Chapter 2: The Announcement on His Desk
The plastic stick clattered against a stack of financial reports, the word ‘PREGNANT’ glaring up from the gloom. Viktor’s eyes flicked from the test to her, his expression unreadable for a single, suspended heartbeat. Then her weight was in his lap, her mouth desperate and hungry on his, her hips grinding down on the hard ridge of his erection. “You did this,” she gasped against his lips, her fingers clawing at the silk of his tie. A low growl rumbled in his chest as his hands clamped onto her hips, stilling her frantic movements. “I did,” he affirmed, his voice a dark, possessive thunder. He stood effortlessly, lifting her with him, and swept the desk clear with a violent crash of wood and glass. The cold, polished oak met her back as he laid her down amidst the chaos, his body a cage of heat and muscle over hers. He didn’t undress her; he simply tore her thin panties aside, the fabric shredding with a sound like a gunshot in the quiet room. He freed himself from his slacks, his cock springing out, thick and demanding. He drove into her with a single, brutal thrust that stole the air from her lungs and made her back arch off the desk. “Fuck!” she cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders. He set a punishing rhythm, each deep, hard pump a confirmation of his claim. “This cunt is mine,” he grunted, his breath hot against her throat, his teeth grazing the old bruise he’d left. “And what’s inside it is mine.” Her legs locked around his waist, pulling him deeper, her body welcoming the furious, possessive claiming. She could feel the proof of his earlier release still slick within her as he took her again. The desk groaned under their combined weight, a steady, rhythmic protest against the wall. He was marking her, branding her from the inside out, ensuring his heir would take root in conquered soil. His thrusts became erratic, his control fraying as he neared his peak. With a final, deep grind and a guttural roar, he spilled into her, his release a hot flood sealing her fate. He stayed buried inside her, his forehead damp against hers, the word from the test now a physical truth pumping deep into her womb.
He stayed buried inside her, his forehead damp against hers, the word from the test now a physical truth pumping deep into her womb. A new, feral energy surged through her, burning away the shock. She pushed against his chest with a strength that surprised them both. "My turn," she whispered, her voice husky and raw. She maneuvered herself until she was straddling his hips, his cock still nestled deep inside her. She rose up on her knees, her silhouette a dark cutout against the dim lamp, then sank down onto him with a forceful, grinding motion that made him groan. "You feel that?" she panted, her hands braced on his chest. "That's your son." She began to move, setting a brutal, punishing rhythm that was all her own. Her hips pistoned, taking him so deep she saw stars, her inner muscles clenching around his shaft. "This is my body," she snarled, riding him with a fury that was part revenge, part desperate reclamation. "You don't just get to plant your flag and leave." Sweat slicked her skin, her breasts swaying with each frantic, downward thrust. He watched her, his blue eyes blazing with a mix of awe and savage lust, his hands coming up to grip her bruising hips. "Harder," he grunted, his voice a ragged command. She obeyed, slamming herself down onto him with a final, violent cry, her body seizing around his as her climax tore through her.