10x Rewards: Conquering Women and Taming Beauties - Chapter 77: Claiming Rosaline (18+ - )

Chapter 77: Claiming Rosaline (18+ Chapter)

The door clicked shut behind Aristarkh with a soft, final sound that seemed to seal the rest of the world outside.

Golden morning light streamed through the tall arched windows of Rosaline’s private quarters, painting the stone walls in warm honey tones and turning the air itself into something alive and faintly shimmering. The room smelled of her, warm spices, faint wildflowers, and the subtle musk of a woman who had just risen from her bed. It wrapped around him like an invisible caress.

Rosaline stood only a few paces away, and the sight of her hit him like a slow, heavy wave.

The loose white robe she wore was made of the thinnest silk, almost translucent in the sunlight. It clung to every curve of her body as if it had been poured over her skin. Her full, heavy breasts strained against the fabric, the dark pink outlines of her nipples already stiff and clearly visible, pressing like ripe berries begging to be tasted. The robe dipped low between them, revealing the soft valley of her cleavage and the faint scatter of freckles across the upper swells.

Lower, the silk molded to the flare of her hips and the strong, toned lines of her thighs. Between those thighs, the faint shadow of her red curls was just visible through the sheer material, no underwear, nothing hiding the treasure beneath.

Her red hair hung loose and tousled around her shoulders, a fiery cascade that caught the light like living flame. A few strands clung to the damp skin of her neck. Those sharp crimson eyes, usually so commanding on the battlefield, were softer now, heavy-lidded with a mix of curiosity and unmistakable hunger. Her lips, full and naturally flushed, parted slightly as she looked at him.

Aristarkh’s cock twitched hard inside his trousers, already thickening at the mere sight of her. He felt the heavy ache settle low in his groin, the slow pulse of blood rushing south.

“I recall you promised this monster a reward after I completed the mission,” he said, voice low and rough with want. He took one slow step closer, eyes never leaving her body.

Rosaline’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. The robe shifted with the tiny movement, the silk sliding over her nipples and making them tighten further.

“And here you are,” she murmured, her voice like velvet over steel. “Alive. Victorious. Even more dangerous than when you left.”

She didn’t wait for him to close the distance. She moved toward him instead, hips rolling with that natural, powerful grace of a warrior who knew exactly how lethal her body could be. When she stopped, the heat of her body radiated against his chest. Her scent flooded his senses, sweet, spicy, unmistakably feminine. His hands itched to touch her.

“You said you wanted a kiss,” she reminded him, tilting her head so that a lock of red hair fell across one breast, the strand teasing the hardened peak beneath the silk. “Do you still want only that?”

Aristarkh’s gaze dropped to her mouth, then lower, tracing the way the robe had slipped open just enough at the neckline to reveal the inner curve of one breast.

“I want more,” he answered, honest and hungry. “I want everything you’re willing to give me, Rosaline.”

Her crimson eyes darkened with desire. She reached up and laid her palm flat against his chest, right over his heart. The touch was light, but it burned through the fabric of his tunic.

“Then take it,” she whispered. “Slowly. I want to feel every second of this.”

No rush. No frantic tearing of clothes. Just the deliberate, electric slide of intent between them.

Aristarkh leaned in first, giving her time to meet him. Their lips brushed, soft at first, almost reverent. Then the kiss deepened, slow and wet and devastating. He tasted her fully, the faint sweetness of morning tea on her tongue, the heat of her mouth, the way her breath hitched when he tilted his head and slid his tongue against hers in a long, languid stroke.

Rosaline moaned softly into the kiss, the sound vibrating straight to his cock. Her hand slid up to grip the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair as she kissed him back with the same unhurried hunger.

His hands finally moved. They settled on her waist, feeling the warmth of her skin through the silk. Then they slid higher, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts. The robe parted easily under his touch.

He cupped one heavy breast fully, feeling its perfect weight, the soft fullness spilling into his palm. His thumb circled the stiff nipple, teasing it until Rosaline gasped against his mouth and arched into his hand.

“Gods, you’re perfect,” he breathed, breaking the kiss just long enough to look down at her.

The robe had fallen open completely now, baring both breasts to the morning light. They were full and round, the nipples a deep dusky pink, pebbled and begging. He bent his head and took one into his mouth, sucking slowly, lavishly. His tongue swirled around the peak, teeth grazing just enough to make her shiver.

Rosaline’s fingers tightened in his hair, a low, throaty moan spilling from her lips.

“Mmm… yes,” she sighed, voice husky. “Like that… don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He worshipped her breasts with his mouth while his free hand roamed lower, sliding the robe off her shoulders completely. It pooled at her feet in a whisper of silk, leaving her gloriously naked before him.

Her body was a masterpiece of strength and femininity. Toned shoulders and arms from years of wielding weapons, a narrow waist that flared into wide, womanly hips, and long, powerful thighs that could crush a man or cradle him with equal ease.

Between those thighs, her pussy was already glistening. The neat patch of red curls above her slit was damp, the pink folds swollen and slick with arousal. Her clit peeked out, a tiny swollen pearl begging for attention.

Aristarkh’s cock throbbed painfully against his trousers. He dropped to his knees in front of her like a man in prayer.

Rosaline’s breath caught. She looked down at him, crimson eyes wide and dark with lust and something deeper, something almost tender.

“Aristarkh…”

He kissed the inside of her thigh first, slow and open-mouthed, tasting the faint salt of her skin. Higher. Higher.

Until his tongue dragged a long, slow stripe up her slit, savoring the sweet, tangy taste of her wetness.

Rosaline’s hips jerked, a soft cry escaping her.

He did it again, slower this time, parting her folds with his tongue and circling her clit with deliberate, lazy strokes.

She was soaked. Her juices coated his tongue, dripped down his chin. He groaned against her, the vibration making her thighs tremble.

“Fuck… your mouth,” she moaned, one hand fisting in his hair while the other braced on his shoulder. “You’re going to make me lose my mind if you keep going so slow…”

“That’s the plan,” he murmured against her slick flesh.

Then he sucked her clit between his lips and flicked it with the tip of his tongue. Two fingers slid inside her at the same time, slow and deep, curling to stroke that spongy spot inside her that made her knees buckle.

Her inner walls were velvet heat, gripping him tightly, fluttering around his fingers as he pumped them in a steady rhythm.

Rosaline’s head fell back, red hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of fire. Her breasts heaved with every ragged breath, nipples glistening from his earlier attention. The wet, obscene sounds of his fingers thrusting into her filled the sunlit room, soft, filthy, perfect.

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