Prince Albert(48)

“Say please,” he says. “I like to hear you say please.”

Screw you. That’s what I think. Those are the words that run through my head. But oddly enough, the word that comes out of my mouth, because apparently there’s some kind of disconnect between my lips and my brain, is please.

Albie makes a growling sound under his breath before sliding his hands up underneath my ass and lifting me up off the ground. I don’t even have a chance to object. I just giggle stupidly as he carries me across the room to a chaise lounge and deposits me firmly on my feet beside the cushioned piece of furniture. “Now,” he says. “You’re going to straddle my face while I eat that perfect pussy of yours.”

The words make me flush hot. No one has ever talked to me the way Albie talks to me – Derek certainly never did. Of course, Derek never sent desire coursing through my veins the way Albie does. Albie has a way of making me lose my mind and toss my inhibitions aside like they’re nothing.

Albie sits back on to the chaise, sliding his hands up my thighs and pushing the fabric of my dress toward my hips. “Stop thinking, luv,” he whispers. “I’m starving and you’re going to be my meal.”

“Wait,” I protest, as Albie pulls me against him until I’m standing with my pussy near his face.

“Mmm,” he says, inhaling deeply. “If you’re not going to climb over me and sit on my face, I suppose I can make do this way.”

“Wait. Albie.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re having a crisis of conscience right now.”

“No,” I say, swatting his hands away. “Someone’s coming.”

“Yeah, you’re going to be in a second, if you play your cards right and stop talking.”

“Shut up.” I slap his hand. “Someone’s coming. Two people. Look out the window.”

Albie shrugs. “The door is locked,” he says. “We’ll just move away from the window. They’ll go away.”

I jump up, scrambling across the room to the only cover nearby -- a large bar on the other side of the room. I slide behind it. Albie follows me slowly, ambling like he has all the time in the world, while my heart threatens to beat out of my chest.

When he joins me behind the bar, he slides his hands around me, cupping my ass and pulling me against his hardness. “Of course, fucking you right here against this bar works too,” he says.

“Shut up, they’re right outside,” I whisper, craning my neck to try to see the window by the front door.

“So?” he asks. His hands are underneath my skirt, his fingers on the crinkle of my thigh, so close to my pussy I can practically feel him already. “You can’t see all the way over here through those windows.”

Then I hear the doorknob jiggle and someone laugh. “Don’t you have a key somewhere?” the male voice asks.

“Shit, Albie,” I hiss. “Who has a key to this place?”

“The family, security, staff,” he says, ticking off people on his fingers casually, as if he’s not the least little bit worried about getting caught in the pool house with me. “He could be anyone. Just duck down.”

He drops down to the ground behind the bar in his tuxedo like he’s done this a million times before.

Of course, he probably has. Albie the manwhore prince has probably crawled out of more bedroom windows than anyone on earth. He’s a professional at handling this kind of situation.

I, on the other hand, am not.

And I’m in very real danger of dropping dead from a heart attack or abject humiliation if we’re caught in here together.

So I’m about to join him, cross-legged on the floor, when I see it.

Fuuccccck.

The remote control is right there in the middle of the entryway to the pool house. The vibrating egg – coated in my wetness – has rolled into the nearby corner. The vibrator might be overlooked – thank goodness for small mercies – but there’s no way anyone who walks inside the door would miss that remote control.

My stomach lurches as the couple outside drop the key to the ground, and then laugh they fumble to find it.

I can make it across the room and back here in time.

“What are you doing?” Albie asks. He reaches for my hand, but I shrug him off, about to dart from behind the bar.

And the door opens.

The fucking door to the pool house opens and I’m standing there behind the bar like a deer in the headlights, staring at Alex and Finn.

“Oh!” Alexandra says. “Belle, is that you? What are you doing in here?”

I lean across the top of the bar casually, sliding my forearms across it, mindful of the fact that Albie is practically sitting at my feet. I glance down at him with wide eyes, but he just looks at me and winks. Like none of this is any big deal.