The swedish prince Episode 28 | Dapalace
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April 19, 2021

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The swedish prince Episode 28

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🌹🌹The Swedish Prince 🌹🌹

🌸🌸(ROYAL ROMANCE) 🌸🌸

🌹Chapter 28🌹

 

 

Viktor’s POV

It’s been a couple of days since Maggie arrived in Stockholm.

I would love to say the days have been bright and easy.

But that’s not quite the case.

The moment that I showed up in Tehachapi I knew there were two hurdles for me to jump. One was to convince Maggie to come back with me to Stockholm. This, I assumed, was the biggest hurdle of all.

But it didn’t take as much convincing as I thought. Probably because Maggie is somehow in love with a sorry sap like me, just as much as I am in love with her. When I finally convinced her, it felt like an anvil was lifted off my chest and that the hardest part of our relationship–(the will to continue it) –was over.

Then she got here. And already on her first day landing in Stockholm, she was alone. I had engagements and dinners I couldn’t get out of without a huge guilt trip and though I’m not always susceptible to guilt trips, I also knew I had to pick my battles. There would be many battles on the horizon.

Even so, I didn’t get back home until she was here and delirious with jet lag.

Which of course, because she went to bed earlier, meant she got up

at two in the morning and couldn’t get back to sleep. When I finally woke up at seven a.m., I found her wandering the halls of the estate. In the dim light after the snowstorm, she looked like a ghost, but she was more than content, just soaking in the history of the place and happy to be here.

It made me realize that she’s a lot more interested and excited about my new role, and all that comes with it, than I am.

But as the days went on, I became busier and busier. I tried to shake most things but unfortunately, so many of them were part of my job. Even just showing up counts. You make a speech, you cut a ribbon, you pose for pictures. If you aren’t there, the world will notice, and the world will talk, and they won’t be saying nice things.

Though Maggie was still coping with jet lag in a big way, she’s also very independent.

On the days I had engagements, I had Nick take care of her, driving her anywhere she wanted. He became her companion in some ways. Not quite a bodyguard but more like a tour guide. I know in the future that Maggie’s freedom here might be more constricted but for now, she could do what she wanted, go where she wanted. Even in -11C weather, even in the snow. She went out and braved it all.

I am feeling bad though.

I’m not connecting with her as much as I would

like.

I want her to feel that I’m here with her, not just some tired thing that stumbles in late at night. Someone that’s too overworked and overwhelmed to even take full advantage of this beautiful woman in my bed.

I swear it’s creating a bit more distance between us than before. We connect on so many levels, but we communicate best with our bodies. I need to be inside her, need to feel that contact, that love, that desire.

That understanding.

I need her more than I can bear.

I’m in the car, halfway to a lunch I’m supposed to attend with a Croatian diplomat, when my thoughts turn to the creaminess of her skin, the peach softness of her lips, the way she melts underneath my touch.

I can’t stand it anymore.

She’s here to be with me.

And one day she will be gone.

If I don’t take advantage of that, I’ll hate myself forever.

I tell the driver to turn around and take me back, all while sending a text to Freddie and telling him I don’t feel well. Freddie knows, of course, all about Maggie, even though he hasn’t met her yet.

He also knows I’m full of shit.

I don’t care.

The need to be with her is overpowering.

Within twenty minutes I’m dropped off back at the estate and storming through the halls looking for her.

“Where is Maggie?” I ask Bodi, who is dusting a painting.

“I believe she’s in the study, sir,” he says.

The study is on the main floor and actually just a living room, just on a cozier scale. There’s a desk and a couch, some arm chairs and a fireplace. A large bar cart. It’s a place to unwind with guests, so I can’t imagine why she’d be in there alone.

I walk inside and see her curled up on the couch with a book in her hand. She’s wearing fuzzy black leggings she’s calls her long underwear, as well as a soft gray sweater that falls off one shoulder, exposing her creamy skin. Her feet are encased in fluffy slippers.

“Oh hey,” she says, putting the book down. “Did you forget something?”

“Yes, you,” I tell her. I stride over to the couch and glance down at the book. It’s an old worn classic in English. “Watership Down?”

She smiles sheepishly which makes her cheeks extra rosy. “I remembered you telling me about having rabbits as a child and naming them after the book. When I saw this at a used bookstore the other day in English, I couldn’t help myself.”

“If you got it in Swedish maybe you could learn the language.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you would make a better teacher…”

She doesn’t have to finish the sentence.

I could teach her…if I were here.

She tilts her head and looks at me. “So, why are you here? Was it cancelled?”

I nod. “Yes. I cancelled it.”

“Why?”

🔞🔞🔞🔞

“Because I’d rather be with my lover than with a stuffy diplomat. That’s why.”

She stares at me for a moment and then takes the book, putting it gently on the coffee table beside the couch.

“Lover?” she questions. “Is that what I am today?”

But I don’t even have to answer her because she’s already taking off her slippers, then her leggings. Briefly her eyes flit over to the study doors I’d already closed.

“No one will come in here,” I tell her, my voice already growing rough with impatience. I have no doubt Bodi knows what’s happening behind those doors.

She reaches down and pulls her top off her head. I hadn’t even noticed that she wasn’t wearing a bra until now.

“Helvete,” I mutter, taking my dick out of my pants and giving it a long hard stroke as I stare down at her. She stares up at me with those dark, wide, almost nervous eyes, her lips parted, her silky dark hair across her face. Her nipples are hard pink peaks against her full breasts. Her stomach leads smoothly to her hips and thighs that just beg for my teeth to dig into them and make marks along her creamy flesh.

The sweet pink flash of her persika.

“I’ll do more than that,” she says, getting up on all fours and facing me. “I always remember what you said about my peachy lips that you like so much.”

A grin spreads across my face. “Which ones?”

I move closer to the couch while she reaches up for my dick, slowly wrapping her long fingers around it. The pressure reverberates along every inch of me, and I let out a harsh groan, the desire slamming into me.

“Lick me, sakta,” I tell her, my words coming out thick.

She flashes me a wicked smile. “Sakta? Is that Swedish for suck it?”

“It’s Swedish for slowly,” I tell her. “As in, go slowly. Please.”

“It’s been too long, I guess,” she muses in a teasing voice, sticking out her tongue and licking around the dark, swollen tip. My head goes back and my eyes close, giving into the feeling, even though I desperately want to maintain eye contact with her.

Her tongue slides down to the bottom of my shaft and everything inside me tenses. I’ve never felt like this, this white-hot blistering lust that penetrates every last nerve. This is what I get for waiting, sleeping beside her for days on end and being too tired to do anything.

The tension inside me builds and builds into something more than primal, and when I finally open my eyes, practically panting, her sly eyes glance up at me with excitement. With her dark hair spilling around her milky shoulders, she looks like a fucking goddess that men would have died trying to paint.

But she’s nothing but real, nothing but here and now as she takes me into her mouth. Her lips are wet and plush, like a ripe juicy peach.

Persika.

I make a fist in her hair, tugging on it just enough for her eyes to widen, and she sucks me harder in response. It would be so fucking easy to just come hard down the back of her throat and watch her swallow, watch her accept me.

But I’m not about to come now. I want to be inside her again, to feel every hot squeeze of her around me. I need that connection again. I need to remind her of why she’s here in Sweden, why she came to be with me.

She came here because I can’t be without her and I want to show her just how much I need her.

“Hold on,” I pant, pulling back. My cock pops out of her wet, wet mouth.

Helvete.

“Turn around,” I tell her, my voice shaking with need.

She does as I ask, and I grab her hips, tugging her back into me, teasing the crack of her bum with my glistening cock. Then I lean over and take a quick bite off her ass cheek.

“Ow,” she says, shooting me a deliciously dirty glance over her shoulder.

“Jag är ledsen,” I mutter. Which means I’m sorry. And I’m not really sorry at all. She knows how rough I can be.

Even so, I lick over the bite marks, making her relax, soothing any surprise. I want to know how wet and eager she is, so I part her cheeks and stroke my fingertips over her pussy, and I’m nearly salivating over how slippery she is.

I push my finger in and bite my lip at how she holds me. So tight. Her breath hitches and she lets out a breathless moan that shakes me to my core.

‘You’re mine. And only mine’. I said in my head

You’re here with me.

That’s all that matters.

Suddenly the urge, the pure need to be inside her is overpowering and I’m nearly trembling at the hunger pulsing through me. It’s this animalistic drive that sneaks up, like I’m being reduced to nothing but basic instinct around her. She’s not just Maggie, my Maggie, she’s this woman I need to claim, to take rough and hard and fast until I can’t remember my name, until I can’t remember who I am and what I do.

Until I can’t remember the person I’m supposed to be.

But I need to remember the person she thinks I am.

The person she fell in love with.

I need her to fuse to me, bend to me, I need to take her so hard that she knows exactly why she’s here.

I need her to know that this place, with me, inside her, is her home.

Without realizing it, I’ve pushed another finger inside her, rubbing eagerly against the right spot, feeling her swell around me.

“Viktor,” she gasps, her head down, her hair over her face as she breathes heavily, her body pressing back into me, wanting more. “God, you’re so good. So, so good. Never stop, never stop.”

Her words are so desperate and urgent.

They’re everything I needed to hear.

I have to get inside her now.

I quickly withdraw my fingers, rubbing them along my lips briefly, savoring her sweet and salty taste, and then I hold my shaft, rigid and heavy in my hand and angle it into her. I try to go slow, rubbing my head around her soft opening, getting my tip wet before pushing in just a few inches.

But just a few inches are enough to make my jaw clench, trying so hard to keep myself in control.

It’s been too long.

And she’s so hot and slippery and tight as a fucking fist that I want to slam myself inside of her, bury myself deep. It takes all of me to try and keep breathing, my fingers digging into her sides that I’ve bruised many times before.

“You’re perfect,” I tell her, my voice guttural as I push in deeper, watching as my cock disappears into her, her resistance deliciously tight. “So fucking perfect, Maggie.”

I pull out in a slow slide and she shudders beneath me before I push back into her, staying cautious. “I want all of you forever. I want every day to be like this. I don’t want the distance anymore, not when we’re both here.”

My words are coming out rough and jagged and I know I should probably stop talking but she makes me want to talk. She makes me want to tell her everything.

She arches her back into me and I slip myself deeper inside her, almost to the hilt. She stretches around me with a loud gasp, her cunt so snug and wet as I roll my hips against her bum. I’m lightheaded, breathless, and the fire inside me builds, licking me until I’m lost in this haze. The world has been reduced down to nothing but pleasure.

Nothing but us.

“Fuck,” she cries out. “God, Viktor, fuck me. Harder. Fucking harder.”

A growl escapes my lips at her dirty commands and I slam myself into her until she’s hugging every throbbing inch. She’s yelling my name and I hear nothing but my blood rushing through my head as I bury myself deep inside her. My hips thrust into her, hammering in this driving rhythm and I reach beneath her hips, trying to stroke her clit.

It’s wet, messy, and I can barely touch her where I need to but it’s enough for her to take over just as the couch starts to inch along the hardwood floors.

She braces herself on one arm and reaches back, and I straighten up, my hands splayed wide around her waist, gripping her harder and harder as I pound into her with reckless abandon.

Then Maggie is moaning, then screaming my name and swearing, and I don’t hold back. With a guttural groan, I come, the pleasure ripping through me, turning me inside out. I swear and cry out, coming into her as I go into some mindless, hypersensitive state. In this moment, I’m without thought or self-awareness. I’m just here.

I come back down to earth slowly, trying not to collapse onto her delicate body. I place my hands on the pink cheeks of her bum, leaning on them to keep myself up as I try to catch my breath. My skin is damp with sweat and burning hot, and I feel absolutely liquid inside.

Maggie is breathing hard too, her back rising and falling, having collapsed into the couch with her sweet bum in the air. She turns her head to the side, her face red and beaded with sweat, her eyes heavy-lidded and completely sated.

There are no words to say to each other.

We just know.

We know that’s what we both needed to reconnect.

We know that’s what we needed to feel whole.

We know that on this earth, no matter the time zone, all we need is each other.

She knows my heart and I know hers.

Sometimes it takes time to find it again.

* * *

***

* * *

The next day, our plans change.

They change because Magnus, dear crazy Magnus, somehow deduced that Maggie was at Haga Palace and then insisted on visiting.

I insisted on him not visiting.

But he’s a relentless and charming bastard.

“It’s just for a day,” he says over the phone. “You know I need to meet her. You know you need my approval.”

I don’t need his approval but there’s no point arguing with him at all. Magnus does what he wants.

“Fine,” I tell him. “But just so this gets in your head, we aren’t going out. She is a secret, you understand? I will protect her and guard this secret with my life.”

I instantly regret everything.

Magnus shows up like he always does. Well, I guess this time he doesn’t have a bottle of half-drunk booze in his hands, but he does show up loud and boisterous and ready to party.

For a moment there I forget who Maggie is, forget that she’s not some uptight, stuffy, boring noble woman that my parents have set me up with in the past. I forget that in many ways, Maggie is a lot like Magnus.

Hell, they even have roughly the same name.

“Mags,” I say to her as she comes down the stairs. I point to him. “This is Mags.”

“Hello,” Maggie says, immediately charmed just by looking at him. “So nice to—“

And then she’s swept off her feet in a second.

Magnus literally picks her up and twirls her around and she’s both screaming and laughing and I’m laughing too, trying to ignore the hot coal of jealousy inside me. I know I can be a possessive man, so Magnus isn’t helping.

“That was quite the, uh, greeting,” Maggie says as she’s placed back on the ground. “Is that how all Norwegians say hello?”

“I hope not,” Magnus says, raising his dark brows. “And here I was thinking I was original.”

I look down at Magnus’s bag, now a Formula One race car duffel. “What happened to the Louis Vuitton?”

He shrugs and gives me a devilish grin. “The girl wasn’t worth it.” He looks at Maggie. “Are you ready to party?”

“Party?”

I had warned her about Magnus but perhaps she thought I was exaggerating.

“Yes, party,” he says, clapping his hands together. “You know. I’m saying the word right, yes?” He pretends to boogie down like a lunatic, then mimes drinking and, well, mimes snorting something up his nose.

“There’s still the whole issue with us not being seen together in public,” I remind him before he gets out of hand.

A look of horror comes across his face. “You mean you’re ashamed of me?” He clutches his chest.

“I mean me and Maggie,” I say with a sigh. “This is still a secret that I’d like to keep and even if we used a back door,” he giggles at that, exchanges a look with Maggie, “people would still see us and speculate.”

“Relax,” he says to me, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “I have thought this through.”

He leans down and zips open his duffel bag and pulls out a mask, the type you’d see during the carnivale in Venice. “Here you go Viktor,” he says, waving a gold one at me until I take it from him. He then pulls out a silver one with teal feathers and hands it to Maggie. “And here you go, Mags.” Finally, he pulls out a black velvet one for himself.

Maggie turns the mask over in her hands. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yes,” I muse, looking at mine. “But I think this will only draw more attention to ourselves if we go to a club with these on our faces.”

“Silly, silly Swede,” Magnus says. “You think I haven’t thought of everything? Not only are we going to a sexy little masquerade party tonight, but I’ve also got five other masks in there for the bodyguards who will no doubt be following us. I already gave mine his and I think he was overjoyed by all the sequins and sparkles.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I say.

“Viktor,” Maggie says as if she’s scolding me. “This is the best idea I’ve ever heard.”

Magnus beams at me and gestures to her. “You see this girl here? She’s all right. In fact, I think I like her better than you.”

“I think you like most people better than me. I have no idea why you come by here.”

“Because you never come to Norway!” He looks at Maggie, shaking his head. “There I am in Oslo all alone.”

“Yeah right.” I laugh.

“All alone,” he repeats, “and he never comes to visit me.”

“You know I’m too busy. I’m not used to this stuff like you are,” I tell him. “All the engagements and formalities and officials and charities and…”

“I’m not necessarily used to it,” Magnus says, straightening up. “I just don’t let it dictate my life. I might be a prince but I have my own boundaries. This job does not define me.”

Meanwhile as we’re talking, Maggie’s eyes are volleying back and forth between us. I suppose it is kind of odd to hear two princes arguing about their jobs.

“Sorry Maggie,” I tell her. “Sometimes we forget how good we have it.”

She snorts as she tries to slip the mask on. “Are you kidding me? You couldn’t pay me to be a princess. Who wants that job?”

She slides the mask on just in time, as if she didn’t want me to see her expression as she said that.

I can feel Magnus staring at me. Of course the truth is that I’ve thought about her becoming a princess. If we ended up together and I didn’t end up abdicating that’s what she would be. Princess Margaret…Mayhem. And now she’s saying I couldn’t pay her to do it. I’m sure she meant it in a glib way but I have to admit, that remark bothers me.

 

 

🌸T. B. C🌸

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