Prince Albert(142)

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he says, his gaze intense. "Reach up underneath your skirt and take off your panties and hand them to me."

No one has ever talked to me the way Gaige does. A bossy, demanding, misogynistic dickhead – who is also my stepbrother – should not order me around and make me wet with anticipation. I should tell him to fuck off. Then I should turn around and walk away.

But I don't.

Instead, I do what he tells me to do. And it makes me wet. My eyes never leave his as I reach underneath my skirt and slide them over my hips, letting them fall to the ground. Bending over, I pick them up and walk to Gaige, panties dangling from the tip of my finger. "Is this what you wanted?" I ask.

"This is nowhere near what I want," he says. He takes my thong from my hand and puts it in the pocket of his jacket. "Turn around."

"Why?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you're mouthy as all fucking get out?" he asks.

"Never."

"Liar," he says. "Turn around and close your mouth before I put something in it."

"Promise?" I whisper.

The corners of his mouth curl up. "Is that what you want?"

I don't answer him. I turn around instead. "Yes?" I ask, but I'm really answering his question. What I want is Gaige's cock in my mouth again. What I want is to taste him when he comes.

"Pull your skirt up over your ass."

"Not out here, Gaige," I protest, but the protest is weak.

"Now."

I hold my breath, flipping my skirt up to my waist, the air cool against my skin. And I wait. Gaige moves his hand slowly over the curves of my ass, then brings his palm down hard on my flesh. "That's for wearing panties."

I let out a little moan as the vibration from his touch moves through me, a jolt of pleasure and pain between my legs. The initial sharp sting becomes a dull throb, but only for a moment until he brings his hand down again. "And that's for wearing a bra."

He pauses, letting his fingers brush my pussy lips, already wet with my arousal. His touch sends pleasure ricocheting through my body that far eclipses the pain. Then he draws his hand back and spanks me again. "And that's for flirting with Japanese businessmen."

I face him, my ass cheek throbbing and tears stinging my eyes. "Now you're the jealous one," I say.

Gaige's hands grip my flesh, and he pulls me hard against him, my skirt still bunched up around my waist. "You're goddamned right I'm jealous," he says, his voice hoarse. "I don't like thinking about you with someone else."

"Why?" I ask, my face upturned. "You're the one who…dates around, Gaige O'Neal. Everyone knows that."

"Not since you," he says.

"So you haven't slept with anyone else in a couple weeks?" I say. "Congratulations."

"I haven't looked at anyone since you came back here," he says, his voice angry. "And, just so you understand -- as long as I'm fucking you, you belong to me."

"Who the hell says shit like that, Gaige?" I ask. Part of me bristles at his possessiveness, but another part of me is so turned on I can't think clearly. I don't know whether to smack his hands off my ass and tell him to go screw himself and his caveman antics, or whether to drop to my knees and take him in my mouth. He's that infuriating. And confusing. "You can't just…tell me you own me. That's not something normal people say."

"Fuck normal," Gaige says, taking my face in his hands. He strokes my lower lip with his thumb and I can imagine him doing the same thing between my legs. And then, as if he can read my mind, he reaches between my legs with his other hand, spreading them apart and thrusting two fingers inside me without warning. "You're making me crazy. That's not fucking normal either."

"You…oh my God…" I gasp the words, my hand on his firm chest for balance. "You cannot just put your fingers…inside me out here."

He doesn't stop, though. He continues to stroke me, his other hand over my breast. "I'm not just going to put my fingers inside you," he says. "I'm going to make you come outside, right here in the garden."

I'm so wet, so on the verge already from the anticipation of him, that I'm lost in his touch. So lost, that it takes me a minute to register the voices of a couple somewhere nearby. When I do hear them, I stiffen, giving Gaige a panicked look. "Shit," I whisper. "Someone's coming."

"Then you'd better come," he says, glancing over my shoulder toward the entrance of this part of the maze. "Because I'm not moving my fingers until you do."

"No," I protest, but he presses his palm firmly against my clit, his fingers continuing to work their magic. "Shit, Gaige."