The Tyrant's Stolen Bride-Chapter 143: Wicked Tease

She curled into him, arms sliding around his neck, fingers threading through hair. His kiss drifted from her lips to her jaw, then lingered at the curve of her neck.

His hand slid along her side, nudging the fabric upward, warm skin meeting the air.

His rough thumb grazed the softness of her chest before he cupped it, kneading gently.

"Rowan..." she breathed, the sound catching softly in her throat.

Lyra caught his hand. "There’s something I need to say."

"What is it?"

He lowered his lips to the darker curve of her skin, teasing the center with his tongue. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

"Have you ever... hngh... thought about us having... a child?" she breathed, struggling to get the words out.

She moaned... he didn’t listen to her, continuously teasing, sucking on her delicate bud.

"Rowan—just... stop for a second," she grunted softly.

A smile tugged at his lips before finally stopping. He lifted his gaze to hers, then rolled off her and settled onto his side of the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"I do think about it. I’m just afraid you’d be exhausted after having children."

He pulled her into an embrace.

"You’re concerned about me?" she asked.

"Yes."

Lyra thought for a moment, her eyes fixed on his. "So... if I wanted a child, you wouldn’t object?"

"I would. The risk of childbirth is too high," he said, his voice tinged with worry.

"But... we could at least try. How about that?" Her eyes sparkled as she tried to convince him.

"Mm..." Rowan’s eyes narrowed as he thought, his gaze drifting away.

"No."

She blinked. "So... we’re... not going to have children?"

"Yes." he replied firmly.

Lyra pouted.

"Even if I want one, you won’t even try to consider it?" she asked quietly.

"It’s final. No children. They’re too troublesome."

His words were harsh, and the cold. The finality in his voice pierced her heart.

Her shoulders slumped. She pulled away from his embrace and yanked the blanket over herself, sulking.

Rowan let her linger in her thoughts before chuckling, shaking his head.

"I was just joking. Come here."

He pulled the blanket off her, gently guiding her to face him.

He froze when he noticed a single tear glistening at the corner of her eye.

"Hey... why are you crying?" he asked, unsure whether it was his words about not having children or the sharpness in his tone that had hurt her more.

He pulled her into a tight hug, trying to console her.

"Don’t cry. I’m sorry."

She sniffled and took a shaky breath, resting her cheek against his firm shoulder.

"How could you... I was being serious, and you were joking?" she pouted, her voice thick with emotion.

His hand reached up to wipe away her tear.

"Actually... I was going to wait until things settled before we discussed it. But... you brought up the topic first."

"Can we have at least one child?" Lyra asked.

"Of course we can... but I’m not rushing. Let’s continue like this. After a year, we can plan for children."

"Children?" she echoed, surprise lighting her eyes. "We’re having more than one?"

Rowan shook his head, a soft smile crossing his face—she was already a little greedy.

"Start with one, and then we’ll see how it goes."

"Okay," she whispered, a hint of relief in her voice.

His fingers curled at the nape of her neck, bringing her in until their faces nearly touched.

"Shall we continue from where we left off?" he murmured.

Their lips met, tongues intertwining in a slow, heated rhythm.

Clothes fell away piece by piece, sliding to the floor around the bed, until only bare skin remained.

His eyes drank in every curve before he pulled her closer.

His lips trailed down her neck, teeth grazing gently, leaving fiery red marks that made her pulse quicken.

His hands roamed to her breasts, teasing, kneading, coaxing every reaction from her.

"Spread your legs," he murmured.

Lyra lifted both legs, draping them over his shoulders as he lowered his head, his tongue sliding into her core. His hand held her thighs.

A soft moan escaped her lips, echoing the heat between them.

He alternated between sliding his tongue in and out and stroking her delicate bud, making her moans spill freely.

Lyra clenched the covers, her body arching. Her warmth surged, spilling over and stealing her breath.

"So ready for me..." he growled.

Rowan lifted her gently, guiding her legs to his sides, positioning himself at her entrance.

She lowered her hips slowly.

She arched and trembled as she guided him inside inch by inch, until he was fully within her.

She slumped onto his shoulder, struggling to accommodate his thick length. He paused, letting her catch her breath.

"Are you all right?" he breathed.

"It’s so deep," she whispered.

"Let’s change positions," he suggested, but Lyra shook her head weakly.

"It’s okay like this. I’m fine now."

She settled into position, beginning to move against him.

The pace was gentle at first, but as her inner warmth grew, she rode him faster.

Rowan groaned, cursing under his breath. She was driving him crazy.

Then, with a sudden, decisive movement, he flipped her over, pressing her beneath him and taking control.

Her breath hitched, her body tingling under his weight.

Rowan increased his pace, rising and sinking against her in time with her gasps. Her fingers dug into the sheets, legs trembling, her body arching with every thrust.

Lyra’s eyes were half-lidded, half-lost in a blur. She murmured something, her words barely audible.

"What was that, darling... hm?" he teased, increasing the tempo even more.

The faster he went, the louder her cries became, each one driving him further.

A guttural groan tore from his throat as he drove into her, each movement faster, harder, sending waves of heat between them until a rush of warmth flooded her, making her shiver against him.

"Ugh..."

Her nails had accidentally scratched him again, leaving a fresh sting.

Rowan slid back, pulling out completely after the last of his warmth spilled inside her.

He sank against the headboard, letting out a long, heavy sigh.

Lyra got up and inspected the scratch he’d received.

"Uh... it’s bleeding," she murmured.

Her hand reached for the tissue box nearby, dabbing at the blood.

"We should rest... no more rounds."

Her words fell on deaf ears. Rowan tugged her back toward him, pulling her onto him for another round.