Max's possession

Max’s jealousy had been simmering for weeks, but now it was a wildfire, crackling in every glance and word. At first, it was subtle-a sharp edge in his voice when Mark made me laugh, a possessive hand on my waist when Markian entered the room, a cold silence whenever Bob’s name slipped from my lips. But soon, Max’s need to have me all to himself was impossible to ignore. He found ways to push the others out of my life, sometimes with biting words, sometimes with a look that said everything. He wanted to claim me, and the realization left me both furious and electrified.

I’d grown used to the freedom of sharing my body, spreading my legs and affection, of being surrounded by horny men who wanted me in very different and very sexual ways. Now, Max’s possessiveness closed in around me, every decision he made tightening the grip, making me crave rebellion.

The more he tried to control my world, the more I felt the walls closing in. I missed the laughter, the thrill of being taken by many, the shameless way I could indulge in my own desires. Max’s attempts to “protect” me felt less like love and more like a challenge-a gauntlet thrown at my feet.

That night, I decided to push back. I stormed into his law office after hours, the city outside dark and silent. Under my trench coat, I wore nothing but the heat of my own anger. When Max opened the door, he froze-then something primal flickered in his eyes. I let the coat fall, leaving the door open just a crack. The message was clear: I was done playing by his rules.

He crossed the room in two strides, grabbing me with a hunger that bordered on desperation. His lips crashed onto mine, and the world spun away. We collided against the wall, his hands everywhere, rough and demanding. We barely made it to his desk before we were tangled together, scattering legal documents to the floor. Every touch was urgent, every kiss a battle. He lifted me onto the desk, sending papers flying, and pressed himself against me to fuck me hard as if he could erase the distance, the doubt, the memory of anyone else.

The room filled with the sound of our bodies, the slap of skin, the ragged gasps as we lost ourselves in the frenzy. The city lights outside flickered across our tangled forms, illuminating sweat-slicked skin and wild, hungry eyes. It was wild, raw, and reckless-the kind of passion that left bruises and bite marks, that made us forget who we were outside of this moment. When our orgasms finally tore through us, it was fierce and overwhelming, leaving us breathless and shaking, the evidence of our needs – our combined cum - scattered across the room.

A sudden noise in the hallway-a gasp, a slammed door-reminded us of the world outside. Max’s eyes flashed with anger and something darker, but I slipped out before the fallout could begin, my heart still pounding with adrenaline.

Hours later, he showed up at my apartment, flowers forgotten the moment our eyes met. We barely made it inside before we were fucking each other again-on the couch, against the kitchen counter, in the hallway, the urgency never fading. There was nothing gentle about it; it was all teeth and nails, desperate hands and hungry mouths. He wanted to fill me with his cum, to mark me, to remind me with every rough, urgent encounter that I was his. And I wanted it too - I wanted to be claimed, to be ruined and remade by the force of his obsession. I didn’t tell him that I was ovulating, but he knew….he shot every load of his cum deep inside of my pussy.

We lost track of time, days blurring into nights, the sheets tangled and the air heavy with sweat and longing. Sometimes we collapsed together, spent and shaking, only to find ourselves tangled again minutes later, unable to get enough. It was intoxicating, exhausting-a fever that burned through everything else.

When Max finally left, I was left aching, swollen and alone, the consequences of our choices settling around me like the aftermath of a storm.

Three months passed. My pregnancy was unmistakable, and I started seeing someone new-a boyfriend who knew about my pregnancy and accepted it. For a while, I thought I could move on, that the chaos Max brought into my life was behind me.

But four months later, at seven months pregnant, Max reappeared. He was captivated by the changes in me, his hands lingering on my belly, his eyes hungry and possessive. The tension between us reignited instantly. We crashed together again, the urgency undiminished, his touch reverent and rough all at once. He worshipped every curve, every change, his need for me as fierce as ever.

Just as we were lost in that moment, climaxing and him releasing his cum in me, my boyfriend walked in. The shock and betrayal on his face was a cold slap, but I barely had time to process it before he was gone-leaving me to face the future with Max’s memory and a new life on the way.

Max moved in, determined to be part of my life and the baby’s. He started his own law firm, pouring his energy into work by day and into us by night. Every evening, he came home with food I craved, but it always ended the same way-his hands on me, his mouth finding mine, the two of us tangled together in a cycle of hunger, climax and him releasing his cum in me. Sometimes it was slow and sweet, but more often it was wild, fierce, and unrestrained. He wanted to be everything for me, to fill every space left by those he’d driven away.

Yet beneath it all, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d traded one kind of chaos for another. Max’s love was fierce, but it was also consuming. As my due date approached, I wondered what kind of future we could build-one shaped by desire, jealousy, and the hope that, somehow, we could survive the fire we’d started.

Max promised that he would give me two to three weeks to heal before he’d mount me, ride me and fill my hungry womb with his hot cum again. I knew that I would love taking him and his loads of cum down my throat and in my ass. The man has needs and it’s my job as his baby mama, his sex toy and his love to take him when he wanted. I knew that he was my saving grace and how I’d heal from Vic.