The King's Lover

Trigger Warning: This Chapter includes coerced sexual activity. Please proceed with caution or skip if needed.

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He spread her apart, rubbed back and forth before slipping his finger in. Rose had to put her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. The Crown Prince had shoved two fingers right into her. Her other hand gripped the door for her life.

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This was nothing like the night before. His movements were aggressive, almost like something had happened. Rose shook her head; she was just making excuses for him. The Crown Prince was cruel and ruthless, and he stopped at nothing to get what he wanted.

He pulled his fingers out, and Rose felt something smooth and slick at her entrance. She was unsure if the slickness was from her. Her eyes widened, and she tried to pull away. It was really happening. It wasn’t Ander behind her. It was someone else. She groaned in protest, her hand over her mouth while the other still held the door to keep her from falling on her face.

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"Tch," the Crown Prince said, irritated, and Rose felt a sharp pain as the Crown Prince smacked her buttock yet again. It was just as loud as the first one, but this time, it was on her bare skin.

She was too stunned to move, and he pushed right in. Rose’s vocal cords that had been sealed were released instantly. Rose’s cry echoed through the chamber, sharp and raw, but it was quickly swallowed by the oppressive silence of the castle walls. Her knees buckled, but the Crown Prince’s grip on her waist tightened, holding her upright. She clawed at the door, her nails scraping against the polished wood, desperate for something to anchor her. Tears blurred her vision, but she refused to let them fall. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

"Quiet," he hissed, his breath hot against her ear. "Unless you want the guards outside to know exactly what’s going on here."

Rose clenched her teeth, biting back another scream. Her body trembled, torn between the instinct to fight and the paralyzing fear of what might happen if she did. She gripped the door tighter, putting all her strength into holding herself up and bearing this until he was done.

He moved again, and Rose’s breath hitched. He was certainly bigger than she could take. Rose could feel herself being stretched thin. She didn’t focus on that; she focused on the cold wood beneath her fingertips, the faint scent of tung oil from the wood her face was pressed up against—anything to keep herself from shattering.