Chapter 15 Rosemarie
FIFTEEN
ROSEMARIE
His mouth was on me—hot, intent, claiming—and I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.
Every nerve in my body lit up like a fresh candle wick meeting its first match, burning bright and uncontrollable.
I began to lean back, eyes fluttering shut as a rush of sensation flooded me from the inside out.
I was barely aware of the way my palms were now pressed behind me, holding me up on the counter so hard that my wrists began to burn. The marble was cold beneath me, such a stark contrast to the fever building under my skin.
But none of that mattered. All I could focus on was the way he looked up at me. Like I was important. Like I was his.
And when I said it—those two syllables that had lived in my head longer than I wanted to admit—I thought maybe he’d flinch. Maybe he’d stop. Or worse, kick me out and never speak to me again.
But he didn’t.
He shattered.
The way his eyes darkened, the way his mouth found mine again, claiming me with a kiss so full of hunger and want that it felt like worship—God. I’d never felt wanted like that.
I’d never been wanted like that.
And then he was moving those same kisses down my body. Slow. Deliberate. Kissing places that barely saw the sun, let alone the touch of someone else.
Every brush of his lips against my skin sent shockwaves through my belly—soft at first, then deeper, more intense. Those teasing kisses on the inside of my knees and thighs had caused a fire to build and build in my lower belly.
My hips had jerked at the first contact of his lips against my pussy.
A shocked gasp tore from my throat before I could think to muffle it.
His eyes met mine and did not waver while sliding his callused palms up my legs, spreading me wide enough to deliver one long, slow stroke from my center up to my clit.
When he pulled away slightly to leave another soft kiss on my pubic bone, my hips moved instinctively, chasing his mouth for more. I was shameless at that moment. I would’ve begged him if he hadn’t already been reading every desperate signal my body gave him.
“You taste like heaven, Rose. Sweet and mine.”
I hummed in response because what were words anymore? Making a complete sentence seemed like an impossible task at this point.
“I think I want to enjoy a little dessert before feeding you dinner, sweet girl.”
My whole body was trembling, legs falling open without thought, without shame. “Please, Gavin.”
He held me there, open for him, before delivering the tiniest slap to my pussy. A shocked, heated sound punched from my chest. Then he cupped me again, massaging away the sting, his rough palm soothing and firm. It made me dizzy—the contrast, the control, the care.
I gasped, my fingers finding their way into his hair. “God, Gav—”
“No, baby.” He cut me off, low and rough. “Daddy. Say it.”
His words unlocked something in me. Something terrifying in how right it felt.
I bit my lip and whispered it, soft but certain: “Yes, Daddy.”
His breath hitched. It was as if those two words were the red flag needed to unleash the caged bull inside him. He groaned low in his throat and dragged his mouth back to my center like a man possessed.
His tongue was set on a path of destruction.
My destruction. Sure, I had experienced orgasms with the help of the trusty internet, books, and toys.
But it only took a few quick seconds for me to realize that no pink-colored, rose-shaped toy would ever be enough after having Gavin Miller between my thighs.
He groaned into me when I cried out, and the sound and vibration alone almost pushed me over the edge. I couldn’t stop moving, my hips chasing the press of his mouth.
My body burned. I didn’t know it could feel like this—like flying and falling and shattering all at once. I was shaking, my back arching off the counter, toes curling as he held me on the edge, pushed me higher, coaxed me into something devastating.
Gavin could tell the moment my orgasm peaked, moving one hand up my stomach to pinch and massage one of my breasts while the other pressed against my lower belly, causing me to completely and utterly fall apart.
He didn’t move right away. Just kissed my thigh softly, again and again, grounding me while I tried to remember how to catch my breath. Whispering praise against my skin.
“Beautiful girl,” he praised. “You’re perfect and you did so good for me.”
He pulled back just enough to look up at me, lips glistening, eyes dark and wild.
I sat up and reached for him with shaking hands. He came willingly, rising to press a soft kiss to my lips—so different from before.
This kiss wasn’t about possession. We both knew he already owned a part of me.
It was about care.
He wrapped me in his arms, strong and warm, tucking my head under his chin as he cradled me against his chest. I felt so small there. And safe.
His heart was pounding. So was mine.
Neither of us said anything for what felt like the longest minutes of my life.
But the words burned on my tongue.
I have to tell him.
My chest tightened. I’d almost said it earlier. Almost told him the truth about what he was really getting himself into.
I swallowed hard and leaned back just enough to look up at him. His dark blue-grey eyes were softer now, searching mine like he already knew something was coming.
“Gavin,” I said softly, voice shaking. “I … I need to tell you something.”
His brow furrowed but he didn’t pull away.
“Okay,” he said gently. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”
I hesitated. My nails curled lightly into his shirt, making me realize that I was practically naked on the same counter where he might eat his meals while he was fully clothed. “It’s just … before we go any further, I think you should know that I’ve never … I mean, I haven’t ever—”
He stilled, his arms tightening just slightly around me.
“You’re a virgin,” he said quietly. Not surprised. Just … certain.
I nodded, eyes burning, shame starting to creep in until he caught my chin in his fingers and forced me to meet his gaze.
“Look at me,” he said softly. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“But I should have told you sooner,” I whispered. “I was scared. You’re older, more experienced, and I didn’t want you to see me as a kid or—”
“Rose.” His voice stopped my spiral before it could really take off. “You don’t ever have to hide from me. Not about this. Not about anything.”
I blinked at him, throat tight, heart aching.
“Do you still want me?” I asked, so quiet I barely heard it myself. I hated letting my insecurities win.
He didn’t answer. Not with words.
Instead, he leaned in and kissed me again. Slow. Deep.
“I want you,” he said against my lips. “Exactly the way you are. No pretending. No shame. Just you.”
And God help me, that was when I really fell. Not from the words coming from his mouth, and not from his hands.
But from that look in his eyes that promised I was safe in his world. I was wanted and chosen.