The words hang in the air between us. I blink rapidly, trying to process what Havoc just said. He loves me? Marriage? Babies?
My heart feels like it might burst through my chest. I’ve been so afraid to name this feeling growing within—this desperate, consuming need that started not long after my father’s funeral. It felt wrong to find love so quickly after such devastating loss. Wrong to want my dad’s best friend. Wrong to feel so completely alive when I should be grieving.
But nothing about us has ever felt truly wrong.
“I love you too,” I whisper, my voice catching. “So much it scares me sometimes.”
Relief floods Havoc’s face, softening the hard lines around his eyes. His hands cup my cheeks, thumbs brushing away tears I didn’t realize were falling.
“You do?”
I nod, unable to stop smiling despite the tears. “I’ve been fighting it, thinking it was too soon to say it, that Dad wouldn’t approve?—”
“Viking would’ve murdered me,” Havoc interrupts with a rough laugh, “but he’d have understood eventually. Some things you can’t fight.”
His mouth claims mine again, harder this time, more desperate. I press myself against him, feeling the solid wall of his chest against my breasts, the bite of his belt buckle against my stomach.
“Daddy,” I breathe against his lips, knowing what that word does to him.
His growl vibrates through me as his hands slide down, roughly gripping my ass.
“Need you now,” he mutters, backing me toward the wooden railing of Bluebell’s pen. “Can’t wait.”
His eyes have that dangerous, hungry look that makes heat pool between my legs. I reach for his belt, suddenly desperate to have him inside me.
“Then don’t wait,” I challenge, already breathless.
I don’t have time to process his response before he spins me around, his strong hands gripping my waist. My stomach hits the wooden railing, the mare nickering softly and moving to the far side as if to give us privacy.
“Fuck, I need you,” Havoc growls against my ear, his body pressing against mine from behind.
His rough hands find the hem of my dress, sliding up my thighs. I gasp as the cool air hits my bare skin, and I hear his sharp intake of breath when his fingers discover I’m not wearing any panties.
“Fuck,” he hisses, his voice dropping an octave. “No panties again?”
I smile to myself, heart racing with a mixture of vulnerability and power. I’ve been doing this more often lately—leaving my underwear behind when I know I’ll see him. Making myself available whenever he wants me.
“I thought you might like the easy access,” I admit, arching my back to press my ass against him. “I wanted to be ready for you.”
His hand slides between my thighs, finding me already slick and wanting. I moan as his fingers explore, teasing and testing.
“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, leaning down to bite gently at my shoulder. “Always ready for Daddy, aren’t you?”
I nod, my fingers gripping the wooden railing so hard my knuckles turn white. Behind me, I hear the zipper of his jeans slide down, the rustle of denim.
“Please,” I whimper, spreading my legs wider. The wooden fence is hard against my stomach, but I don’t care. All I can focus on is the feel of him positioning himself behind me.
I feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against me, but instead of pushing forward, he slides it up and down my slick folds, teasing me relentlessly.
“What do you want, baby?” Havoc whispers. His large hands grip my hips firmly, keeping me from pushing back and taking what I want.
“You,” I gasp. “Please.”
He chuckles, low and deep, his cock still sliding against my entrance but never pushing inside. The teasing is exquisite torture.
“That’s not specific enough,” he says, leaning over me so his chest presses against my back. His silver hair tickles my cheek as he whispers in my ear. “Tell Daddy exactly what you want.”
Heat floods my face, but also between my thighs. “I want your cock inside me,” I whisper, then louder when he doesn’t move. “I want your cock, Daddy. Please.”
