A Nordic King

by Halle, Karina

  He let me in.

  Aksel keeps his eyes on mine, burning with lust and I’m so turned on already, that I’m drenched between my thighs.

  The man just has to look at me and I’m a mess.

  “Aurora” he groans as his fingers find my clit, teasing it, his eyes never breaking from mine. “You’re so wet for me.”

  I give him a broad smile. “And only you, sir.”

  “I love it when you talk nanny to me,” he says gruffly as he grabs my hips and pulls me closer. “Waiting and ready to do my bidding.” I bring my leg up, hooking it around his waist, keeping him against my hips, while I pull my night shirt over my head and toss it aside. I’m starting to get impatient, the ache inside me increasing with each slick stroke of his finger.

  “I’ll only do your bidding in the bedroom,” I remind him as I let a groan slip from my mouth.

  “I can live with that,” he whispers to me as he reaches for his cock and runs the crown of it up and down my clit, pausing to dip it briefly inside before bringing it back up. The sound is so loud in his cavernous room, it’s obscene.

  And, it’s more than apparent, that he wants to take it torturously slow tonight.

  I don’t mind.

  My eyes close, surrendering myself to this intense teasing. He’s not pushing in, it’s just a lazy slide, back and forth, but I feel myself opening for him anyway, my body starving for more.

  Hungry.

  Always.

  “You like that?” he murmurs, his voice so thick with need that I can’t even answer him. I nod, relaxing back into his pillow. I’m beyond ready for him, surrendering and spurring him on as he rubs against me, over and over again.

  This is so fucking rich.

  Royal.

  I swallow hard, and a begging noise escapes my lips.

  He likes that. I can tell by the way his muscles tense. My heart is starting to pound in my head, my skin is hot and tight, my nipples are hardened pebbles in the cool air as his skin brushes against them.

  With a slow exhale, he grips my hip as he pushes himself inside me from the side. He’s bare and thick and long as he sinks in, this slow, decadent thrust.

  “So good,” he murmurs, his voice throaty with need. “So beautiful.”

  I take in a deep breath and try to focus on every single thing that’s happening, from head to toe, just letting it all sink in.

  Like the times we’ve had sex before, I’m hit with the sad, urgent feeling that it might not happen again.

  Because it feels right. It feels good, then it feels too much, then I don’t even know what I feel because all I feel is Aksel.

  He’s taken over my whole world.

  He’s my ruler.

  I’m his subject.

  I groan, stretching around his thick cock, loving how hard I can clench him. He loves it too. His breath is getting shorter, more labored, which makes me grip him even harder. I love these little sounds he makes; how undone he becomes. He goes from a man in a sharp suit to a wolf in the wild.

  “Want me to go faster?’ he asks, groaning as he speaks.

  “No,” I say, licking my lips. I look at him. “This is good.”

  It’s better than good but other words are escaping me right now.

  He nods and watches me intently as he pushes in further. His lips part as he sucks in his breath and his forehead creases in lust and awe, like he can’t believe this is happening, can’t believe how good it feels.

  “Oh god,” he moans, his grip tightening on my hips, sliding up to my waist, to my breasts where he pinches my nipples. “Aurora. Fuck me. You’re so fucking perfect. You’re a dream.”

  I might feel perfect right now while his cock is sliding deep within me, but I’m not a dream. I’m one hundred per cent real. I’m here. I’m living this, I’m feeling this, I’m loving this.

  This is happening.

  He’s watching me, watching himself, watching us, where his cock sinks into me, his shaft wet with my desire. He’s entranced by the sight, the slow push in, the slow pull out.

  Look at what we do to each other.

  Each rock of my hips, each thrust of his, pushes him in deeper, makes us connect like magnets. The way his abs clench as he pushes inside, the tiny beads of sweat that gather over his tanned skin, the dampness on his brow. I reach around and pull his ass toward me, wanting more, and he drives in so deep that the air leaves my lungs.

  God, yes.

  My head goes back again and I’m surrendering to him. He’s in me, in so deep, and I don’t ever want him to leave. This feels beyond right.

  This might be the calm before the storm. This might be the storm, too. He can be both those things for me, the peace and the chaos. He can be my everything if he wants to. Even if he doesn’t.

  I don’t want this to ever stop.

  Something goes off inside me, a spiral in my core that’s slowly increasing, spreading, heating up. It’s going to take over me, it’s going to pull me under, and I’ve never wanted to come so badly in my life.

  “Almost,” I whisper, my voice choked with my sudden hunger for him. “God, Aksel, I’m almost…”

  He responds instantly.

  With a throaty growl he starts pumping faster, one hand at my back to hold me in place, the other in my hair, making a fist. He’s sliding in deeper than ever, hitting me where my body is dying for release.

  He brings my head forward and kisses me, quick and hot, tasting like sweat. My mouth is ravenous against his, messy, the need inside me building and building.

  Please, please, please.

  I want this forever.

  This has always been about more than just sex.

  I just can’t deny it anymore.

  And then we find our rhythm, our bodies coming together in a dance. I wouldn’t say it’s effortless because he’s pounding and pounding me, working me in fevered intensity, because it is work to fuck like this. And yet there’s a sense of ease with each other, with our bodies, that I can’t describe.

  Like my body was his from the start.

  The bed slams back against the wall, the sheets are pulled loose, my breasts are jostling, and I hope we’re not waking the palace, but fuck it, I don’t care. Not now. Not when I’m this close.

  “I’m coming,” I start to cry out but he’s quick and places the pillow over my face, muffling my ragged voice.

  I bite into it, feeling the feathers between my teeth.

  Then I’m twisted and crushed as the orgasm washes over me like a rogue wave, tearing me into a million directions of starlight and bliss. An explosion of floating feathers in my chest.

  Sir, yes, sir.

  “Fuck,” Aksel grunts as the release claims him. His rough, frantic noises, the slap of his sweat-soaked skin against mine, the creak of the bed, all fills my ears.

  The pillow slips away from my face.

  He lets out a low, barely-restrained moan, shoulders shaking as he comes.

  I’ll never get tired of this sight.

  This king brought to his knees.

  The pumping slows. His grip loosens.

  He collapses against the pillow, his hair damp and sticking to his brow. His eyes take me in, his breath heavy and hard.

  “Give me five minutes,” he says, gasping. “And then we’ll do that again.”

  Chapter 18

  Aurora

  March

  Amelie is coming today.

  I’ve been so wrapped up in Aksel over the last two weeks—literally and figuratively—that I’d completely forgotten. It wasn’t until she called me and told me her flight details a few days before that I remembered what she’d promised.

  One was to come here and check on me.

  Two was to get me laid.

  I can’t possibly tell her that she doesn’t need to worry about that last one anymore because I’ve been having sex with Aksel as often as I can. It’s literally the best part of my day (or night, as it is), sneaking around the palace and trying to find alone time with
each other. Some days it just doesn’t work out, but most days it does. We make it work, no matter how little sleep we get, no matter if it’s just a quickie in the shower or a hidden corner of the palace.

  “She’s here,” Maja says from the open doorway to my bedroom. “I’ll show her to your room.”

  We had Henrik go and pick her up from the airport. I probably should have gone with a sign that said Amelie on it, but the fact is, the public knows who I am now. I’m certainly not harassed when I’m out and about—Danes are far more polite than that. But they do love their royal family and I guess I’ve been accepted as one of them.

  More or less.

  I mean, I have seen some tabloids about me. Usually I’m just in a picture with the kids and get a one-liner about being the nanny. The more Danish that I know, the more I understand what they’re talking about and I’m not really that interesting to anyone.

  But then, sometimes, there’s a strange expose on me. That’s more from the British tabloids and those Royal Rags, as they call them, media that’s completely devoted to reporting on all the juicy gossip and public events of royal families around the world.

  They can be pretty merciless. I’ve seen them basically crucify Prince Viktor of Sweden and his American fiancée, and they love to hate on Prince Magnus of Norway and his old partying ways, even though he’s now married.

  They have tried to go after me, just a little. They talk about the other families I’ve been a nanny for in France, they talk about how pretty I am (thank you very much), but they also talk about my slutty uniform (urgh) and how it must be hard for King Aksel to work around me. That shit bugs me the most of all. They go on to say how if Queen Helena was alive, she would have never allowed me to be hired.

  That’s probably true, the more I hear about her, the real her. Aksel is still very careful when he talks about her and goes out of his way to not blame her for anything, as if her ghost is going to appear at any moment and hit him upside the head, but as I first suspected when I met him, Henrik spills the beans. Since he was her driver, he knew her pretty well and that public persona rarely matched her private one.

  But it’s the public one that counts when it comes to royalty and the public still thinks she’s an angel. And since she did do a lot of good, some of it even for altruistic purposes, there’s no tarnishing her reputation.

  So it’s Aksel who gets shit on and speculated on and sometimes I’m thrown into the mix. Mind you, it’s not the Danish media who is unfair to him in that way, but still.

  I’m just really lucky that they haven’t been able to dig up any dirt on my end of things.

  If they found out the truth about me.

  If they discovered who Rory Jameson is, all of this would be over.

  I really should come clean to Aksel. I should at least come clean to Amelie and start from there. But revisiting my past and the terrible horrors of who I was doesn’t seem worth it.

  Everyone deserves a second chance.

  Everyone deserves a fresh start.

  Otherwise we’re forever shackled to the people we used to be.

  Amelie herself snaps me out of my torrid thoughts.

  “Bonjour!” she cries out from the door, shuffling toward me with her arms out.

  “Bonjour!” I exclaim, getting out of my seat and going over to her. We embrace, bisous on each cheek.

  “You look fantastic,” she says to me, motioning to my plaid skirt. “I like this whole schoolgirl thing. Very, how do you say, kinky?”

  I laugh. “That’s probably not a good thing when you’re visiting a client.”

  “Ah, but he is a king and you are doing so very well. You should have no trouble getting laid at all.”

  I roll my eyes, stifling a guffaw. “Is that seriously why you came here?”

  “No,” she says bluntly with a mild shrug. “I also came to spy. This is my first time in a royal palace, I could not pass it up.” She reaches down and tugs at my skirt in the same way that Aksel does. I raise my brow. “Now, tell me you’ll wear this out tonight.”

  “If you insist.”

  But, of course, before we go anywhere, I give her the informal palace tour, starting with the girl’s and Snarf Snarf, with Maja entertaining them as I enjoy a legitimate day off, then the rest of the rooms in the palace. We even pass by Nicklas in the hall, who gives me a cold nod.

  “Who was that? He’s scary,” she whispers to me as he goes around the corner. Then before I have a chance to respond, she goes, “Mon dieu, that was him! The Queen’s butler.”

  “He’s Aksel’s secretary now.”

  “Oh, so strange. Why would he do that? He killed his wife.”

  I shrug and let out a sigh. “Well, it was an accident. But I don’t know. I would say that guy is the only downfall of working here. I’ve asked Aksel more than a few times on why he’s here, but I get what I think is a whole bunch of bullshit instead. Who knows.”

  “He’s not creepy to you, though? This butler.”

  “Not at all. I mean, I don’t like him, but he stays away from me for the most part.”

  Although the few times when Nicklas has approached me and Aksel was nearby, Aksel practically chased him away. This happened even before Aksel and I were together.

  And Aksel happens to be our last stop on the tour.

  Because it’s Sunday and it’s the evening, I know just where to find him.

  He’s in the living room, in his usual chair, drinking brandy. I had told him twice already that Amelie was coming, hence why I was actually using my day off. I normally would just march right over to him, but since I’m supposed to be the mere nanny and he is a King and this is my supervisor of sorts, formality rules.

  I clear my throat loud enough for Aksel to hear it.

  “Pardon me, sir,” I say, and he turns in his seat to look at me, brows raised. “But I have a guest here to meet you.” I look to Amelie but her cool French façade is cracking and she’s frozen in her tracks. “Amelie, this is His Majesty, King Aksel of Denmark.”

  Now, I have to admit, it never stops being fucking cool that I get to introduce him this way, even if I am just one of his staff members.

  And it definitely doesn’t stop being amazing that at night, I’m the one who gets to share his bed.

  Of course, I can’t tell her that.

  Aksel gets to his feet, even though I know he’d rather stay in his chair by the fire, nursing his drink. Past a certain hour, he says he really likes to ignore the whole “king” part of his life, like he’s off-duty with unionized breaks.

  Amelie is still a statue of herself, so I grab her hand and lead her over, like I would Clara or Freja.

  He shoots me a bemused look, the kind of look that makes him look younger, carefree. I’m seeing that look from him more and more often.

  I like to think it has something to do with me.

  He sticks out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Amelie.”

  When Amelie still doesn’t do anything but gawk, I take her hand and put it in Aksel’s.

  He shakes it and only then does she kind of respond.

  “Oh, hello. Oh, oui, Your Majesty. Désolée! I am so sorry, I do not know what happened there. Perhaps I lost my mind.”

  “It’s quite alright,” Aksel says and then looks to me. “I completely forgot that she was coming today.”

  “That’s because your brain has been elsewhere these days,” I say.

  And that’s because all the blood that normally goes to his brain has been redirected to his Danish dick. Not that I’m complaining.

  He nods at the chairs. “Do you girls want to join me?”

  “Phhfff,” I say. “Girls? Ladies you mean.”

  Now it’s Aksel’s time to scoff. “If you say so. The French one seems all right, but I’m still not sold on you.”

  “You are sold on me,” I remind him. “You pay my salary.”

  It’s then that I realize Amelie’s gaze is ping-ponging between us. “I don’t mind staying here,�
�� she says. “We don’t have to go out.”

  “Yes,” I say, grabbing her arm and pulling her away from Aksel. “Because you’ve made such a big deal about it, we do.”

  “You can find men another day, no?” she asks.

  Shit. My eyes laser onto hers. She wasn’t supposed to mention that, and she especially wasn’t supposed to make it look like it was my idea.

  “Find men?” Aksel repeats, voice hard.

  I glance at him warily, trying to give him the she’s crazy look with my eyes, but I’m not sure he’s picking up on it.

  “Oui,” Amelie says. “Men. Like yourself, or perhaps less royal. Single, though. You don’t expect Aurora to become an old maid working for you, do you?”

  Aksel’s gaze is as sharp as an icepick. “No,” he says after a moment. “I wouldn’t.”

  Oh, for crying out loud.

  “We’re just going out for a drink,” I assure him. “I’ll be home before you know it.”

  “But it’s your day off, no?” Amelie says, tilting her head. “You’re allowed to stay out as long as you want. He isn’t the boss of you.”

  “Technically I am,” he says gruffly, back into full-frowning mode. Yeesh. I’m going to have to spend a lot of time untangling this mess.

  “Yes, but it’s her day off, and according to the Danish labor laws, you have no say over it,” she says.

  “But I make the Danish labor laws,” he argues, narrowing his eyes.

  Amelie doesn’t care. She shrugs. Whatever effect on her he had has worn off and she’s back to being blasé. “Hmm, no, that would be the prime minister. Sorry, Your Majesty, but I look out for my client first and the King of Denmark second.”

  She grabs my hand. “Come now, darling, let’s go paint the town rouge.”

  She drags me to the door and I look at Aksel over my shoulder.

  He’s fucking pissed.

  Is it wrong that it makes me feel a bit giddy inside?

  We get in the car and Henrik drives us to the Ruby bar nearby, which I’ve always wanted to go to because it’s supposed to be hip and cool and all the things a normal twenty-six-year-old should be seeking out.