Double Team: A Menage Romance Read online

  “Tell me you want it,” I say. “Tell me you want my tongue. I want to taste you. I’ve been aching to taste you. Say it, Belle.”

  22

  Belle

  The most handsome, most eligible bachelor in the world – well, maybe bachelor isn’t the right word, not if we’re counting our fake marriage -- is looking into my eyes, telling me that he aches to taste me.

  And that’s after making me come twice in a night.

  The rational part of me is telling me we could get caught. It’s my mother’s engagement party, for goodness’ sake. And I’m in the pool house with Albie.

  Albie, my stepbrother, who’s telling me he wants to put his tongue between my legs.

  “I want you,” I whisper, hardly sure I’m even hearing the words coming out of my mouth. “I want your tongue on me.”

  “Say please,” he says. “I like to hear you say please.”

  Screw you. That’s what I think. Those are the words that run through my head. But oddly enough, the word that comes out of my mouth, because apparently there’s some kind of disconnect between my lips and my brain, is please.

  Albie makes a growling sound under his breath before sliding his hands up underneath my ass and lifting me up off the ground. I don’t even have a chance to object. I just giggle stupidly as he carries me across the room to a chaise lounge and deposits me firmly on my feet beside the cushioned piece of furniture. “Now,” he says. “You’re going to straddle my face while I eat that perfect pussy of yours.”

  The words make me flush hot. No one has ever talked to me the way Albie talks to me – Derek certainly never did. Of course, Derek never sent desire coursing through my veins the way Albie does. Albie has a way of making me lose my mind and toss my inhibitions aside like they’re nothing.

  Albie sits back on to the chaise, sliding his hands up my thighs and pushing the fabric of my dress toward my hips. “Stop thinking, luv,” he whispers. “I’m starving and you’re going to be my meal.”

  “Wait,” I protest, as Albie pulls me against him until I’m standing with my pussy near his face.

  “Mmm,” he says, inhaling deeply. “If you’re not going to climb over me and sit on my face, I suppose I can make do this way.”

  “Wait. Albie.”

  “Please don’t tell me you’re having a crisis of conscience right now.”

  “No,” I say, swatting his hands away. “Someone’s coming.”

  “Yeah, you’re going to be in a second, if you play your cards right and stop talking.”

  “Shut up.” I slap his hand. “Someone’s coming. Two people. Look out the window.”

  Albie shrugs. “The door is locked,” he says. “We’ll just move away from the window. They’ll go away.”

  I jump up, scrambling across the room to the only cover nearby -- a large bar on the other side of the room. I slide behind it. Albie follows me slowly, ambling like he has all the time in the world, while my heart threatens to beat out of my chest.

  When he joins me behind the bar, he slides his hands around me, cupping my ass and pulling me against his hardness. “Of course, fucking you right here against this bar works too,” he says.

  “Shut up, they’re right outside,” I whisper, craning my neck to try to see the window by the front door.

  “So?” he asks. His hands are underneath my skirt, his fingers on the crinkle of my thigh, so close to my pussy I can practically feel him already. “You can’t see all the way over here through those windows.”

  Then I hear the doorknob jiggle and someone laugh. “Don’t you have a key somewhere?” the male voice asks.

  “Shit, Albie,” I hiss. “Who has a key to this place?”

  “The family, security, staff,” he says, ticking off people on his fingers casually, as if he’s not the least little bit worried about getting caught in the pool house with me. “He could be anyone. Just duck down.”

  He drops down to the ground behind the bar in his tuxedo like he’s done this a million times before.

  Of course, he probably has. Albie the manwhore prince has probably crawled out of more bedroom windows than anyone on earth. He’s a professional at handling this kind of situation.

  I, on the other hand, am not.

  And I’m in very real danger of dropping dead from a heart attack or abject humiliation if we’re caught in here together.

  So I’m about to join him, cross-legged on the floor, when I see it.

  Fuuccccck.

  The remote control is right there in the middle of the entryway to the pool house. The vibrating egg – coated in my wetness – has rolled into the nearby corner. The vibrator might be overlooked – thank goodness for small mercies – but there’s no way anyone who walks inside the door would miss that remote control.

  My stomach lurches as the couple outside drop the key to the ground, and then laugh they fumble to find it.

  I can make it across the room and back here in time.

  “What are you doing?” Albie asks. He reaches for my hand, but I shrug him off, about to dart from behind the bar.

  And the door opens.

  The fucking door to the pool house opens and I’m standing there behind the bar like a deer in the headlights, staring at Alex and Finn.

  “Oh!” Alexandra says. “Belle, is that you? What are you doing in here?”

  I lean across the top of the bar casually, sliding my forearms across it, mindful of the fact that Albie is practically sitting at my feet. I glance down at him with wide eyes, but he just looks at me and winks. Like none of this is any big deal.

  The asshole.

  “Oh,” I say, feigning breeziness in my voice I definitely do not feel. “Um, yeah. I was just getting away from the party. Getting…something to drink, you know.”

  “Come on,” Finn says, pulling her arm. He looks like he stepped off the pages of Yachting and Polo Magazine, even in his tuxedo. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “This is my new sister!” Alex says brightly. “Stepsister, I mean.”

  “Yeah, uh, you guys should go,” I say. “I mean -- I just, um, need a few minutes.”

  “Come with us,” Alex says. “We’ll go up to the roof and get baked. I have weed in my clutch, if you want some.”

  She’s like a walking dispensary. I’m about to answer, when Albie’s touch – his hand underneath my dress, on my thigh -- practically makes me yelp.

  “Are you okay?” Alex asks.

  “Yeah,” I say, my voice innocent. “Yeah. I’m totally okay. More than okay. I’m like, completely fine.”

  Fuck. I’m awful at lying.

  I think I hear Albie chuckle and I want to kick him, but I’m afraid he’ll yell and that will be the end of our little secret. So I stand there, totally motionless.

  And then Albie does the unthinkable.

  He edges his way in front of me, pushes my legs apart, and arches his head up. His mouth is so close to my pussy that I can feel his breath warming me.

  I reach down with one hand, try to push his head away, but he grabs my ass cheeks, gripping them so tightly I have to grit my teeth to keep from crying out.

  “Are you mixing cocktails while you’re back there?” Alex asks. “Why don’t you make me and Finn one?”

  “No!” I cry out, sharper than I should as Albie touches his tongue to me, licking me, probing me, his hands pulling me hard against his face. “I mean, um. It’s really better if I just take a breather from everything right now. Because…”

  Because your brother is currently sucking my clit into his mouth.

  Because your brother’s tongue is lodged inside of me.

  Because your brother is going to make me come right here.

  Those are all inappropriate excuses.

  “Because, my social anxiety,” I lie.

  “Your stepsister is so weird,” Finn says, as he slips his hand around Alex’s waist and pulls her against him. “Let’s go up to the roof.”

  “I’m not…” Weird, I’m about