Claimed By The Tyrant King

*Mature Content Ahead*

Rosalind breathed heavily as Rowan’s hands slid beneath the hem of her gown and lifted it with deliberate care. He then crouched between her legs, his hands steadying her in place while his gaze stayed locked on hers. His fingers traced lazy lines along her ankles, climbed to her calves, then drifted higher to her thighs before he drew back again, as if teasing her.

Her cheeks were already warm, her skin buzzing with anticipation, and her lips parted slightly when he brought one of her legs to his mouth.

He kissed from her ankle upward slowly enough to make her feel every second, his tongue leaving a damp, lingering trail that had her fighting not to squirm.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the table, knuckles whitening as her heart stumbled in her chest. He neared her thighs, inching closer with deliberate patience, and her legs started to tense on instinct, but he held them apart without force while his hot tongue skimmed across her skin.

Rosalind felt the heat pooling lower, thick and insistent, and when she finally couldn’t keep it in, she whispered, "Rowan," her eyes hazy, voice thin.

He answered with a soft hum as the quiet sound of his kisses reached her ears.

Rosalind’s toes curled. Her breathing turned uneven. She wanted to look away, wanted to hide from how exposed she felt, but he’d told her to look at him while he pleasured her.

"You said you can handle it," he murmured, his eyes still holding hers as he guided her legs higher, settling them over his shoulders.

Rosalind swallowed hard as she realized exactly where this was heading, and the thought alone made her pulse stutter. "Are you really going to do this?" she asked, the question slipping out before she could soften it.

His eyes narrowed, and she rushed to clarify, flustered. "I mean... down there... you can’t possibly..." Her voice trailed off, the words failing her the deeper her embarrassment sank.

"There’s nothing to worry about, Rosalind," he said calmly, like he could hear every frantic thought in her head.

"Just trust me, alright?" She swallowed, clinging to his certainty because it was easier than thinking.

"And keep your eyes on me," he added.

She nodded helplessly, like an obedient little kitten, and a trembling sigh spilled from her lips when his fingers found her beneath her underwear.

He teased her first, sliding his fingertips along her entrance, up and down the slick heat already there, and Rosalind went breathless even though they hadn’t properly started.

She felt the pressure of his finger pushing deeper, slightly restricted by the fabric, and that limitation sparked something sharp inside her... frustration, hunger, a craving she couldn’t name but couldn’t ignore either.

Rowan, on the other hand, seemed to savor everything from her. The shaky moans she couldn’t hold back, the way her face betrayed her, the way her legs tried to close even while he kept them spread over his shoulders.

Rosalind’s sweet voice rolled like melody in his ears, a sound that fed his control while stroking his desire at the same time, and it made him want to do more, just to hear what else she could give him.

"Tell me if you want it, Rosalind," he said, his fingers teasing her back and forth with a steady rhythm that pushed her closer to the edge of herself.

"Yes..." she breathed, unable to help it. She wanted the same kind of pleasure he’d given her the night before, wanted it so badly it made her ache. At the thought, her body reacted instantly, tightening with a needy flutter that made her inhale sharply.

Rowan reached for her underwear slowly, never breaking eye contact. She didn’t speak and the desire in her eyes was enough confirmation as he eased the fabric down her legs, guiding it aside without care for where it landed because his attention had narrowed to her alone.

Then he repositioned her legs on his shoulders, settling her exactly where he wanted her.

His eyes dropped between her thighs, and he swallowed as he took her in. She was wet, open, and begging in a way that made his restraint strain. He knew Rosalind was beautiful. He’d always known that. But seeing her like this, flushed, trembling and completely exposed for him, made something warm stir in his chest.

Rosalind had turned red, heat rising up her throat, because no man had ever looked at her like she was meant to be admired, to be wanted without shame.

Instinctively, she lifted a hand to cover herself. Rowan caught her wrist gently but firmly. "What are you doing?" he asked.

Rosalind couldn’t find an explanation that didn’t feel ridiculous, so she bit her lower lip, embarrassed down to her bones. Rowan eased her worry away. "You’re beautiful, Rosalind,"

Her cheeks flushed even deeper at the certainty in his voice. Her heart swayed at it, because even in the middle of this, especially in the middle of this, he still noticed when she faltered and knew exactly how to pull her back. "Don’t forget that," he added, and the words landed like a hand on her spine, holding her upright.

She pressed her lips together, trying to steady herself when he leaned in and kissed her thighs again.

Her heart spiked all over, as if it had restarted, and she shivered when his mouth reached her inner thigh, his breath fanning across sensitive skin and making her even wetter.

His lips trailed kisses where she ached most, and then his tongue found her properly, sucking at her folds with a gentleness that still made her jolt.

Rosalind moaned hard when she felt his tongue slide against her entrance, the sensation was electric, spreading through her in hot waves. The tip of his tongue moved forward and then backward slowly and her whole body answered like it had been waiting for that exact touch.

She breathed out his name "Rowan" as her fingers tightened against the table.

He stayed between her thighs, drawing slow, careful patterns, as though he was memorizing every reaction and keeping her right where he wanted her.

Rosalind arched closer, chasing the sensation, and her hand found his hair, fingers twisting in it as if it could anchor her.

He kept his pace steady at first, letting each stroke land fully before the next one followed, building heat with patience. When he found that sensitive place that made her breath catch, he lingered there, changing the pressure and angle in small, devastating ways... circles, slow drags, a steady rhythm that turned scattered her thoughts.

Her hips bucked, thighs tensed, and the sounds she made came out broken, helpless, as if her body was answering for her.

Rowan didn’t let her go. Even when her grip tightened in his hair, he kept her open and steady, giving her what she needed while still controlling the pace.

His breath warmed her skin, his focus relentless, and when he gradually increased the tempo, Rosalind lost the last of her composure. Her back arched, her vision blurred, and his name slipped from her lips again in fractured gasps.

It was too much and new in a way that left her unsure how to hold it in, but Rowan knew she was doing exactly as she should.

Rosalind couldn’t count the number of times she shuddered, the way her hips lifted toward him on instinct, the way her entire body pleaded without words as he kept that perfect pressure, that perfect pace, until the tension snapped and she tipped over the edge.

Her legs shook, her hands clutched at him as she rode out the wave, trembling hard enough that she couldn’t hide it. Rowan still didn’t stop immediately, he stayed with her through it, drawing it out until she was breathless and spent, until the last tremor finally eased as she tried to remember how to breathe.

When he rose to his feet, Rosalind swallowed, her chest rising and falling. "I’m not done yet" he murmured, his voice a rough whisper against her ear.

Was he going to do it again? The thought hit her while she was still trying to recover.

Before she could form an answer, he cupped her cheeks and kissed her like he was claiming her mouth as much as the rest of her. The kiss was deep and slow at first, then it turned hungry, his tongue sliding in with ease, and Rosalind made a small sound that betrayed how quickly her body was waking back up.

His hands found her breasts, squeezing lightly, and Rosalind moaned into his mouth as her legs wrapped around him despite herself. His other hand moved over her body with a confidence that made her feel both exposed and cared for.

Rosalind hissed softly into his mouth when his fingers drifted lower, finding her again with an ease that made her breath stutter. He eased one finger in, then deeper, and when her body tightened around him, he added another, moving with a steady rhythm that made her grip him harder.

"Oh, Rowan," she cried, the name slipping out like a confession as his hand worked her open and trembling while his mouth moved to her neck, kissing and tasting there until her skin burned.

Rosalind could hardly breathe as his touch, his mouth, the way he kept her right on the edge of too much without tipping away. His pace turned more demanding than before, and her lips parted as her breathing broke into uneven pulls.

He kissed her again without slowing his hand, and Rosalind shook, the second wave building fast, fierce, and impossible to stop.

"Rowan," her voice came out louder now, because she wasn’t thinking about anything but him. Only the man in front of her, only what he was doing to her and only the way her body gave in completely. She clung to him as the release hit, her muscles tightening, then easing, leaving her weak and trembling in his hold.

When she finally came back down, her heart regained their usual rhythm.

She glanced at his hand, flushed with embarrassment at the evidence of how she had soaked his fingers but Rowan looked pleased.

This time, he brought his fingers up to her mouth. Rosalind hesitated for the briefest second, then parted her lips. Her eyes stayed on his as she took him in, tasting the proof of herself and him together, her tongue sliding along his fingers as she sucked slowly.

****

She was unaware of how much she affected him in return. Because as much as he unsettled her, she unsettled him just as deeply, only he was far more practiced at keeping it contained.

When he finally withdrew his fingers, the motion was slow and reluctant, his thumb brushed lightly against her cheek for a brief moment before he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head.

Rosalind went still at once.

It was unexpected, so unlike the intensity that had filled the space between them moments ago, and it left her momentarily unsure of how to respond.

Before she could gather her thoughts, he drew her into his arms. "You did well" He whispered.

His hold was different. There was no teasing in it. It was steady and grounding, firm enough to make her feel anchored but gentle enough that it didn’t demand anything from her.

Rosalind found herself staying there.

She swallowed quietly, her fingers curling against him as the realization settled in.

He was so different from every other man in her life...

What if she became addicted to him?

What if he started becoming someone she returned to without thinking?