floods through me so intensely that I actually laugh, the sound bursting from me in a slightly hysterical release of tension. My whole body relaxes against the mattress as she pulls back to look at me, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.
"Jesus, Morgan," I breathe, my heart still racing. "You can't just say things like that."
She traces a finger down my chest, her touch leaving goosebumps in its wake. "Can't I? The look on your face was priceless." There's something calculating in her eyes that I can't quite read. "Besides, I learned something important about you."
"What's that?" I ask, still trying to catch my breath.
"That you're honorable." She presses a gentle kiss to my throat. "That despite your panic, your first instinct wasn't to run away. It was to take responsibility."
I swallow hard, watching as she reaches up to untie my wrists, freeing me from the silk restraints. "Of course, I wouldn't run away. What kind of man do you think I am?"
Morgan sits back on her heels, studying me with those piercing green eyes. "The kind I want to keep," she says simply.
My newly freed hands find her hips, holding her in place as I try to process what just happened. "So you are on birth control?"
She tilts her head, that enigmatic smile still playing on her lips. "Does it matter now?"
"Yes, it matters," I insist, feeling a flash of frustration. "Morgan, please. Just be straight with me."
Morgan sighs and rolls her eyes playfully. "Yes, I have an IUD. Happy now?"
I breathe a sigh of relief, but then she leans in close, her lips brushing against my ear as she whispers, "Or maybe I'm lying about that."
Something shifts inside me, a strange, unexpected thrill rather than panic. I'll play along. I look into her eyes and decide to play along with her dangerous game. My lips curl into a smile as I reach up to twist a strand of her fiery hair between my fingers.
"Well, I really hope our daughter has red hair like yours," I say, my voice surprisingly steady.
Morgan's reaction is instantaneous and nothing like I expected. Her entire face flushes crimson, spreading down her neck and across her chest. Her eyes widen, pupils dilating as she stares at me in stunned silence. For once, the composed, always-in-control Morgan seems completely thrown off balance.
"You..." she stammers, swallowing hard. "You want a daughter? With me?"
I hadn't expected this vulnerability from her. The woman who confidently tied me to her bed, who demanded I impregnate her minutes ago, now looks almost shy at the mention of a red-haired daughter.
"If we're playing the 'what if' game," I say, stroking her cheek gently, "then yes, I'd want a little girl with your hair and your eyes. She'd be beautiful and fierce, just like her mother."
Morgan makes a small sound, something between a gasp and a whimper. She presses her face into my chest, hiding her expression from me. I feel wetness against my skin and realize with shock that she's crying.
"Hey," I murmur, wrapping my arms around her. "I was just joking around like you were. I'm sorry if I upset you."
Morgan lifts her head, eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she searches my face. "So you don't want to have a daughter?"
"No, that part's real," I admit, surprising myself with my honesty.
Her entire demeanor transforms instantly, the vulnerability replaced with radiant joy. "Then I'm not upset at all," she says, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.
Morgan looks a little embarrassed now, ducking her head as a blush spreads across her cheeks again. It's endearing to see this powerful woman suddenly shy.
"I can't wait for the day we make that possible," she whispers, pressing a soft kiss to my chest before sliding off me. "I need a minute."
She pads across the bedroom to the adjoining bathroom, closing the door softly behind her. I stare at the ceiling, my mind reeling from the emotional whiplash of the last few minutes.
—
Morgan's Point of View
I sit on the toilet, hands clasped over my face, feeling his warm seed leaking from me. My cheeks burn with a blush so intense I can feel the heat radiating off my skin. I've never blushed like this, not during my wildest scenes, not during the most degrading acts I've performed on camera.
But this? This is different.
"A daughter with my hair," I whisper, the words sending another wave of heat through my body. My hands tremble against my cheeks as I try to process what just happened.
He wants a baby with me. A little girl with my red hair, my green eyes.
I bite my lip to keep from screaming with joy, tasting blood as my teeth break the skin. The metallic tang grounds me, reminds me to keep my composure. I can't let him see how completely his words have undone me.
And he has no idea. No fucking clue that I'm ready. That I've been tracking my cycle with obsessive precision, waiting for the perfect moment.
Which is now. Right now.
I'm ovulating. His potent seed is inside me at the most fertile point in my cycle. Science and nature conspiring to give me exactly what I want: Adam's child growing inside me. A permanent, unbreakable bond.
"Stupid, beautiful man," I murmur, a slightly hysterical laugh bubbling up from my chest. "You have no idea what you've done."
I should feel guilty. I know I should. Tricking a man into fatherhood is despicable by any moral standard. But all I feel is exhilaration, a primal satisfaction so intense it makes my entire body hum with energy.
I press my palm flat against my lower abdomen, imagining his seed finding my egg, the miracle of life beginning inside me. A little girl with red hair. Our daughter.
"Mine forever now," I whisper, tears of joy mingling with my blush. "He'll never leave us."