A Nordic King(68)

And maybe we won’t be.

Maybe there’s no tomorrow for us.

Just the here and now.

But right now, I have no thoughts to give.

I only have need.

A sharp, aching, timeless need.

For him.

And I need him now.

I drop onto one elbow, and with my other hand reach for my clit, the pressure building to insufferable heights as he fucks that sweet spot inside me, making me grow more swollen, more slick, more ready to let go and let my world bring us both under.

“That’s my duty, not yours,” he growls, grabbing the back of my hair until it’s gathered in his hand. He pushes forward until my cheek is pressed into the rug and he’s holding me down, grunting hard with each thrust.

I knew he was wild. I knew he could be unrefined. I have the mark on my shoulder to prove it.

But I didn’t think he’d be like this.

Whatever this is, I know it’s something I’ll never come back from. I know I’ll never want to. In my wildest, kinkiest dreams about him, it’s never been this good.

Yet, it’s Aksel.

My King.

How could I think otherwise?

While he yanks back at my hair and then holds me down in place, he slips his other hand under my stomach, his fingers finding my clit with expert ease.

I’m so wet, slick and ready for him that it doesn’t take long for him to push me to the edge. That very edge you want to run toward and then run away from, afraid to go over yet afraid to not.

He is merciless and grunting hard with each thrust, this rough, raw noise that gets louder and louder the closer he gets to coming. It’s such a beautiful noise, the noise of a man, of a king coming undone. It causes the heat in my core to turn into a raging inferno, fuel to the fire.

And then.

I’m coming.

A snap of the fingers.

“Aksel,” I cry out, a second before it happens, quick and swift, and I’m swept away, tumbling and turning, over and over as the orgasm churns through me. It’s a hurricane, and it has me in its clutches, and I never want it to let me go. My body quakes and shudders from head to toe as I pulse around him. I am light and heavy and my heart flies away. I never want to feel anything but this, never want anyone else but him.

“Aurora.” He groans out my name and then I feel him as he comes, the pressure in my hair, the slamming of his hips into my ass. The sounds coming out of his mouth are crude and I’d give anything to watch his face as he empties into me. To watch him lose control. To see what I do to him, that no one else does to him.

“My fucking goddess.”

His thrusts slow down, his hand in my hair slowly letting go, releasing the pressure from my head. He’s breathing hard, his hulking body hovering over me. Drops of sweat fall onto my neck, making me shudder.

Then, as the orgasm starts to slide away into the background, the reality of what we’ve just done hits me, like the wind from behind.

This is King Aksel of Denmark.

My boss who just fucked me on my bedroom rug.

From behind.

He fucked me like I’d never been fucked before.

And I have the rug burn to prove it.

Meanwhile, as my brain starts to come to grips with everything, Aksel is still breathing heavily and his hand slowly trails down my head, over my neck, and down my spine.

“Aurora,” he whispers, grabbing my waist.

“Yeah,” I say.

He slowly pulls out, cum dripping onto my thighs, onto the rug, and exhales loudly. “You’re...”

I can’t help but smile. “Amazing?”

“Something like that.” He sighs and runs his hand back up my spine. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

I grin happily and turn around to look at him, his eyes glazed and sated, cheeks flushed. I’ve never seen him like this before. He looks vulnerable.

My cold, lost King.

Raw and open and vulnerable.

He’s the rare and beautiful creature here.

He nods at my knees and I look down to see them all red and torn up. “Whoops.”

“Guess you’ll have to wear tights tomorrow,” he says, getting to his feet. He pulls his pants back on and then reaches down and hauls me up.

“And the skirt.”

He smirks. “Right.”

But he can’t act that annoyed, not when his face is pink, his pupils dilated, his hair messed up.

God, he looks good like this.

He reaches over and kisses me softly on the lips. He kisses me like it is second nature now.

Despite the total pounding I just took, his kiss makes butterflies emerge in my stomach.

“I better go back to my room,” he says.

“I better go put some lotion on my knees.”

He winces. “Sorry about that.”

“I’m not.”

I wink at him and then he leaves, giving me one last glance over his shoulder.

I exhale heavily, like I hadn’t breathed at all.

But, fuck, who needs breathing when you have him?





Chapter 16





Aksel





I used to have nightmares frequently.

They started right after the crash, when I was still being treated in the hospital for lacerations on my legs from crawling over broken glass, for a concussion that kept teasing me. The whole country held its breath, not knowing if I would die as Helena had, while my sister was reluctantly ready to be made heir.