The Wild Heir

  The sound of footsteps echoing on the stairs makes us both freeze. My heart is pounding so loud, I wish I could quiet it.

  Shadows appear on the walls of the curved stairwell and Magnus quickly takes my hand and pulls me into another darkened room full of paintings. From here no one can see us.

  Whether they can hear us or not, that’s another story.

  “Magnus,” I whisper, but he places his palm over my mouth.

  “Shhh.” His eyes are wicked as he stares at me. “We have to be quiet.”

  He pushes me up against the wall between two Edvard Munch paintings as his lips close gently around my earlobe, teeth razing my skin, the heat from his breath lighting firecrackers down the expanse of my neck. His hand falls away from my mouth and his fingers curl around the edge of my dress, pulling the silky fabric up over my hips so it’s bunched around my waist. I’m between both of his warm, strong hands and he stares down at my nakedness.

  He licks his lips and I want him to put those lips between my legs, I want to make him do what he did to me yesterday. But I’m also dying to finally feel what he feels like inside me. A little bit scared, too.

  His grip on my hips intensifies. He lifts me up effortlessly, placing me back against the cold wall, and moves forward between my legs, my heels hooking around the back of his thighs.

  He places his hands on either side of my face, holding me in place, his nostrils flaring as he breathes in hard. It’s as if he’s trying to restrain himself, and I want him to let go and unleash it all on me, everything that he has.

  It’s all come to this moment.

  All come to this.

  A line between his brows deepens as he tries to drink me in with his intense eyes. I’m holding my breath, wanting so much, and he keeps searching me, trying to read me.

  Just take me, I want to say. Fuck me here. Fuck me wild.

  My mouth parts, the words teasing on my tongue.

  Fuck me wild.

  The old Ella would never think that.

  The new Ella is engaged.

  And she knows what she has.

  She knows what she wants.

  His eyes drop to my lips and his gaze burns both brighter and darker, carnal and hungry. I see the restraints inside him let loose.

  Magnus pulls my face forward and his lips crash against mine, fevered, crazed and wilder than before. His hands sink into my hair and my hands fumble for the buttons on his shirt, desperate for his skin. Our mouths are lost to each other in a race, a battle, where both of us win. It’s breathless, greedy. It’s a battle for our bodies and souls.

  My toes curl.

  My heart somersaults.

  I’m pressed back between two priceless paintings, drowning under the onslaught of his tongue, each hot, torrid stroke inside my mouth making me absolutely drenched. I feel wet to my thighs and he must know it too.

  I’m starting to slip just a bit so I wrap my legs further around his waist eagerly, and he presses up against me. We both moan into each other’s mouths. He’s as hard as cement and pressing against me in all the right places. With just the slightest movement, the fabric of his pants brushes over my clit and I almost lose my mind.

  One hand makes a fist in my hair, tugging at it, messing it up, while his lips bruise me, our mouths messy and hard, teeth hitting teeth in our uncontrollable need to devour each another right here, right now. In the middle of a museum at a gala meant for us?

  Sure, why not?

  This is Magnus we’re talking about.

  And I’m absolutely crazed for this beautiful man.

  My fiancé.

  My Prince.

  With his white shirt unbuttoned, I drag my nails over the hard planes of his chest and the edges of his tattoos. I reach down to the waistband of his pants and undo the button, while his mouth goes for my neck again, sucking, biting, and I throw my head back to give him better access.

  I deftly undo the button and zip down his fly before sliding my hand over his hardness. Holy shit. He’s not wearing underwear either. The long, heated length of him pulses beneath my palm and he lets out a low, rough growl that vibrates down my spine.

  “Oh, Ella,” he groans, breathing hard into my neck. “I’m already going to explode.”

  “So am I,” I tell him. He’s so fucking huge, and just touching his cock is bringing me to the edge. I don’t know how I’ll survive it inside of me—it’s been so long since I last had sex with someone—but I am more than willing to try.

  I wrap my hands around firmer and free it from his pants. I curl forward, glancing down to see. He grows harder in my hands, the tip dark, flushed, and gleaming. Oh god, I just want to put it in my mouth, all of it, sucking, tasting every inch of him.

  The wild, dirty thoughts take me by surprise but I have no choice but to embrace them.

  This is what he does to me.

  This is the woman he’s slowly letting out of her cage.

  But as much as I want to taste him, what I want, what I need more, is him deep inside of me, as far as I can take him, even though he could break me open.

  I want that enough to let him screw me for the first time right here in public.

  I start stroking him, running the precum over his silky hot ridge, pausing at the round and full tip, before going back down again.

  “Jesus,” he says, raspy, sucking in his breath. “You need to stop that or I’m coming.”

  I bite my lip and smile at the effect I have on him. I want to ruin him and I want him to ruin me. The need, the power, is intoxicating.

  One day he’ll rule this country.

  Right now I want to rule him.

  See what it’s like to bring Magnus the Mad to his knees.

  He pulls back for a second, watching me with a delirious look in his hooded eyes as my hands work him up and down. His scrapes his teeth over his lower lip then slowly looks up at me. “Princess,” he warns.

  I pause and grip his gorgeous dick tighter. His eyes roll back in his head, and the muscles in his neck are straining as he tries to hold back. “Yes, Your Highness?” I tease.

  He grunts and moves back into me, pulling the neckline of my dress down. My nipples are as hard as pebbles, and he cups my breast, licking a path to the center. He takes one in his mouth and I’m swept away by the warmth, by the fire-laced nerves that radiate out from me.

  “Oh god,” I cry out softly.

  He makes a noise of agreement against my breast, causing more nerves to incinerate. He slips his hand below, sliding it over my clit which is beyond wet and slippery.

  “You’re soaking me again,” he says huskily before taking my nipple between his teeth and pulling slightly.

  I moan as he pushes one big finger inside of me, the roughness igniting my sensitive skin. The penetration seems to roll through me and I automatically jerk my hips forward, bringing his finger further inside.

  I think I want more.

  No, I need more.

  He makes a low, guttural sound and pulls out slowly before adding another finger. I bite my lip to keep from yelling his name as he expertly slides his fingers over the swollen bundle of nerves that threatens to destroy me from the inside out.

  “Magnus,” I say through a moan, my mouth open and gasping as my senses are nearly blinded. “Don’t stop.”

  “Never,” he says before flicking my nipple with his tongue. He pulls his fingers out and then pushes three in and I’m breathless and shaking. His fingers are so thick that it’s nearly unbearable and he plunges them in and out, fucking me with his hand.

  “I want you to come all over my hand,” he says through a grunt.

  “I want to come all over you,” I tell him. “Please, I need you inside me. All of you.”

  He pauses and takes his mouth away from my breast, his stubble wet with moisture as his heavy eyes gaze at me. “Is that an official command?”

  I’m breathing hard, my hand going to the back of his neck that’s already damp with sweat. “What do you think?”
r />   “I think you’re greedy,” he mutters. He shakes his head slightly, a hint of a smile on his glistening lips. “I think you’re a greedy little Princess.”

  “I think you need to give me the royal treatment,” I say, leaning forward and grabbing his lower lip between my teeth and tugging. “Fuck me, my Prince.”

  “Jesus,” he curses roughly, the heat in his green eyes growing hotter. “Where did this Ella come from?”

  I bring my mouth to the soft spot where his jaw meets his neck, the stubble brushing against my bruised lips. “I think you brought it out of me the other day.”

  “Then I hope she’s here to stay,” he says between moans as I suck at his neck. “Because I don’t think I’ll ever get my fill of you, Princess.”

  He pulls back slightly and reaches into his pocket, his pants slung low on his hips, his throbbing cock beating against me in time with his heart. He pulls out a condom. The foil crinkles as he tears it open. “I am clean,” he says. “But are you on the pill?”

  I shake my head. “No. But I’m signing up right after this.”

  I watch eagerly, holding my breath as he slides the sheath on, loving the ease in which he handles himself. His pants fall to his ankles and he positions his tip against my wetness, hesitating, teasing. He grins at me, biting his lip, sly eyes appraising me, as he rubs his engorged head up and down over my swollen skin.

  “Stop being a tease,” I whimper, my hands going around the hard lines of his waist, grabbing onto his ass.

  I don’t think we have a lot of time.

  With a hiss, he pushes his cock into me with one sharp, searing movement. If I wasn’t so damn wet, there is no way I’d be able to accommodate him, and even now I feel so full and strained, I might burst.

  “Ella,” he says with a raspy groan. “Fuck.”

  I can only gasp, feeling my toes curl as he slides in further.

  It’s better than I imagined.

  With each thrust, his cock drawing in and out, I’m pushed harder against the wall. He puts his palm behind my head, firmly holding me in place, allowing him to go deeper and deeper and deeper.

  I just hope those paintings are secure. We may be getting away with screwing unnoticed in this darkened section of the museum but one slip-up and our cover is blown. I’m not sure sex is worth destroying fine art.

  Then again, maybe it is with Magnus.

  My mind is reeling with the sensation of having him so connected to me, so thick and all-encompassing, it takes over my every thought and makes me lose all logic. I am raw, primal, desperate with need. And I want more. So much more.

  Greedy Princess indeed.

  I grab hold of his biceps, hard as concrete slabs, as he works me in and out. I hold him, still in awe, desperate to hold him close to me. This man is all mine, and I’m going to have to work hard to be worthy of a prince like this.

  His mouth joins with mine, moving together in deep, searing kisses in a rhythm that his body matches as he thrusts his hips forward, his cock driving deeper and deeper inside. Every nerve in my body is being pulled inward, swirling into a hard knot, live wires needing the slightest hair trigger to set me free. Each deep shove of his body threatens to undo me.

  I run my fingers down his forearms, feeling the tense muscles through his tuxedo jacket as he holds me in place, then I brush my hands back up to his biceps, to the roundness of his shoulders, down his chest, then trail further to his shaft. I grip him there at the base, wet with my own desire, and he groans with wild lust.

  This wild heir.

  With one hand, he reaches down and rubs his fingers up and down over my clit. I’m so ready to go that I whimper helplessly, knowing I can’t hold back anymore.

  “You said you wanted to come with me inside you,” he whispers into my ear. “You’re going to right now. And you’re going to stay quiet.”

  He rubs his fingers faster and he pulls his head back to watch as he takes me to another level.

  “That’s it,” he says quietly. “Let go.”

  It spreads slowly at first, a spark traveling from my core and out through every nerve in my body. Then I implode with a jolt that almost makes me scream.

  He places his palm over my mouth at the last moment and I open my mouth to it, crying out softly, breathing in his skin.

  The orgasm just keeps coming. I’m fireworks blasting off, shuddering, shaking, quaking in a cascade of flames. I can’t control anything and I’m grateful his hand is keeping me quiet. My heart fills to the brim then floods over with emotion that nearly brings tears to my eyes.

  He removes his hand.

  “Oh my god,” I cry out softly against him, my head buried in his sweaty neck, holding his body against me, as if I would sink into the ground if I didn’t. My heart is beating so hard I think I might be having a heart attack.

  Can you die from good sex?

  But he’s not done.

  He pumps into me harder, faster, and I’m holding my breath now watching those paintings as they rattle, and then he’s grunting hoarsely with every deep shove.

  “Fuck, I’m coming too,” he whispers, words broken up and hoarse and he’s shaking over me, my name raspy on his lips. He groans and the pumps of his hips slow against me as he empties himself into the condom.

  He practically collapses against me and I run my fingers through his long hair, feeling him, feeling everything.

  I can’t believe that just happened.

  I can’t believe we did that.

  He’s breathing hard still as he leans back and pulls himself out of me and gives me a lazy, sated smile. “And here I was thinking museums were boring.”

  I let out a shaky laugh as he lowers me to the ground. I wobble on my stilettos for a moment and he grabs my arm to steady me. “Looks like I fucked you off your feet.”

  “You did something all right.”

  He pulls the condom off and says. “Let’s go dispose of the evidence and head back to the party. Someone might have missed us by now. Can you walk?”

  I giggle and take a few steps. I think I’m going to be feeling all that tomorrow.

  “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  “I don’t think I need to when I got you to do it for me,” he says, holding out his arm.

  With a dazed grin, I take it and we join the party.

  Eighteen

  Magnus

  After the gala we were all taken back to the palace to stay the night, my sisters included. Usually after this kind of event that we do as a family, my sisters and I stay up late talking in the sitting room, drinking coffee and cloudberry liquor, and eating cake.

  But even though everyone went straight to the sitting room to carry out this tradition as we normally do, Ella and I were excused.

  Thank god.

  Fucking her in the museum was long overdue but instead of relief at having finally been inside of her, now I only want more. For the rest of the night, I couldn’t stop touching her, thinking about her, smelling her on my fingers.

  And even though there was nothing hotter than screwing her standing up in that art wing, with her legs wrapped around me, the adrenaline flowing through me over the fact that at any moment someone could have walked in on us, it’s not enough.

  I want her in my bed.

  I want to strip her naked and go over every inch of her body with my tongue.

  I want to slowly sink into her and watch the expression in her eyes change as she takes me in.

  That was fast and rough. Now I want it sweet and slow.

  Okay, maybe still a little rough.

  My family gives me sly little waves and smiles as Ella and I depart the scene, hand in hand. This is all sorts of fucked up but I’ll take it.

  We walk through the palace and take the elevator to the third floor and I’m so tempted to grab her and press her against the walls but I manage to refrain.

  “We’re not really going to bed, are we?” she asks as we pass the blue room which she normally stays in when she’s here.
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  I give her a wry smile, squeezing her hand tighter as I lead her to my old bedroom. “I love it when you play naïve.”

  Her eyes dance. “I thought you loved it when I played nasty?”

  I think I love every part you play.

  Shit.

  Glad I kept that one inside.

  I pull her into the bedroom and like I hadn’t just ravaged her earlier in the museum, I’m pulling her dress off over her head while tearing off my own clothes.

  I attack her, tongue, lips, mouth, teeth, my hands roaming all over her bare body for the first time, hungry and greedy and just a bit desperate.

  “Lie down,” I tell her, and I manage to pull myself away. “Get on the bed and let me look at all of you.”

  She no longer looks embarrassed at this type of request. She goes to the bed and I watch her, drinking her all in. I watch as she lies down on the mattress, everything from the perfect pink of her cunt to the sharp peaks of her nipples and perky breasts is on display for me.

  I can’t believe my luck.

  I can’t believe I get to marry this woman.

  Whatever I had once said to my father about having sex with one woman for the rest of my life, well I obviously had no idea it would be this woman.

  This woman is my fucking queen and I will never ever lose sight of that.

  “If only you knew how beautiful you look to me,” I murmur to her as I step over to the bed and gaze down at her. “I could tell you but I don’t think it would be enough. The only thing I think might work is if I show you.” I pause. “Do you want me to show you?”

  She doesn’t answer. She gives me a wicked smile and opens her thighs.

  Helvete.

  I move between her spread legs. It’s almost painful, this desire, this need to make her see what she does to me, how she makes me feel. Seeing my bare cock hard and ready, her cunt open, pink and soft—I feel like I’m going mad with desire.

  Slowly, so slowly, I ease myself into her as she raises her hips, pushing toward me herself, wanting that deeper purchase. Her mouth opens wider the further I get, her skin sliding against my skin like endless silk.