Falling For My Ex's Dad (Clarissa and Gabriel) novel Chapter 218

Clairessa’s POV

Gabriel pushed up slowly—deliberate, like a man who knew his body was a weapon.

He stood at the foot of the bed, eyes dark and locked on mine, daring me to look away.

I didn’t.

I lifted myself higher onto my knees, squaring my shoulders, reveling in the way the power shifted.

“I want you completely naked.”

He tilted his head, that slow, cocky grin never fading. He hated this—giving up control. But still, he reached for the hem of his dark sleep shirt and pulled it over his head in one fluid motion.

A broad chest. Golden skin. Toned. Cut.

God.

My gaze dropped—helpless to resist.

His abs were more defined than I remembered. His body leaner, tighter—like he’d been working out more.

Maybe trying to burn off the same frustration I’d been drowning in.

A trail of hair led down from his navel, and I followed it with hungry eyes.

Then his fingers slid to the knot of his drawstring.

He watched me the whole time, never breaking eye contact, even as he pushed his pants down and stepped out of them.

No briefs.

My breath hitched.

His cock stood proud—thick and heavy—curving toward his stomach with arrogant perfection. Veins etched along the length, the head flushed, glistening.

My thighs clenched. My lips parted before I even realized it, the sound that escaped me soft and needy.

I licked my lips unconsciously, already imagining the taste of him on my tongue.

“Sweet,” he warned, voice deep and rough. “Do that again, and I’ll be forced to fuck you into the morning.”

I laughed softly, wickedly, biting back a shiver.

“Easy, tiger. I’m in charge, remember?”

He arched a brow, that dangerous smirk curving. “Just for tonight. Don’t get used to it—I’ll always dominate.”

“We’ll see,” I said, defiant. “For now… you’re all mine to control.”

“If I’m yours,” he muttered, “you’d better come collect your property before it does something reckless.”

I rose from the bed slowly, every inch of me aching for him. My nipples rubbed against the fabric of my nightdress, hard and swollen.

My clit throbbed—already soaked just from the sight of him.

He was magnificent.

And I wanted him inside me so badly it hurt.

I walked to him, letting my gaze trace every sculpted line of his body.

He towered over me, his tall frame making mine feel even more petite.

His height and strength were still intimidating. Still magnetic. But I didn’t flinch.

I liked that. I liked the contrast.

I placed my hands on his chest, fingers splayed. His skin was warm beneath my touch, smooth and tight over muscle.

I traced a slow line down his sternum, around the taut curve of his ribs, and back up to his broad shoulders.

He tensed.

And I loved the power I held when I reached up and caressed him slowly—feeling that slight twitch beneath my fingertips.

He was trying to stay still. Trying to fight the reaction I dragged out of him.

He was losing.

I circled him, slow and deliberate, savoring the tension in the air—feeling his anticipation grow.

My fingers teased across his back, then down to his waist, light and lingering. He sucked in a breath but didn’t stop me.

When I came to stand in front of him again, I leaned in, my lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“I want you on the bed.”

He smirked, cocky as hell. “You’re making a lot of demands, sweetheart.”

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