Prince Albert(72)

It’s dusk, but the canopy of trees in the woods makes it even darker than it was just a minute ago when we were on the lawn. “Okay, this is getting slightly creepy,” I say, only half-joking.

“Only slightly?” he asks. “I’ll have to try harder.”

We walk along a path that’s less manicured than the rest of the property, winding past the trees until we can’t see the main house any longer.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?” I ask. In response, he flicks on the vibrator, laughing when I grip his arm tightly, my fingernails digging into his skin. I pause in the middle of the trail, unmoving, as the vibration sends waves of pleasure through me.

“We’re almost there,” he says.

“You’re going to make me come,” I protest.

“You’re not allowed to come yet, luv.” He stands close to me, pushing my hair back from my face. His lips hover millimeters away from mine, but when I arch my back up to meet them, he denies me, and puts a finger on my lips. “It’s right around the bend here.”

We reach the place a few minutes later, and I stand there, wordlessly taking it in. Technically it's a tree house, although it’s not like any tree house I’ve ever seen before. It’s the size of a cottage, two-stories tall with a balcony on the upper level, built so that it rests between several trees twenty feet high. A wooden walkway with elaborately carved railings winds down from the doorway to the ground and curves around to meet the pathway. Two lanterns trim the opening of the walkway, casting a golden glow on the path.

In a word, it’s magical.

“What is this place?” I ask.

“Come on.” He pulls me up the walkway that leads to the door, and I follow him, completely mesmerized by this little house in the trees. “My father had this built for Alex and I when we were kids.”

“This was your tree house?" I ask, shaking my head in disbelief as I take it in. It’s just as breathtaking on the inside, rustic and wooden with huge windows that overlook the surrounding forest. And upstairs, there’s a loft bedroom with a ceiling made of glass panels – a window looking out to the sky.

“It’s not a regular tree house, I know,” Albie says, shrugging. “When my father does something, he goes big. Alex never really liked it much out here. She was always too scared to come out in the woods. So this became my place. I’ve never brought anyone out here before.”

I tear my gaze away from the star-dotted sky and turn to face him. “Why me?” I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper.

No sooner do the words leave my mouth, than I’m filled with regret for asking them. Fear clutches at my chest. I’m afraid of what he might say. And more afraid to admit to myself what I’m starting to feel for him.

Albie tilts my face up to his. But when he opens his mouth to speak, I stop him. “No,” I say, quickly. “Don’t answer that. Forget I asked.”

“Because I want you, Belle,” he says, ferocity in his gaze as he brings his mouth to mine and kisses me until I’m breathless. “More than anything. I want to claim every inch of you.”

Every inch of me.

The entire walk here was foreplay.

“I want you to have me,” I say.

I mean every word.

I want to give myself to him, completely and entirely.

I pull his shirt over his head, my eyes lingering on his muscular chest and his perfectly defined abdomen. My fingers trail over his arms, across the tattoo of the royal family crest that covers his sculpted bicep.

He’s a work of art. He’s absolutely fucking perfect.

He watches me, his lids heavy, letting out a groan under his breath when I undo his belt and strip him of his pants. When I’m on my knees, he growls. “Why do I like it so much when you’re down on your knees?”

I don’t answer. I run my hands over his muscular thighs, cupping his balls before wrapping my hand around his shaft and directing his cock toward my mouth. I’m practically salivating at the thought of having him in my mouth again. Running my tongue up the underside of his cock, I lick him, my tongue catching the tiniest drop of pre-cum that hangs from the tip of his head.

He’s salty-sweet, and I can’t think of anything that tastes better.

I wrap my lips around him, but only for a second before he’s pulling me to my feet, his voice gruff. “No,” he says. “That’s not what I want.”

I don’t ask what he wants.

I don’t have time to ask before he’s yanking my dress over my head. His mouth is on my neck, my breasts, my stomach, and then lower as he pulls the straps from the vibrator over my hips and tosses it to the side. Between my legs, my aching emptiness is distracting, my pussy throbbing as his warm breath wafts over me.