I’m too angry to head back downstairs to the gala though I do feel like running after that red-headed twat and pushing her down the stairs, which means I should probably wait to calm down. I’m not quick-tempered—at least I never thought I was—but ever since I’ve been thrust into Magnus’s life, I find myself wanting to boil over at least once a day.

What the hell was she talking about? A few weeks before we met? After we met? Had Magnus been seeing this girl when he was leaving the estate at night? He said he was going to Harold’s but was that just a lie?

Then his mother’s words are slicing through my head, razor sharp and leaving wounds.

Surely you’ve seen him take interest in one thing and drop it the next?

Has he already started? Does till death do us part mean anything if it started under a lie? I might be marrying him but where is the guarantee that he’ll be faithful? At this point, how could I expect him to be?

“Ella?”

I don’t know how long I’ve been stewing in the dark, staring absently at a Monet, but suddenly Magnus is here.

I turn around, feeling the fire roll through me again as he strides toward me, looking like a rough and rugged James Bond with his scruff and his wild hair and his massive frame that seems like it can barely be contained.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his pace slowing when he sees the expression on my face.

“Did you run into her on the steps?” I ask. My voice is cold.

He frowns. “Run into who?”

“Don’t play stupid,” I tell him. “You’re so good at that.”

He stops and raises his palms. “Hey now, I like you nasty but not without reason. What’s going on?”

“I saw her. That girl you fucked!”

He raises his brows, and I know he’s thinking, that could be anyone.

“Who, specifically? There are a lot.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“Why, because it seems like I’ve had sex with everyone but you?”

I feel like my head is about to explode. “What?!”

He narrows his eyes at me. “If you don’t fight fair, I won’t either. But, hell, I’d sure like to know just what the fuck we’re fighting about. Who did you see?”

“That girl! The prime minister’s daughter.”

“Oh god.” He runs his hand over his eyes and then gives me a cagey look. “She’s here? Heidi?”

“Yeah, she’s here. She ran into me up here after I came out of the bathroom. Like she was stalking me.”

“That’s what she does.”

“I didn’t know who she was, she was just babbling on about how you still love her.”

“You didn’t know who she was? Didn’t you recognize her from the sex tape? I mean, she made sure that camera was getting all her best angles.”

“I never watched that stupid video! And nice way to gloss over the fact that she said you still love her.”

He sighs heavily. “Because that’s her. That’s a thing she would say, just like stalking you to the bathroom is too. Ella, she’s nuts. And not in a good way.”

“She says she saw you at your apartment a few weeks ago,” I say, wishing my heart wasn’t racing so fast. I need to keep it together. “Is that a lie too?”

Magnus shakes his head. “Yeah, I saw her. Outside of my apartment. She’d never been there before but somehow she found out where I lived. Ella, she leaped out of the bushes at me. Einar was there, he can back me up.”

I cross my arms, still on edge. “When was this?”

“A few days after we first met. The night before you came back and told us you wanted two weeks.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“Why would I have?” He looks confused.

“Because it’s important.”

“But it really isn’t,” he says. “I’m sorry that she got to you tonight but you have to take everything she said as a fabrication. I’m not in love with her and she was never in my apartment. She’s nothing.”

“She’s not nothing! It was her sex tape with you that got you into this mess with me!”

He frowns, his jaw tensing as he stares at me. “Right. This mess.”

“You know what I mean, don’t twist it around.”

“I just don’t know what your problem is. She’s nothing, okay? Yeah I had a few nights of fun with her and yeah I made one hell of a stupid mistake with her filming us, but that’s all done now. I’m moving on. With you.”

“I suppose I should enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Fuck, Ella,” he snarls at me, coming over and grabbing my arm. “What is going on? I mean, what’s really going on here? You’re usually so logical and rational and I’m supposed to be the one flying off the handle with crazy thoughts.”

“I am not flying off the handle!” I yell at him. “And I am not having crazy thoughts. These are valid thoughts.”

“Then tell me what these damn thoughts are and quit your squawking.”

“Squawking?” I repeat, my voice going higher.

“Yeah, you sound like a fucking chicken right now.”

“Fuck you!”

“That’s right,” he says, gritting his teeth into a wolfish smile. “Yell. Swear. Lay it on me if it makes you feel better.” His hand goes to the back of my neck, gripping me there. “The only thing you really need is some good hard dick.”

I stare at him, my mouth dropping open. “What?”

“You heard me,” he says, his heated gaze going to my lips, the grip on my neck growing tighter. “You need to be royally and thoroughly fucked. That’s your biggest problem. That’s why you’re so snappish and tense tonight.”

“Of course you would assume every problem can be solved by sex,” I sneer at him, trying to ignore the heat building in my core.

“I think your problem can be,” he says. “And I’m more than up for the job.”

With his free hand he takes my wrist and places my palm flat against his erection. My breath hitches as I feel how hard and warm he is, and my hand instinctively grips his length, which brings out a low moan from him that I feel reverberate down my spine.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe this is exactly what I need.

Him.

Inside me.

But no. No, I’m still mad. I’m still mad that he slept with that crazy girl even before he met me, I’m still mad that his mother told me those things, like she has zero faith in his feelings for me, feelings that I’m not even sure exist. I’m still mad…

“Question time,” he murmurs as he leans in and slowly brushes his lips against the rim of my ear. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

I swallow. The pressure between my legs is indescribable.

“Answer carefully,” he murmurs, the heat of his breath and growl of his voice sending shivers from my head to my toes. “I’ll find out the truth in a second. I can practically smell how fucking wet you are.”

His mouth goes to my earlobe, nipping it between his teeth and giving it a tug that makes tiny explosions go off around my body.

Oh, god.

“What was the question again?” I whisper, my eyes rolling back.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he says into my skin as his lips slowly slide down my neck, setting me on fire. “Princess?”

“You tell me,” I manage to say, playing the game, wanting it so damn badly.

Because yes, I want to be fucked. By him.

Roughly.

Royally.

Fucked.

And now I’m mad that I can’t stay mad at him.

“I like this version of you,” he says, stooping over slightly to place his hands under my dress and slowly slide them up my inner thighs, just as he did yesterday. The heat from his wide palms makes me feel like I’m about to combust right here on the spot.

“We shouldn’t do this here,” I manage to say, already feeling dizzy and breathless as his hands go higher

“It’s already started,” he says. “Can’t be stopped. You said for me to push you, so I’m pushing you.”

His hands slide up and up and now I know he can feel how wet I am. The sensation of his skin against mine makes my world spin.

“Helvete,” he swears, his voice hoarse. “You’re soaked. And you’re not even wearing underwear.”

“I didn’t want pantylines with this dress. I—” My words fail me as he slides one long finger right over my swollen flesh. I moan, unable to keep composed and my hands grip his arms to keep myself steady. “Magnus,” I gasp.

“Fuck, yes. I love hearing my name like this,” he says gruffly, taking a nibble of my neck. “I don’t think I ever want to hear anything else.”

He slowly begins to rub the tip of his finger over my clit.

My body feels like it’s going to explode. “Figures you’d love the sound of your own name,” I say, trying to catch my breath.

“Only when your cunt is drenching my fingers like this,” he says in a near growl. I have to admit, his dirty talk caught me off-guard yesterday but it’s definitely starting to have an effect on me.

A good effect.

The kind that makes me want to give in, to be absolutely wild and free with this man. To be the person I’ve been afraid to let loose.

To be completely uninhibited.

Completely his.

“Kiss me,” I whisper.

He raises his head and looks at me in surprise before a wicked smile curls the edges of his mouth.

He does as he’s told.

The kiss is far more than I remembered from the other day. It almost knocks me off my feet, my heels starting to wobble. His tongue is insatiable, explicit, as it thrusts into my mouth hungrily, his lips crazed and needy. It’s wet and violent and makes the want inside me throb, tighter, harder. His hand at my head is gripping my hair as if he’s holding on for dear life and each tug shoots fire down my nerves. Every part of my being feels alive, soaking it all in, desperate for more of his touch, more of him, more of everything.

He pulls back half an inch, just for a second, just enough time to let out a moan while his other hand holds my face captive. His heavy-lidded gaze fixates on my eyes, then my lips, as if I’m some sort of apparition.

Then I grab the lapels of his tux and yank his lips back to mine. The need in me builds and builds and I’m dying to wrap my legs around him, to feel every inch, to feel his want for me. I think I whimper. I gasp. I kiss him with the same kind of abandon as he’s kissing me with, his mouth devouring me as if wanting to swallow me whole.

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.

One day he’ll rule this country.

Right now I want to rule him.

See what it’s like to bring Magnus the Mad to his knees.

He pulls back for a second, watching me with a delirious look in his hooded eyes as my hands work him up and down. His scrapes his teeth over his lower lip then slowly looks up at me. “Princess,” he warns.

I pause and grip his gorgeous dick tighter. His eyes roll back in his head, and the muscles in his neck are straining as he tries to hold back. “Yes, Your Highness?” I tease.

He grunts and moves back into me, pulling the neckline of my dress down. My nipples are as hard as pebbles, and he cups my breast, licking a path to the center. He takes one in his mouth and I’m swept away by the warmth, by the fire-laced nerves that radiate out from me.

“Oh god,” I cry out softly.

He makes a noise of agreement against my breast, causing more nerves to incinerate. He slips his hand below, sliding it over my clit which is beyond wet and slippery.

“You’re soaking me again,” he says huskily before taking my nipple between his teeth and pulling slightly.

I moan as he pushes one big finger inside of me, the roughness igniting my sensitive skin. The penetration seems to roll through me and I automatically jerk my hips forward, bringing his finger further inside.

I think I want more.

No, I need more.

He makes a low, guttural sound and pulls out slowly before adding another finger. I bite my lip to keep from yelling his name as he expertly slides his fingers over the swollen bundle of nerves that threatens to destroy me from the inside out.

“Magnus,” I say through a moan, my mouth open and gasping as my senses are nearly blinded. “Don’t stop.”

“Never,” he says before flicking my nipple with his tongue. He pulls his fingers out and then pushes three in and I’m breathless and shaking. His fingers are so thick that it’s nearly unbearable and he plunges them in and out, fucking me with his hand.

“I want you to come all over my hand,” he says through a grunt.

“I want to come all over you,” I tell him. “Please, I need you inside me. All of you.”

He pauses and takes his mouth away from my breast, his stubble wet with moisture as his heavy eyes gaze at me. “Is that an official command?”

I’m breathing hard, my hand going to the back of his neck that’s already damp with sweat. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re greedy,” he mutters. He shakes his head slightly, a hint of a smile on his glistening lips. “I think you’re a greedy little Princess.”

“I think you need to give me the royal treatment,” I say, leaning forward and grabbing his lower lip between my teeth and tugging. “Fuck me, my Prince.”

“Jesus,” he curses roughly, the heat in his green eyes growing hotter. “Where did this Ella come from?”

I bring my mouth to the soft spot where his jaw meets his neck, the stubble brushing against my bruised lips. “I think you brought it out of me the other day.”

“Then I hope she’s here to stay,” he says between moans as I suck at his neck. “Because I don’t think I’ll ever get my fill of you, Princess.”

He pulls back slightly and reaches into his pocket, his pants slung low on his hips, his throbbing cock beating against me in time with his heart. He pulls out a condom. The foil crinkles as he tears it open. “I am clean,” he says. “But are you on the pill?”

I shake my head. “No. But I’m signing up right after this.”

I watch eagerly, holding my breath as he slides the sheath on, loving the ease in which he handles himself. His pants fall to his ankles and he positions his tip against my wetness, hesitating, teasing. He grins at me, biting his lip, sly eyes appraising me, as he rubs his engorged head up and down over my swollen skin.

“Stop being a tease,” I whimper, my hands going around the hard lines of his waist, grabbing onto his ass.

I don’t think we have a lot of time.

With a hiss, he pushes his cock into me with one sharp, searing movement. If I wasn’t so damn wet, there is no way I’d be able to accommodate him, and even now I feel so full and strained, I might burst.

“Ella,” he says with a raspy groan. “Fuck.”

I can only gasp, feeling my toes curl as he slides in further.

It’s better than I imagined.

With each thrust, his cock drawing in and out, I’m pushed harder against the wall. He puts his palm behind my head, firmly holding me in place, allowing him to go deeper and deeper and deeper.

I just hope those paintings are secure. We may be getting away with screwing unnoticed in this darkened section of the museum but one slip-up and our cover is blown. I’m not sure sex is worth destroying fine art.

Then again, maybe it is with Magnus.

My mind is reeling with the sensation of having him so connected to me, so thick and all-encompassing, it takes over my every thought and makes me lose all logic. I am raw, primal, desperate with need. And I want more. So much more.

Greedy Princess indeed.

I grab hold of his biceps, hard as concrete slabs, as he works me in and out. I hold him, still in awe, desperate to hold him close to me. This man is all mine, and I’m going to have to work hard to be worthy of a prince like this.

His mouth joins with mine, moving together in deep, searing kisses in a rhythm that his body matches as he thrusts his hips forward, his cock driving deeper and deeper inside. Every nerve in my body is being pulled inward, swirling into a hard knot, live wires needing the slightest hair trigger to set me free. Each deep shove of his body threatens to undo me.

I run my fingers down his forearms, feeling the tense muscles through his tuxedo jacket as he holds me in place, then I brush my hands back up to his biceps, to the roundness of his shoulders, down his chest, then trail further to his shaft. I grip him there at the base, wet with my own desire, and he groans with wild lust.

This wild heir.

With one hand, he reaches down and rubs his fingers up and down over my clit. I’m so ready to go that I whimper helplessly, knowing I can’t hold back anymore.

“You said you wanted to come with me inside you,” he whispers into my ear. “You’re going to right now. And you’re going to stay quiet.”

He rubs his fingers faster and he pulls his head back to watch as he takes me to another level.

“That’s it,” he says quietly. “Let go.”

It spreads slowly at first, a spark traveling from my core and out through every nerve in my body. Then I implode with a jolt that almost makes me scream.

He places his palm over my mouth at the last moment and I open my mouth to it, crying out softly, breathing in his skin.

The orgasm just keeps coming. I’m fireworks blasting off, shuddering, shaking, quaking in a cascade of flames. I can’t control anything and I’m grateful his hand is keeping me quiet. My heart fills to the brim then floods over with emotion that nearly brings tears to my eyes.

He removes his hand.

“Oh my god,” I cry out softly against him, my head buried in his sweaty neck, holding his body against me, as if I would sink into the ground if I didn’t. My heart is beating so hard I think I might be having a heart attack.

Can you die from good sex?

But he’s not done.

He pumps into me harder, faster, and I’m holding my breath now watching those paintings as they rattle, and then he’s grunting hoarsely with every deep shove.

“Fuck, I’m coming too,” he whispers, words broken up and hoarse and he’s shaking over me, my name raspy on his lips. He groans and the pumps of his hips slow against me as he empties himself into the condom.

He practically collapses against me and I run my fingers through his long hair, feeling him, feeling everything.

I can’t believe that just happened.

I can’t believe we did that.

He’s breathing hard still as he leans back and pulls himself out of me and gives me a lazy, sated smile. “And here I was thinking museums were boring.”

I let out a shaky laugh as he lowers me to the ground. I wobble on my stilettos for a moment and he grabs my arm to steady me. “Looks like I fucked you off your feet.”

“You did something all right.”

He pulls the condom off and says. “Let’s go dispose of the evidence and head back to the party. Someone might have missed us by now. Can you walk?”

I giggle and take a few steps. I think I’m going to be feeling all that tomorrow.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I don’t think I need to when I got you to do it for me,” he says, holding out his arm.

With a dazed grin, I take it and we join the party.