Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Margot
Ihave a long week. At the newspaper, I have to explain to Anna why I’m not almost done with my article… I haven’t even started writing it, but she doesn’t need to know that.
Add that to the monotony of the royal routine finally setting in. I arrive in the morning. I spend an hour with Stellan at the palace, more likely than not having intense, gymnastic sex. And then we spend a full day visiting factories, schools, children’s hospitals…
It’s fun for a few days. And then… it’s work. By the time I get home at night, I’m dead on my feet.
I can see Stellan getting tired as the week winds down. To myself, I can admit that I’m fairly exhausted too. And yet this is only my third full week of keeping pace with the royal schedule.
I have no idea how all the L?ve family do it forever.
Luckily, Stellan proposes the perfect antidote to my exhaustion. A whole weekend at a house on the coast, a two hour drive from Copenhagen. We’ll be by ourselves in a mansion…
Yeah, it doesn’t sound too shabby. I just have to shove down all my working class girl judgments to enjoy it. Without really taking any time to think it through, I tell Stellan yes.
Two hours later, we are so close to the ocean that I can actually smell the salt in the air. As we pull through the trees, the ocean is just right there, down a sandy beach. I sit up as we pull around to a gray, three story mansion house.
The second we stop, Stellan is out of the driver’s side. “Look at it!” He points to the gray sea, grinning as he opens the car’s trunk. “I could stare at that all day.”
I climb out of the car, squinting at the coastline. A gust of wind takes me by surprise and blows up the back of my short black dress. I squeal and smooth my dress down.
Stellan grins at me. “You might as well get naked, because I plan on being au naturel all weekend.”
A shiver of excitement runs down my spine at his words. I don’t want him to just assume that I am game for anything, although I mostly am. I shoot him a look. “We’ll see.”
He grabs me and hauls me up against his frame, kissing me hard until I’m just a little breathless. Then he lets me go and picks up the suitcases. “Come on. Wait until you see the inside of this house.”
I follow Stellan up the neatly manicured tan brick path into the house.
As I step inside, my eyes widen. I look around at the foyer, which is painted with the most amazing mural of a river with nymphs playing around it.
There is no furniture here, just this delicate and detailed portrayal painted on the walls.
“What… what is this?” I say, noticing something new every second I keep staring around.
He grins. “Apparently one of my relatives holed themselves up in this house for several years. This was the result.”
“Whoa.” I move closer to the wall, squinting to make out the detail in one of the nymphs. “This is amazing.”
“Wait until you see the living room,” he says, nodding his head toward it. “I’m going to go upstairs and drop our things in the master bedroom.”
He heads off up a staircase. Nodding absently, I follow the hallway back, taking the first doorway that opens to the left. Inside I find no furniture to speak of. Instead there is light that pours in from the floor length windows, illuminating another breathtakingly detailed painting.
It depicts a plain-looking building, maybe Greek or Roman in design.
A robed woman who carries a basket of bread is in the center of the painting.
A burst of sunlight shines down on her, signifying that perhaps she is chosen by god.
She hands pieces of bread to a flock of ratty looking children, some of whom are crying upon receiving their ration.
And the look on the woman’s gently lined face…
it is so sorrowful, it actually makes my chest seize up.
Stellan comes to lean against the doorframe, ducking a little as he enters the room. “Amazing, isn’t it?”
I move closer to the wall, in awe. “It’s so lifelike. And her expression… you can tell that whoever did this has felt exactly that kind of sadness before.”
“Ja. Apparently it is St. Agathe, feeding the children of Carthage.” He wrinkles up his face. “After the museum, I got the idea to come here. There are loads more paintings in every room. But this one is really good.”
“Who did this painting?” I murmur.
He shrugs. “I think a great aunt, several times removed? I don’t know. Someone crazy.”
I frown at him over my shoulder. “That’s a cruel thing to say.”
He rolls his eyes just a little and shrugs again. “Come. Let’s go into the kitchen. There is a happier painting in there. It’s gold and jeweled, apparently inspired by a Fabergé egg.”
He turns and heads down the hallway, expecting me to follow. And I do… but I cast a glance over my shoulder as I leave the room. St. Agathe looks back at me, her eyes so full of sadness that it makes my heart break.
That will stay with me for a good long while, I think.
Stellan shows me a few more paintings, then takes me upstairs to the master bedroom. To my surprise there is no mural waiting for us in here. The walls are robin’s egg blue, the room dominated by a giant four poster bed with crisp linens.
He pulls me onto the bed, his blue eyes lit with lust and hunger. He kisses me passionately, already tugging my dress up and over my head. He tosses it to the side without a second thought. I toe my shoes off, sighing as he kisses my neck.
“Fuck,” he mutters, sliding his gaze up to meet my own. “Do you realize how fucking beautiful you are, skatter?”
My cheeks turn pink. Under his relentless gaze, I feel so seen, the opposite of invisible.
“No,” I breathe. His look is so direct and frank, so honest. It sears me from the inside out.
When he speaks again, it’s as much a worshipful promise as it is a compliment.
“I do.” He sucks in a ragged breath. “You are so damn beautiful. And I don’t just mean physically.”
My eyes widen at that. He means… he likes my personality? It’s a little hard to believe him, but it’s even harder not to counter that with the earnestness written across his face.
In the next second, Stellan buries his face in the space between my breasts. I’m not wearing a bra, so I’m bare before him.
“Fuck,” he mutters again, looking at my breasts. My hard pink nipples demand attention. My whole body tingles in anticipation of his mouth on my skin.
“Yes,” I moan. “Touch me. Taste me. You can have all of me.”
He puts his hands on my breasts, pushing them together, licking and kissing them both. My back bows, thrusting my nipples out and pushing my head back. This is too much, the sensations are so pleasurable that I fear for my sanity.
I feel that familiar connection in my body, between my neck and my breasts, my nipples and my pussy. He touches my breasts and I feel it in my pussy, feel my body readying itself, feel myself growing wetter. I roll my hips against his, my mouth opening to release a soft moan.
I need more. This is everything. This moment, these sensations, that passionate expression on his face. But I can’t wait until he’s inside me.
“Stellan...” I whisper. “I need you. All of you.”
I push eagerly onward, rolling my hips again. Stellan has what I lack. He is going to fuck me, filling a chasm deep inside of me that I never even knew was there with his magnificent cock.
Burying my fingers in the short hair at his nape, I gasp as he kisses me. There’s an impatient moment where he tries to get his shirt off. But as soon as he does I run my hands over his abs and sides, my breath catching as I look at the skin he exposes.
“You’re so hot, ” I marvel.
“I can’t wait anymore.” He groans, looking at me. “It’s not enough, skatter. It’s never enough. I want you naked, wet, and ready for me,” he grits out.
His gaze is direct and scorching. He is a ravenous fire, threatening to burn me alive. And I am the kindling, stacked and ready, welcoming his
spark to my dry tinder. We are so very close to combusting, all we need is a match to light our fire and raze us to the ground.
“I’m ready,” I whisper, tugging on his jeans. “I need you, Stellan. I need you to fuck me.”
He presses his kiss down on me like he’s drowning and I’m the only oxygen in the whole entire world.
I work at the zipper on his jeans, undoing it and then sliding my hands around to his ass. His skin is hot and smooth under my touch. I slip my hands down the strong muscles I find there, pulling him against my body again. I slide his jeans down his hips, kissing him again.
Our tongues dance for several beats, as if we are fighting one another. God, yes.
He frames my breasts with his touch, skating one of his hands down my
ribs, down my belly, to the fine thatch of dark hair that grows between my legs. I close my eyes and moan as his fingers trace the lips of my pussy. It’s all I can do not to spread my legs and beg for him to touch me. I’m like a bitch in heat, out of control, only for him. And I don’t care at all.
I’m shameless and needy and wanting what only he can give me.
In the next second though, he nips at my earlobe and lays me down on the bed.
“Scoot back,” he urges, voice gone to gravel. “Open your legs for me, skatter. Let me see your creamy pussy. Let me see what is mine for the taking.”
Dropping my head and moving a couple of inches further back on the bed, I obey, opening my legs a little. My thighs shake with need and excitement; I can feel myself creaming at the very idea of him tasting me. I moan as his clever fingers find my clit.
“That’s it,” he coaxes, looking down. He puts a little space between our bodies, urging me onto my back. He repositions himself, rubbing his long, hard cock when it pops out of his jeans. “Spread your knees wide for me, skatter. I want to see all of you.”
Feeling a weird combination of shameless and embarrassed, I spread my legs as far as they will go, knowing that he could crush me or reject me.