Prince Albert(61)

I’m not going to give it to her that easily.

Even when she turns toward me, fumbling with the zipper on my pants.

"I'm not finished, luv," I say, pushing her back against the seat. I trail my hand up her stomach and proclaim it mine.

She tenses underneath my fingertips, but she says what I want her to say. "Yours."

Tracing the curves of her breasts through the thin fabric of her dress, I let my finger trail lazily over each one. I linger on her nipples, slowly circling them, watching as they harden to my touch. “Mine.”

When she answers, it’s a whisper, breathy as she looks at me. “Yours.”

At the top of her shoulder, I tug on one of the straps on her sundress. When it doesn’t budge, I take it between my hands and tear it right off her shoulder.

"What are you doing?" she squeals.

Damn, I love that squeal.

I pull the fabric down over her breasts, covering her nipple with my mouth before she can protest the state of her dress any more. Running my tongue over her nipple in circles, I only pull away when she moans just a little too loudly. “Just in case I wasn’t clear,” I say, covering her breast with my palm. “This is mine.”

"Yours," she whispers, looking at me with hooded eyes.

"This neck," I say, kissing softly along the side of her neck until I reach her ear. My tongue presses against the place just below her earlobe that I know makes her wet. "Mine."

"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.