The Wild Heir(79)

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.