Her Bodyguard Read online

  When I walk outside, I see Belle standing on the edge of the granite deck, her forearms resting on the railing. When I reach her, she doesn’t look at me. “You shouldn’t have followed me out here.”

  “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  That gets a rise out of her. She turns to face me, her eyes icy. “No,” she says, and I can tell she’s trying hard to keep her voice measured, restrained. “That is not what I wanted.”

  A couple walks past us carrying glasses of champagne, and I turn my head. The last thing I want is to talk to a nosy, irritating socialite and her husband.

  In fact, the last thing I want to do is talk to anyone right now.

  “You’re awfully cranky for someone who just had an earth-shattering orgasm,” I say quietly, watching her face turn scarlet.

  She looks around before speaking. “I did not have an earth-shattering anything,” she says.

  “Liar,” I say, turning on the vibrator again.

  She flinches. “Stop it, Albie.”

  “Too much?” I ask. “If you like, I can reach up there and retrieve it.”

  “Thanks but no thanks.” She turns, walking down the stairs from the deck to the lawn that stretches for acres behind the palace, trimmed on the edges with large trees to hide the massive walls that secure the palace grounds.

  “You’re angry,” I say, following her across the lawn. She walks faster, trying to get rid of me, and I let her, until she reaches the side of the glass enclosure that surrounds the swimming pool.

  “I’m not angry,” she says, turning to face me. “Besides, someone is going to see us out here. You should get back to your girlfriend.”

  I flick on the remote to the vibrator. “Don’t lie, luv,” I say. “It doesn’t suit you.”

  “Stop doing that.” She glares at me, then glances toward the deck.

  “She’s an ex.”

  “I didn’t ask who she was,” she says. “Will you turn that thing off now?”

  “I’ll turn it off once you admit you’re just being cranky because you’re jealous.”

  “I’ll admit no such thing,” she says, as she marches toward the pool house and yanks open the door. I follow her inside, flicking the vibrator up all the way, just for added effect.

  “Oh God,” Belle says. She faces the wall, leaning with one hand over her head, and lets out an exasperated groan. But I don’t turn the vibrator off; I only turn it down. I’m not a monster, after all.

  Walking up behind her, I take her other hand and put it against the wall. She stands with both palms flat against the wall and her ass sticking out, and I run my hands along those curvy hips.

  “You’re not done yet, luv,” I tell her.

  She lets out a moan, long and low under her breath, her fingertips pressing against the wall. “It’s too much, Albie,” she says. “I’m so sensitive.”

  “Just come for me, Belle,” I whisper. “That’s twice now that you’ve come and I didn’t get to hear it. I want to hear you moan.”

  “I…oh God,” she groans. “Screw you, Albie.”

  “Not yet, luv,” I say, letting my hands graze the length of her evening gown, squatting as I follow it down to where it falls on the ground. I pull the entire thing up around her waist, draping it across her bare ass. “But soon.”

  “Oh God,” she says again, arching up her back as she presses her hands firmly against the wall. The movement has the added effect of pushing back her perfect ass at me, and I run my palms over her smooth skin.

  “Oh, Albie,” I tell her, one hand caressing her ass cheek. “That’s what I want to hear you say. That, and please. Please make me come, Albie.”

  “I’m not begging you,” she says, her voice strained. Then, “That feels so good.”

  Running my palm over her ass, I draw my hand back and bring it down hard, the crack reverberating through the room.

  “Damn it, Albie,” she says, then moans. And she doesn’t move. She shakes her hair, tossing her head back, and I realize something.

  She likes it.

  “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” I ask. “You’re so close to coming, and you liked my hand on your ass, spanking you.”

  “Maybe,” she whispers, looking at me over her shoulder.

  I reach between her legs, my fingertips brushing along the length of her pussy lips. “You’re drenched,” I say. “Soaked. You fucking love this. Say it. You want me to make you come.”

  “I’m not saying it,” she says. “I won’t beg.”

  I bring my hand down on the opposite cheek, and she flinches. But she doesn’t stand up and walk away. She arches her ass out more. I caress the red mark that’s rapidly spreading across the expanse of her skin, while she moans low under her breath.

  “Say it, luv,” I tell her, reaching between her legs from behind until I find her clit with my fingertip. But I don't move my finger. I just press it gently on her clit. “Tell me how much you want me. You want me inside you. You want to feel me, coming inside you.”

  “Albie,” she says, groaning loudly, her frustration evident.

  "Belle."

  "What?" her eyes are closed, her forehead wrinkled, and I know how much she wants to let go.

  "You're the only one I want to make come. Not Erika, not anyone else. Do you understand? Now say what I want to hear."

  “Yes." She whispers the word so softly that I barely hear it.

  I don’t move. I know she’s close. I know she’s on the edge, so close to coming, and I want to send her hurtling over the edge. “Yes, what, luv?”

  She groans again. “Yes, I want you inside me. Yes, I want you to make me come.”

  “Not enthusiastic enough,” I tell her. But I finally move my finger on her clit. “You want to come. You want release. All you have to do is tell me how much you want it.”

  “Oh my God, Albie,” she whispers. “Please.”

  The please is what gets me. It’s the please, coming from Little Miss Do-Gooder, Miss Propriety, that kills me.

  But I can’t stand not seeing it on her face. I want to see the expression on her face when she comes.

  When I take my fingers away from her clit, she practically cries, until I spin her around and push her roughly against the wall. Yanking the piles of fabric of her dress up, I thrust my fingers between her legs, returning them where they were on her clit, and she practically melts against me.

  It takes all the willpower I have not to crush her mouth under mine, but I want to see her face as I roll my fingers over her clit, faster now. “Come for me, luv,” I tell her. “I want to hear you say my name.”

  “Fuck,” she says, clutching at my wrist, pressing my hand against her pussy as she jerks involuntarily, a full-body spasm. “Albie. Oh my…holy shit, Albie.”

  The expression when she comes is the hottest thing I've ever seen. Her eyes are closed and her face is angled up toward mine, her lips barely parted. I savor it for all of a split second before flicking off the vibrator.

  I don't wait for her to finish. Instead, I slide my fingers along her pussy lips until I reach her entrance. I find the vibrating egg easily. Her slickness makes sliding it from her the simplest thing in the world. I toss it on the floor with the remote, not caring if they shatter into a million pieces.

  “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.”

  75

  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,�