Ava's POV
Two weeks. Fourteen days of stolen glances across conference rooms, of fingers brushing when Tobias hands me documents, of text messages disguised as work communications that make my heart race.
"Prenatal vitamin research attached. Review for completeness. - T"
"Budget meeting 7 PM. Conference room will be locked for privacy. - T"
"Coffee run in ten minutes. Join me if available. - T"
We've developed a rhythm, a careful dance around the impossibility of what we're doing.
Early mornings when the building is nearly empty and we can walk to the coffee cart together, his hand briefly touching my lower back as he guides me through the door.
Late evenings when everyone else has gone home and we can review actual work in his office, though half our conversation revolves around doctor's appointments and how I'm feeling.
Saturday evening, I pace my cramped apartment like a caged animal, second-guessing everything.
The furniture from thrift stores and college clearance sales suddenly looks shabby. The walls that felt cozy now seem to close in. When did my refrigerator start making that weird humming sound?
The knock comes at exactly seven—punctual as always. I open the door to find Tobias holding bags from Thai Palace, the expensive place across town that I've never been able to afford.
"I thought we agreed I was ordering in," I say, accepting the bags.
"You said you'd order. I never agreed." He steps inside, surveying my modest space with what looks like genuine interest rather than the polite assessment I'd feared. "This is perfect, Ava."
"Perfect? You live in a house that could be featured in Architectural Digest."
"That house is beautiful," he agrees, moving to examine my bookshelf with the focus he usually reserves for policy documents. "But it's not... personal. Not the way this is."
He picks up a framed photo from the top shelf—me and Mom at my high school graduation, both of us grinning despite the rain that had soaked through our clothes.
"This is where you exist outside of work, outside of my complicated family. I like seeing it."
The intimacy of having him in my space, touching my things, makes my chest tight with something beyond desire. This is Tobias without the suits and political posturing, wearing jeans and a navy button-down that makes his eyes look darker.
"Come on," I say, needing to move before I do something stupid like tell him I love having him here. "Let's eat before it gets cold."
We settle on my thrift store couch with takeout containers balanced on the coffee table I'd found abandoned by a dumpster and spent three days refinishing.
The domestic normalcy of it, sharing pad thai while he tells me about Chloe's latest dating adventures, feels more intimate than anything we've done in his office.
"Speaking of which," he says, setting down his container, "I did some research this week. About... your condition."
"My condition?" I raise an eyebrow. "You make it sound like a disease."
"Poor word choice." He pulls out his phone, scrolling to saved articles. "I found some medical studies about pregnancy and... physical intimacy. I wanted to make sure I wasn't putting you or the baby at risk."
The earnestness in his voice, the fact that he spent time researching this for my safety, makes my heart do complicated things. "What did you learn, Dr. Murphy?"
"That regular sexual activity during pregnancy can actually be beneficial…" His voice drops slightly, taking on that register that makes heat pool low in my belly. "Reduced stress, improved blood flow, better sleep quality."
"Is that so?" I set down my own container, suddenly less interested in food.
"I believe in following medical recommendations." He sets the phone aside, reaching for me. "Thoroughly."
The transition from scholarly discussion to hungry desperation happens in seconds. He pulls me onto his lap, and I can feel exactly how the conversation has affected him through his jeans.
"We should be very careful about following all medical advice," he murmurs against my neck, hands already working at the buttons of my shirt.
"Very careful," I agree, gasping as his mouth finds that spot that makes my knees weak.
He stands, carrying me toward the bedroom with surprising ease, his tie already loosening with one hand while his eyes promise the kind of destruction I've been craving for two weeks.
"How far are you willing to go tonight?" he asks as he sets me beside the bed, his silk tie sliding free with practiced ease. "How much can you handle?"
"All of it," I breathe, already trembling with anticipation. "I want all of it. I want you to wreck me."
Something predatory flashes in his expression, the controlled politician disappearing entirely. "Hands above your head. Now."
I obey without question, watching as he loops the silk around my wrists, securing me to the headboard with practiced efficiency. The vulnerability should frighten me. Instead, it sends liquid fire through my veins.
"Look at you," he murmurs, stepping back to admire his handiwork. "So perfect and mine."
He undresses me slowly, reverently, his mouth following every path his hands create. When his tongue traces the sensitive skin beneath my breast, I arch against the restraints, desperate for more.
"Patience, baby." His mouth works down my stomach, hands spreading my thighs wide, and when his tongue finally finds my center, I cry out so loudly I'm sure my neighbors can hear.
"That's it," he growls against my wetness. "Let them hear how good I make you feel.”
He works me with methodical precision, bringing me right to the edge before pulling back, over and over until I'm sobbing with need.
"Tobias, please, I need…"
"Tell me, honey."
"I need you to fuck me."
"Not yet." He flips me onto my stomach with surprising strength, my bound hands forcing my face into the pillow. "I'm not done with you."
His palm comes down on my ass, controlled but firm enough to make me gasp. The sharp pleasure-pain makes me clench around nothing, and he growls his approval.
"You like that, don't you? My dirty girl." His fingers find how wet I am, sliding through my arousal. "Fuck, you're soaking."
I moan into the pillow, hearing the satisfaction in his voice. "That's right." He positions himself behind me, the thick head of his cock pressing against my entrance. "You're mine, Ava. Mine to fuck, mine to claim, mine to breed."
When he finally pushes inside, we both moan at the connection. From this angle, he feels impossibly deep, impossibly thick.
"Christ, your pussy feels perfect," he groans, starting a slow rhythm that makes me see stars. "So tight, so wet, taking my cock so beautifully."
"Harder," I beg, pushing back against him. "Please, Tobias, I need more."
His control finally snaps completely. His hands grip my hips as he pounds into me with abandon, the sound of skin slapping against skin.
"Is this what you wanted?" he pants, one hand reaching around to find my clit. "To be fucked like this? To be claimed so thoroughly you'll feel me for days?"
"Yes!" I scream, not caring who hears. "God, yes, don't stop!"
"Look at your tits bouncing," he groans, watching my reflection in the mirror across from my bed. "So fucking perfect. I love watching my cock disappear into your tight little cunt."
The combination of his filthy words and the pressure on my clit sends me over the edge. I come with a scream that would wake the dead, my entire body convulsing as waves of pleasure crash over me.
"That's one," he says roughly, never stopping his rhythm. "I promised you'd come twice before I let myself go."
He flips me back over, untying one wrist just long enough to position me how he wants before securing me again. This time he hovers over me, his hazel eyes dark with possession as he thrusts deep and slow.
"Good girl." He leans down to capture my mouth in a bruising kiss. "You're going to come on my cock one more time, and then I'm going to fill you up so full you'll be dripping me for hours."
When we finally catch our breath, he carefully unties my wrists, kissing the faint red marks the silk left behind with tender reverence that's such a contrast to the man who just fucked me senseless.
"Did I hurt you?" he asks softly, examining my wrists with gentle fingers.
"Only in the best way," I assure him, pulling him down for a soft kiss. "Stay with me tonight?"
"Always," he promises, gathering me against his chest. "For as long as you'll have me."