Claimed By The Tyrant King

The rain fell lightly at first, pattering against the windows while Rowan moved across the room, pulling each one closed before making his way to the next. Rosalind briefly glanced up from where she was kneading dough in the kitchen, then suddenly paused as something occurred to her.

"What about the seashells?" she asked, her eyes widening.

"I have them with me," Rowan replied as he shut the last window.

The rain continued to fall outside while the fire burned brightly in the hearth of the sitting room.

He then walked over to the kitchen, searched for a jar, and began emptying the seashells from the cloth into it. They made soft clinking sounds as they landed inside, and although the jar was larger than expected, the shells only filled it halfway.

After closing the lid, he carried it over and held it out for her to see.

"Looks like we’ll have to find more seashells," he said.

Rosalind nodded as she glanced at it, though her fingers never stopped working through the dough.

After the fun they had shared in the sand, they had taken a bath and come straight to the kitchen, and it had not been long before the rain started.

"Guess we’ll have to stay in today," Rosalind muttered under her breath as the rain drummed steadily against the roof.

Rowan looked at her for a moment before saying, "I want to help with the dough."

A bright look immediately appeared on her face.

"Okay..." she agreed.

He washed and dried his hands before coming to stand behind her. Then his hands slid gently around her, finding her fingers before covering them with his own. Resting his head on her shoulder, he guided their joined hands over the dough, and Rosalind felt her heart begin to race as his breath brushed against her neck.

"Are you sure you just want to help?" she asked while they kneaded together.

"Hm," Rowan hummed. "You’re the one who seems to be thinking about something else."

Her cheeks reddened. "No, I’m not."

"You’ve gotten so bold lately, wife. I don’t know if I should be worried."

As he spoke, his nose brushed lightly against her neck and Rosalind inhaled slowly.

"There’s nothing to be worried about," she replied, and Rowan returned his attention to the dough.

She turned her head slightly toward him. "I’m just really comfortable with you. I feel safe and at peace, which is probably why I can let you see those sides of me so easily."

"I see," Rowan murmured.

Rosalind smiled before looking back down at the dough. "You can add more flour," she instructed.

He reached for the flour and sprinkled it over the dough before they continued kneading.

"You’re doing so well," Rosalind said after a moment.

His lips curved faintly at the praise before he asked, "About those sides... is there still any I haven’t seen yet?"

Rosalind narrowed her eyes.

"Maybe," she answered softly.

"I’ll figure it out," he replied, his voice warm and deep near her ear before he pressed a kiss to her neck.

A pleasant shiver ran through her skin where his lips touched.

Silence settled between them after that, broken only by the sound of rain against the windows and the steady crackling of the fire nearby. Eventually Rosalind announced that the dough was ready, and together they stopped kneading. She placed it inside a bowl and covered it carefully.

"We’ll have to wait for it to rise," she said.

Rowan nodded with surprising seriousness, almost like a child being given instructions.

Once she wrapped the bowl and set it aside, they left it to rest.

"What do we do for the next fifteen minutes?" she asked.

Rowan’s gaze traveled slowly across her, and the look in his eyes was one Rosalind had become very familiar with. Before she could say anything else, his hands found her waist and lifted her effortlessly onto the kitchen counter.

Rosalind’s eyes widened slightly.

"We can stay here," he murmured as he stepped between her parted knees.

She studied him quietly while another silence passed between them.

"Do you want to ask something?" he questioned at last, noticing the thoughtful look on her face.

"I..." Rosalind began, and he waited patiently for her to continue. "I want to know if you’re enjoying this."

He blinked at her, not entirely understanding.

Rosalind shifted slightly before explaining. "I wonder if you’re enjoying the honeymoon... because I feel like I’m the one getting excited and suggesting almost everything while you just follow along with whatever I say... I know you’re doing it for me, and that’s really sweet, but you should enjoy it too. You should get to do things you actually want."

Rowan remained silent for a moment before a quiet chuckle escaped him. "Where do you get these thoughts from, Rosalind?" he asked.

He lifted a hand and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I just like being here with you."

Rosalind slowly shook her head.

"I notice things too, Rowan... I know you always say that if I’m happy then you’re happy, but there are things you should want as well. This isn’t just my honeymoon. It’s ours."

For a moment Rowan simply looked at her, and something softer settled in his eyes.

Then he stepped closer and rested his forehead against hers.

"Rosalind," he said quietly, "I’m enjoying this because I’m with you. Not because of the beach, or the house, or the things we do. If we spent the entire week sitting in this kitchen listening to the rain, I would still be enjoying it."

His thumb brushed gently against her cheek. "But if it makes you feel better, tomorrow we’ll do something I choose."

That immediately brightened her expression. "Really?"

"Really."

Rosalind smiled so brightly that Rowan found himself smiling back despite himself, and as the rain continued outside and the dough rested quietly nearby, neither of them seemed particularly eager to move away from the moment they were sharing.

"So what will we do?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

"We could go boating... fishing..." His voice trailed off, and Rosalind’s eyes immediately widened at the suggestion.

"You can fish?" she asked.

"Yeah," Rowan answered, sounding almost shy. "My father used to take me fishing on his less busy days, so I learned how to do it."

"Then we’ll fish..." she said excitedly. "And we can even have fish for dinner."

A smile found its way onto Rowan’s face. "Sure, Rosalind,"

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then he murmured quietly, "I’m so lucky to have someone like you in my life."

Rosalind’s smile softened, and her heart melted at those words. She felt as though she had touched a part of him simply by caring about what he wanted, and perhaps that was why he was looking at her like this.

"I love you so much, Rosalind," he added.

"I love you too, Rowan," she replied.

His gaze flickered from her eyes to her lips, and she found herself doing the same. Without another word, he leaned forward, and Rosalind met him halfway. Their lips touched, and her arms slipped around his neck while his hands settled around her waist.

The kiss deepened almost immediately, their heads tilting as they moved against each other, soft moans and the sound of mingling breaths filling the space between them.

At first Rosalind thought the kiss would end there, but it didn’t.

Before she knew it, her back was pressed against the wall and Rowan had her hands pinned beside her head as he effortlessly regained control of the situation.

The kiss turned hungrier, their breaths mixing and growing heavier while softer moans slipped from her lips. He kissed his way down her neck and across her chest before returning to her mouth, stealing what little breath she had left as he kissed her deeply.

A gasp escaped her when she felt his fingers at her wet entrance, teasing and stroking her until her thoughts scattered. Before she could fully process it, he had already drawn her closer and she tightened her arms around his shoulders as he thrust his hardened length inside her.

The intensity of it stole the air from her lungs. It was fast, consuming, and unlike anything they had done before. After endless gasps, desperate touches, and breathless sounds, she felt her body unravel around him.

Rowan buried his face against her neck, which had grown damp from the heat between them, and breathed heavily against her collarbone.

"Rosalind..." His voice trailed off.

Her vision was hazy and her chest rose and fell unevenly from everything she had just experienced.

"Yes..."

"I think I’m getting addicted to you," he admitted through a heavy breath.

"Getting?" she asked teasingly.

A faint smile touched his lips. "I’m addicted already."

Rosalind’s smile widened and he leaned in to kiss her again.

She barely knew how it happened, but the next moment her hands were gripping the edge of the counter while Rowan drew her closer, sliding in from behind. A startled gasp escaped her lips and her eyes fluttered shut. Every movement sent another wave of sensation through her, making it impossible to focus on anything except him.

"Rosalind..." Rowan breathed, his voice rough.

She answered with a soft cry of his name and his grip tightened around her waist. Her beautiful sounds only seemed to encourage him further.

Again and again she called for him, and each time he answered, letting her know he was listening, letting her know he was right there with her.

"Rowan..." she gasped.

"Hm?" he answered, sounding just as breathless.

Her fingers tightened around the counter as another tremor ran through her.

"I think the dough is ready," she managed between heavy breaths.