I pull out in a slow slide and she shudders beneath me before I push back into her, staying cautious, my palm leaning flat against the wall.

“Fuck me,” she moans, her eyes fluttering as she stares up at me. “Harder, Aksel.”

I look down to where the thickest part of my cock is still showing. “Are you sure?” I ask her, grinding the words out as I clench my jaw. My body is burning, my muscles tightly coiled as I try to stay still. “I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want to break the wall down either. You’re tighter than a fist, and my cock can barely fit as it is.”

“Please,” she cries out softly. Her brow is furrowed with wild impatience, her mouth wet and gaping.

Has she been thinking of me like this while I’ve been gone?

Has she wanted me as badly as I’ve wanted her?

I think yes.

“Your Majesty,” I murmur, reminding her.

She wraps her legs around me tighter and I slip myself deeper inside her, almost to the hilt. She stretches around me with a loud gasp, her cunt so snug and wet as I roll my hips against her. I’m lightheaded, breathless, and the flames inside me build, licking me until I’m lost in this decadent haze. The walls of the palace are gone and it’s just her. It’s me. Nothing can touch us.

“Harder. Fucking harder.”

A growl escapes my lips and I slam myself into her until she’s hugging every throbbing inch. She’s biting her lip to keep from yelping, and I hear nothing but my blood rushing through my head as I bury myself deep inside. My hips thrust, hammering in this driving rhythm as her nails are digging into the shoulders of my dress shirt and her quiet cries are getting more and more desperate, turning into throaty little whimpers.

I reach down and stroke the slickness of her clit, but I’m pumping so hard into her that it’s nearly impossible.

I lean forward, sweat dripping off my brow and onto her chest. “I want you to come.”

But she’s coming before I get to the end of my sentence. She’s moaning, then biting back her cries, trying to stay quiet. Her face is contorted with the effort of keeping it all inside, all while exploding outward.

I don’t hold back. With a low guttural groan, I come, the pleasure ripping through me, turning me inside out. I swear harshly, quiet as possible, as I pour myself into her, going into a mindless, primal state of being.

In this moment, I’m without thought or care—I’m just an animal let loose in the palace.

I come back down to earth slowly. I pull out carefully, loving how my cum drips down her legs like white rain, proof I’ve left my mark, then hold her, gently placing her on the floor.

She looks up at me through the dark strands of damp hair, her face red and beaded with sweat, her eyes heavy-lidded and completely sated.

“Where am I and what just happened?” she jokes, hand to her forehead.

I grin at her, biting my lip, and tuck my half-hard cock back into my pants, zipping them up.

“We have a saying here in Denmark,” I tell her. “Den der kommer først til mølle, får

først malet.”

“What does that mean?”

I look around to make sure no one is about before I start walking down the hallway. “First come, first served,” I say over my shoulder.

Chapter 17


When I was a teenager, the only thing I ever dreamed about was getting out of Windorah. It was leaving the shack and my meager belongings and my growling stomach behind and finding a better place in the world. I’d never looked for anything beyond what was possible. I knew that it would be a hard road and that I’d start with nothing. But anything was better than this.

Then, a new boy came to town.

Or should I say, a man.

Five years older than me.

When you’re sixteen, it’s a pretty big deal.

He bought the pub in town and no one ever questioned where he got his money from—they were just happy that the pub was open again.

He brought with him his own pain and his own ambitions and his own ways of dealing with things. He opened my eyes to a new world, one that we could escape to.

One I would end up escaping from.

Dan ruined my life. I’ve spent so many years drowning in that hate for him, for what he did to me. Who he made me become.

So many years being afraid and ashamed and trying so damn hard to make up for all those mistakes.

Because that’s really what he was. A mistake.

And it took me ages to realize that it wasn’t my fault.

I was so young.

I had no one else in my life.

I left school.

I was at his mercy.

Under his influence.

I did bad, bad things.

Things I don’t even remember.

Things that haunt my dreams at night.

Things that made me cry for the lost girl that I was.

Things I don’t ever dare talk about.

And when I finally left Australia behind, I vowed to never make that mistake again, because I would know better.

I’d never let a man have power over me again.

Until now.

Because Aksel has complete power over me and for the first time, I’m completely surrendering.

And…I’m not sure that I should.

All I know is that, like it was with Dan, I can’t help it, and I probably should know better.

There are details, so many details, that I willfully overlook when I’m with him, because when I’m with him, the details, the doubts, the world—none of those things matter.

Love makes you naïve, razes your defenses to the ground, and pumps hope through your veins, sticky and sweet and utterly intoxicating.

I’m drunk on my need for him.

I’ve had sex with him twice now.

I’ve had blisteringly wild orgasms around his cock.

I’ve felt his body under my hands and seen his eyes roll back into his head as he’s come inside me.

I’ve had him in a way I never dreamed possible.

Something beyond my reach is now in my hands, and I don’t ever want to let it go.

He’s rich, powerful, privileged. The King of a prosperous nation.

I’m just a girl. A nanny. Australian trailer trash.

There are a million reasons why we shouldn’t work.

Why we shouldn’t do what we’ve been doing.

But in my heart, I know it doesn’t matter. In my heart, I know what I have with him, whatever this is, is right.

You will never be his queen, the voice in my head says.

But to that I answer—it doesn’t matter right now.

The only thing that does matter is right now.

So I get up out of bed. It’s past midnight and I’ve been lying awake for a few hours, my body aching and squirming for him, touching myself and pretending it’s Aksel’s lips. To tell you the truth, I’ve been waiting. I’ve been waiting for a knock at my door, for him to come by.

Waiting sucks.

I’ve gone from craving him with mind and heart to craving him with my body and now I want all of him. I want him with a crazy, obsessive, primal need, like I’ll stop breathing without him.

I head toward the door and open it slowly.

The hall is dark. Quiet.

His room seems so far away, down the opposite end of the hall.

What if someone were to catch me going there?

Why can’t there be some little secret passage from my room to his?

I look both ways again and then quietly shut my door and slowly sneak down the hallway, making sure I’m absolutely silent.

I pause outside his door and take in a deep breath.

Despite being with him already, this is all so new. It’s fragile and growing, and I’m a little nervous. I don’t want to push him, I don’t want to ruin anything.

Butterflies dance in my stomach, adding to the jitters.

I don’t knock though, I don’t want the sound to wake anyone up, especially Maja who is a few rooms down. Despite her age, she’s a light sleeper.

So I put my hand on the knob and very slowly open the door.

The room is dark.

Shit. Maybe Aksel is sleeping.

I shouldn’t wake him up.

He’s a bloody king and he’s busy and the last thing he needs is for me to interrupt him and ruin his morning.

I’m about to close the door when I hear. “Who’s there?”

“It’s me,” I whisper, stepping inside. I close the door behind me and now I’m in darkness too.

The light beside his bed flicks on and he’s lying under the covers, staring at me in awe.

“I’m not dreaming, am I?” he says, blinking.

I shake my head and anxiously walk over to the bed. “I don’t think so.”

He stares up at me. “You came.”

A smile tugs at my lips while my eyes coast over his bare chest. “You were waiting for me?”

“Yes,” he says, clearing his throat. “Hoping, is perhaps the right word.”

It’s so strange now that I can just pull back those covers and climb in bed with him, that I can just come into his room late at night and be with him. Strange and undeniably thrilling.

Suddenly I feel shy. I’m hardly ever shy. But all of this is happening so fast and yet not fast enough and I’m blushing, unsteady on my feet.

“What is it?” he asks, sitting up and reaching for my hand. “Come here.”

He tugs at me, but I keep standing. “I want to take things slow,” I tell him, and I’m shocked that the words just came out of my mouth.

“Whatever you want,” he says. “Just come here. I want to hold you.”

My heart skips at that and he lifts the covers.

He’s completely, beautifully naked with a half-hard cock at the ready, and I’m only in my flimsy night shirt, so I know this is a recipe for disaster in the whole “I want to take things slow” suggestion.

But I get in bed anyway, curling up against his chest as his arm goes around my shoulder, holding me tight to him.

I close my eyes, hearing his heart beat beneath my ear. It’s going fast and strong and I’m sure he’s having to hold himself back. I feel like a total tease coming in here like this and then saying I want it slow.

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