“You’re taking it so fucking good,” Havoc pants, his rhythm increasing. “Made for this, made for me. Gonna fill this tight ass with my cum. You want that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I gasp, pushing back to meet his thrusts. “Please, Daddy.”
“Gonna breed this perfect little ass,” he growls, reaching around to find my clit. “Gonna pump it full while everyone watches.”
His fingers rub tight circles over my sensitive bud, the dual sensation overwhelming me. My pussy clenches around nothing, desperate for fullness, while my ass stretches around his thick shaft.
“That’s it, baby,” Havoc encourages as I start to tremble. “Squirt for Daddy again. Let everyone see how good I make you feel.”
His fingers work magic on my clit as his cock pistons in and out of my ass. The pressure builds impossibly fast, a tidal wave I can’t fight. When it crashes over me, I scream his name, my entire body convulsing as another gush of liquid sprays from my pussy onto the floor below.
“Fuck!” Havoc roars, his rhythm faltering as my body clamps down on him. “Taking it so good, baby girl. Here it comes?—”
His cock pulses inside me as he drives deep one final time, holding me flush against him as he fills me with hot spurts. I feel every throb, every jet of cum painting my insides as he groans through his release.
When the last shudder passes through him, Havoc spins me around and captures my mouth in a passionate kiss, deep and possessive. His hands cradle my face with surprising tenderness.
“Perfect,” he murmurs against my lips, his eyes locked on mine. “Absolutely perfect.”
18
HAVOC
Aweek after claiming Sasha, I’m at one of our construction sites, having a sit-down with Sharon, our architect. The young woman is some cousin of Carol’s niece or some shit like that, and has been working with Slade Construction since she finished school.
“I love your ideas for the project, Mr. Slade. It’s almost like a self-contained neighborhood. Solar power, water purification system, hydroponic gardens.”
“Havoc,” I remind her for the umpteenth time. “And that’s pretty much what we’re going for. I want as little civilian interference as possible. Hell, we’ll even handle our own sewage.”
Sharon nods, taking a few more notes in a shorthand I can’t read. “And why not? So, we’ll optimize the roofs to have the best possible daylight yield… position houses for maximum privacy…”
“And make sure there’s room for horses,” I add. “My old lady has one in the current stables, and we might get more down the line, who knows.”
“Easily doable. There’s enough space for every current member to have a home, plus for stables, paddocks, and garages.”
I purse my lips, thinking about my brothers. “Not everyone will want the responsibility of their own home. Some of them wouldn’t wear clean jeans if it weren’t for the sweetbutts hanging around the clubhouse.”
Sharon snickers but doesn’t comment on the helplessness of grown men. “We’ll make enough houses for interested members and hook them to the grid, but leave room for additions and easy access.”
“You’re amazing, Sharon,” I say as I lean back against the chair.
Our architect tilts her head, her reddish-brown curls seeming to glow in the sunlight coming through the windows.
“This is the best project you’ve had me on yet, Mr… Havoc.” She beams at me. “Trust me, it’s a labor of love.”
I open my mouth to reply when the sound of motorcycles approaching echoes over the din of hammers and drills outside. Normally, it’s a familiar thing around our construction sites. But because Sasha is out shopping with Stray’s wife, I get a bad feeling. I asked Viper to tail them since both prospects are undercover at Lucky’s Bar, but maybe I should’ve put more men on them.
“Excuse me,” I murmur to Sharon as I push back from the plans-covered table. She blinks at me, her hazel eyes large behind wire-rimmed glasses, but doesn’t say anything.
As soon as I step outside the portable office, I see my gut was right—some shit’s about to go down. Because the bikers on the lot aren’t Sinners, they’re Forsaken Kings.
I let my hands hang loosely at my sides, not checking if my Glock is in my waistband—I know it is, and I’m not interested in getting my balls shot off today by reaching for it.
A low whistle escapes my lips when I see who’s at the head of the formation.
“Bishop,” I greet the Forsaken Kings’ President. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed this.” I tilt my chin at the large orange sign with Slade Construction Briar Fork written over it in clear letters. “But you’re in my town.”
Bishop scoffs, his black eyes gleaming. “That’s fuckin’ ironic, Havoc. Lecturing me ‘bout trespassing.”
