“I’m not…” Weird, I’m about to say, but I can’t focus on anything except what Albie is doing with his tongue right now.
Holy shit, the guy has skills. I mean, I should have anticipated that, based on what I read about him in the magazines.
But, I mean, he has real skills. Porn star skills.
If he’s this good with his tongue, I can only imagine what he’d do with that pierced cock.
The thought of it very nearly sends me over the edge, right here, right now. Standing behind the bar, in front of my soon-to-be stepsister and her guy-of-the-hour.
Talk about inappropriate timing.
With one hand, I grip Albie’s hair, trying to pull him away from me. But he’s unrelenting.
“What’s that?” Alex asks, bending over to squint at the floor.
“There’s a remote,” Finn says. “Shit, dude, that might be for a bomb or something.”
“No!” I say loudly. “I mean. I’m sure it’s not a bomb.”
Oh my God. This is exactly what I need – two stoners thinking the remote that goes to the vibrator is a fucking bomb.
Visions of the palace being evacuated and my mother finding out what exactly I’ve been doing with Albie flit through my head.
“Are you sure it’s not a bomb?” Alex asks. “I’ll mention it to one of the security guys. I should just take it to them.”
“I think bomb remote control things are bigger,” Finn says. “I mean, I’ve seen them in movies. They don’t look like this.”
Between my legs, I feel Albie’s mouth vibrate as he laughs…into my pussy. Heaven help me, the vibration coupled with what he’s doing with his tongue has me ready to come right now.
I slap him on the side of the head and in retaliation, he tongue-fucks me.
“Don’t touch it!” I yell, and they both look up at me, backing away from the remote control like it’s radioactive. Thank goodness they don’t seem to have noticed the vibrator. “I mean…fuck…if it’s…a bomb…you should stop touching…oh God.”
“Are you having a panic attack?” Alex asks. “Finn, it’s not the remote to a bomb. I’m like, eighty percent sure.”
“Yes…panic attack…” I choke out the words, nearly blinded by lust. Damn it, I’m about to come for the second time tonight in front of someone else.
I’m not sure if that makes this a high point or a low point in my life.
“I can get the doctor,” Alex says. “I should call him.”
“No!” I shout, as Albie’s tongue flicks inside me again. “I…just…need to be…fucked. Um, not fucked. I do not need to be fucked. Fuck. Fuck is what I said. Just. Leave?”
“Alright, alright,” Alex says, putting her hands up in mock surrender. “Geez. I’m out of here.”
Finn elbows her. “See?” he asks. “I told you she’s weird.”
“I’ll tell security about that remote. Let’s just leave it,” Alex says as they exit. The door slams closed behind them.
“Fuuck!” I scream, clutching Albie’s head as I come on his face, unable to hold back any longer.
The orgasm is intense. It’s incredibly intense. It’s magnified a thousand times by the fact that I was trying not to come while Alex and Finn were in here, the experience made even more dangerous by the fact that they’ve probably sent security this way to grab the remote control to the vibrator.
My pussy is throbbing. The empty ache that begs to be filled is almost unbearable, as I pull Albie’s face away from me. He looks up at me, obviously pleased with himself.
“We have to get out of here,” I whisper. “Now.”
But Albie just grins and puts his face back between my legs. His tongue works its magic again, the sensation so exquisitely overpowering it’s nearly painful. When I push him away, he just laughs. “Fine,” he says, pulling himself to a standing position. He kisses me full on the lips before I can object. “Do you taste yourself? It’s the sweetest taste imaginable.”
“Oh my God, I can’t believe you just did that.” I scramble out from behind the bar and across the room to grab the vibrator and the remote before someone else comes in here.
“Can’t believe I did what?” Albie asks innocently. “Kissed you so you could taste yourself?”
“That too,” I say, scrambling to pick up the sex toys. My boob falls out of my dress, which is just further evidence of how absolutely fucking classy I am, and I hitch the top of the dress up an inch. “I have no pockets. Take these.”
Albie slips them into his tuxedo pocket as I stand up to see a suited man heading toward the pool house. Albie catches my panicked look and grins. “We’ll go out the back door.”
He grabs my hand and pulls me out of the pool house, and I lose a shoe in the process.
That’s the second time I’ve lost a shoe around the prince.
I’d say that on the bright side, at least my dignity is intact -- if it weren’t for the glaring fact that I had two public orgasms tonight in front of my family.
All in all, I’d say with a fair amount of certainty that dignity has gone right out the fucking window.
“Oh my God,” she gasps, her breath short as I pull her along the side of the property. The shadows from the trees that line the border of the yard hide us.
Or at least, I hope they do.
When we reach the side of the palace, totally deserted, Belle leans back against the building, her breath short. “Seriously, they’re going to be looking for that remote, Albie. If your sister told them it was a bomb, won’t they be evacuating?”
I laugh. “They’ll probably do a sweep of the palace, but they’re not going to evacuate our parents’ engagement party,” I say. “You really need to chill out, don’t you? Are you always this anxious?”
“No,” she protests, obviously lying. “They’re not going to evacuate over a potential bomb threat at the palace?”
“Consider the source of information,” I say. “It’s my sister. She’s not the most reliable person ever. Especially since she’s obviously high as a kite.”
“I left my shoe back there,” she says, her brow furrowed. “Someone is going to figure out that –”
I hold up my hand. “Figure out what?” I ask. “That the future princess took a stroll through the pool house? You need to calm down, luv.”
Her eyes flash. God, she really doesn’t like being told what to do, does she? I mentally congratulate myself on getting her to use the word please earlier.
But I want to hear it more. I want to hear it while she’s underneath me. My dick jumps at the thought.
“You’re so cavalier about everything,” she says.
She wrinkles her nose. “That wasn’t a compliment.”
“But I’ll take it as one anyway,” I say, opening my tuxedo jacket. “I have scotch or weed. Take your pick.”
Belle’s eyebrows go up and she laughs. “You’re going to get stoned right here, outside of the palace?”
“I have a one of those electronic cigarettes. It’s not like I’m whipping out a joint. It hardly smells.”
“This is not what I thought palace life would be like,” Belle says. But she takes a swig from the flask, grimacing before she hands it back to me.
“What?” I ask, leaning back against the wall beside her. “You never thought it would be this damn classy, did you?”
She laughs. “Yeah, right. Classy is exactly how I would describe this experience.”
I take a drag on the vaporizer and hand it to her. “This is made of gold,” I say. “That’s class, right there.”
“I’ve never gotten high,” she says.
I sigh loudly. “Why am I not surprised that Little Miss Do-Gooder has never gotten stoned?”
“I’m not Little Miss Do-Gooder,” she says, disgusted. “Why are you trying so hard to corrupt me, anyway?”
I turn to face her. “Because you need to be corrup
ted, luv,” I say, softly. “Tell me you didn’t love all of that tonight.”
Her face flushes, and she brings the vaporizer to her lips.
“Suck it into your mouth,” I instruct her, laughing. “Ironically, I have a feeling that’s what I’ll be telling you pretty soon.”
When she laughs, a vapor cloud blows out her nose and she coughs. “If you’re implying that I might blow you soon, you’d be mistaken. I am so not blowing you out here.”
“Oh, I didn’t say out here, luv.”
“Shit,” she says, as two security guards walk down the side of the property in our direction. She turns and walks quickly toward the palace, while I amble slowly behind her. I don’t bother trying to remind her that I’m the Crown Prince – my family’s security has caught me doing worse things than smoking weed behind the palace.
We take the long way around, away from the ballrooms and all the hoopla that surrounds our parents’ engagement party. Belle walks in front of me, her bare feet padding on the thick carpets that line the hallway. A piece of her hair falls out of its updo, and even though she doesn’t look completely disheveled, she looks undone.
I’m responsible for that undone state.
I have the irresistible urge to undo her completely.
She looks over her shoulder at me as if she can read my thoughts. “Where are we going?”
I look around at my choices of rooms. “In here,” I say, grabbing her hand and pulling her down the hallway.
“What are you doing?” she hisses.
“I’m not finished with you,” I tell her.
“No,” she whispers, looking up at me with wide eyes. She might say no, but her eyes betray her. Her pupils are practically the size of saucers, and she runs her tongue along her lower lip.
“No?” I ask.
“The throne room, Albie?” she asks, noting the plaque outside of the room that labels it. “Aren’t there security cameras?”
“I already told you, luv. My dad has a thing about cameras. They’re only in the public spaces,” I say. “This wing isn’t considered public.”
I wave my key card over the door and the green light flashes when it unlocks. “Come on,” I say. “Don’t be a scared kitten.”
“A scared kitten?”
“Isn’t that the American phrase?”
“You mean scaredy-cat,” she says, laughing. The door closes with a heavy thud, and I step close to her.
I shrug. “Exactly.”
“Not quite,” she says. She takes the edge of her lip between her teeth.
“That’s definitely not right,” she says, giggling, and I don’t let her keep laughing. I bring my mouth down hard on hers, harder than before. She moans as her tongue wars with mine.
I’ve kissed a lot of girls, but this kiss is something else entirely. It’s the kind of kiss that makes you need more, and I’m not used to needing anything.
“So you’re saying that your pussy isn’t nervous at all, then?” I ask when I pull away.
“I’m not saying anything about my pussy.”
“It didn’t seem nervous to me a few minutes ago,” I say. “I should refresh my memory, though.”
I reach for her, and she backs away from my grasp, nearly catching her foot on the hem of her dress. When she doesn’t fall she just laughs. I reach for her again, and she runs, giggling, across the wooden floor of the throne room and down the purple carpet that leads up the stairs to the thrones.
She stops short in front of the thrones. “We shouldn’t be in here,” she says. “Aren’t you afraid of getting caught?”
“We aren’t going to get caught,” I tell her. “No one is back this way. The room is locked. It’s not even one of the regular patrol stops for the guards.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’ve been sneaking out of the palace since I was thirteen, luv,” I say. “There’s not a part of this place I don’t know like the back of my hand.”
Belle looks away, touching the edge of the throne gingerly and drawing her hand back like she’s afraid to touch it. “It’s the throne room,” she says. “We should leave. It’s just wrong to be in here.”
“Why?” I ask. “God, you’re such a good girl.”
“I am not a good girl.”
“Says the girl who’d never smoked weed until tonight?” I ask, flopping down onto my father’s throne.
Belle’s eyes go wide. “You can’t just sit there.”
“Says who?” I ask. “Do you know how rarely this room gets used?”
“Well, you can’t just barge in and lounge around on the throne like it’s a recliner,” she says.
“Says who?” I ask, spreading my legs wide and putting my arms behind my head. “I’m a prince. I can do whatever I want, luv.”
“You’re a cocky prick,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“In fact, I’m the Crown Prince of Protrovia. You should be kneeling in front of me,” I say, sitting up.
“You’re hilarious.” She stands in front of me with her hands on her hips, looking so damn uppity that even though I was kidding before, I’m suddenly no longer joking.
I want Belle to kneel in front of me, those lush lips parted, her tongue outstretched.
I want her to kneel at my feet and take my cock in her mouth.
I want to come in that perfect little mouth. Right here in the throne room.
My cock hardens at the thought, and I don’t even bother to try to pretend differently.
“I wasn’t joking,” I say, my voice thick. “On your knees, Belle.”
Her eyes linger on mine, and then drop lower, down to the obvious erection tenting my tuxedo pants. “Oh,” she says, more of an exhale than an actual coherent word.
“Oh isn’t an answer, Belle,” I say, slowly undoing my pants. “The right answer is Yes, Your Highness.”
She raises an eyebrow. “I’m not ever calling you Your Highness.”
“You need to be taught royal manners.”
“Is that a threat?” she asks. She looks at me with a strange mixture of impish innocence and total deviousness.
“It’s a promise that I’ll be the one to teach you, luv,” I say. “And you’re awfully cavalier, for someone who’s standing before the ruler of a country.”
“You’re not the ruler of a country,” she says. But she steps toward me, her eyes going lower as I slide my pants down, take out my cock, and stroke it lightly, aware of her steady gaze.
“You really are pierced,” she says, inhaling deeply.
“You’re still standing,” I note. “I do believe I asked you to kneel.”
Belle stands there unmoving for a moment, the expression on her face changing as she looks at me with unwavering focus. The lust in her eyes betrays her. “You’re such a dick,” she says.
And she kneels.
She grasps the sides of her dress, pulling it up daintily, and kneels before the throne.
She kneels before my cock.
Her dress billows around her on the floor, her breasts