Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
ROSEMARIE
He moved between my knees, and I almost forgot how to breathe.
This green dress now felt like a curse and a promise all at once. The satin stuck to my skin that was now flushed with heat, rising and falling with each of my shallow breaths. My thighs trembled beneath his touch, not from fear, but anticipation.
Gavin knelt like a man about to say a prayer.
How was this man fifty-two and looking like that?
Tall and broad with muscles. His dark hair was peppered with streaks of grey, and the short beard edging his jaw only sharpened the brutal handsomeness carved into every line of his face.
His hands—large, calloused, work-worn—slid slowly up the inside of my legs like he was studying the blueprints of his next project.
The contrast between his rough palms and the softness of my skin made my heart take flight.
He didn’t speak right away. Just lingered there, palms splayed wide on my thighs, eyes locked on mine. His stare burned—steady, intense, assessing. Like he was contemplating saying something.
His voice, when it came, was low and thick, all gravel and thunder and smoke. “We need to discuss something first.”
He dipped forward. Kissed the inside of my knee, then rested his cheek there, the scratch of his stubble biting into my skin and leaving a burning feeling that settled deep into my bones.
“I’m not soft,” he warned. “Not in the way some might be.”
I blinked, chest rising with a shaky breath. “You think I haven’t caught onto that by now?”
He huffed through his nose. Not a laugh.
Something darker. “You’ve seen who I am out there—calm, patient.
Measured. But in here …” His hand slid higher, fingertips ghosting along the most sensitive part of my thigh, calluses catching on my skin.
“In the bedroom, I’m controlling. I don’t want to be patient. I want to own you.”
This man was going to wreck me. And I could not wait for it.
“I want to teach you every way it can feel. Every place I can take you. All of it. Every inch. Every hole. Every position. Everything I’ve ever thought of doing to you—I want to make it real.”
The heat that surged through me was a wildfire. A trembling, electric shock that started between my legs and traveled up to my chest.
“Gavin …”
He moved his focus to my other thigh, placing kisses there too—soft, then firmer.
His voice dipped into something rougher, something primal.
“I’ll protect you, Rose. I’ll take care of you.
That doesn’t change. But when I’m inside you?
I won’t be gentle. I’m going to fuck you like I’ve imagined it every goddamn night since I walked into that flooded store and realized the years I spent pushing you out of my mind were a goddamn waste. ”
My eyes stung with unshed tears, not from pain or fear—but from the realization of just how much I wanted it. How much I wanted him.
“I need to know you can handle it,” he said, voice quieter now, but no less intense. “That you can handle me.”
He looked up at me, those dark, stormy eyes filled with something bordering on desperation. Need. Possession. And I saw it so clearly: this man could shatter me. Or make me whole in a way I never expected. Maybe he was already doing both.
I tipped my head, and a slow smirk curled at the corner of my lips. “You think I can’t take it?”
His expression hardened. Sharpened. “That’s not what I said.”
“Then stop warning me,” I whispered, breathless, daring. “Start proving it.”
He growled. The sound was feral—low and dangerous, dragged from the deepest part of him.
The air shifted between us, growing heavier.
Hotter. My whole body pulsed with need as his palm slid along my thigh, slow and claiming.
His presence was all-consuming. I propped myself up on my elbows, heart slamming against my ribs as he stared up at me like I was the only thing left in the world that mattered.
And since I was realizing I liked the burn of adding a little gasoline to his flames, I couldn’t help but whisper, “Please, Daddy.”
He exhaled, and something in him seemed to snap. His mouth curled into a dark smile. “Good girl.”
The words ripped through me like lightning.
He moved. No more restraint. No more waiting. He slid one hand up the back of my thigh, lifting it slightly, then pushed the other beneath the hem of my dress. His knuckles skimmed higher, higher—until he found exactly what he hoped for.
His jaw tightened. “You’re going to fucking destroy me.” His fingers grazed over my slick center, and I jerked with a gasp. He teased—barely touching, just enough to drive me mad—until my hips began to rise without permission.
“So wet for me already,” he groaned, eyes locked on mine. “You don’t even know what you’re doing to me, do you?”
I shook my head, breathless. “Show me.”
He pushed my dress higher with a deliberate slowness that had me shaking. It bunched at my waist, and the moment I was exposed to him, he leaned down and pressed a searing kiss to the inside of my thigh—then bit. Hard enough to leave a mark. I gasped, head falling back.
His hands—so big, so sure—slid beneath my knees and spread me wider, shamelessly. He looked up and there was nothing soft in his gaze. Nothing gentle.
“I want my touch burned into you,” he said, voice like molten steel. “I want you aching tomorrow. Still flushed from tonight. Still tasting me on your skin.”
“Gavin—”
His tongue silenced me.
There was nothing careful about the way he devoured me.
It was greedy. He licked and sucked and moaned into me like he was the one experiencing this level of pleasure, like this was what he was starved for.
His stubble scraped my thighs, his grip was bruising, and his tongue explored me deeper than he did on the kitchen counter.
“Fuck,” I cried, thighs trembling around his head. My hand found its way into his hair, pulling him closer to me.
He didn’t let up. Didn’t stop. He groaned into me like a man unhinged before pulling away and placing his thumb above my clit and adding pressure. “Let me hear it, baby. Come for me.” As soon as the words passed those tortuous lips, his tongue dove back in for more.
Within seconds, I did as he said. I couldn’t stop it.
My hips jerked, back arching as the orgasm hit fast and hard.
My hand fisted his hair and I would have been worried I was being too rough if not for the rumble that vibrated against my clit and pushed me further over the edge.
I think his name left my lips, but I was too wrecked and undone to be sure.
When he rose, mouth wet and pupils blown, he rested back on his knees and motioned me forward with his index finger.
I sat up and reached for his belt with shaky fingers. I fumbled, flustered and frustrated that one orgasm from this man was making my movements scream dick virgin, but he caught my wrists gently. Gavin kissed the inside of each, then placed my hands back on his buckle.
“Take them off me,” he said, voice rough. “I want you to see what you do to my cock.”
I worked his belt open, undid the button on his dark jeans, and dragged the zipper down.
His cock sprang free, nothing underneath the jeans stopping it.
He was thick and hard, and the tip glistened with precum, showing me just how much he’d enjoyed himself between my legs.
If I were being honest, it was a little …
daunting to think that would all fit inside of me. But also exciting.
My lips parted. “Oh my God.”
He smirked, though his voice was a threat and a promise. “You scared, sweet girl?”
“No.” I grinned up at him. “I want it. All of it.”
He moved off the bed, taking off his boots and socks and beginning to step fully out of his jeans. “You’ll get it,” he said while kicking them off into the dimly lit corner. “But you’ll take it how I give it. Now—take off that torture device you call a dress.”
Hands shaking, I reached for the hem of the dress. The soft silk left a chill on my skin as I lifted my hips just enough to pull it over them, then I slid it up and over my stomach, my ribs, my breasts. I pulled it over my head and tossed it aside.
Before I could say a word, he grabbed the backs of my thighs and hauled me toward him—one swift, brutal motion that dragged me to the edge of the bed. I gasped while my hands flew back to brace myself.
He was right there. The thick blunt head of his cock nudged against my entrance, ready to claim me in a way that no one had done before.
As if he could hear my last thought, his touch softened.
A single brush of knuckles across my cheek.
Gentle. Intimate. It was a contradiction to the other side of him that I knew wanted to come out.
A silent promise that even in this situation—especially in this situation—he was paying attention.
That I was safe in his hands, even when they were rough.
“This is your last chance.”
“I want you,” I confessed. “I want this.”
He pushed past the resistance and into me with one long, hard thrust.
The stretch was sharp—too much and not enough all at once. My mouth fell open as a cry tore from my throat, nails digging into the solid muscle of his forearms.
He stopped, halfway in, his breath coming hard. His gaze burned into mine.
“Breathe,” he hummed. “You’re okay. You can take it. You’re mine.”
He didn’t move. Just let me adjust. Let me feel it—all of him—while my body tried to accommodate what it had never known.
His mouth found mine again, gentler now. Then it trailed lower along my jaw, down my throat, tracing heat into the hollow of my collarbone. His lips closed around my breast, tongue circling my nipple, teasing it until it was stiff and aching. One of his hands cupped the other, kneading softly.
“You’re so fucking tight around me,” he growled against my skin. “Like you were made for this. For me.”
Tears slipped from my eyes, but not from pain. It was too much. It was everything. And it was perfect.
Then he moved.
Not just his hips—us. He lifted me higher onto the bed in one fluid motion, dragging my body beneath his so that my head rested up on the pillows, until he could brace himself between my thighs and grip the headboard above us.
His cock pressed deeper with the shift, inch by inch, until he was fully inside me—stretching me, filling me completely.
I couldn’t help the broken sound that escaped my throat.
His movements were slow and methodical at first, then faster and harder, as if he could sense when the sting of him being fully seated inside of me changed to pleasure.
His hips slammed into mine. The bed jolted with each thrust, wood creaking in time with our bodies. He pinned me down with one hand, gripping the headboard with the other, as he fucked me with devastating precision.
Whimpering and gasping, I began to fall apart.
“You feel that?” he snarled. “That’s me ruining you.”
“Gavin—please—”
“No one else hears those sounds,” he growled. “No one else touches you like this. No one else makes you beg.”
“No one but you,” I gasped. “Only for you, Daddy.”
He groaned, wrecked. “That’s right. Now be a good girl and come on my cock.”
His filthy words triggered my climax and I detonated. Words left my lips, many jumbled, as my once-virgin pussy spasmed around him, clenching tight.
But he didn’t stop. Not until I was shaking. Crying. Barely breathing.
Then he shifted, pulling me upright and dragging me into his lap. I straddled him, chest to chest, arms around his shoulders as he fucked up into me, deep and rough and full of need.
“I need to feel you break around me one more time,” he panted. “Give me one more, Rose. I know you can come again.”
And I did. The second orgasm crashed over me, sharper than the first. I cried out into his neck, biting down hard as I broke completely.
That’s what undid him.
He growled my name, hips jerking, and came inside me with a shudder that racked through both of us. He clutched me tight, like he’d fall apart if he let go.
We collapsed together in a tangle of limbs layered sweat and uneven breaths.
Eventually, he pulled the blanket over us, drawing me close. I nuzzled into him and placed my hands over his chest to feel the beating of his heart. His hand stroked slow, lazy patterns up and down my spine.
“You okay?” he asked before placing a soft kiss on my head.
I nodded, unable to stop the smile that pulled at my lips. “I’ve never been better.”
He chuckled, voice rough. “Told you I’d ruin you.”
“You did.” I glanced up at him. “And you’ll do it again.”
His eyes darkened. “Damn right I will.”
And somehow, in the aftermath of being completely wrecked by this man, I’d never felt more whole.