Prince Albert Read online

  “Yes.”

  I can’t speak any other words but that one. Yes.

  My head is yanked back as he grips a handful of hair and wraps the length of it around his hand, sending a shock of pain through my body. And instead of being a turn-off, the way that I think it would be, it’s the exact opposite. It intensifies everything.

  He fucks me, his grip on my hair, pulling on it like a leash.

  I can’t think about anything except his cock.

  My whole world right now is his cock.

  I accidentally blurt out the word “cock,” because of course I do. And I immediately flush with embarrassment when he laughs, the vibration ricocheting through my body. “What, luv?” he asks. “You were praising my cock?”

  God, he’s such an arrogant prick.

  I think those words, but they don’t come out of my mouth because I can’t articulate anything except yes.

  Yes.

  Yes.

  Yes.

  Over and over.

  I’m reduced to an incoherent, babbling idiot who can only say yes.

  He grasps my breasts – not gently or tenderly. He pinches my nipples between his thumb and forefingers as he fucks me. And he talks to me, low in my ear, telling me all the dirty things he wants to do to me. “I’m going to keep fucking you because you’re mine, Belle."

  Yes.

  Yes.

  Yes.

  I let go, savoring every sensation that washes over me as he brings me closer and closer to the edge – his hands on my breasts as he pulls me back against him, the warmth of his breath against my ear, his tongue flicking over the edge of my earlobe.

  And that cock.

  “Tell me how much you love me fucking you, Belle,” he says, his voice strained. “I want to hear you say it.”

  “Oh God,” I breathe. “Yes, please.”

  “Say it.”

  “Fuck me.”

  He slaps my ass cheek, the crack loud in the stillness of the room. “Say it, Belle.”

  “Yes.”

  He delivers a second slap hard against my rear. “Fuck, Belle,” he says. “Say it. Say you want me to come inside you.”

  Yes.

  Yes.

  Yes.

  “Oh God, yes.” It’s all I can say, pleasure rolling over me like a tidal wave, coursing through me from my head to my toes.

  He yanks my hair and a shock of pain surges through me. “I want…to hear…the words,” he says, his voice gruff.

  Then he pauses. He pauses, completely still inside me. I’m on the verge of coming, and I can’t remember what he wants me to say. My pussy throbs around him, my body pleading with him to thrust inside me again.

  So I just say please.

  “Please,” I whimper. “Make me come.”

  “Fuck.” He lets out a loud groan. “Touch yourself, Belle. Now.”

  He thrusts inside me, his movements swift, purposeful. Deep. And with a sense of urgency. The tip of his cock – his piercing – presses against me, sending pulse after pulse of pleasure soaring through me that only intensifies as I move my finger over my clit, faster and faster.

  Everything about this is primal. This is not romantic sex, slow and languid and loving.

  It’s fucking.

  And it's the best thing on this fucking earth.

  “Belle,” he says, his voice strained. “Come for me, Belle. Now.”

  And I do.

  I let go, a loud moan escaping my lips before his hand clamps down over my mouth to mute me. When he thrusts inside me, saying my name as he brings me over the edge, I come, harder than I've ever come before. Harder than I could ever imagine coming. I crash over the edge, blinding white-hot pleasure that obliterates my awareness of everything else.

  Afterward, I’m trembling in his arms, my heart racing so fast I think it might explode. Albie slides his arms around my chest, hugging me to him. “You’re shaking,” he whispers.

  “I don’t know why,” I say.

  Probably because I just had the most mind-blowing orgasm of my life.

  He squeezes me tighter against his chest, and puts his lips to the side of my neck. "Because I blew your fucking mind, luv."

  "No one's mind was blown," I lie.

  Totally mind-blowing.

  What's not mind-blowing is the awkward silence that follows, as my lust-addled brain begins to clear, and the realization of where we are and what we've just done sets in.

  He shrugs back into his tuxedo, and I fix my dress, arrange my hair back into something vaguely resembling the updo that I came in here with, and steel myself to do the walk of shame right out of this room.

  It's my first time doing a walk of shame, and I'm doing one out of the throne room in a freaking palace, after screwing my soon-to-be stepbrother.

  Classy, Isabella.

  I can picture my mother saying the words, her mouth turned down into a scowl. Actually, no. Scratch that. I can't even begin to imagine how she's react, especially given the fact that she was "devastated" by my broken engagement.

  Fucking Prince Albert on his father's throne really would just be the cherry on the sundae.

  Albie's phone buzzes and he picks it up, mouthing the word "Noah" at me, while I silently panic at the thought of one of the royal security team looking for us.

  How could you be so reckless, Isabella?

  I swallow hard to quell the growing feeling of nausea in my belly.

  Then Albie turns around and looks at me. "That was Noah," he says. "Apparently my sister did talk to one of the security team about the remote. They're doing a sweep of the palace now."

  I swear my heart stops beating. "What are you talking about? A sweep of the palace?" I ask. My voice is high-pitched, more like a squeak. "They're looking for the remote that goes with that…oh, holy shit."

  "The remote to the vibrator?" he asks, chuckling.

  The bastard is laughing. He thinks this is funny.

  "What's wrong with you?" I hiss. "They're going to bomb sweep the palace, and that's hilarious to you? They're going to catch us in here. Everything is a joke to you."

  "Relax, Belle," he says. He's calm. Too damn calm. How the hell is he so composed when they're looking for the remote control to the vibrator that he used to make me come at dinner tonight…in front of the entire royal family?

  This is not a time for being calm. This is time for freaking the fuck out.

  The fact that he tells me to relax makes me do exactly the opposite of relax. I can feel myself spinning up, my anxiety spiraling out of control. I'm about to be publicly humiliated. We're about to be publicly humiliated.

  "Don't tell me to relax," I say, positively seething with anger and panic. "Do you just love being the butt of jokes in the headlines?"

  An odd expression crosses his face, and I think I might have hurt him. "Calm down, luv," he says, his voice clipped. "This will stay our filthy little secret. No one's going to know you fucked Prince Albert."

  "Albie, I didn't mean –" I start, but he interrupts me, putting his hand up.

  "You need to get out of here," he says. "Obviously we don't need to be seen leaving this room together."

  "What if they search you?"

  Albie laughs now, not even bothering to try to be quiet. I'm going to smack him. So help me, I'm about to smack the Crown Prince of Protrovia.

  Then the door opens. I stand there like a deer in the headlights.

  Shit.

  "Oh. Prince Albert. Miss Kensington," Noah says.

  "I've been taking Miss Kensington on a tour of the palace," Albie says, suddenly business-like, a paragon of sophistication. "Can you believe she hasn't seen all of the important rooms?"

  "Yes," I say. "A tour."

  I don't look at Noah. I avoid making eye contact, because surely it's written all over my face. Hell, it's probably hanging in the air in the throne room – the smell of sex. And I have no idea what he did with the condom.

  Don't panic. Don't panic.

  Breathe