Game of thrones: The Lustful sellsword

The dim candlelight flickered against the wooden walls, the warm glow casting long shadows over Ros's flushed, trembling body. Her breath was ragged, her skin damp with sweat, her fingers still gripping my arms as she straddled me.

She had tried to tease, to take control, but I had turned the game against her. Now, she was here—completely bare, vulnerable, and staring down at me with a mixture of desire, anticipation, and just the slightest hint of hesitation.

Her confidence wavered for the first time as she realized exactly what she was taking.

She swallowed hard, her green eyes flickering up to mine. "Gods…" she whispered, her voice shaking as she tried to adjust.

I smirked, running my hands up her waist, gripping her firmly. "Too much?"

She let out a breathy, frustrated moan, her nails pressing into my skin. "I just… I need a moment."

I could feel the tension in her muscles, the way she tensed around me, adjusting to the sensation. She had spent years servicing men, but tonight, she had found herself in a situation she hadn't expected.

She was losing control.

And I reveled in it.

I leaned up, pressing slow, deliberate kisses against her collarbone, against her throat, feeling the way her pulse pounded beneath my lips.

"Relax," I murmured, trailing my hands up her spine, coaxing her into submission.

She let out a soft, shuddering breath, her body slowly melting against mine.

And then, something changed.

The pain she had felt at first—the struggle of adjusting—faded into something else.

Something deeper.

Something more primal.

Her breath hitched, and I felt the moment her body gave in completely.

Drowning in Pleasure

Ros let out a low, breathy moan, her nails raking lightly against my shoulders as she began to move on her own, finding her pace.

At first, slow, uncertain, like she was still adjusting to the sheer intensity of it.

Then, faster. Needier. Hungrier.

Her head tilted back, her red hair cascading down her back, her body glowing in the firelight as she rode the waves of pleasure that overtook her.

I grinned, letting my hands roam—gripping her thighs, squeezing her hips, guiding her rhythm as she surrendered completely to the moment.

She had been so confident at the start, so sure that she would be the one in control.

But now?

Now she was completely lost in me.

I flipped us over, pressing her deep into the mattress, her breath escaping in a sharp gasp as I took over.

Her fingers tangled into my hair, her lips parting with desperate, breathless moans as I drove her higher and higher.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Each time, she clawed at my back, begging for more, her body trembling beneath mine.

She had never been taken like this, never been unraveled so thoroughly.

By the time the night had begun to fade into the early hours of the morning, she was completely spent, utterly exhausted, her body glistening with sweat, her breath weak and uneven.

I pulled her against my chest, feeling the rapid beat of her heart still struggling to calm.

"You're…" she tried to speak but failed, her voice breaking into a breathless sigh.

I smirked, brushing her damp red hair from her face. "Say it."

She swallowed, her green eyes still glazed with the aftershocks of pleasure.

"You've ruined me," she finally whispered.

I chuckled, pressing a slow, lazy kiss against her lips.

"Good."

Her body trembled against mine, too exhausted to even shift, let alone fight back.

I ran a hand down her back, feeling the warmth of her skin, the way she still shivered in the aftermath.

She had started the night thinking she would be the one to dominate, to control.

But in the end, she had been the one conquered.

She had surrendered, and she had loved every second of it.

The Aftermath

When I finally pulled away, she let out a soft, whimpering sigh, her body too weak to move.

I smirked, watching as she struggled to even open her eyes, her limbs limp and completely drained of energy.

She had never been taken like this before.

I knew it.

And she knew it.

She lay there breathing heavily, her body slick with sweat, her skin glowing in the firelight.

"You're not leaving, are you?" she murmured sleepily.

I smirked, pulling her against me, pressing my lips against her forehead.

"Not yet," I whispered.

She let out a soft, satisfied hum, curling into my chest as sleep overtook her.

And I lay there, smirking to myself.

Tonight had been a celebration.

And Ros had been the perfect reward.

But now, with the night behind me, I needed to think about my next step.

Westeros was on the brink of war.

And I had a kingdom to conquer.