I’m getting fucking married.

A phrase that once would have made me want to be sick now only makes me smile.

Okay, so it’s a shaking smile, a nervous smile. I’m smiling on the outside and I’m a pile of writhing nerves on the inside.

But that’s to be expected.

Ella and I have been thrust into a whole new world.

The night that she said she would marry me was the last night the two of us had any peace and quiet.

The next morning my mother came over.

It was supposed to be my father too, but he wasn’t feeling that well, which of course immediately put me on edge. My mother insisted, though, that he was doing better and that I’d see him soon enough.

So, with Sigurd and a lawyer that Ella had summoned for herself, since she’s smart like that, we all gathered in the parlor and spread out the contracts, which now included Ella’s list of demands (minus the sex part):

1. She gets to pick where we live (and she’s picked this place, which she calls Thornfield Hall for some reason).
2. She gets to open up and head her own non-profit as soon as possible (I told her to call it the Princess Planet Foundation but she wasn’t keen on that).
3. In the event of public embarrassment, AKA if I do something stupid like have an extramarital affair (not going to happen) or anything else that makes her look bad, she has the right to leave the relationship, no questions asked. If it happens after we are married, we will divorce, no contest.
4. We get a dog (rescued, preferably).
5. We open a dog shelter (demand number four suddenly spurred on the edition of demand number five, to be added later. I made them add that I can pick the name).
6. She has the option of finishing her university degree in Oslo.

Then the contracts were signed and the moment that was done, my mother proudly announced to us that she knew that Ella would come around and that she’d already gotten a head start on the wedding plans with the help of my sisters.

In fact, it was then that she handed Ella the sparkling engagement ring she picked out for her. I obviously didn’t have one to propose with, though I would have liked to have some time to pick one out myself.

Needless to say, that was the first sign that there would be no gentle transition into this arrangement. Ella and I were to go from two weeks of isolation to being torn in a million different directions by a million different people.

At least we’re in it together. Because I’m the one who has had experience in the public eye, Ella has been leaning a lot on me, and I’ve been trying to shoulder the brunt of it and show her the ropes.

Especially now with our first on-camera interview. It’s not even with a Norwegian network but the BBC. You’d think they’d be over that royal stuff by now but it seems they’re jonesing for another Meghan and Harry. I think they’re claiming Ella as one of their own, though, since she went to boarding school and university in the UK.

“How do I look?”

I’m standing in front of the mirror and adjusting my tie when she appears in the reflection, standing behind me in the doorway. We’re supposed to be somewhat dressy for the interview, but the sight of her is making my heart stop.

My hands fall away from my tie, and I have to remember to breathe.

It’s just a simple dress, royal blue and sleeveless with a scoop neck.

But the dress is fitted, showing her every curve, and her golden hair is down around her shoulders in cascading waves. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so shapely, ever seen her hair so wild and free, begging me to wrap the strands around my hand.

I slowly turn around and she shyly walks toward me, stopping in the middle of the room and sticking her hips out to one side, arms raised, as if to say “ta-da.”

“I’m speechless,” I finally say, licking my lips.

She smiles warmly. “I can see that. Maybe I should dress up more often. Though I do have my dress fitting tomorrow and we do have our engagement photos in a couple of days. Honestly, I don’t know why since we’re getting married so soon after.”

“The pictures are my mother’s idea, you know that,” I tell her. “But it makes her happy.”

She nods and we stare at each other, long beats stretching out between us.

Even though it’s been five days since we signed the contracts and two days since the news broke publicly that we are engaged, and we’ve been together almost every step of the way, there are a lot of little moments just like this one. Moments of slight awkwardness, of sexual tension. This whole thing is so strange and new, and fuck, scary, but underneath it all is the fact that I want her like I’ve never wanted any woman before.

And I know she wants me.

But that kiss we shared at the cabin was the last time—the only time—we were physically intimate in any way. And even though I want to be as respectful of her wishes as possible, I am a hungry, greedy man who would like nothing more than to relieve her of that dress, throw her on the bed, and make her scream my name until the whole house shakes.

“There’s a problem,” I tell her gravely.

She sucks in a breath. I slowly bring my gaze up the length of her body and focus on her fearful brown eyes.

“What?” she asks.

“You look extremely fuckable.”

Those eyes widen, stunned. “That’s a problem?” she asks after a beat.

I grin and walk over to her. “Yeah, it’s a problem.” I stop right in front of her and reach for her hair, letting the smooth strands run through my fingers before brushing it over her shoulder. “You see, according to the story we’ve been telling everyone, we’ve been on-again, off-again lovers for a long time. Years. And I finally broke down and admitted my love for you. Swept you off your feet in an extravagant proposal that involved trained peacocks, a flock of doves, and a monkey. And in order for that to be believable to everyone, especially the people at home watching our interview, we have to act like we’ve been passionate lovers for years and are finally celebrating our overdue love by getting married. You get what I’m saying?”

She does. I can tell from the way she’s breathing heavier, the way her pupils are dilating as she stares at my lips, the way she swallows, her throat so pale and delicate I’m suddenly envious of vampires.

I let my hand drift down over the smooth slope of her shoulder, down her arm, to her hand. “The more I touch you, the more you touch me, the more believable this is going to be. If we go out there as we are, where you try to run every time I come near you, it’s not going to work.”

“I’m not running now,” she whispers and meets my eyes. “Try me.”

My lips curl into a smile. “I will. Maybe it’s best, though, if you try me first.” I take a step back. “Go ahead. Touch me.”

She lets out an incredulous huff of air. “I can’t touch you on demand.”

“Sure you can. I give you permission.”

She shakes her head. “This doesn’t seem right.”

“Princess, nothing seems right at this point.” I walk around her over to the door and close it.

Lock it.

“What are you doing?” she asks warily. “Magnus, I thought you agreed—”

“Would you just relax,” I tell her, turning around. “I’m not making you do anything.”

But as I walk toward her, I’m removing my tie and throwing it on the bed. I’m removing my suit jacket and tossing it on the ottoman.

“Magnus,” she warns.

I smile and start unbuttoning my shirt. It’s wildly presumptuous of me but I’ve seen the way she stares at my body when I’m parading it around in front of her. I know the thoughts she’s had. I know that she’s ashamed that she’s had them.

I also know that she’s somewhat inexperienced, that I intimidate her, that my sexual history scares her a bit.

It’s better if I’m the vulnerable one here.

“This is the body you’re going to be sleeping next to after we’re married,” I tell her, my shirt dropping to the floor.

“Actually, that was never in the contract,” she points out as I start unbuckling my pants next. “You know I want separate bedrooms.”

I’m going to pretend the fact that she’s still sticking to that doesn’t hurt.

“Then this is the body you’re supposed to have been sleeping with for years,” I amend as my pants drop to my ankles, leaving me in just my gray boxer briefs. “You better get a damn good look at it. Please. It will be such a waste otherwise. Years and years of marriage ahead of us and no one to admire my hard work.”

She’s trying not to smile as her eyes drop to my dick.

Hard work, indeed. I’ve never been stiffer.

I run my thumbs along the waistband. “Want them on or off?”

“On,” she says quickly. “I’m having a hard time handling all of this as it is.”

“Well, I definitely have something hard for you to handle.”

She laughs, her cheeks redder than ever. But when her eyes meet mine, they’re sparkling deviously, like she’s enjoying this. “So now what? This is your plan for us to get comfortable with each other? Just you standing there in your underwear with your pants around your ankles?”

“Don’t forget my hard-on. It’s the perfect accessory.”

She shakes her head, eyes closing briefly. “Honestly, Magnus. You are such a man-child.”

“Definitely all man,” I tell her. “Touch me and find out for yourself.”

“This is way too weird,” she says as I step out of my pants, taking off my socks and pushing them to the side. Now I really am all naked except for my boxers.

“Do you want people to believe we’re comfortable with each other physically or not?”

“I…” She trails off, her eyes roaming freely all over me now, like she just gave herself permission to take me in. She licks her lips then says, weakly, “I can fake it.”

I don’t say anything to that. I’m at the point where opening my mouth isn’t doing me any good. I feel like a fucking fisherman with their line dangling in the water, waiting for hours on end to see if the fish will bite.

She comes closer to me.

Hell, it’s working.

I keep quiet, holding my breath so as not to scare her, as she reaches out and touches the Viking axe tattoo on my shoulder. “When did you get this one?” she asks.

“When I was twenty,” I tell her. “I went to Thailand, as one does. Woke up with it.”

She smiles, letting her fingertips trace the outline. My skin comes alive under her touch. “That’s not a very romantic story.”

“No. Most of my life hasn’t been very romantic, to tell you the truth. Just impulse after impulse.”

Her fingers freeze, and she gives me a sharp look.

“I mean with travel,” I assure her. “Or tattoos. Or spending money. Some days I wake up in other countries. Some days I buy a car and then leave it somewhere I don’t remember. Some days I get tattoos. Now mind you, this Viking tattoo was one I wanted for a long time. And Thailand was a place I’d always wanted to go. And I’d always wanted to drive a Ferrari for one day. It’s just that these things have an odd way of working out with me.”

“Very odd,” she says softly, gently squeezing my muscles now. “But I think that’s what I like most about you.”

“My bulging biceps?”

“Your…uniqueness. How terribly boring it is to be normal. I should know. I’m normal and I’m boring. I’m not even interesting enough to be a basic bitch.”

It breaks my heart to hear her say that.

“That is nowhere near true,” I tell her, my voice rising a bit. “You’re not boring. You’re more normal than I am but you’re not boring. You’re not basic. You’re smart as hell. You’re interesting. I’m always learning something from you, every single day. You’re not afraid to put me in my place, you keep me on my toes. You’re gracious, you’ve got a big heart, and you’ve fought really hard to become the person you are. I can tell. I know what that fight is like.”

She gazes at me with those searching eyes of hers, her face just inches from mine, and I know if I lean in just a bit, my lips will brush her lips. It takes all my restraint to stay in control.

“You’re breathing hard,” she says after a moment, her fingers resuming their path, this time across my chest which is rising and falling faster than usual.

“You’ve got me all fired up,” I tell her, my voice coming across gruff and low. “I don’t want to hear you talk about yourself like that. I will always defend you, even from yourself.”

Her eyes go to my mouth and all I can think is kiss me, kiss me, and it pains me that I need this to be in her court. I swear to god, the moment she does, all hell will be unleashed. I’ve got enough pent-up sexual tension to last into the marriage and beyond.

She knows I’m thinking that too. She might even enjoy it. Again she glances at my dick and again her expression turns hot and wanton.

Her hands slide around my other shoulder and she walks around to the back of me. “I’m still not sure what you’re trying to accomplish here.”

Even though I can’t see her eyes, I can feel them on my ass.

“The British royals never touch each other like this in public,” she goes on, running her fingers gently over my shoulders. “Maybe not even in private.”

“We’re Norwegians. We do things differently.”

“Savagely,” she says, now bringing her hands down my back, her nails scratching me gently.

Oh fuck that feels good.

“Trust me,” I growl. “I’m holding back.”

“And what happens when you let go?”

I nearly let out an explicit groan. “I don’t think you’ll be able to handle me.”

“Try me.” I hear the smile in her voice.

Oh, fuck me.

I manage to swallow. “Do you know what you’re asking for?”

A pause. “Then tell me.”

This is a side of her I didn’t think I’d see so soon. Maybe touching me has riled her up the same way it’s made me fucking stiffer than cement.

“Is this an official question?”

“I’m not singing it.”

“Well I’m going to answer it anyway.”

She moves her hands around the sides of my waist, letting them run over the hard ridges of my abs, down, down. Stopping just at the waistband.

My breath hitches in my throat.

She reaches further and slowly slides her palm down, down, down, over the hardened length of my cock.

My eyes flutter back in my head.

Sweet Jesus.

She grips it, hard.

Helvete.

There is no holding back now.

I whip around and grab her face, her beautiful, sweet face and kiss her more wildly, more violent and desperate than I’ve ever felt before. Her mouth is warm silk as my tongue thrusts inside, wanting to claim every wet inch, and her skin feels like the best version of heaven.

Valhalla.

A small whimper escapes her lips and into my mouth and her hands are on my bare chest, trying to push me back, but I can’t wait. Not anymore.

I grab her roughly, and with a grunt, whirl her around and throw her on the bed. She bounces on it, her mouth open in surprise.

I reach down and pull off my boxers.

Not hiding anything now.

She’s breathless and wide-eyed as she stares at my naked, massive cock for the first time. It’s just the reaction I want. Actually, she’s looking slightly intimidated, which isn’t bad for my ego.

“Do you know I’ve thought of this every single night from the moment I first saw you?” I tell her hoarsely. “Do you know how badly I’ve wanted you? Do you know how much I’ve dreamed of doing exactly this?”

“Stop talking and show me,” she says breathily.

I didn’t expect her to say that.

But fuck does it ever spur me on, especially in that fuck me voice of hers.

Whatever restraints that were holding me back are now snapping loose, and the animal inside is coming out to play, to hunt, to take what’s his, what he needs and desires more than anything.

Ella, every way I can get her.

I prowl onto the bed, my cock jutting out, as I put my hands on her thighs and spread her legs, hiking her dress up to her waist.

She’s wearing just a thin pair of cotton underwear, the type I could make transparent in seconds. In fact, it looks like she doesn’t need much help. She’s wet like anything.

I bring my finger to the edge of her panties and pull it aside, exposing her bare, glistening flesh.

“Helvete,” I murmur, taking her all in. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, you know that? Perfectly pink, wet, and, god, I bet you’re tight.”

She lets out a soft gasp at that, tensing up. Then I can tell she’s willing herself to relax. I don’t even know if she’s had anyone go down on her before but I guess it doesn’t really matter, does it? My goal tonight is to make sure my name is the only name she’ll ever remember screaming.

“Does this feel good?” I ask her, trailing my fingers up and up and up until they brush against her clit.

She gasps again, her head rolling from side to side, her hands grasping the blanket.

“Tell me,” I demand.

“Yes,” she whispers, trying to raise her head to look at me. It drops back down once I start rubbing her in tiny circles. Over and over, tighter and tighter.

Part of me wants to take my time.

The other part wants her to come right now, all over my hand, all over my face.

I know what part will win out tonight.

Without saying a word, I bend down and start licking up her soft naked thighs until she shivers and moans, until goosebumps erupt all over her sensitive skin.

I slide my fingers into her cunt, wet and wanting, just as I’d imagined it would be. She’s practically melting into my touch and my fingers melt into her.

“Feel how soaked you are,” I moan, kissing briefly down her legs. “God, I want you to come in my mouth, all over my face. I want to drink you all up for days.”

At that, she stiffens. She’s used to my vulgar mouth, but she’s not used to the dirty talk.

Only one way to get her used to it.

“Do you want that?” I ask, pulling my head back to look at her. “Do you want me to keep fucking you with my fingers?” I push my fingers deeper inside her, causing her back to arch. “Or maybe my mouth?”

“Yes,” she cries out.

I grin, sliding three fingers in this time. She grips them like a fucking vise.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, god Magnus, everything. Give me everything.”

Fuck me.

If she keeps talking like that, I’m going to come right here, right now.

Actually, why the fuck not?

While I lean over and start teasing my tongue up her thighs again, inhaling her sweet, intoxicating scent, I take my other hand and start sliding it up and down my hard cock, my grip light and quick for now.

“Fuck,” I moan, and she reaches down and grabs the top of my head, her fingers sinking into my hair as I move my face between her legs. My lips meet her swollen ones and I tease her clit with the tip of my finger before sliding my tongue along her cleft and plunging it inside her.

She lets out an airy, breathless gasp, the most gorgeous sound I’ve ever heard, and then her hips start bucking against me as I swirl my tongue around her clit relentlessly and plunging my tongue deep inside.

“Yes, fuck my mouth,” I murmur against her as she tries to get more out of me, her hips slamming up in building desperation.

This is unreal.

She’s so hot, so tight, so wet.

So damn wild.

Her sweet, salty taste on my tongue feels like it’s a drug in the slipstream and I’m slowly going mad over it. I want to devour her until there’s nothing left. I want to make her scream and squirm and moan into oblivion.

I want her to be the opposite of a princess.

I want to see her down and dirty.

Slumming it with a prince like me.

She cries out, her fist in my hair, yanking hard as she sinks further into me, hips rocking for pressure, for purchase. I give it my all, fingers going in deeper, sliding along the right places, my tongue working her clit overtime, her juices running down my chin.

“Magnus,” she cries out, and I know I just need to give her a lick to push her over the edge.

I push.

She cries out as the orgasm tears through her, coming hard into my mouth, her clit pulsing beneath my lips, and I drink her all in, keeping her coming until she has nothing left to give.

I pull back and watch her for a moment, watching as she writhes there, breathless and high, waiting for her to come back to earth.

Then, when she does, I make sure she sees me touching myself, getting off. My fist works my cock faster and faster.

“That’s right, keep watching,” I tell her, voice breaking from the strain. “Watch me fucking come.”

Her dazed eyes are locked to the sight of my fist pumping, my cock growing darker and thicker and that sight alone is enough for me.

My eyes pinch shut as light bursts behind them and I’m going off, explosions along my spine, my cum shooting hard onto her thigh as I let out a loud, long moan.

I keep my fist working, getting every last drop, relishing the triumphant sight of my release all over her bare skin.

Considering how hard I’ve been around her for the last few weeks, I’m surprised I lasted as long as I did.

She’s still got that serene, sated look in her eyes as she stares at the mess I left on her legs. “Don’t worry,” I tell her. “I didn’t get any on your dress.”

I slow my pumping down and then start crawling back on the bed over to her.

“That was round one,” I tell her, capturing her mouth with mine, wanting her to taste herself. “How about round number two?”

“Already?” she asks, her voice throaty. So fucking sexy.

“Give me a second and—”

“Magnus!” A pounding at the door makes us both freeze on the spot.

It’s Jane.

“I can’t find Ella,” she yells, and I’m glad she doesn’t try to open the door, even if it is locked. “If she’s in there with you, tell her that the limo is here. We need you downstairs, STAT.”

I don’t say anything back at Jane, but I stare down at Ella and I smile big as I brush her hair off her damp, glowing face.

I can’t believe we just did that.

“Looks like round number two might have to wait,” I tell her. “Well, now that you’ve come in my mouth and I’ve come all over your legs, I think we might just be a little more comfortable with each other, wouldn’t you say?”

* * *

The interview went better than expected.

At least we were a lot more comfortable with each other, comfortable in the way lovers might be if they have to try and behave in a formal setting.

But it wasn’t all smooth sailing. The sexual tension was somehow even worse than before. Getting a taste of Ella only makes my need for her stronger, and I think it was the same for her. I mean, I know that orgasm nearly ripped her apart. She was practically squirting into my mouth.

And of course the fact that we both just came like messy teenagers before we left for the interview meant we weren’t the sharpest tools in the shed. There were a lot of blank moments, a lot of leaning into each other and giggling. I have no idea what it’s going to look like, but at the end the interviewer did say we seemed very much in love.

Which was what we were going for.

But damn if it didn’t seem weird to have that term thrown around. All I’ve been thinking about was the sexual and physical side of our relationship, making that seem believable. I didn’t think once about love.

I have to wonder when that’s going to change.

“Well, that was nerve-racking,” Ella says after we head toward the waiting limo. There’s a crowd of people who have gathered outside the studio, taking pictures. I do my usual wave and smile, while Ella looks like she could crawl under a rock.

“You were amazing,” I assure. “Not a pro like me but still pretty good.”

She rolls her eyes and laughs.

We get inside the limo and Ottar is already there in the back seat.

“How was it?” he asks as the limo pulls away.

I hold Ella’s hand up to my lips and kiss the back of it. “I think it went well.”

She leans in to me, smiling happily.

Ottar winces. “I’m sorry to do this, Ella, but Magnus and I need to be dropped off at the palace to deal with some arrangements.”

“I do? What? Why can’t she come?”

“It’s nothing to do with her, just things to be read and some papers to be signed. About you starting to sit on the high council meetings soon. To get you up to speed.”

Shit. Forgot about all of that. My first steps to becoming a king.

I’ve really tried not to think about that, no matter when in the future it happens. But my father reminded me on the phone the other day that it’s time to start learning.

I give Ella an apologetic look. “You’ll be all right at the estate by yourself?”

“I’ll have Jane, and you know she won’t give me a moment’s peace.” She smiles, so damn beautiful. “I’ll be fine.”

I won’t be. I won’t even be able to concentrate on what I’m supposed to be learning when all I can think about is her.

She’s become my focus in this crazy world.

And I don’t mind that one bit.