Prince Albert(40)

The fact that she’s on display, right in the music room, with her legs spread open, is enough to make me hard as a fucking rock. But the fact that she’s never touched herself in front of anyone before is enough to make me insane.

“You’re going to make yourself come in front of me,” I say, my voice gruff. “Right here.”

“I’m not sure I can,” she protests.

“You’re the one who set this up, luv,” I say. “You had me meet you here. Now, stop being coy. Spread your legs so I can see you.”

She looks up at me in the window, the phone to her ear. For a second, I think she’s going to close her legs, stand up, and walk out of the room.

But she doesn’t. She spreads her legs wider. When the fabric of her dress falls between her legs, momentarily covering her, she pulls it up farther on her thighs, suddenly less timid.

“Slide your fingers over your clit,” I tell her, my voice low, watching as she obeys. Her eyelids fall closed, the phone still at her ear, as she touches herself.

She’s like a fucking piece of art, spread out on the piano the way she is, in that red dress that’s practically obscene, her legs open.

Touching herself for me.

“Are you wet?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.

Her breath comes in short pants, and I repeat myself. “Tell me, Belle.”

“Yes,” she says. “I’m wet.”

“Is this how you touch yourself when you’re alone?”

“No,” she whispers, her voice breathy.

I will my hand to remain where it is on the cell phone, my other hand on the window, my fingers pressed lightly up against the glass. I will my hands to remain where they are, no matter how much I want to unbutton my pants, draw out my cock, and run my hand down the length of it while she touches herself.

I’ll remain in control.

“Show me what you do when you’re alone, Belle,” I say. “Touch yourself the way you do when you’re alone. When you’re thinking about me.”

“I don’t –“ she starts to say, but stops.

“I know you think about me, Belle,” I say. “You think about me sliding my fingers inside your wet pussy, the way I did that afternoon, don’t you?”

She doesn’t answer, but I watch as she draws her hand away from her clit, spreading her legs open wider as she slides her fingers inside herself until her palm is pressed flat against her mound.

Fuck, this girl is going to give me a heart attack. I can already picture the headlines:

Prince Drops Dead in Royal Observatory, Pants Around His Ankles, Cock in Hand.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about, Belle,” I say, as her eyes close. Her mouth falls open, tongue running along her lower lip, and all I can think about is what I’d like to put in that smart little mouth of hers.

“You,” she whispers. “I’m thinking about you.”

“Tell me, Belle,” I say. “Are you thinking about my fingers sliding in and out of your slick pussy?”

“Yes,” she says. Her hips buck against her palm as she fucks herself with her hand, tossing her hair back as she closes her eyes, no longer caring if I’m here or not. I watch her as she loses her inhibitions more, giving herself over to pleasure, her chest heaving as her hand moves faster.

“But you don’t really want that, do you, luv?” I ask. “You want more, don’t you? You want my cock inside you, filling you up.”

“I want…” her voice trails off as she bites the side of her lip.

“Say it,” I order. “Say you want my cock inside you. Tell me how much you want me to bend you over that piano, to pull that dress of yours up around your waist and fuck you until you come around me. You want to feel my bare cock inside you, pressed against you until you can’t hold out, until you come and you’re milking me of everything I have.”

She drops the phone, and it clatters on the marble floor, spinning in circles. But she doesn’t seem to notice.

My eyes stay fixed on her face as she brings herself to the edge. I’m transfixed, watching her expression. Her breasts heave as her breath comes shorter and shorter. Then, at the last moment, she opens her eyes, and looks straight into mine.

And she comes.

Her lips, painted red to match her dress, form a perfect “O”. Her head back, hair tumbling over her shoulders, eyes wide open and meeting my gaze, she comes. I can hear her on the phone, the small moan she allows herself, still in control at the very last.

I want to rip that control from her.

I want to make her scream. I want my name on her lips. I want it to be my name she moans when she comes.