Prince Albert Read online

  pressing against me, makes me so heady with desire that I can't see straight. I can't think straight.

  Which explains why I say what I say next.

  "I could be a very bad girl."

  I think he growls. Actually growls. Like an animal.

  He kisses me so hard I taste blood, and his hands yank mine up roughly over my head and press my palms against the wall. My heart beats wildly in my chest as every part of me responds to his forceful touch.

  When he runs his hand over my body, it's not gentle. And I don't want him to be gentle. I want him to fuck me like he did in the throne room – with wild abandon.

  I want to let go.

  He abruptly pulls away from me, leaving my lips throbbing from the intensity of his kiss. "I'm clean," he says, his eyes suddenly soft.

  "So am I," I whisper. "I'm on the pill."

  But I leave out the most important part.

  I've never done it this way with anyone before.

  “Fuck, Belle.”

  He lets go of me, unbuckling his pants, and pulling them over his ass. When I pause to admire his perfect cock and he asks me what I’m doing.

  “I’m just looking at what I want," I say.

  “Hell, you are the sexiest thing when you do that."

  "Do what?" I ask. I can't take my eyes off his cock. The overhead lighting in the passageway glints off of the piercing, and the mere thought of him inside me, totally unprotected, makes me hotter than it should.

  "When you say things like that," he says. He doesn't even pull off his pants. He slips his hands under my thighs, his fingers pressing into my skin, and holds me up against the wall, sliding into me in one swift movement.

  Then he’s inside me, and I can’t think of anything else. There’s nothing else that exists in the entire world apart from the sensation of his cock.

  There’s nothing else except his thick head of his cock pressing tightly inside me, the metal piercing hitting me in just the right spot to send shivers of arousal rushing through me.

  I clench my ankles tightly against his back as he thrusts into me. He yanks my hands above my head for leverage, our fingers intertwined together, as he thrusts into me again and again, his movements quick.

  From somewhere outside myself, I hear my own moan echoing down the passageway.

  The rational part of me knows this is dangerous. Anyone could walk down the passageway – Albie's bodyguard, his sister, any member of the staff.

  The rational part of me knows I should care. It knows I should maintain some sense of decency, some semblance of control.

  But I don’t care.

  Not when he’s fucking me like this, grinding harder into me, as he whispers into my ear. "I love being bare inside you, Belle."

  Not when every part of me is acutely sensitive to him, every inch of me consumed with how it feels to have him inside me, skin against skin.

  Not when all I can think about is the way his piercing feels as it presses against me when he thrusts inside me, bringing me so much higher, so quickly. “Oh my God.”

  It’s all I can say.

  I lose myself in the raw, overpowering pleasure, not caring enough to try to mute the whimpers that escape my lips.

  "Tell me, Belle," he whispers, the guttural undertone of his voice betraying his need. He’s close. I can tell, even more now that he’s bare inside me. His cock is so swollen, so rigid, so hard.

  I’m so close. I think if I tell him that, if I speak the words aloud, it will push me over the edge. “I…can’t.”

  I barely choke out the words, clinging to the small scrap of lucidity I have left.

  He thrusts into me harder. "Tell me, Belle," he says. "I can feel how much you like it."

  Thrust.

  Thrust.

  Thrust.

  "Yes."

  "Your pussy is so swollen for me. It’s so tight, so wet," he says, an edge to his voice that makes every word sound painful.

  Thrust.

  Thrust.

  Thrust.

  "I'm so close," I whisper.

  He pauses, his cock throbbing inside me as he looks into my eyes with an intensity I haven’t seen from him until now. But all I can think about is the fact that he’s left me breathless, aching for him.

  I arch my hips against him, tighten my legs around him, trying to get him to move. But he doesn’t. When I squeeze my muscles around his cock, he flinches.

  "Don't do it, Belle," he warns. "Tell me how much you like fucking me, and I'll fuck you again."

  "I love fucking you."

  Thrust.

  "Tell me again," he says.

  "I love fucking you."

  Thrust.

  "I'm going to take you into my bedroom, and do this all damn night," he says.

  "Oh God," I groan. I'm so close.

  "This is the sweetest, tightest, wettest pussy," he whispers. "And I'm going to fill it up with my warm cum. Tell me how much you want me to come inside you."

  I can't answer. I don’t wait for him, and I don’t wait for permission to come, the way he’s made me wait before.

  His words send me hurtling over the edge, the rush so unexpected it takes my breath away. My orgasm washes over me. It’s so overpowering that I start to scream, but he covers my mouth with his, his tongue warring with mine as he thrusts inside me again – once, twice, three times.

  When he comes, I feel it. I feel every bit of it. He floods me with his warm seed, and the sensation only intensifies my orgasm.

  Afterward, he stands unmoving, still inside me, my legs wrapped around him. We’re frozen in place, neither of us speaking. The only sound that cuts through the stillness in the hallway is the sound of our breathing.

  "I'm going to do that again as soon as we get in the room," Albie whispers.

  "Okay."

  Okay? That's all I can muster?

  It’s possible that fucking Albie might have made my IQ drop by ten points.

  When he slides me down from the wall, slipping out of me and pulling up his pants, he looks at me approvingly. "You're disheveled," he says.

  My hand automatically goes to my hair, then to my mouth, feeling the presence of his lips still on mine. "I feel disheveled."

  "It looks good on you," he says. "Like that night in Vegas. You’re meant to be disheveled."

  He takes my hand, and I walk with him the ten yards or so to his room, my thighs pressed together.

  I can feel his cum dripping from me, and the sensation makes me feel dirty.

  I feel filthy and used.

  And I think I like it.

  The realization shocks me, and I still must look stunned when Albie turns around at the door. "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing," I say, shrugging. This is definitely not something I'm ready to put into words.

  "You’re giving me a look."

  "Um, I think I need a towel or something."

  Albie grins. "That's kind of hot."

  "It's kind of gross."

  "Hot," he says, pressing his thumb against a keypad at the door. The door swings open, and he quickly walks across the room toward the bathroom. "Make yourself comfortable."

  Make yourself comfortable.

  Like I'm a guest and not the stepsister he just fucked up against the wall.

  Albie reappears with a warm washcloth in his hand, bending down to kiss me while he slides it between my legs. There's something incredibly erotic about the way he moves it over my skin and cleans me.

  When he’s finished, he stands. “I’m going to let Noah know I’m indisposed for the next few hours,” he says, turning.

  “Wait – what if someone comes looking for me?”

  He turns and looks at me with a cocky grin. “Then they’ll find you underneath me, I guess.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Albie

  When I come back from giving Noah a bullshit excuse for missing whatever the hell is on the agenda this afternoon – some scheduled activity, no doubt, even though we’re sup