Claimed By The Tyrant King

*Mature content ahead!*

Rosalind’s back met the wall and a small gasp slipped out before she could catch it.

Rowan had her wrists pinned on either side of her head, his body towering over her. I want you too, she’d told him, and the moment those words left her mouth, his gaze turned darker, as though hunger had taken shape behind his eyes.

Rowan leaned in and captured her lips. The kiss wasn’t gentle the way it had been before but careful enough not to hurt her, and possessive enough to make her chest tighten. His grip on her wrists firmed as his tongue slid into her mouth, moving against hers with a confidence that made her pulse stumble.

He tasted her slowly, then more insistently, and she felt herself melt into the pressure and heat of his mouth.

Rosalind’s closed her eyes to fill it better, her stomach fluttered with a mix of excitement and nerves as she gave in, responding at her own pace, teasing him back in small, unsteady ways that made something in Rowan shift.

When his arms wound around her waist and pulled her closer, he erased the last sliver of space between them like it had offended him to exist at all. Her hands left the wall and found him instead, sliding up his neck until her fingers threaded into his hair.

It was soft and silky beneath her touch, a contrast to the heat of him and intensity of his mouth that overwhelmed hers in the most consuming way.

The sound filled the space as everything else blurred into the background.

She pulled away slightly to catch her breath, her hazel eyes meeting his dark ones as he rested his forehead against hers.

His warm breath fell on her face. "Are you alright?" he asked.

She nodded quietly and something in his expression eased without losing its edge, as if her answer gave him permission.

He trailed wet kisses along her jaw, pausing beneath her ear and kissing there with slow intent. Rosalind’s hands tightened on his shoulders as her body reacted before her mind could catch up.

Rowan’s mouth moved down her neck, leaving warm, lingering trails that made her moan and tilt her head, offering him more without meaning to. "Tell me if it gets too much," he murmured, his voice brushing her skin like another touch.

Rosalind could barely think. If anything, it wasn’t too much. It was not enough. The thrill of it rolled through her, and she wanted to know how far they would go.

Her body arched toward him as though it recognized him, trusted him, craved him, and that realization alone made her breath shake.

Rowan’s fingers found the strap of her nightgown, and she felt the strap slide from her shoulder, then the other, and she sucked in a sharp breath when cooler air met newly exposed skin.

Her heartbeat turned loud in her ears, each thud echoing with the same thought she couldn’t seem to stop. This is really happening.

Rowan eased the straps fully down her arms. For a second, he didn’t rush, he simply looked at her, as if he was checking for any sign of hesitation, any flicker of regret. But there was none.

Then his lips returned to her skin, moving lower, pressing kisses down her collarbone and the soft dip beneath it. Rosalind’s breath caught. Her heart felt like it was trying to outrun itself.

His hands slid up from her waist with patience, leaving heat in their wake. When he cupped her breasts, Rosalind’s lips parted and a quiet, broken sound escaped her. Rowan’s touch was firm but reverent, like he was taking his time on purpose, like he wanted her to feel every second of it.

He lowered his mouth to her breast, his tongue sweeping against her hardened nipple, teasing as he watched her reaction. His mouth then closed in on her breast and he sucked on it.

His hand moved to her other breast, his fingers teasing and mirroring what his tongue was doing... circling slowly before he rolled it between his fingers.

Rosalind’s whole body reacted... arching, trembling, her fingers tightening in his hair as sensation sparked through her in bright, dizzying waves.

She hadn’t known it could feel like this, hadn’t known she could want like this, yet the wanting filled her so completely it felt like it had always been there, waiting for him to draw it out.

When Rowan kissed her again, Rosalind clung to him, arms sliding around his neck as she met his hunger with her own. Her body pressed against his, and she felt how affected he was too, the proof of it making her stomach flip.

His hands drifted down her waist and over her thighs, slow enough to make it torturous.

Rosalind fought the urge to look away under the weight of his gaze, because it wasn’t just desire in his eyes, but something that made her feel seen and claimed at the same time.

"Look at me," he said, quiet but firm.

She did.

Her hazel eyes locked with his, and her breath shuddered as his hands cupped her entrance, making her body tighten with anticipation.

His middle finger flickered across her wet folds, "Rowan," she whispered, the sound of his name turning into a plea before she could stop it.

"Is it too much?" Rowan asked, and the question felt like an opening, a last chance to pull back if she needed it.

Rosalind knew she could tell him to stop. She knew he would. She knew it in the steadiness of his voice and the way he waited for her.

But when his finger thrust in her, gentle at first and then a little more sure, her answer dissolved into a breathy sound she couldn’t control. Heat flooded her, leaving her thoughts scattered, her body vivid and restless, and she gripped him tighter.

Rowan watched her like he was memorizing every reaction, every tremor. "Does it feel good?" he asked, calmly, his finger pulling in and out of her wetness.

"Yes," she managed, then again, because one word wasn’t enough to carry it. "Yes."

His movements stayed slow, determined to give her pleasure without pushing past her limits.

The sensations were new, strange at first, and Rosalind’s fear flickered briefly, but it was swallowed by something stronger.

Want.

Trust.

The knowledge that she didn’t want to retreat but wanted to go forward, even if her hands were shaking, even if her breath kept catching in her throat, even if she didn’t know where this would end.

****

Rosalind’s gaze stayed locked on Rowan’s, and the darkness there didn’t soften.

He pulled out his wet finger, added one more and thrust right back in and Rosalind’s fingers curled into him, clutching at his shoulders as a soft, helpless sound slipped from her lips.

Her pulse hammered wildly, and the heat spreading through her made her feel unsteady in the most dangerous way.

Rowan’s breathing turned rough, his focus sharpening like he’d narrowed the world down to nothing but her reactions and the way her body trembled beneath his touch.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, even though it was there in his voice that he didn’t want to stop, not for a second. Still, he made space for her answer, made it clear that she mattered more than whatever he was feeling.

Rosalind shook her head, almost breathlessly, surprising herself with how sure it was.

She wanted to follow the tension all the way to its end, even if it terrified her with how good it felt, even if her thoughts kept scattering every time his fingers moved inside of her.

When he quickened his rhythm, the sensation built quickly, winding tight inside her, and Rowan leaned in to kiss her neck like he was grounding her there, holding her steady while everything in her threatened to come undone.

"Rowan," she breathed, his name breaking apart on her tongue.

His mouth grew hotter against her skin, kisses turning into slow, possessive marks that made her shiver, and his pace didn’t let up. If anything, it became more faster. He knew exactly what he was doing to her and refused to let her escape it.

Rosalind tried to form words, but her lips parted and nothing coherent came out.

Her legs shook, her vision blurring at the edges as pleasure overwhelmed her so completely it felt like stepping into a realm she hadn’t known existed.

She clung to him, breathless and trembling, and when the tension finally snapped, her body went rigid for a heartbeat before it melted, releasing in a long, uncontrollable rush that left her soaking against his fingers.

Rowan’s voice was low against her neck, a rough exhale that sounded like praise. "That’s it," he murmured as he pulled out.

Rosalind felt the absence immediately, her body tightening on instinct, chasing what he’d taken away. She breathed hard, chest rising and falling, trying to gather herself while the aftershocks kept moving through her in quiet, relentless pulses.

Their eyes met again, and the look on his face did something to her all over again.

He lifted his hand and without breaking eye contact, brought his fingers to his mouth in a slow motion that made Rosalind’s stomach flip. Rowan wanted her to understand exactly what she’d just given him and how much he liked it as his tongue traced over his fingers, and the sight of it went straight through her.

Rosalind’s breath caught as her body responded again. She swallowed hard when she realized with a mix of disbelief and aching want that she could tip right back into it if he touched her again.