Double Team: A Menage Romance Read online

  “Oh my God.” Alexandra takes my arm. “You got stuck with Christine. She’s the worst of the PR robots. Do you want to make an escape?”

  I giggle, the absurdity of all of this suddenly hitting me. “She’s awful,” I whisper.

  “You have to medicate to get through it,” Alex says, leaning her head on my shoulder. “I totally like you, Belle. Have I told you that? You’re not terrible. I expected you to be terrible, like one of those really smug bitches, the kind who think they’re God’s gift to the earth just because they go around saving people and stuff.”

  “You’re obviously well-medicated,” I say, laughing.

  “I took some X,” she says. “Wow. Has anyone ever told you that your hair is really brown? Like, not poop brown, either. It’s pretty brown. Do you want some X? I have some, right in my clutch.”

  “I’ll pass,” I say. As if I need to take anything that would increase the sensitivity of my body in any way, shape, or form.

  “Quick,” she says. “Two o’clock. Sir Richard Benton. He’s hot, right? We should talk to him.”

  "What? Who?" I ask absently. I catch a glimpse of Albie across the room as the crowd parts. He's standing next to a blonde – tall, long-legged, thin, and gorgeous. She puts her hand on his forearm, the gesture at once possessive and familiar.

  "Richard Benton," Alex says. "Come on. Please tell me you've heard of him, at least. He's been in movies in the States. He was knighted in England. I can't remember why. Probably for being hot as hell."

  I can't think of Richard whoever-the-hell-he-is, not when I'm looking at Albie on the other side of the room, with some girl hanging all over him.

  Alexandra follows my gaze. "Ugh," she says. "That bitch."

  "What bitch?" I ask. I find it unreasonably difficult to pry my gaze away from the two of them. The girl laughs – I can't hear it, but I just know she has one of those perfect little musical laughs, a tinkling sound – and touches his forearm again.

  "Erika. She's the worst," Alex whispers, though not quietly enough. It's more like a stage whisper, which is wholly inappropriate for this setting. If it weren't for the fact that I'm completely distracted by Albie on the other side of the room, the entire thing would be laughable. I have a princess hanging on my arm, high as a kite and airing her opinions too loudly, and a vibrator inside me, my royal stepbrother at the controls.

  And all of it, at my mother's engagement party, surrounded by the crème de la crème of Protrovian society.

  "Why is she the worst?" I ask absently. Albie pats the bitch on the arm, then looks up. I avert my eyes, but not quickly enough. He makes eye contact with me from across the room.

  "She's terrible," Alex says. "Manipulative and shallow. They were together years ago. I don’t know what he ever saw in her. She cheated on him a lot. Albie won't ever say it, but I think he was in love with her. And she broke his heart."

  I swallow hard the lump that's beginning to form in my throat. What if he still has feelings for his ex? I definitely don’t want to do to someone what Derek did to me. Suddenly, everything about what I'm doing with Albie feels even more wrong. "Excuse me," I say to Alex. "I need to run to the restroom."

  But before I can make my stealthy exit, Christine catches my arm. "I'll need you to take your seat, Miss Kensington and Princess Alexandra," she says. Then, looking up, "Ah, Prince Albert, you as well. You'll join the King and Queen at the head table."

  "Wait, I –" I begin to protest, but I'm ushered along. Behind me, Albie steps too close for a split second, his breath warm on my neck. I tell myself to focus on something else, anything else, because walking this way through the ballroom, with my nipples erect underneath my dress, is the worst possible thing that could happen.

  "You weren't about to sneak out of here, were you?" Albie whispers, and I feel the vibrator start up again, the rumble low and steady. But instead of being turned on, the way I was before, I just find myself irritated. I'd tell him to turn it off, but I know he'll just turn it up a million times more. So I just grit my teeth and promise myself there's no way he's making me come. I won't let it happen.

  Willpower, I tell myself. Think of something else. Something un-sexy.

  Like the image of Albie with that blonde's hand on his arm, giggling like an idiot because he said something that was most likely inappropriate.

  "No," I say curtly. "I'm headed to the table to sit with my new siblings."

  He turns up the vibration higher and I involuntarily yelp, a sound I quickly cover with a cough. “Behave,” he whispers.

  “Apparently that’s something you need to learn,” I say, my words coming out breathier than I intended.

  “Oh, you’re jealous,” he whispers. Then he shuts off the vibrator, leaving my muscles pulsing around it.

  Of course he’s seated next to me at dinner. I’m seated between Alex on my right, and Albie on my left, probably a strategic move by the public relations team to make sure everyone is reminded how integral a part of the family I am. Mercifully, Albie leaves me alone during most of dinner.

  My legs crossed, sitting in a chair, I almost manage to forget the vibrator is inside me. And, deliberately ignoring Albie, I’m almost able to forget about him and the ex-girlfriend.

  21

  Albie

  “I saw you talking with Erika earlier,” Sofia says, sipping from a glass of champagne. “Will she be joining us at the summer house? I’ve heard so many lovely things about her.”

  On the other side of Belle, Alex snorts, her inhibitions lowered by whatever she took to get her through tonight’s events. I glance at my empty scotch glass, downing a glass of champagne as a poor substitute. “Lovely,” Alex scoffs. “I’ve never heard her called that before.”

  “She won’t be joining us at the summer house, Sofia,” I say, my voice firm. At least that shuts her up. I’m not sure whether she’s manipulative or simply unobservant, but it’s obvious to everyone else that Erika and I are nothing.

  “No?” Belle asks, her voice innocent. “You should invite her.”

  I flick on the vibrator in response, and watch as a flush runs up Belle’s neck, then down the front of her chest. She crosses her legs, and re-crosses them as I increase the vibration a little more.

  I was having fun with this whole thing earlier, the thrill of turning the vibrator on and off at inopportune times. But now, I’m not. I’m not going to wait any longer. I want to watch Belle come, sitting right here at this table.

  “Are you okay, Belle?” I ask, cutting a piece of filet and popping it into my mouth. “You look a little feverish.”

  “I’m…fine,” she says, looking straight ahead as she takes a sip of wine from her glass. No one else notices, but I can see her eyes close for just a moment too long.

  The thought of her sitting at this table beside me, her pussy wet because she’s on the verge of coming, makes me hard as a rock, and I have to adjust the napkin that covers my lap.

  When she finally looks over, her gaze falls to my lap, then up to my eyes again. I know she saw how hard I am. She looks away as quickly as she turned. “Prince Albert,” she says. “You should stand and make a toast, don’t you think?”

  I cough to hide my laugh. Clever girl.

  I flick the setting on the vibrator up higher, trying not to think of what that’s doing to her. I run quickly through mental images of anything that might deflate my raging erection.

  “Oh, that would be lovely, Albert,” my grandmother says.

  “Perhaps it would be more appropriate to save a toast for a less public event,” my father says, interrupting and saving me from having to reveal my massive hard-on for Belle.

  “Yes,” I say. “Some things are better left for private, don’t you agree, Belle?”

  She tucks a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, then adjusts a few more strands with trembling hands, before running her hand along her brow. Her chest rises and falls, hardly apparent to anyone else, I’m sure, but I know what that means. “Certain t