Sometimes multiple people at once.
Dubbed as Denmark’s very own Casanova, I don’t mind the nickname. I don’t shy away from an adventure. So when Max told me about the opening within the Lords of Darkness, I thought,why the fuck not?
Having been raised as royals, we were already used to secrecy. We’d been trained by the best of the best, and both of usknew what kinds of evil lurked around every corner more than anyone.
I never expected to get the job, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I wanted to be remembered as something other than a Prince. I wanted to make a name for myself.
“Does my pretty, little minx enjoy being edged?” I whisper into her ear as my tongue flicks against the skin of her neck.
“Fuck off,” she replies.
I chuckle as I pinch her nipple harder. This makes her let out a tiny, breathless sigh.
“You think I’m done with you?”
“Does it matter if I say no?”
This makes me laugh. “Very good.”
“We shouldn’t,” she adds.
“Why?”
“Because this is a job.”
“You’re right. It is a job, but it happens to be a job where any one of us could die at any point. And do you know what turns me on more than anything, darling?”
I swear I feel her heart jump at the nickname.
“What?” she asks, squirming on top of me.
“Danger.”
I let my fingers fondle and circle her nipple for a few more minutes—until she’s rocking her hips to get any kind of friction. My cock is leaking precum, and as I continue to subtly nibble and whisper sweet nothings into her ear, we arrive at the venue.
It’s a palace just outside of the city, and a chauffeur opens our doors. Astern hops off my lap and I have to adjust myself before I get out, but when I do, she shoots me a darkened look before stalking off with Quinn.
“Subtle,” Max murmurs as Lachlan walks ahead of us with Alaric.
Sterling, Theo, Gideon, and Harlow are all in a car behind us, and I hear them pull up to the valet line as we walk up to the house.
I look over my shoulder and wink at them as we’re all ushered into the house. There’s already a crowd of stuffy people wearing suits and gowns, drinking champagne out of crystal flutes in the foyer. Most people are standing around the formal ballroom. As I meander through the crowd with my brother, I make sure to keep an eye out for our targets without being obvious about it.
Once we get to the other side of the ballroom, I see a group of people surrounding the King–who is sitting on a chair resembling a throne. Though I’ve met him a few times at various head of state dinners, I’m here tonight for other reasons, and I doubt I’ll have time to say hello.
“I know who you’re looking for,” Max says, his voice low in my ear.
I smirk. “One can hope.”
“He’s not here. Not after what happened last year.”
Alexander Charles Reginald Mountbatten III.
He was considered a crown prince of England up until last year, when it came out that he wasn’t actually related to the King at all but was instead a child born due to an affair the Queen had before she passed away.
It was all very scandalous, but it doesn’t change the fact that Alexander–or Alex, for short–was my first crush.
He was also the first and only man I ever let top me.
