Page 10 of Her Daddy Biker
The promise in his words makes me go from damp to soaked, but then he turns back to the stove like he didn’t just short-circuit my brain. Again.
I sit at the counter on a black leather upholstered bar stool. It’s elegant, masculine, super comfortable, and probably crazy expensive, like everything else in this place seems to be. I watch Havoc plate my food, staring at the ink on the backs of his hands and fingers, his tanned skin, his focused expression. The black and silver hair I crave to run my fingers through. The ruggedly handsome features I’m dying to trace with the tips of my fingers, my lips… That mouth I can’t wait to taste again. And his scary-big bulge that I’m desperate to unpack…
“This looks amazing,” I chirp uncomfortably when he sets a plate in front of me with perfectly fried eggs, buttered toast, and sauteed potatoes.
“Eat,” he commands in his Daddy tone, settling across from me with his own plate.
I try to focus on the food, but I can feel him watching me. His gaze is like a physical touch, making me hyperaware of my every movement.
“What?” I ask when I find the courage to acknowledge his staring.
“Just watching you eat, angel. ”
Something about the way he says it makes me feel self-conscious. “What does that mean?”
“Means you enjoy having something you like in your mouth. You take your time. You don’t rush.” His grin turns wicked. “Gonna love teaching you how to suck my cock.”
I choke on my coffee, coughing while he watches me with amusement, all the while patting my back.
“Reed, you can’t just say things like that!”
“Why not? It’s true.” He leans back, completely relaxed, while I’m combusting. “Gonna teach you everything, angel. How to use that pretty mouth. How to take all of me. How to ask for what you need.”
“Havoc,” I whisper, squirming on my stool.
“Finish your breakfast, angel. Then we’ll work on lesson two.”
He says it like that’s a perfectly normal thing to say. And I’m so shocked, so turned on, so ready for our next lesson, I just pick up my fork and keep eating. Because apparently when a big, bad, mountain man, daddy biker gives you a direct order, you have no other choice but to obey.
And that should probably concern me more than it does, but all I can think about is what exactly lesson two is gonna be about…
Six
Havoc
Watching Tyra eat breakfast while trying not to squirm on her stool is the fucking cutest thing ever. I can’t wait to see how she reacts when I really get my hands on her.
She finishes the food I made her like a good girl, sneaking glances at me when she thinks I’m not looking. Every time our eyes meet, she gets that deer—caught-in-headlights look that makes my cock twitch.
“More coffee?” I ask, reaching for the pot.
“Yes, please.” She holds out her mug, and when I pour and our fingers brush, she nearly drops the damn thing.
My angel.
“Storm’s still going strong,” I say, looking out the windows. Snow’s piling up against the glass, wind howling through the trees.
“How long do you think it’ll last?”
“Day or two at least. Maybe more.” I settle back in my chair, studying her face. “Hope you’re not getting cabin fever already.”
She laughs nervously. “No, it’s fine. I love it here.” She fidgets like she revealed something she shouldn’t have.
“Good. Because we have time to kill, and I got plans for us.”
Her eyes go wide. “What kind of plans?”
“The kind that involves getting you a lot more comfortable with me. With this.” I gesture between us. “Last night was just the beginning, angel.”
