🌹🌹The Swedish Prince 🌹🌹
🌸🌸(ROYAL [email protected]ç£) 🌸🌸
I notice the whole bo-ttomhalf of the screen is cracked. “You nee-d a new one,” I point out.
She gives me a wry smile as she texts. “I nee-d a new everything.”
From outside in the hall there is the sound of footsteps, the rustle of someone’s clothes as they walk. It reminds me of home, the way the officials stride down the palace hallways, always so full of pomp and business.
Her eyes wi-den and she pauses texting. She looks to me in fear and I quic-kly step into the closet, just in time for me to hear someone say sternly “Maggie?”
“Yup” Maggie says and throu-gh the slats of the closet I see her sl!pher phone inside her pocket. She walks over to the door.
“Are you still working on this room?” the voice, a woman, asks.
“Good girl,” she says and I can tell she turns to walk away.
“Wait,” Maggie cries out softly. “Juanita, I have a favor to ask you.”
A pause. “Yes?”
“I know this is such short notice but I’d like to use my vacation days and take the next two days off work.”
“What? Why, what’s going on?”
“I, uh, I have a friend who wants to take me to LA this weekend, just to give me a break. Since I haven’t taken any of my two weeks since I started working here, I figured I might as well before I get burnout.”
“I don’t have a problem with that, Maggie. I do have a problem with such incredibly short notice.” She sighs. “Luckily one of the housekeepers who just started has been asking for more shifts.”
“Oh thank you, thank you.” I can hear the smile on Maggie’s face which makes me smile in return.
It sounds like Juanita walks off and Maggie takes her time slowly walking back over to the closet. She brings out her phone and resumes texting.
“Can I come out yet?” I whisper.
She just smiles, tea-singly, like she likes having me in here. Finally she s£nds throu-gh the text and then opens the door.
“Looks like you’re going to LA,” I tell her. I know she hears the joy in my voice, sees it right there on my face, but I don’t care. I’m not going to pretend that this doesn’t mean the fv¢king world to me right now.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this” she says nervously. She glances at the phone. “And I don’t know yet if Annette will go for it.”
“Is this the woman who helped you carry me from the bar?”
“She sounds like a good friend. I’m sure she’ll say yes.”
At that her phone beeps and she glances down at it.
From the moment I first saw Maggie smile I thought she had the most S-xy, innocent and joyous smile I’d ever seen but I’ve never seen it as big and pure as it is right now.
That smile is for you, I tell myself. No one has ever smiled for you like that before.
“She said she’ll do it,” she cries out doing a little dance.
I gr-ab her by the [email protected]!st and yank her into me, k!ss!ngher [email protected] and quic-k on thel-ips. If I don’t get out of this room with her soon, there is going to be trouble.
“I’m going to start packing then,” I tell her, heading toward the door. “How much time will you nee-d after work to get re-ady?”
“Maybe an hour?” she says. “Better make it two.”
“Okay, I’ll come get you at five,” I tell her. “We can get a bite to eat on the road.”
“Okay,” she says, her eyes dancing.
I poke my head out into the hall to make sure no one sees me and then head to my room to pack.
Originally I had made my reservations for tomorrow night at the Hollywood Roosevelt h0tel, so I call them and move it up a day, securing one of their cabana rooms that overlook the pool. With Maggie with me, I’m pu-lling out all the st©ps to make this as memorable as possible.
Then I make an extra special secret request with the h0tel, the kind of crazy thing that only a fool in love would do.
But I’m not a fool in love.
I’m not in love.
And I don’t think I’m a fool.
I don’t know what I am.
I just know that the woman of my dreams, of my heart, of my life, is spending the new few days with me. Just the two of us. And when I get on the plane on Sunday and fly back home, I want to make sure she never ever forgets me.
I know I won’t forget her.
The thought of having to leave her kills me a bit inside but I push it aside and get busy packing.
After I’ve checked out and spent the good portion of the day hanging out in the lobby of the h0tel, re-ading a Swedish thri-ller that I’ve been fli-pping throu-gh for the last three weeks.
I head on over to pick her up. I have to admit, it’s kind of bittersweet to say goodbye to this h0tel. I feel like I’ve lived a lifetime alre-ady in this past week. I’ll especially miss their waffles.
I’m right on time but Maggie is alre-ady standing outside the house, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder.
She smiles broadly at me and then throws a wave over her shoulder to her family who are all gathered by the front door and runs on over to me before I even have a chance to turn off the engine and open the door for her.
She tosses her bag in the backseat and then gets in, arm poised and hanging out the window. She sli-ps on her sunglas-ses and taps the dashboard.
“Let’s go,” she cries out happily.
“Your wish is my command,” I tell her, giving a quic-k honk at the house before peeling out onto the street. “You seemed re-ady to get out of there,” I comment as we cruise throu-gh the streets toward the highway.
“Oh yeah. Once it hit me what I was actually doing, where we were going…who I was going with, I couldn’t pack fast enough.”
“Do they care that you’re going?”
“The kids don’t care. April is probably jumping for joy, especially after last night. She thinks the cops threating Tito was all my idea of course, even though I was with you the whole time” she pauses. “Pike wasn’t too happy about it.”
“I get the impression that he doesn’t like me. I was surprised he even helped me with the car.” In fact, all while he was helping with the carburetor I was afraid to turn my back to him, thinking he might try and whack me over the head with a wrench.
“What does he think I’m going to do?”
“I suppose he thinks you’ll take me to Sweden and I’ll never return.”
I swallow, feeling bricks in my stomach.
Would that be so bad?
“Wouldn’t that be something,” I say, trying to sound ever so easy going.
“Mmmm,” she muses. I have a feeling it’s something she would never even entertain. “I just can’t believe I’m going to LA.”
“You must have been before,” he says. “You live so close.”
“When I was younger, but I don’t remember it too well and you don’t really give a $h!t about LA when you’re a kid. I think we went for a wedding or something. All I really wanted to do was go to Disneyland but of course we could never afford to do that.”
“Well, I’ve never been to Disneyland either. I think we should go.”
She stares at me, her brows raised. I know her eyes un-der those glas-ses are wi-de and round and saucers. “You’re kidding me.”
I shrug. “Why not? There are no cows on the ice this weekend, Miss America. Only you, only me. And we can do whatever the fv¢k we want to do, starting right now.”
She laughs, loud and bright, a sound I feel will be burned forever in my head.
“Okay. First st©p then is In & Out Burger in Lancaster.”
“In & Out?” I repeat. “That sounds kind of…lewd.”
“Well the taste is [email protected], that’s for sure.”
“All right. First st©p. [email protected] burgers.”
She seems to get all quiet and blush at that.
Probably because she’s thinking the same thing I’m thinking.
Neither of us can wait for dessert.
“So this is Los Angeles” Viktor muses as the mustang cruises down the freeway, the valley disappearing behind us, the city opening up in front of us beneath a layer of smog.
Being it’s Thursday evening, there’s quite a bit of traffic, but we’ve managed to miss the worst of rush hour thanks to our st©p at In & Out burger.
I think I took too much plea-sure in watching Viktor wolf down his animal fries, cheeseburger and chocolate shake. I don’t know where he puts it all, but it’s apparent now that whatever Viktor eats immediately gets transformed into muscle. A steak? He just added an eight pack to that six pack. Must be a Swedish thing.
We’re staying in Hollywood at the famous Roosevelt h0tel, right across from where the Oscars are held and the Gruaman’s Theatre (which now has a new name but old habits die [email protected]).
I know most tourists come to this area and that’s probably why Viktor picked it but even though I haven’t seen Hollywood first hand, I do live in SoCal and so I do know it’s a cesspool of human garbage and gaudy commercialism.
“Oh,” Viktor says as the mustang cruises down Hollywood Blvd, eyeing everything like he’s made a hvge mistake. “I didn’t quite picture this.”
“What, the guy taking a leak on the Starbucks door, the woman across the street yelling at people, or Captain Jack Sparrow who seems to be fighting a saggy-as-sed Spiderman over a quarter?”
He nods as he takes it all in. “Yes. All of that.”
“Welcome to Hollywood,” I tell him. “May we never leave the h0tel.”
“May we never leave the h0tel room,” he says, glancing at me. Though there’s the telltale sm-irk on hisl-ips, his eyes have taken on an edge. The kind of edge that makes my stomach fli-p.
I tried not to think about it on the drive down in case I was going to psych myself out, but there was no mistaking what this weekend was about. Yes, it was about hanging onto Viktor for every last moment that I got.It’s also about having Viktor in every single way I can get.
In New York, the few [email protected]£s I’d gone on, some of them had ended in S-x. Sometimes the first [email protected]£, often the second. And I was nervous for each one. Worried about everything from how the guy was going to judge my b©dy or my performance, to whether it was going to be any good, what kind of protec-tion we were going to use, if it was going to be weird to be inti-mate with someone I didn’t know well. Sometimes I even worried if the guy would be an as-s-hole if I decided to say no.
But with Viktor…it’s different. Every single thing about him is different. He’s nothing like the guys I’ve [email protected]£d or sle-pt with. What we have, whatever it is, is nothing like the relationsh!ps I’ve had before.
Don’t get me wrong, I am nervous about having S-x with him. I want everything to be perfect, I want to make it so he’ll never forget me. I want him to str!p all my inhibitions away and turn me into a wanton, greedy woman.
But at the same time, it feels like it has to be this way. I mean, the first time I la-id eyes on this man, he was buck n-ked. After that, everything sort of fell into place.
I know my cheeks are h0t right now un-der his gaze. My b©dy has been doing nothing but betraying me this past week.
He pu-lls the car around to the back of the h0tel where one of the valets cheerfully takes the vehicle, gushing over the make and model and all that car stuff. The mustang is a gorgeous blue, the color of the de-ep Pacific, and a few middle-aged women waiting for their rides, big sunglas-ses taking over their face, are admiring it.
Or maybe they’re admiring Viktor. Everyone here seems to be someb©dy and Viktor definitely is. They might not recognize him as the crown prince of Sweden but with his stature and his ridiculous good looks, they probably as-sume he’s a movie star.
Of course I feel out of place at the Roosevelt. It’s not abundantly fancy but it’s got this h!p, young Hollywood vibe, and let’s face it, the place is way too cool for me. I wish I had put more thought into my clothes on this trip instead of sli-pping on jeans, a tank t©p and Converse but I pretend that I’m so famous, I don’t even nee-d to dress up.
“Here you go, Mr. Andersson,” the smiling receptionist says to Viktor as she hands him the key cards and for a moment I’m confused until I remember that he has to travel un-der the fake name and only I know who he really is.
The receptionist then seems to wi-nk at me and gives me an impish smile. Jeez, they sure are friendly here. You don’t get that kind of greeting at my h0tel.
Viktor waves away any help with the bags, which is odd because I as-sumed that he’s used to having people do stuff for him. I mean he told me he not only has a pri-vate secretary but a butler as well.
We walk throu-gh the h0tel toward the pool area, past cool little outdoor bars with Turkish rugs, a multitude of dangling lights all over the place. People are drinking, socializing, some are jumping in the pool. Again, not the type of h0tel I’m used to working in.
“I was going to get that room for us,” he nods at a door as we pas-s it on the second floor, the walls here are white concrete or brick, giving you the feel of being somewhere exotic. “It was Marilyn Monroe’s suite. Unfortunately, someone had alre-ady taken it.”
“j£rks,” I mumble un-der my breath. I love Marilyn but I’m just so damn happy to be here, I would have taken any room.
“Here we are,” Viktor says as he pauses at one of the doors. I could be wrong, but I swear he looks nervous.
He takes an anxious look at me, as if to say here goes nothing, and then swipes the key in front of it, opening the door.
We step into the room.
He fli-cks on the light.
It takes me a moment to take it all in. It’s a really nice room for sure but that’s not what gr-abs my eye, causes my hand to fly to my che-st and makes me [email protected]
A trail of purple flowers leads from where we’re standing at the door all the way to the be-d, the white be-dcover absolutely covered in them.
Then the smell hits me and my eyes adjust better.
Instead of rose petals, the room has been sprinkled with lavender.
I stare at Viktor in disbelief. “Did you do this?”
“Well, I had the h0tel do it, but yes.”
I’m completely dumfounded by this.
He did this.
“Do you like it?” he asks tepidly, and now I see why he was so anxious before.
“Viktor,” I say, his name comes out breathless as all my emotions rush to the surface. “This is the most ro-mantic, beautiful thing that anyone has ever done for me.”
He shoves his suitcase and my duffel bag off to the side and then places both of his hands on each sides of my cheeks. I love it when he does this. His hands are so large, warm, strong; my face so small in comparison. I feel protected and adored.
The heated glint in his eyes spear me, holding me in place as much as his hands do, and he looks dangerously handsome, the lights in the room showcasing the sharpness of his cheekbones and the hollows un-derneath.
He has a face that you could see someone like Da Vinci trying to paint, forever trying to capture his beauty but never getting it quite right because it’s Viktor himself that takes your breath away, it’s his spirit and soul that shines throu-gh the symmetry of his features.
His gaze drops to myl-ips, his gorgeously long lashes creating shadows against his golden skin.
“Mitt liv, mitt allt,” he murmurs in Swedish, his voice so low and rou-gh it makes shivers shower down my back. “Mitt Maggie.”
I don’t un-derstand what he’s said, all I know is that he meant it.
His thumb runs across the edge of my jaw, pausing at myl-ips.
“I could k!ssyou for a thousand days and it still wouldn’t be enough,” he says.
“I could gaze at you for a million days and it wouldn’t be enough. I could t©uçh you, taste you, be so de-ep inside you that you’re fused to my skin, do this forever and it still wouldn’t be enough. Forever with you isn’t enough.”
Tears prick at the back of my eyes. I swallow, trying to stay strong. This shouldn’t be so [email protected] This shouldn’t feel like this. I shouldn’t be so lost, so head over heels over heart for this man.
We should have stayed strangers.
That thought s£nds a jo-lt throu-gh me. On one hand, had we never gotten to know each other like this, it wouldn’t hurt so much to have him leave. On the other hand…fv¢k. I wouldn’t have known this.
I’ve never had this before.
I’m not sure if I will again.
He’s right. If forever wouldn’t be enough, these last few days sure as hell won’t be.
“But,” he says, leaning in and softly places his mouth on mine, dragging his t©p l!pover my t©pl-ip. Somehow he tastes like lemon drops.
“We both know I don’t have you forever. Only for a few days. And I am going to spend every moment with you, trying to stretch it out into infinity. I want to feel yourl-ips burn on mine the entire plane ride back home. I want the taste of you still in my mouth as I fall asleep at night.”
He brings his face back just enough as one of his hands sli-ps down to the hem of my t©p, tugging at it impatiently.
“I would like to get started now.”
I laugh at his sudden formality.
“Well okay then” I tell him, raising my arms above my head so he can pu-ll the t©p right off.
“Let’s get started.”
He grins at me and yanks the t©p over my head, leaving me in just my [email protected] My best [email protected] though, in racy red balconette lace. In the past maybe I would have covered up my brea-sts, feeling insecure or on displa-y, but it’s impossible to feel anything but de-sired with the way Viktor is staring at me.
I shift backward and undo my jeans, shimmying out of them, so I’m standing in just my thong and [email protected]
I feel like I’m burning up un-der the heat of his gaze, a look that both terrifies me and gives me courage. Feigning confidence, I hook my thumbs around the lacey sides of my un-derwear and start to pu-ll them down.
“Wait,” Viktor says hoarsely. “I want to take them off with my teeth.”
He gestures to the petal-strewn be-d and starts un-bu-ttoning the short-sleeve dress shi-t he’s wearing. “Lie down. On your back. Legs over the end.”
I raise my brows. “Wow, demanding much?”
My defiance makes his eyes fli-cker. Gives me a quic-k, cunning smile as he steps toward me and places one hand on my che-st.
“Lie down,” he whispers gruffly into my ear, giving me a small push downward until my knees are buckling and I’m falling, the lavender pressing into my spine. “On your back.”
He then reaches down and gr-abs both of my h!ps with bruising strength and yanks me so that my as-s is on the edge of the mattress. “Legs over the end,” he repeats.
I haven’t seen this side of Viktor before and I’m taken aback, staring at his broad throat where his pulse ticks. I blink up to meet his eyes and I see fire crackling along the glacial blue, a wildness he’s kept so well hidden beneath his stately demeanor.
I like this side of him.
No, I love it.
He gives me that wicked smile again and then I’m met with a [email protected], punishing k!ssthat takes my breath away. I arch up for him, lacing my f!ngersaround the back of his n£¢k to keep from falling further back as his hands sli-ps across my stomach, down between my legs. His f!ngersglide over the fabric of my un-derwear.
“This all for me?” he murmurs against my mouth. “All so we-t for me?”
Everything is for you.
The pressure from his f!ngersde-epens, ripping a [email protected] from my throat.
God…oh…that feels nice.
Nice in a way that makes me realize how fv¢king hungry for him, for this, I am. I have no doubt that he won’t take long to make me come.
He pu-lls back and brings his mouth down my n£¢k, over my collarbones, my brea-sts, the sides of my [email protected]!st. He’s both k!ss!ngand nipping, sweet sharp pain that creates jo-lts of electricity between my legs.
His teeth raze down my h!ps and he takes the stra-p of my un-derwear in his mouth, his ton-gue curling around, and pu-lls it down. I bite my l!pand bring my legs together to help him get it off. It doesn’t look that easy but it looks S-xy as hell.
The swedish prince Episode 19
🌹🌹The Swedish Prince 🌹🌹