"Yours," she says. But this time, it's a groan.
Gripping her jaw, my thumb tracing over the bottom of her lip, I pull the edge of her lush lip down, and she sucks my finger into her mouth the same way she did with my cock in the throne room.
My dick throbs its response, straining against the fabric of my pants. I want to tear off her clothes and plunge my cock inside her right here in the library. But I force myself to be restrained.
Even though she’s aching to be touched, the top of her dress pulled down, exposing her erect nipples.
Even though she’s arching her back, putting her perfect breasts on display.
"Your lips," I say, barely choking out the word. My lust for her is practically robbing me of any sense at all. "Mine."
"Yours."
I can’t wait for her any longer, not when she’s saying she’s mine.
She barely gets the word out before I bring my mouth down on hers, kissing her with all of the violence and passion of a man who's ached for the touch of a woman like Belle.
She lets out a long moan when I kiss her, partially muted by our mouths. I just can't help myself.
I shouldn't do this in here – the truth is, the palace is filled with too many people who could walk in here at any moment. I should compose myself. I should take her someplace else, someplace private.
But then she moans like that.
I kiss her the way I've never kissed a woman before. I kiss her like I want to get lost in her. Because I do.
I want to lose myself in her touch. I want to pull her against me, my hands tangled in her hair, roaming over her shoulders, cupping her breasts.
This is the kind of kiss that makes me think that I could kiss this girl forever.
When I finally pull away from her, she looks at me with heavy eyes, her expression clouded by lust and desire. "Albie, I –"
"Don't say anything else," I tell her. I’m not waiting any longer. There’s a limit on restraint, and I’ve reached mine. “You’re going to come on my fingers. I’ve been waiting too long to see you come.”
“It’s only been a few days,” she says.
But the laugh is replaced by a groan when I reach between her legs and find her clit. I don’t linger, instead moving my fingers quickly to her entrance. The fact that she’s not wearing panties – that she decided not to wear panties, despite being upset with me – doesn’t escape my attention. “Spread your legs for me, Belle.”
“Albie,” she says, her tone a warning. But she opens her legs.
Belle gasps when I thrust my fingers inside her slick wet pussy. She tries to sit up, running her hands over my chest before reaching for my belt, but I stop her.
"Don't," I tell her. "We’ll get there later. Right now, I need you to come.”
My palm pressing against her clit, I stroke her inside with my fingers. She grinds against my hand when I hit the right spot. "Oh God, Albie," she whispers. “You’re going to make me come too fast.”
“That’s what I want,” I tell her, bending low to take her breast in my mouth. She grips my hair, pulling my head tighter against her. I work her quickly, pressing against her, on the spot inside her that sends goose bumps all over her skin.
I refuse to let up. I want her crashing over the edge.
When her head lolls back against the sofa, I tell her to look at me. "I'm just getting started, luv," I say, my eyes trained on hers as I bring her closer. Her pussy swells around my fingers, and I know she's not far. "This is just getting started. Don't hold back. I want you to come for me, so I can take you out of here and fuck you the way I want to fuck you. I need you to come on me. I can’t make it out of this room without seeing you come."
"Albie," she groans, and I feel the orgasm before she even cries out, bringing my lips down on hers to mute the sound of her moan. When she comes, it’s hard. Her muscles clamp down on my fingers. Her hands claw at my shirt.
I don't wait for her to stop throbbing before I pull my fingers from her. "I'm taking you to my room and fucking you. I don't want to hear why we shouldn't, or how we're going to get caught. If you say a word, I'll pick your little ass up and put you over my shoulder and carry you to my room."
"How are we going to –"
I don't wait for her to finish her question. I bend over her, sweeping her up with my hands on her waist, and throw her over my shoulder before she can finish.
"Albie, stop!" she squeals, pounding her fist on my back as if that's going to make me put her down.
"I’d recommend you shut your mouth before someone walks in here and sees your bare ass slung over my shoulder," I tell her, smacking her rear for effect. Her skirt doesn't cover a damn thing, and I don't care.
"You can't walk out in the hallway with me like this," she hisses. "Put me down."
"Did you think this house doesn't have secret passageways, just like the palace?" I ask, pressing the panel beside the wall. "Now, be a good girl and stay put."
"Or what?"
Inside the passageway, the motion-sensors flick on the overhead lights, illuminating what's more like a regular hallway than the old tunnels underneath the palace. The echo of my footsteps and our breathing are the only sounds in here as I walk down the hallway with her on my shoulder. "Or, I'll have to give you another spanking."
"Are you trying to encourage me not to struggle?"
I slap her ass again for effect, the crack amplified in the tunnel, and she squirms. "You like that, don't you?"
"No," she says.
So I slap her again, and she lets out a faint grunt in response.
"Liar," I say.
My cock is hard as a rock, and there's nothing I want more than to set her down and fuck the living hell out of her right now. Instead, I keep walking, letting my fingers wander as I do, back between her legs to her pussy. I slowly push my fingers inside her with each step I take. But she’s not resisting anymore. Instead, she moans when my steps jostle her against my shoulder.
"You should put me down," she says.
"Now you're just trying to provoke me."
"Is it working?" she asks.
I slip my fingers from her and deposit her on the ground in front of me, her body sliding down mine until her feet touch the floor. Pushing her hard against the wall, I pin her arms behind her. My mouth hovers so close to hers I can feel her breath on me.
"You tell me," I say, pressing my erection against her leg.
"You like it when I provoke you," she whispers, arching her back up toward me. Her breasts push against me, and my cock twitches.
"I like it when you do what I say," I whisper. I'm going to fuck this girl, right here, right now. I can't even wait to cover the ten steps between here and my room.
She laughs, the sound breathy. "You would hate it if I just did what you told me to do," she says.
I would hate it.
I like the fight she puts up.
"I should punish you for your smart mouth," I say.
"If the punishment involves your cock, I'll take it," she whispers.
Fuck. The words your cock coming out of her sweet little mouth, and I'm done for. "Fuck me bare," I tell her. "That's your punishment."
28
Belle
I swear that my heart leaps in my chest, straight up to my throat.
Bare. Unprotected.
I've never done that with anyone before.
Some punishment.
The idea of feeling Albie bare inside me, his cock ring 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.