GOT: My Secret Lover is sansa-Chapter 103 Roslin [R-18]

Alaric looked at Ser Rodrik. "Put the Kingslayer in the center of the camp with heavy guards. My Blood Knights will watch him close. No one talks to him unless I say so."

"At once," Rodrik bowed.

Alaric looked down at Roslin. She was still shaking against his chest. "Come on, Rose," he whispered. "Let’s go to the tent before you die of embarrassment."

They walked into the command tent and the heavy canvas flap fell shut. The cheering soldiers and the staring lords were gone. They were alone.

As soon as the tent closed, Roslin looked up. Her face was still bright red. She grabbed his leather collar, pulled him down, and kissed him hard.

Alaric grabbed her hips and lifted her off the ground. Roslin gasped and wrapped her legs around his waist. She held tightly to his neck, pressing herself against him.

He held her easily and carried her deeper into the tent while they kissed. He finally pulled back to breathe, keeping his face just inches from hers.

Alaric smirked. "Are you already this horny, My Lady?" he asked. "It hasn’t even been a month since we talked about the moon tea. I thought you were scared of getting pregnant before the war ended."

Roslin breathed heavily and stared at him.

She squeezed her legs tighter around his waist and kissed his jaw.

"I don’t care about the war right now," she whispered. Her voice was demanding. "I told you I’d let you put a baby in me after it was over. But I changed my mind. I don’t want to wait. Put one in me right now, Alaric."

Alaric went perfectly still. The teasing amusement in his eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a dark, consuming fire.

"Careful, Rose," he warned, his voice dropping to a dangerous, heavy rumble. "If you ask for that, I am not going to hold back."

"I am not asking you to," she replied, her eyes locked onto his, entirely fearless.

That was all the invitation he needed. The last thread of Alaric’s restraint snapped. With a sudden, forceful movement, he stepped forward and threw her down onto the large, fur-covered bed.

...

The pale blue light of early dawn slowly crept through the seams of the heavy canvas tent, casting long, quiet shadows over the scattered armor and discarded clothing. The brazier in the corner had long since burned down to glowing red embers, but the air around the large, fur-covered bed was thick with heat.

Roslin lay sprawled on her back, tangled in the thick wolf pelts. Her dark hair was plastered to her forehead with sweat, her chest heaving as she dragged in deep, ragged breaths. Her skin was flushed, marked with the faint, bruising evidence of Alaric’s complete lack of restraint over the past several hours. She felt entirely boneless, her muscles trembling with an exhaustion so deep she could barely lift her hand.

Beside her, Alaric was awake. He sat up against the wooden headboard, resting his weight on one arm. Unlike her, he wasn’t panting. Aside from the light sheen of sweat on his heavily scarred chest, he looked completely unfazed, his breathing slow and even. With his massive system investments in physical attributes, a night of intense exertion barely registered as a warm-up for his stamina.

Roslin turned her head weakly on the pillow, looking up at him with half-lidded, awestruck eyes.

"Gods..." she breathed out, her voice a raspy, exhausted whisper. "How much stamina do you have, Alaric?"

Alaric looked down at her, a lazy, satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. He reached out, his large hand brushing a damp strand of hair away from her face, his thumb lightly tracing the curve of her flushed cheek.

"I warned you, Rose," he murmured, his voice a low rumble in the quiet tent. "You were the one who told me not to hold back."

"I didn’t know you were... made of stone," she whined softly, though a small, content smile touched her lips as she leaned into his touch. She let out a long, shuddering sigh, shifting her sore legs under the furs. "My Lord... I really cannot handle you alone. If this is how you are every night, I will break from pleasure..."

She paused, her dark eyes searching his face. the sheer intensity of the night, left no room for petty jealousy or pride. She only wanted to serve his needs, entirely and completely.

"Wouldn’t it be better," she started, her voice shy but earnest, "if we march faster? To get to Lady Sansa?"

Alaric’s hand stopped moving. His glowing eyes locked onto hers.

Roslin swallowed hard, but pushed through her nerves. "I mean... I know she is waiting for you. If... if we get her back from kingslanding, she could share a bed with you and me. She could share some of this burden." Roslin’s face burned even hotter, but she kept going. "Or... or if it takes too long, I will find some other beautiful women worthy of you, My Lord. I can’t be the only one for a man like you. You are a king in all but name."

Alaric stared at her in the dim morning light. To hear the Lady of the Crossing, a highborn daughter of Westeros, openly offering to build a harem for him and share his bed with his primary bond—it was the ultimate proof of her absolute devotion.

He let out a low chuckle, shifting his weight. He leaned down, hovering over her, his broad shoulders blocking out the morning light.

Alaric’s smirk softened just a fraction. He leaned in and kissed her, slow and deep, tasting the lingering sweetness and exhaustion on her lips.

Alaric pulled back from the kiss. He looked down at her flushed face. His large hand slid down her neck and moved to her bare chest. He brushed his rough thumb over her breast, gently pinching her hardened nipple.

Roslin gasped. Her eyes fluttered shut and she arched her back into his hand. Her exhausted body still reacted to his touch instantly.

Alaric watched her chest rise and fall. He kept his fingers there, slowly rolling the sensitive peak between his thumb and forefinger. He pulled a soft, helpless moan from her lips. He liked her absolute obedience.

Alaric let go of her breast and moved down her body. He pushed the heavy wolf furs aside, exposing her completely to the cool morning air. Roslin shivered, but she didn’t try to cover herself. She just watched him with heavy, tired eyes.