Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 117920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Aurora is moaning something deep and desperate and loud.
For once we can be fucking loud.
No hiding.
“Do you want to come, my queen?” I whisper hoarsely. “Will you come on my cock?”
She’s groaning, whimpering for release. “Yes, yes.”
I love talking dirty with her.
I love how I can let myself out of the cage, a beast unleashed.
“I’m going to make you come,” I say roughly. “I’m going to make you come so fucking hard. Fuck you up so good.”
I move one hand down to her waist and grip her while the other squeezes in between her hips and the mattress until I reach her clit. It’s soaked and my finger slides over it with ease.
That’s all it takes.
Her body tenses and then starts to quake beneath me. She pulses around my cock, her clit throbbing under my finger. A sharp cry leaves her lips, then fades off into breathless little moans.
I come immediately after. There’s a rush along my spine until something at the base of me explodes. I grunt like an animal, thrusting deeper and deeper, the bed shaking, while the cum shoots hard into her.
I exhale loudly, my breath elsewhere, my heart thudding to a marching beat inside my head. I lean back on my thighs, absently run my hands over her bottom while I remember how to breathe. Then, when it doesn’t feel like I’m having a heart attack, when the sweat stops rolling off my brow, I gently pull out.
Leaning forward, I put my lips to her ear. “Did you like that, Goddess?”
She turns her head, her eyes closed and whimpers. “Yes. Yes, yes.”
I brush the hair off her face and kiss her cheek. Then place tiny, soft kisses on her neck, shoulder, down her spine, until I finally get off of her.
“Your Majesty,” I add.
“Your Majesty,” she says.
We take a few moments, lying next to each other, trying to bring our breath back into our bodies and calm our racing hearts.
I reach out and touch her damp forehead, pushing aside her hair.
“Today, I have never been so proud of you,” I tell her, my voice hoarse. “I hope you’re proud of yourself.”
She swallows, nods. “I think I am. I think…it’s finally starting to sink in. That it’s all in the open. That there’s no more hiding.”
“No more hiding.” I lean over and kiss her forehead, tasting the salt of her sweat. “No more hiding.”
“And you,” she says. “You don’t have to hide anymore.”
I sigh. “No. I mean…I do have to keep lying to the world about what happened with Helena and Nicklas.”
“But that’s the world and the world doesn’t matter. The people who do matter to you, the people who you love, they know the truth. And that’s all that matters. They know it and they still love you. You’re free Aksel. We’re both free.”
I let her words sink in, soothing my heart. I pull her into me, holding her tight.
We’re both free.
Epilogue
Aurora
Five years later
“Are we there yet?” Clara asks.
“Yeah, are we there yet?” Freja asks.
“Yeah, are we there yet?” the twins say in unison, giggling like the little devils that they are.
“Not even close,” I tell them, leaning back in my seat. I glance over at Aksel, his hands comfortably on the wheel, his aviator shades covering his eyes.
“How are you doing, baby?” I ask him.
He glances at me, gives a half-smile. “You mean, aside from the kids yammering on and on in my ear? I’m fine.”
“You know we could have done this road trip with them in the car behind us. In fact,” I turn in my seat to glare at everyone. “If you guys don’t be quiet, I might have your father pull the car over and I’ll stick you with your aunt Maja.”
“Nooo,” Lars cries out dramatically.
“Well, then be quiet.” I turn back around. “Let’s see if that holds.”
“I wish my own children gave me the same respect that my country does,” Aksel laments with an exaggerated sigh.
“That’s what you get for putting more heirs out into the world,” I say. I glance at my children in the rearview mirror and even though they’re a lot to handle most days, having little princes and princesses, I wouldn’t change them for the world.
There’s Princess Clara, who is now eleven years old, smart as a whip and endlessly sassy. She’s recently gone from vegetarian to full-on vegan, much to the agony of her father. She likes for me to dye her hair wild colors every Friday night with wash-out foam, wears a lot of purple and denim, and reads as much as she can. She’s recently started taking up pottery as a hobby and I like to think that it was that priceless Greek vase all those years ago that got her interested.
Then there’s her sister, Princess Freja. Freja is ten and she’s both cheeky and devious as well as extremely sensitive and poetic. She likes to read too, but also write. She fills notebooks and sketchbooks up with poetry and drawings and short stories. She’s also in the boy crazy stage, is in love with all the K-Pop boys that she listens to non-stop, and she hates the fact that she has to wear glasses now. She’s one of the quiet ones but it’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for.