CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Albie
“I saw you talking with Erika earlier,” Sofia says, sipping from a glass of champagne. “Will she be joining us at the summer house? I’ve heard so many lovely things about her.”
On the other side of Belle, Alex snorts, her inhibitions lowered by whatever she took to get her through tonight’s events. I glance at my empty scotch glass, downing a glass of champagne as a poor substitute. “Lovely,” Alex scoffs. “I’ve never heard her called that before.”
“She won’t be joining us at the summer house, Sofia,” I say, my voice firm. At least that shuts her up. I’m not sure whether she’s manipulative or simply unobservant, but it’s obvious to everyone else that Erika and I are nothing.
“No?” Belle asks, her voice innocent. “You should invite her.”
I flick on the vibrator in response, and watch as a flush runs up Belle’s neck, then down the front of her chest. She crosses her legs, and re-crosses them as I increase the vibration a little more.
I was having fun with this whole thing earlier, the thrill of turning the vibrator on and off at inopportune times. But now, I’m not. I’m not going to wait any longer. I want to watch Belle come, sitting right here at this table.
“Are you okay, Belle?” I ask, cutting a piece of filet and popping it into my mouth. “You look a little feverish.”
“I’m…fine,” she says, looking straight ahead as she takes a sip of wine from her glass. No one else notices, but I can see her eyes close for just a moment too long.
The thought of her sitting at this table beside me, her pussy wet because she’s on the verge of coming, makes me hard as a rock, and I have to adjust the napkin that covers my lap.
When she finally looks over, her gaze falls to my lap, then up to my eyes again. I know she saw how hard I am. She looks away as quickly as she turned. “Prince Albert,” she says. “You should stand and make a toast, don’t you think?”
I cough to hide my laugh. Clever girl.
I flick the setting on the vibrator up higher, trying not to think of what that’s doing to her. I run quickly through mental images of anything that might deflate my raging erection.
“Oh, that would be lovely, Albert,” my grandmother says.
“Perhaps it would be more appropriate to save a toast for a less public event,” my father says, interrupting and saving me from having to reveal my massive hard-on for Belle.
“Yes,” I say. “Some things are better left for private, don’t you agree, Belle?”
She tucks a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, then adjusts a few more strands with trembling hands, before running her hand along her brow. Her chest rises and falls, hardly apparent to anyone else, I’m sure, but I know what that means. “Certain things shouldn’t be done in public,” she says, her voice breathy.
“Are you all right?” Alex asks. “Seriously, you look like you’re not feeling well.”
“Isabella, are you having an episode?” Sofia asks. “She gets anxious during public events sometimes – or, she used to, anyway.”
“I’m…fine,” Belle says. The gravelly tone in her voice makes me even harder, and I turn up the vibrator again. She clutches the sides of her chair, her fingers white at the knuckles where she holds it tightly.
I wonder how long she can hold out. But mostly, I wonder what she’ll look like when she comes.
“Isabella,” my father says. “You do look flushed. Alex, why don’t you walk Isabella back to her room. Perhaps you should lie down.”
I turn the vibrator on the highest setting, determined to make Belle come before she leaves. She closes her eyes lightly, gripping the chair tightly, the wrinkle on her forehead the only other outward sign of anything happening. “Yes, Belle,” I say, “Why don’t you lie down. It looks like you’re tense. Perhaps you need a little relief.”
“Yes,” she gasps, far too loudly, then inhales immediately. It’s one word, and she says it in a way that’s so unmistakably erotic that it has to be the most inappropriate response ever given at a royal dinner. And I know by the flush that rises to her cheeks that she just came, right here at my father's engagement party.
This is definitely one for the history books.
The table is silent, and my grandmother’s eyes go wide as she glances uncomfortably at Belle before gulping her water. “Well,” my grandmother says. “I guess that’s a yes, then.”
Belle clears her throat. “Yes,” she says, this time more measured, but still breathy, as I turn down the vibration. “Excuse me.”