Falling For My Ex's Dad (Clarissa and Gabriel) novel Chapter 217

Clairessa – POV

I couldn’t breathe.

Not properly—not with the way my body still trembled from the aftershock of my climax.

Gabriel’s mouth had always driven me mad—but not like this. Never like this.

Or maybe it was because I'd been starved from the pleasure only he could give for so long, everything felt so different, almost like I was floating.

It was as if he’d memorized every inch of me and then decided to rewrite the story. Like he wanted me to know he still remembered every inch of me, every nerve, every gasp I’d ever given him, and was determined to draw them out of me again.

My hips had bucked against his mouth until I lost all sense of pride, of resistance. I’d begged him. Me. Begged.

Despite promising myself I’d never let him see me fold, I still welcomed him into my bed. He left me with little to no chance to win with that tongue of his—kissing, stroking, swirling around every inch of my heat.

And now, I was wrecked—my limbs heavy.

My skin tingled, hypersensitive, like every nerve had woken from the dead.

He was hungry. Possessive. And the worst part?

I’d missed it. God, I’d missed him. And I was no longer ashamed to admit it.

The moment I came apart on his tongue, something shattered loose inside me—a wild, raw, reckless passion that refused to fade, leaving me desperate for more. I wanted to see him lose control.

Gabriel, the man who ruled every moment. The man who could strip me bare with one look and still never give me more than what he allowed. He’d never let me have that power.

But tonight…

Tonight, I wanted him to give in.

To me.

He hovered over me, lips brushing mine, his hands still braced on either side of my hips like he was the one holding back. His eyes were dark, mouth kiss-swollen, breath heavy.

“I’m here,” he murmured low. “Take me.”

I traced his bottom lip with my finger and tilted my head.

“No,” I whispered. “You don’t get it.”

His brow arched. “Then explain it to me.”

“I don’t want to take you,” I murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I want to kiss you.”

“Then do it.”

“No…” I breathed. “You really don’t get it.”

He barely had time to react before I pushed gently at his chest, guiding him back.

I shifted out from under him, rising slowly.

We both knelt on the bed now, eye level, breathless, facing each other like combatants and lovers all at once.

I leaned in, brushing my lips against his—once, twice—slow, wet, lingering kisses that deepened with every soft moan caught between them.

Then I moved lower, letting my mouth trail down his neck, across his chest, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses that made his muscles twitch beneath my tongue.

His breath hitched when I stopped just above his waistband.

I looked up at him, eyes wide, innocent only in appearance. “This,” I whispered, my voice like silk, “is where I want to kiss.”

His entire body tensed.

“Fuck, Clairessa—don’t,” he muttered, his voice torn between warning and desire.

But I wasn’t listening. I palmed the thick, hard length straining beneath his pants, and he hissed through his teeth, his hips jerking slightly in response.

His cock twitched in my grip.

I glanced up again, my lips curling. “Do you like that?”

He swallowed hard, his voice almost hoarse. “Too much.”

He reached for me, brushing his lips over mine in a soft, searching kiss like he was trying to shift the direction of the moment.

“Which is why I want you to let me focus on you,” he said roughly. “Tonight should be about you.”

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