Game of Thrones: Imagines and one shots. Book three

A true Bolton - Part 3 - Roose x Reader

"What are you doing...........?" Roose demanded to know, as he made his way over to his daughter. (Y/n) putting on her best innocent look, despite the fact that she knew perfectly well what her father was referring to.

"What? I didn't know I was doing.............."

"You know exactly what you are doing............................" Roose hissed in reply, as he grabbed her by the shoulders.

"I am simply enjoying time with my husband, father. You must have known that I would be spending time with Cley when you arranged the marriage. That he would want to be close to me; that he would want to fuck me in that bed. That he would be concerned for the child that grows in my belly..........."

"My child.............."

"No! Cley's child. As I said to you, that is the reason that you gave me to him, so that this child would not be seen as a bastard. That the world would not know what you like to do with your own daughter.............." The lady interrupted, before pulling herself away. Defiantly walking away from her father, and moving back to the window. The rain now falling steadily against the panes of glass.

Roose watched her, doing his best to control his anger. Anger that was aimed more at himself, than his beautiful child. The little one in her belly, his little one, needed a father that would give the child a legitimate name. Roose determined not to have his daughter dishonored, nor to allow this new child of his to live without a name, or have it called Snow; and Cley had been the easiest man to get. It obvious to anyone that he was besotted with (Y/n) from the moment that they had met. The young Cerwyn more than happy to be wed to her as quickly as they had been. Never seeming to care or question why. But Roose had already determined that this marriage would not last forever. That, when the time came, Cley would meet with an unfortunate accident, leaving (Y/n) and their baby to find comfort by remaining with her father at the Dreadfort. Yet until that moment came, the Lord Bolton knew that he would just have to watch on, as Cley was able to touch (Y/n); to spend time with her, and take her in the very bed that he would also love her. Roose sometimes finding himself standing outside the door to his daughter's rooms when he knew Medger's heir was with his child. The lord of the Dreadfort torturing himself by listening to the sounds that were coming from the chamber. Roose sometimes believing that (Y/n) knew that he was there; that the needy, lewd moans and groans that were filling the air, were being done just for him. To make him think that another man could pleasure her as much as he could.

Slowly, he made his way over to his daughter, moving behind her and brushing the hair from her neck. A shiver racing down her spine, as she felt his lips connect with her flesh; her skin tingling, as the stubble on her father's cheeks prickled her skin.

"Do you not want me to love you.............?" Roose enquired, as his mouth ghosted over her ear. His arms wrapping around her waist.

"I didn't say that................?"

"But you want Cley more.............?"

"What? No..............!" (Y/n) protested, as she turned in her father's arms.

"I lay with Cley because he is my husband, not because I care about him; not because I want it. When I am with him, I imagine that it is you that is with me. When he is on top of me, inside of me, I close my eyes and see your face. You know that you are the only one that I love............." The lady continued, as she looked into her father's eyes. Roose allowing a smile to form on his lips; that smile that (Y/n) knew so well. The one that meant only one thing; her heart beating quicker, as his hands moved from her waist to her backside. The lord pulling her as close as he could.

"Well then, perhaps I can give you something more to imagine, for the next time you have to be with your young lord. Perhaps I should take you here and now; fuck you until you are so hoarse from shouting in pleasure, that you have no voice left with which to beg me to stop. Perhaps I should remind you once again, my dearest child, what a real man can do for you. What a real man can make you feel. What I, and only I, can make you feel............." Roose growled menacingly. Licking his lips, as he looked at his daughter's heaving bosom. Imagining pushing his cock between the two glorious mounds; (Y/n) smiling at him, as they used every part of the other to achieve that glorious high that only father and daughter could give one another.

"I would like that very much............" The lady hummed in reply, as she reached down her hand and began to firmly rub at the swollen cock beneath. A little giggle leaving her lips, as she felt her father's manhood twitch at her touch. Roose already finding himself groaning, as (Y/n) made light work of the ties that held together his breeches. His head dropping back, as she fell to her knees and pulled the coarse material down around his ankles; as she took his already weeping manhood in her hand. The lady of the Dreadfort running her tongue up and down the shaft for a moment, before taking it fully into her mouth. Her own desire growing, as her father gripped onto the back of her head; his fingers digging into her braided hair, as the taste of her father filled her mouth. Both Bolton's knowing that this wouldn't be over for some time.