10. Rosenna
Chapter ten
Rosenna
T his had to be a dream. I had to fucking be dreaming. There was no absolute way that at Vincent Garcia’s charity dinner, I was in the back room, against the wall, with his son on his knees in front of me while my husband waited for me in the next room.
“Beckham, please—”
My words died in my throat as I placed my hand over my mouth.
He placed a kiss on my aching clit covered by my lace.
“Fuck, you smell so sweet,” he muttered, and I moaned softly as he placed a few more kisses while he groped my ass in both of his hands.
His hands went up a bit more, and he looked up at me as he pulled my underwear down slowly, but I caught his hands in a desperate final attempt to stop him one last time.
“Beckham, wait—” I pleaded, but his gaze seem unwavering as narrowed his eyes.
“Rosenna. I’m only going to say this once. Move your fucking hands. ”
With a small gulp, I reluctantly moved my hands as he took my leg off of his shoulder and pulled my panties down in an instant. I stepped out of them, and my face burned as he put them in his back pocket.
He placed my leg back over his shoulder, and I moaned as he licked my clit once.
Looking up at me, he stopped for a moment before gripping my hips again and diving back in as if he hadn’t eaten in days. My hands found his hair as I leaned my head back in ecstasy. I tried to keep my voice down as anyone could walk over at any second, but he didn’t care.
“Your pussy tastes so fucking good,” he practically growled, and I convulsed as he continued devouring me. Tonguing my clit, groping my ass, it was all to much . I felt powerless. I felt disgusted with myself, however, my pussy that was growing even more wet contradicted that emotion.
He gazed up at me, his eyes terrifyingly genuine—wide, almost innocent, like he truly believed nothing he was doing was that bad. Like he had no idea how he was unraveling me.
He is fucking crazy.
“You can tell me to stop, Flower. You won’t, though. Because you need this .”
He was torturing me, sucking on my clit, teasing my entrance and toying with my bud.
I was coming apart on the wall, my back arching, my mind at odds with my body, wanting to push him away but needing him closer. It felt almost too good.
“He… he doesn’t know how to take care of you.” Beckham pulled away and pushed two fingers into me. Tears filled my eyes as he placed a kiss on my clit again, curling his fingers. “Doesn’t know how much you need to be fucked into a submissive little whore… Do you think he even knows how wet you get for me?”
I slapped the wall behind me with my hand, fisting his hair in a death grip with my other, feeling my release building.
As his lips went back to sucking my clit, I shamelessly grinded my hips into his face, needy whimpers escaping me as he stayed put, like he wanted me to suffocate him.
“Give it to me, Flower, fucking cum like the good little whore you are for me. Good girl… good fucking girl,” he whispered as he continued to lick my clit as his fingers hit one spot repeatedly, making me come undone.
He finger-fucked me through my orgasm, lapping up my release with hungry groans before I pushed him away as I grew overly stimulated, barely able to keep my balance at this point. He placed my leg back on the ground as I trembled helplessly.
I breathed heavily as he stood and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. My legs shook involuntarily as he gazed down at me, his face shining with my release. He smiled another one of his sinister smiles, and I knew only something bad could come out of his following words.
“We still have unfinished business, Flower. You still owe me another portrait. If I were you, I would schedule for something soon, or…” He leaned down to whisper into my ear. “I may have to let your husband know how fucking good his little wife tasted on my tongue.”
He placed taunting a kiss on my cheek before walking away effortlessly.
After a few seconds, I stumbled into the bathroom before I stared, practically horrified at myself in the mirror. Messy hair, one strap loose on my shoulder, mouth swollen—
Dammit. He stole my underwear.
I did my best to fix my hair and face, and before I left the bathroom, I was somewhat decent. Going back to the party, I took a seat beside Gavin once again, and he seemed preoccupied with what the person beside him was talking about.
Kira narrowed her eyes at me in suspicion, and I simply shook my head at her. Feeling eyes on me once again, she and I both looked over to see Beckham drinking a glass of whiskey as he stared at me from across the room.
My face burned as I helplessly watched the fabric of my burgundy red thong poking out shamelessly from his back pocket, though only I knew what it was.
“Oh, this is better than my K-Dramas for sure,” Kira chuckled, taking a sip of her wine.
Avoiding eye contact with Beckham, I took a deep breath as I sipped on mine to ease my growing nerves.
Getting home around midnight, Gavin was tired, so we immediately got undressed in the bedroom the second we stepped in. Instead of wearing one of my silk nightgowns, I settled on a comfortable sleep shirt with a pair of boy-short underwear.
Walking out of my closet, I watched as he sat at the end of the bed as he scrolled through his phone for a minute. I stood beside him patiently as he finished checking his calendar, and soon, he placed the phone to the side before he looked over at me.
“Ready for bed?” he asked.
I nodded, and suddenly felt compelled to hug him—almost like a guilty conscience trying to peek through.
I wrapped my arms around his neck as I sat beside him. “Thank you for going with me.”
He hummed as he caressed my back slowly. He didn’t say anything, and I was fine with that.
Crawling into bed, I watched as he left the room for a glass of water. I grabbed my phone to charge it and found I had an unopened message.
Opening it, my mouth went dry. A photo of Beckham filled the screen—shirtless, abs carved, V-line dangerously low… and my lace underwear held to his nose.
Beckham
You have no idea how much I fucking need you right now.
I stared at the message, my heart racing as the picture taunted me. I could barely think straight. I felt torn, wanting to delete the message, block him and burn my phone. The other part of me… couldn’t help but look.
My finger hovered over the delete button, but I hesitated. I should delete it. I should block him. I should—
Instead, I tapped the image.
It expanded to fill the screen, my breath hitching as my eyes devoured every inch of him: his head leaning back in ecstasy, his bare chest, the taunting way he held my underwear to his nose like a goddamn trophy.
As if he knew I was here staring at my screen, he sent another message.
It ’ s almost like I can still taste you, my little flower.
Swallowing the needy whimper in my throat, I shut my phone off before I lay back in bed, heart racing. Beckham was insane… unhinged, impractical, crazy.
He told me he had a hard time understanding or having emotions, but that didn’t entail me having to deal with a sex-crazed man who had no concept of what consequences his actions could have.
I had to stay away.
Yet the more I tried to convince myself that I could, the harder it seemed to be.
The next morning, I crept out of bed just before five in the morning.
I’d barely slept.
Trying not to wake Gavin, I threw on a sports bra, a pair of tights, a hoodie, and my running shoes, tying my hair into a ponytail before slipping out of the house for an early morning run. Maybe that would help get my mind away from Beckham.
Thirty minutes turned into an hour, then two. My feet carried me farther than I intended, leading me into a township I only ever passed by in a car. And now, for once, I took the time to really see it.
Slowing to a walk, I noticed a woman, in her late sixties maybe, unlocking the heavy doors of a beautiful historic building. I felt drawn to it, ascending the steps curiously, and as I entered, I noticed it was one of the largest exhibits of historical art in the area. Or rather, that’s what the newspaper framed on the wall by the front desk said.
“Hello, dear,” I heard behind me.
I looked over my shoulder to see the same woman at the front desk, setting up for the day. She seemed very genuine and soft-looking. Her smile was kind, but her eyes seemed tired.
“Did you want to purchase a ticket?” she asked.
I shook my head. “No, thank you, ma’am, just having a look around. This place is beautiful.”
She nodded. “Sure is. My husband and I bought it from the city forty years ago. Been running it ever since.”
“I actually own a few properties like this myself.”
She seemed shocked as she smiled even brighter. “Do you? Well, you know the ins and outs, I’m assuming probably more than I do.” She chuckled.
I shook my head. “I try my best, but I definitely could still learn a thing or two.”
She nodded in agreement. Then, after a pause: “I… was actually thinking of selling the place.”
I furrowed my eyebrows. “Really?”
She shrugged. “My husband and I used to run it together, but he’s been rather sick lately, and there’s only so much I can do. Our retirement is actually in this building, so… we can’t exactly up and leave.” She paused for a moment and then ferreted something out from beneath the counter. “Take my card. If you think about wanting to own another property, I’ll put you first in line.”
Taking the card, my eyes lit up with the idea of the potential of owning such a historic and beautiful building. “Thank you… Mrs. Whitaker.”
“Please, sweetheart, call me Helen.”
I smiled as I bid her goodbye.
I glanced around once more, this time slower. The tall ceilings, the cracked molding, the way the light spilled through the stained glass—it felt… sacred. Like something worth preserving.
Something I could make my own.
I was practically jumping in excitement as I thought of the potential this place could have—though the excitement was battling the dread inside me.
Gosh, I have no money, but plenty of dreams and debt .
Maybe this is what Gavin was talking about… maybe I do go way over my head at times.
Deciding to pass by Kira’s before going home, I ran my way over and knocked on the door. She opened it in a robe, her hair in a towel, and her toothbrush in her hand.
“Hi, boss lady,” she mumbled through toothpaste, leading me inside.
I furrowed my eyebrows. “Kira… you have to be at work in thirty minutes.”
“And whose fault is that?”
I rolled my eyes as I sat on her couch.
She walked into her bathroom, and I did my best to keep myself busy. I expected her to take at least fifteen minutes to get ready, given the state she’d opened the door in, but she returned after just five, fully dressed with lotion, hair ties, deodorant, perfume, and makeup in hand.
“Kira, you can finish getting ready,” I laughed.
She sat on her other sofa and shook her head, placing everything down. “No. You need help. That is the only reason you’d stop by unannounced in running gear after going on a run at like five AM.”
God, she knows me better than I know myself. It ’ s insane.
“I just… found another property. And I feel like it has so much potential, but I may be way over my head, and I wanted you to talk some sense into me. “
“You are not way over your head, and if you like, we buy,” she said while rubbing her legs with her lotion.
I sighed. “Kira... I’m already in so much debt. We already have our hands full.”
“Rose. I am not here to crush your dreams. Gavin already does that on the daily. I am here to make them come to life and see them flourish.”
“Great metaphor, rude example… but I don’t know.”
She shook her head. “You’re thinking negatively. You can’t do that. So what if we’re in debt? Our new sugar daddy can pay for it, and if he can’t, we’ll find another way.” She shrugged.
“Kira, please. Vincent is not our new sugar daddy.”
“Well, not exactly ’our’… you already have your own. Same family but still your own.” She pulled her hair into a bun. “By the way, what happened last night?”
My face went red.
I stood. I had to get out of here.
Kira whined. “Are you really not going to tell me? I want to hear the details.”
I looked down at my phone. “And I want you to be on time for work.”
She huffed as she rose, putting on her heels as I walked toward the door, rolling my eyes.
“I’ll get you to tell me what happened eventually!” she yelled as I closed the door behind me.