Chapter 11 Sasha
SASHA
My knees wobble as Havoc pulls me to my feet. His expression has shifted—something serious and troubled replacing the wild desire from moments before. But my body doesn’t get the memo. I’m trembling, aching for more of whatever just happened between us.
“Sit,” he says, guiding me to the edge of the bed.
I perch there, thighs pressed together, trying to ease the throbbing. Everything feels swollen and sensitive. My panties are soaked through, and my skin feels too tight, like I might crawl right out of it if he doesn’t touch me again.
“We need to talk about this, Sasha.”
I nod, trying to focus on his words instead of how his voice rumbles through me. The memory of him calling me baby girl and darling in that growling tone makes my insides clench. I never knew words could feel physical.
“I know,” I manage to say, but my voice comes out breathless. “I just... I can’t think straight right now.”
His eyes darken as he takes in my flushed face, my trembling hands. “You’re still worked up.”
It’s not a question, but I answer anyway. “Yes.”
The way he spoke to me—demanding, possessive, filthy—paled in comparison to the awkward fumbling with high school boys who asked permission for every kiss.
It was even better. More real. So much more... everything.
“Daddy,” I whisper, testing the word again, watching his jaw tighten in response.
His hands form fists at his sides. “Stop that. We need to talk first.”
But I’m not interested in talking. Every nerve ending is screaming for release, for his hands, for more of those growled commands that make me feel both owned and powerful all at once.
Havoc stands a few feet away, running his hand through his silver hair. His jaw works like he’s fighting some internal battle.
“You don’t understand what’s happening here,” he says finally.
“Then tell me.” I’ve never felt this needy for anything in my life.
“If we cross that line—if I fuck you—” He says the words like they’re being torn from him. “There’s no going back, Sasha. You’ll be mine. Forever.” He drops into the chair at my desk, holding his face in his hands.
I blink, trying to process his words through the haze of desire.
“My old lady. Do you even know what that means?” He runs his hand down his face and then looks at me. “It means you belong to me. Only me. It means no other man touches you, looks at you, even thinks about you. It means my protection, my possessiveness, all of it.”
The intensity in his tone sends another wave of heat between my legs. I should be overwhelmed by his declaration, but instead, each word feels like a caress.
“It means the club sees you as mine. It means wedding rings eventually, but the commitment starts the moment I’m inside you. Do you understand how serious this is?”
I don’t think clearly—I just move. Sliding off the bed, I cross to him where he is sitting in my desk chair and climb into his lap, straddling his thighs.
“Fuck,” he growls, his hands automatically gripping my hips.
The hardness beneath me makes me whimper. I rock against him instinctively, seeking friction.
“Sasha, you need to listen—”
“I am listening.” I press my lips to his throat, tasting salt and man. “I want to be yours.”
His breath catches as I roll my hips again. I reach between us, fumbling with the button on his jeans, desperate to feel him.
“Stop.” His hand catches mine, grip firm but gentle. He lifts my chin with his other hand, forcing me to meet his gaze. “This is serious, baby girl. I need you to think clearly, not with your greedy little pussy.”
I lean forward, resting my forehead against his. “Since the moment we met, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, Havoc. Not for a single day.” My voice trembles with emotion. “I know it’s crazy. I know it’s fast. But nothing about our lives is normal.”
His fingers tighten on my hips. “Sasha—”
“Let me finish,” I whisper. “When everything was taken from me—when I lost my dad—you were there. And I started feeling things I never felt before. Things I didn’t even know were possible.” I cup his face, feeling the slight roughness of stubble against my palms. “I want you. I want us. Together.”
He closes his eyes for a moment, and when they open again, the intensity in them nearly stops my heart.
“I’m twenty-six years older than you, Sasha. Old enough to be your father.” His voice is rough, pained. “You’re just starting your life.”
“I don’t care.” The words come out fierce and certain. “Age is just a number. What matters is how you make me feel. Safe. Wanted. Alive.” I trace my thumb over his bottom lip. “Besides, I’m an adult.”
A reluctant smile touches his lips. “Technically.”
“Stop trying to change my mind,” I tell him. “This has been inevitable since the beginning.”
His gaze searches mine, looking for doubt or uncertainty. He won’t find any. For all my inexperience, I’ve never been surer of anything.
“So you want to be my old lady?” he asks. “You understand what that means?”
I nod, heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. “Yes. Definitely.”
Something shifts in Havoc’s eyes, and I witness the last thread of his control snapping. He growls deep in his throat. Then his mouth crashes against mine, devouring me with a hunger that steals my breath.
His lips are demanding, punishing, claiming. His tongue pushes past my lips, exploring every inch of my mouth as his hips surge against mine. The hard ridge of his cock grinds against my center, and I moan into the kiss.
“I’m going to fucking ruin you,” he growls against my lips. His hands grip my ass, pulling me harder against him. “Gonna wreck this sweet little virgin pussy. Make you mine in every way.”
The filthy promise sends liquid heat flooding between my legs. I whimper, clinging to his shoulders.
“But we’re gonna take it slow,” he continues. “I won’t hurt you, baby girl.”
My heart hammers against my ribs, equal parts terrified and horny.
“Get on the bed,” he commands. “Take off your clothes. All of them.”
I slip off his lap on shaky legs and walk to the bed. My fingers tremble as I reach for the hem of my T-shirt. Nervousness flutters in my stomach—I’ve never been naked in front of anyone before. But the throbbing between my legs drowns out my anxiety, driving me forward.
I pull my shirt over my head, feeling the weight of his stare on my skin. My breasts rise and fall rapidly with each breath, still contained in my simple cotton bra. I hesitate only a moment before reaching behind to unclasp it, letting it fall to the floor.
My hands shake as I reach for the button of my jeans. The weight of Havoc’s stare burns my skin, making every movement feel dreamlike and surreal. My throat tightens with a mixture of nerves and excitement as I push my jeans down my legs, stepping out of them awkwardly.
I hook my thumbs into the waistband of my cotton panties, hesitating for just a heartbeat before pulling them down. The cool air kisses my most intimate places, and I resist the urge to cover myself with my hands. Instead, I straighten my spine and meet his eyes.
The hunger I see there steals my breath.
I lie back on the bed, my heart hammering so hard I’m certain he can hear it. The sheets feel cool against my heated skin. I’ve never felt so exposed, so vulnerable—and yet, strangely powerful under his gaze.
“Fuck,” Havoc growls, the sound more animal than human.
Havoc strips off his clothes. His shirt comes off first, revealing the full canvas of his tattooed torso.
My eyes widen at the intricate designs covering his skin—flames and skulls and words I can’t read from here.
The Wicked Sinners emblem spreads across his broad back as he turns to toss his shirt aside, and I stare transfixed at the play of muscles beneath his decorated skin.
His hands move to the button on his jeans, and my pulse quickens. Earlier, everything happened so fast—the rush of passion, my own inexperience—I hadn’t truly seen him. Now, as he pushes his jeans and boxers down in one fluid motion, I can’t look away.
My god.
He’s magnificent. Powerful thighs dusted with dark hair. Strong calves. Narrow hips. And his cock—thick and long and impossibly hard, curving up toward his abs. The trail of hair leading down to it makes my mouth go dry, and I remember the weight of him on my tongue, the taste of him.
“See something you like, baby girl?” His voice is rough with desire as he stands before me completely naked.
I nod, unable to form words. Every inch of him speaks of power—the broad shoulders, the muscular chest with those intricate tattoos, the strong arms that could easily pin me down. The lean waist and defined abs that disappear into a V leading to where he’s hard for me.
He’s all man. Solid, imposing, beautiful in a way that makes my heart hurt. The silver in his hair catches the light, and I realize I’m staring, drinking him in with wide eyes and parted lips.
The tattoos continue down his arms, telling stories I don’t yet know. On his chest, over his heart, there’s a design I can’t make out from here. The desire to trace each line with my fingers is clawing, to learn the map of his body with my hands and mouth.
Havoc moves toward me, his eyes never leaving mine as he kneels between my spread legs. I watch, breathless, as he settles his broad shoulders under my thighs. Up close, I can see the hunger in his eyes, turning the blue into something dark and primal.
“I need to taste you,” he growls, his breath hot against my most intimate place. “Need to feel you come on my tongue.”
Before I can respond, his mouth is on me. The first touch of his tongue sends a jolt through my entire being, and I cry out, arching up from the bed. It’s nothing like my own tentative explorations—his tongue is skilled, confident, knowing exactly where to press and when to retreat.
My mind goes completely blank. There’s nothing in the universe except Havoc’s mouth and what he’s doing to me.
I look down and nearly come undone at the sight of his silver head between my thighs, his strong hands gripping my legs apart.
The powerful president of the Wicked Sinners is devouring me like I’m the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted.
“Oh god,” I cry as he finds a spot that makes me see stars. My fingers tangle in his hair, holding him against me. I’m shameless, needy, grinding against his face as tension builds impossibly fast inside me.
When he sucks my clit between his lips, I shatter. The orgasm crashes through me like a tidal wave, stealing my breath and my sanity in equal measure. I’m vaguely aware I’m calling his name, trembling uncontrollably as pleasure pulses through me.
“Good girl, coming so pretty for Daddy. So fucking responsive.”
As the tremors subside, he climbs up me, his cock heavy against my thigh. His fingers replace his mouth, rubbing slow circles around my still-sensitive clit.
“You’re so wet for me,” he says, positioning himself so his cock rests against my clit. The hard length of him slides through my slickness, the friction against that sensitive bundle of nerves making me gasp and arch toward him.
“Havoc, please,” I beg, writhing beneath him. The feeling of his hard length sliding through my wetness, rubbing against my clit, is exquisite torture. My nails dig into his shoulders, leaving half-moon indentations in his skin. “Please, I need you inside me.”
He smirks at me, his blue eyes dark with lust. “Not yet, baby girl. You’re not ready.”
“I am,” I pant, lifting my hips to press against him more firmly. “I’ve never been more ready for anything.”
Havoc shakes his head, silver hair falling across his forehead. “I want you mindless with need when I enter you.” His voice is a rough growl that vibrates through my entire body. “Want you so needy you forget your own name.”
He continues thrusting his cock against my clit, the thick ridge catching on that bundle of nerves with each pass. The sensation is building again, pressure coiling tight in my lower belly.
“When I take your virginity,” he murmurs against my ear, “when I claim what no man has ever had, you’re going to be begging, crying, desperate.”
His hips work in a steady rhythm, the slick sounds of our bodies moving together filling the room.
“You’ll be dripping for me,” he continues, his words as potent as his touch. “So wet and ready that when I push inside, that tight little pussy will take all of me.”
I whimper, tensing as another orgasm approaches. The pressure of his thick shaft grinding against me is almost too much to bear.
“Just like that,” he encourages. “Let me see you come again. Show me how good it feels.”
The pressure builds inside me with each pass of his cock against my throbbing clit. I’m so close, teetering on the edge of another orgasm.
“Please, Daddy,” I whimper, the word slipping out naturally. “I need you.”
His rhythm falters slightly at my words. I can see the strain in his jaw, the tension in his shoulders.
“Fuck, baby,” he groans, his voice rough with desire. “The way you say that word...”
I arch my back, pressing myself harder against him. “Please, Daddy. I need you to fuck me. Take me, make me yours. I can’t wait anymore.”
I watch as his breathing grows heavier, his movements more urgent. For a moment, I think he might give in, might finally push inside me and quench the ache that has been ignited since he first touched me.
But then he regains control, his eyes locking with mine as he continues the maddening friction of his thick shaft against my wetness.
“Not yet,” he says through gritted teeth. “Not until you come from this. Not until you come from my cock rubbing against this sweet little clit.”
His hands grip my hips harder, and the pressure intensifies, building higher until I’m clutching at his shoulders.
“That’s it,” he encourages. “Come for me one more time, and then I’ll give you what you want. Show me how much you need my cock inside you.”
The delicious friction is too much. I tense, the pleasure crashing through me in waves as I cry out his name. My vision blurs at the edges as the most intense orgasm yet tears through me, leaving me shaking and gasping beneath him.