Prince Albert: A Billionaire Stepbrother Romance (18 page)

She squirms on the bed, which I know only has the effect of pushing the plug deeper inside her ass.  “Yes.”

“Do you want me?” I ask, pressing further inside her before stopping.

“Yes,” she whispers, arching her hips up again.  “I was so close.”

"Tell me how close," I say, not moving.  “I want to hear how close you were.”

“I was going to come,” she whispers.

“When?” I ask.  “Tell me.”

She moans.  “When you put the plug in my ass,” she says.  “When your tongue was inside me.”

I thrust all the way into her in one movement, finding her hands and pinning them over her head for leverage.  Fucking her with deep thrusts, I watch the expression change on her face as she experiences the sensation of having the plug inside her.  “Tell me how good it feels to be completely filled up,” I say.

“So good.”  She lets out a little grunt that I know means she’s hurtling toward the same place again.  She’s so tight, so wet, that I struggle to maintain coherence.  “So, so good.”

“You’re so close now,” I say as I thrust inside her.  “But I don’t want you to come.  Not yet.”

Not even if the thought of you opening yourself to me makes me want to come inside you right now.

My cock swells, and I want to release everything I have in her.  But I can't resist making her wait.  I can’t help but enjoy telling her when to come.  I can't help but enjoy making her release control to me.  Even if I can barely hold out.

"Oh God," she moans.  "Please?"

"Please what?"

"Please let me come," she whispers, and I feel her pussy muscles flutter around me.  She's losing control.

"Not yet," I tell her, thrusting inside her until I'm on the verge of explosion.  "You know that I’m going to take you completely.  I’m going to claim your ass.”

“Oh my God,” she whispers.

“Tell me how much you want to feel me inside you,” I say.  “All of you.  Tell me how much you want me to fuck that tight little virgin asshole.”

“Oh fuck, Albie.”

“Tell me.”

“I want you to be yours,” she says.  “Completely.”

It’s enough.

“Come for me, luv,” I groan, barely able to get out the words before I let go inside her, blinding white-hot light as I fill her up.  Her muscles clamp down around me, and she starts to cry out, but I keep her from doing it, kissing her as she moans into me.

It feels like forever until she milks every last drop from me.

Afterward, she looks up at me, her chest still rising and falling, and her breath short.  "Oh my God, Albie."

"I told you I'd make you beg."

CHAPTER THIRTY

Belle

"I want to fuck you."

I whirl around to see Albie standing there, the wall behind him open to the secret passageway leading from my room.  “Oh my God.  You nearly just gave me a heart attack,” I say, picking up a pillow from the bed and throwing it at him.  "Besides, what if someone had been in here?”

"You were in your own little world over there," he says, crossing the room to reach me.  He slides his hands around my waist.  "I knocked and I tried to call you, but you didn't hear me."

"You need to go," I whisper, pushing him back.  "My bodyguard will probably be knocking on the door any minute now."

"Simon," he says.

"You know his name?" I ask.  My attention is split between Albie and the outfits I'm supposed to choose between that are lying on the bed.  "Did you check him out?"

"Of course I did," Albie says.  "I can't have just anyone looking after you.  Noah assures me he's solid."

"How protective and also slightly misogynistic of you."

"Careful with the big words, luv," he says.  "Me caveman.  No understand big words."

I stick out my tongue at him before looking back at my outfit choices.  "I'm going to be late," I say.

"So you don't want me to help you get dressed, then," he says, pulling me against his hardness.  Heat pools between my legs, but I push him away.

"Your version of getting dressed involves fewer articles of clothing than mine does," I say, laughing even as he reaches for the hem of my t-shirt and yanks it over my head.

"You should be in fewer articles of clothing," he says.  His hands run up my back to unhook my bra but I wriggle away.

"I need my bra, thanks," I say.

"But you don't need those pants."  He reaches for the button on my jeans and I smack his hands.

"Out," I tell him.  "I'm going to be late."

"Fine, fine," he says, raising his hands in mock surrender as he walks backward.  "Where are you going?"

"Why, are you keeping tabs on me?" I tease.  I yank off my jeans and shimmy into a royal blue skirt that matches a suit jacket on the bed.

A knock on the door interrupts us before I can answer, and I glare at Albie, as I point toward the secret passageway.  "Just a second!" I yell.

Albie rolls his eyes and sighs before disappearing behind the wall.  Luckily, it's only the stylist, checking to see what help I need with my outfit.  She eyes me critically, her gaze focused on the length of my body.  "Look," I say.  "It seems a bit ridiculous to get dressed up like this to go do charity work."

Belle looks at me, her lips pursed like she just ate a lemon.  "You're not
doing charity work
," she says.  "You're representing the royal family.  This isn't a formalized PR event, but there will likely be photographers there, media presence.  You must look like you're one of the royals.  Classy.  Subdued.  Appropriate.  Oh, just a second.  I have just the thing."

She disappears into the closet, leaving me standing there with my heart in my throat.  When my mother said she'd set up some charity work for me, that I could go to visit a children's hospital in town or a refugee organization, I didn't consider the fact that it would involve the media. 
That
is exactly the opposite of what I'm interested in.

The stylist returns with a pearl necklace in her hand.  "This will do," she says.  "Would you like me to help you with it?"

I nod mutely as she slips it around my neck, then steps back and nods her approval.  "One other thing," she says, reaching for her handbag.  She pulls out a file and hands it to me.  "Your mother asked that I pass along the itinerary information to you.  Your security detail will accompany you, but unfortunately, she will not.  Something came up.  She requested that I pass along her regrets."

"What?" I squeak.  My mother sent the stylist to drop the bombshell that there will likely be photographers at the children’s hospital and that – oh, by the way, no big deal – I’ll be attending by myself?

I clench my hands, digging my fingernails into my palm. 
Damn it.

"Is there anything else, Miss Kensington?" the stylist asks.  She's already on the move, headed toward the door with her large tote bag over her shoulder.

I clear my throat.  "No.  Thank you."

I wait until she's gone to groan my frustration, as I grab my clutch purse, momentarily considering faking sick to get out of this afternoon.  But only for a split second – I’m going to a children’s hospital, after all.

I’ll be able to get through a little bit of media time, I mentally reassure myself.  The palace public relations team has read me the riot act, already preparing me for what to say and what not to say when it comes to the media.  If I can simply remember to breathe and smile and wave, everything will be okay.  I’ll just pretend not to hear any questions that reporters ask.

It’ll work, I tell myself.

Totally.

I feel like I’m going to vomit.

Outside, I walk with Simon to the car.  Simon seems to be made entirely of stone, his face expressionless.  He makes no attempt at chitchat or small talk as we walk, something that at least the other bodyguards try to do.

Being accompanied by Simon only makes my anxiety worse.

I’m filled with dread.  The only times I've been outside the palace or summerhouse have been accompanied, and now I'm walking into a potential media situation.

I tell myself not to panic as Simon opens the car door for me.

"Need a lift?"  Albie grins at me from inside the car.

"Are you following me?"  I try to inject some annoyance into my voice, but I can't.  I'm too relieved to see him.

Albie doesn't answer until the car starts moving.  "If you like, I can have them stop."

"No," I say, exhaling heavily.  "Where are you going?"

"To the children's hospital," he says.

"You're going with me?"

Albie shrugs.  "Noah mentioned you had this today and that your mother couldn’t attend," he says.  "Sick kids are the prince's purview too, you know."

"You do charity work?" I ask, looking at him.

"Occasionally," he says.  “I do have the capacity to think of someone besides myself.”

“I’d never have guessed,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.  "Wait.  Did you come along because of me?"

"You mean, because I wanted the pleasure of your presence?" he asks.

I laugh.  "No.  Did you come with me because you thought I couldn't handle this myself?"

"I came with you because I couldn't think of anything better to do this afternoon," he says.

"Uh-huh."  I look out the window, watching the scenery whiz by along the countryside.  "Well, I'm glad you decided to come, anyway."

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Albie

I haven't been inside a hospital since my mother was sick.  We had our own royal physicians, of course, and round-the-clock care for her from the best oncologists and physicians in Europe.

But once, toward the end, things got really bad, and she was brought to the military hospital in our capitol for treatment.  There are all of these protocols for something like that, an entire wing at the hospital cleared for a member of the royal family, windows covered in brown paper in the hallways as a precaution in case of assassination attempt. 

During a moment of lucidity, my mother laughed at the irony of security trying to prevent her assassination, given her terminal illness.

That was the only time I’ve been in a hospital.

I can still remember how it smelled – antiseptic and stale, the rooms pumped full of so much air conditioning that it almost felt colder inside the hospital room than outside in the chilly winter air.

I can’t forget the intermittent beeping and whirring of the machines.

For a moment, standing just inside the pediatric oncology ward, I think that coming here with Belle was a mistake.

When I see the kids in various stages of cancer treatment, all I can think about is my mother's death.

Belle is beside me.  She meets my gaze and I think she knows what’s going through my head.

Then she squats down to talk to a little girl, who laughs as Belle reaches out and takes her hand and walks toward a group of kids.  And I'm jerked out of my self-pity by a little boy who wants to know if I really live in a palace, and whether or not I own any race cars.

We spend a couple of hours reading stories and answering questions about royal life (“Do you have a crown?” “Do you have glass slippers?” “Do you sleep on a dozen mattresses?” directed at Belle, who furrows her forehead for a moment before realizing that it’s a reference to the Princess and the Pea fairytale).

Seeing Belle with the children makes me feel good, even though the setting brings up bad memories.  “You’re a natural with the kids,” I tell her as we walk out the door.

Outside, she immediately tenses when a small group of photographers rush toward us, their cameras clicking away.  I pause, whispering to Belle to wave, and she stands beside me, smiles, and waves.

Once inside the car, she slumps back against the seat.  "Thank you," she says, her voice wavering.  She clasps her hands together, her fingernails digging into the back of her hand.

"I told you that you wouldn't have to answer questions," I say.  "Just smile and wave."

"No," she says, turning to face me.  "Thank you for that, too.  But, I mean, thank you for going there.  It couldn't have been easy for you, with the way your mother died.  You were really good with the kids."

I nod.  Belle seems to have an uncanny way of anticipating how I feel about things.  I'm not sure whether to be unsettled by that or pleased with it.

When she reaches for my hand, her face forward and not saying a word, I don't even flinch.

Contentment used to be a strange feeling.  Yet, with Belle, it’s somehow starting to become a familiar one.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Belle

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to make it today, Belle,” my mother says, setting down her fork.  “There was an error in the schedule.”

“Wedding cake disaster?” I ask, only slightly sarcastic, as I sip my cup of tea.

“Oh, did your stylist already tell you?” she asks.  “The chef had flown in from Paris for the afternoon, and it was last-minute, so…”

“It ended up being fine,” I say, cutting her off. 
Of course
it was a wedding cake disaster.  “Albie went with me.”

“Oh, Albie, you’re a darling.”  My mother sips her wine and beams at King Leo.  “We did decide on a wedding cake.”

“Awesome,” Alexandra says drolly, rolling her eyes.  “As much as I’d love to stay and chat, I’m going to London with my friends tomorrow, so I’ll need to pack.”

“Alexandra,” Leo says sharply.  “The trip can still be revoked.”

“Great,” she says, tipping back her glass of wine.  “Then I’ll sit here and hang out.  These family dinners are becoming the highlight of my day.”

A flash of emotion crosses my mother’s face, something akin to embarrassment, and she squeezes Leo’s forearm.  “Perhaps she could join us for breakfast in the morning,” she says.

Leo clears his throat.  “Fine,” he says, waving at her.  “Go.  Pack for London.”

Alexandra leaves the table in a huff, and Albie and I exchange glances.

Albie shrugs, looking down at his cell phone like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.  My phone is on silent, but I know Albie is texting me.  When I glance up at my mother and the king, they’re in their own little world, holding hands and making gooey eyes at each other.  My mother looks at him with adoration.

Okay, so maybe I’m starting to be convinced that she does love him, after all.

Excuse yourself from dinner and go to your room.

I text back, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.

Bossy, much?

I look down again.

I have plans for you that I know you’ll like.

The message sends a rush of heat between my legs.  I clear my throat.  “I think I’m going to actually skip dinner tonight as well,” I say.  “Going to the hospital today was much more tiring than I thought it would be.”

The king looks at Albie, his eyebrows raised.  “Et tu, Albert?”

Albie grins, shrugging.  “I told some of my friends I’d hang out with them.”

King Leo sighs.  “Fine.  Off you go, all of you,” he says.  “Have fun.”

Back at my room, Martin stands in the hallway, his hands folded in front of him, looking straight ahead at nothing.  “Don’t you get bored, doing this?” I ask.

“Of course not, Miss Kensington.”  He doesn’t move an inch.

“Well, I’ll be in my room all night,” I say.  “I have a headache.  I’m going to sleep early.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You know, just in case you want to get a coffee or take a break.”

“It would be extremely negligent to leave my post, Miss Kensington,” he says, his expression unchanging.

I roll my eyes, opening the door to my bedroom.  Albie gets Noah, who flips him off, but I get stuck with the most humorless bodyguard on the security team.  I wonder if I can request a new version that comes with a sense of humor.

Albie knocks quietly on the wall by the secret passageway, and I let him in.  “Keep your voice down,” I whisper.  “Simon is outside.”

“We’re not staying here, anyway,” he says.  He sets a leather carryall just inside the room.

“What’s that?”

“Supplies.”

“What kind of supplies?”

A slow smile spreads across Albie’s face.  “Greedy little thing, aren’t you?”

I feel myself flush as he walks toward me and slides his finger under my chin, tilting my mouth up to his.  When he kisses me, I melt into him, desire rushing through me as he slowly unzips the back of my dress.  It falls to the floor at my feet in a puddle of fabric.

Unclasping my bra, he tosses it across the floor and then backs up, appraising me from arm’s length.  “Much better.”

“Are you happy now?” I ask.

“Not quite,” he whispers.  “We have places to be.”

“You’re undressing me, but we have an agenda?”

Albie steps close to me, running his hands up the middle of my back.  His touch makes me shiver, goose bumps dotting my arms.  My nipples stand at attention and I press my body against his, craving his touch.

When he walks away from me, uttering a groan under his breath, my body aches for him.  “I have something for you,” he says, turning to open his bag.

“Should I be scared?”

He turns, a purple plastic object attached to a harness dangling from his fingers.

“What is that?”

“I want you to wear this,” he says, kneeling at my feet.  “I want you to wear this.”

“What is it?”

“A vibrator,” he says, sliding the harness up my legs, his hands brushing lightly along my thighs.

“If you think I’m wearing this to another party, you’re out of your mind,” I protest.  But I can’t help the moan that escapes my lips when he reaches my pussy.  Before he puts the vibrator on me, he pauses to press his mouth against my clit, rolling his tongue over me.

When I press his head against me, he pulls away, replacing his lips with the vibrator.  Disappointment rushes through me.  “Not here, luv,” he says.  “Don’t worry.  I’ll have my mouth on you soon enough.”

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“That would spoil the surprise.”

“But you’re outfitting me with a vibrator,” I whisper.

“I’m not done yet, luv,” he says, standing as he flicks on the vibrator with his remote.  The buzzing directly on my clit sends pleasure soaring through my body.  Albie brushes his fingers against my pussy lips.  “You’re wet already.  Dirty girl.”

Dirty girl.

Albie is definitely turning me into one.

My inhibitions are being slowly stripped away by this man who seems to have no inhibitions of his own.

He reaches into his bag and removes a butt plug and lubricant.  Arousal rushes through me at the sight of the objects he used on me before.  But my lingering sense of propriety makes me protest.  “I’m not going out in public with that, Albie,” I whisper.

“Semi-public,” he says, kneeling at my feet again, his face hovering inches from my pussy.  When he brings the toy to my rear, I tense, even with the vibration surging through my clit.

“Not even semi-public,” I say.

“It’s just the two of us,” he says.  “I promise.  Away from the palace.  Do you trust me?”

He grins as he looks up at me, and I sigh.  “I’d have to be crazy to trust you.”

“You do strike me as rather insane,” he says.  “Now, spread your legs for me, luv.”

I don’t know why I listen to him.

I don’t know why it’s so thrilling to obey Albie’s commands. 

I don’t know why I step a foot to the side, my legs spread, the vibrator teasing my clit.

I just do it. 

The air feels cool on my wet pussy.

“God, you look gorgeous from down here,” Albie says.  With one hand, he slides two fingers inside me and with the other, he presses the plug against my asshole.  He’s gentle with it, slowly maneuvering the lubricated toy inside me while his fingers play with my pussy.  The stimulation is almost unbearable, the pleasure nearly too much as he fills me up to the hilt with the plug.

On the floor kneeling between my legs, he strokes me with his fingers while the vibrator does its work on my clit.  The sensation of being completely filled up is almost too over-stimulating.  Within seconds, I’m nearly doubled over, clutching his head and clinging to him as my orgasm overtakes me, sudden and violent in its intensity.

My muscles clench furiously around Albie’s fingers, but he has no mercy.  He turns the vibrator off, sliding his fingers from between my legs before I’m ready.  I watch as he puts them in his mouth and licks them clean.  “I’ll finish this later,” he says.  “I’m planning to have you for dessert.”

“And I’m going to wear this wherever we’re going?” I ask.  The throbbing between my legs is distracting, so much so that I can’t think clearly.  I’m not sure why it’s so thrilling when he tells me what to do.

Albie disappears into the closet and returns with an armful of clothing.  “You’re going to wear that,” he says.  “I want you to be ready for me.”

“I don’t know why I’m agreeing to this.”

In fact, I don’t know why I’m agreeing to any of this with Albie.  He’s pushing my boundaries beyond what I’d ever considered, much less tried.

Standing in my royal bedroom wearing a butt plug and a harness with a vibrator is beyond my comfort zone.

Or so I thought.

“Because you like it, Belle,” he says.

When I reach for the simple sundress he’s holding, he pulls it away and kisses my lips softly instead.  “Let me,” he says.  “I like taking care of you.”

Then he dresses me.

Slowly and methodically, he slides the dress over my head.  The fabric caresses my skin as it falls over my body.

I’d never guess that putting clothes on could be sexy as hell, but Albie has a way of making the process of getting dressed more erotic than removing clothes.  Of course, the fact that I have a vibrator pressing against my clit and a butt plug in my ass might have something to do with the heat level here.

We make our way out of the palace through the secret passageway, and Albie flicks on the vibrator in intervals, enough to keep me aroused but not send me hurtling over the edge.  Walking with the plug inside me is the strangest sensation I’ve ever experienced, simultaneously uncomfortable and arousing.

I move slowly and carefully, my steps measured.   My entire body feels like it’s on high alert as Albie leads me quietly out of the house, across the immaculately manicured lawn, and towards the densely wooded land surrounding the estate.

It’s dusk, but the canopy of trees in the woods makes it even darker than it was just a minute ago when we were on the lawn.  “Okay, this is getting slightly creepy,” I say, only half-joking.

“Only slightly?” he asks.  “I’ll have to try harder.”

We walk along a path that’s less manicured than the rest of the property, winding past the trees until we can’t see the main house any longer.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?” I ask.  In response, he flicks on the vibrator, laughing when I grip his arm tightly, my fingernails digging into his skin.  I pause in the middle of the trail, unmoving, as the vibration sends waves of pleasure through me.

“We’re almost there,” he says.

“You’re going to make me come,” I protest.

“You’re not allowed to come yet, luv.”  He stands close to me, pushing my hair back from my face.  His lips hover millimeters away from mine, but when I arch my back up to meet them, he denies me, and puts a finger on my lips.  “It’s right around the bend here.”

We reach the place a few minutes later, and I stand there, wordlessly taking it in.  Technically it's a tree house, although it’s not like any tree house I’ve ever seen before.  It’s the size of a cottage, two-stories tall with a balcony on the upper level, built so that it rests between several trees twenty feet high.  A wooden walkway with elaborately carved railings winds down from the doorway to the ground and curves around to meet the pathway.  Two lanterns trim the opening of the walkway, casting a golden glow on the path.

In a word, it’s magical.

“What is this place?” I ask.

“Come on.”  He pulls me up the walkway that leads to the door, and I follow him, completely mesmerized by this little house in the trees.  “My father had this built for Alex and I when we were kids.”

“This was your tree house?" I ask, shaking my head in disbelief as I take it in.  It’s just as breathtaking on the inside, rustic and wooden with huge windows that overlook the surrounding forest.  And upstairs, there’s a loft bedroom with a ceiling made of glass panels – a window looking out to the sky.

“It’s not a regular tree house, I know,” Albie says, shrugging.  “When my father does something, he goes big.  Alex never really liked it much out here.  She was always too scared to come out in the woods.  So this became my place.  I’ve never brought anyone out here before.”

I tear my gaze away from the star-dotted sky and turn to face him.  “Why me?” I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper.

No sooner do the words leave my mouth, than I’m filled with regret for asking them.  Fear clutches at my chest.  I’m afraid of what he might say.  And more afraid to admit to myself what I’m starting to feel for him.

Albie tilts my face up to his.  But when he opens his mouth to speak, I stop him.  “No,” I say, quickly.  “Don’t answer that.  Forget I asked.”

“Because I want you, Belle,” he says, ferocity in his gaze as he brings his mouth to mine and kisses me until I’m breathless.  “More than anything.  I want to claim every inch of you.”