“Please make me come, Albie,” she says, her voice breathy.
“I don't think so, luv. Not yet."
"Please."
There she goes with the please again.
I slip my fingers from her. "I don't want you to come that way, luv," I tell her. "I want you to come on my cock, the way I haven't been able to stop thinking about."
On the bed, I pull her down on top of me. When she slides onto my cock, it's pure heaven. "You're so wet and ready for me," I say, my hands traveling across her waist, gripping her hips as she rocks slowly on me, the way I know she likes.
But she doesn't need time to warm up. She only rides me slowly for a few minutes, before she's gathering momentum, her head lolling back and her breasts bouncing in the air as she fucks me at her pace.
I love the fact that she's taking control, taking her pleasure from my cock as she rides me. I love the fact that she loses herself, closes her eyes and then opens them abruptly, needing to look at me.
And I can't get over the fact that she's fucking me, with that bright pink pony tail sticking out of her ass.
It's almost enough to make me laugh, except for the fact that she's so damn sexy doing it that I couldn't laugh if I tried.
Instead, I lose myself in her, in the sounds of her moans as she rides me, in the silky smoothness of her skin under my fingertips.
In the sensation of that damn pony tail swishing against my leg as she moves.
"Fuck, Albie," she says, her hands stroking my balls as she rides me.
And then even that hot pink tail isn’t funny anymore. "Do you feel that, luv? How ready I am for you?" I ask, my voice tight as her touch sends waves of heat rushing through my body.
"Oh God, yes," she gasps. "I want to feel you come inside me, Albie. I want all of you in me."
"Not yet, luv," I say, my voice strained. "I want to feel you come on me first."
She looks at me with heavy eyes, desire contorting her features as she grinds against me. "Can I?"
"Tell me how good it feels to be riding my cock again," I order.
She moans. "I missed your cock," she says. "I felt empty without you."
"Tell me how good it feels with this inside you," I say, sliding my hand around to press the plug against her ass.
Belle groans, grinding her clit against me harder, losing her rhythm as she rides me, her movements no longer controlled but erratic. "It feels so good to be filled up," she says, her words punctuated by short gasps for breath.
"Your pussy is so swollen and wet," I say softly. "I can tell you want to come, my love."
"Please," she whimpers.
"Come with me."
She throws her head back, saying she loves me and crying out my name as she comes with a vengeance. The moment her orgasm begins to rip through her body, it triggers mine. My balls clench and I let go.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Belle
I lay on my side, my head tucked into the crook of Albie's arm, the way I've gotten comfortable, my finger tracing lazy circles on his chest. "Can we stay like this forever?" I ask.
"Hole up in this hotel and live on room service?" Albie asks. "I think that can be arranged."
"It's like your own private kingdom."
"I’ll be the master of my hotel room," Albie says.
"Is your father going to disown you?" I ask.
Albie pushes my hair away from my forehead, his touch gentle. "No," he says. "He asked if I loved you, you know. I went to tell him and your mother, before I left."
"Did he flip out?" I ask.
And the better question: Did my mother flip out?
"He doesn't know we're here exactly," Albie says, chuckling. "But he asked if I was in love with you and I said yes."
"That’s it?”
"He said he was young and headstrong and stubborn once, too," Albie says.
"When he was with your mother.”
"It was his way of giving us his blessing."
"You know that my mother is not going to give us her blessing," I note.
"No more talk about our parents or tabloids or scandal or the paparazzi standing outside the hotel downstairs or –"
"There are photographers outside?" I squeal.
"We just caused a rather large scandal, you know,” he says, tilting my chin up to bring my lips to his.
Then I don’t care about the scandal. I don’t care what his father or my mother think.
I don’t care that he’s royalty.
I only care about this moment with him.
Albie rolls me over, pinning me underneath him, his hands pulling mine over my head. “No more talk,” he says, pressing his hardness against my leg. “Unless it’s you telling me you’re mine.”