Her bodyguard, p.53
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       Her Bodyguard, p.53
 

           Sabrina Paige

  When I walk outside, I see Belle standing on the edge of the granite deck, her forearms resting on the railing. When I reach her, she doesn’t look at me. “You shouldn’t have followed me out here.”

  “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  That gets a rise out of her. She turns to face me, her eyes icy. “No,” she says, and I can tell she’s trying hard to keep her voice measured, restrained. “That is not what I wanted.”

  A couple walks past us carrying glasses of champagne, and I turn my head. The last thing I want is to talk to a nosy, irritating socialite and her husband.

  In fact, the last thing I want to do is talk to anyone right now.

  “You’re awfully cranky for someone who just had an earth-shattering orgasm,” I say quietly, watching her face turn scarlet.

  She looks around before speaking. “I did not have an earth-shattering anything,” she says.

  “Liar,” I say, turning on the vibrator again.

  She flinches. “Stop it, Albie.”

  “Too much?” I ask. “If you like, I can reach up there and retrieve it.”

  “Thanks but no thanks.” She turns, walking down the stairs from the deck to the lawn that stretches for acres behind the palace, trimmed on the edges with large trees to hide the massive walls that secure the palace grounds.

  “You’re angry,” I say, following her across the lawn. She walks faster, trying to get rid of me, and I let her, until she reaches the side of the glass enclosure that surrounds the swimming pool.

  “I’m not angry,” she says, turning to face me. “Besides, someone is going to see us out here. You should get back to your girlfriend.”

  I flick on the remote to the vibrator. “Don’t lie, luv,” I say. “It doesn’t suit you.”

  “Stop doing that.” She glares at me, then glances toward the deck.

  “She’s an ex.”

  “I didn’t ask who she was,” she says. “Will you turn that thing off now?”

  “I’ll turn it off once you admit you’re just being cranky because you’re jealous.”

  “I’ll admit no such thing,” she says, as she marches toward the pool house and yanks open the door. I follow her inside, flicking the vibrator up all the way, just for added effect.

  “Oh God,” Belle says. She faces the wall, leaning with one hand over her head, and lets out an exasperated groan. But I don’t turn the vibrator off; I only turn it down. I’m not a monster, after all.

  Walking up behind her, I take her other hand and put it against the wall. She stands with both palms flat against the wall and her ass sticking out, and I run my hands along those curvy hips.

  “You’re not done yet, luv,” I tell her.

  She lets out a moan, long and low under her breath, her fingertips pressing against the wall. “It’s too much, Albie,” she says. “I’m so sensitive.”

  “Just come for me, Belle,” I whisper. “That’s twice now that you’ve come and I didn’t get to hear it. I want to hear you moan.”

  “I…oh God,” she groans. “Screw you, Albie.”

  “Not yet, luv,” I say, letting my hands graze the length of her evening gown, squatting as I follow it down to where it falls on the ground. I pull the entire thing up around her waist, draping it across her bare ass. “But soon.”

  “Oh God,” she says again, arching up her back as she presses her hands firmly against the wall. The movement has the added effect of pushing back her perfect ass at me, and I run my palms over her smooth skin.

  “Oh, Albie,” I tell her, one hand caressing her ass cheek. “That’s what I want to hear you say. That, and please. Please make me come, Albie.”

  “I’m not begging you,” she says, her voice strained. Then, “That feels so good.”

  Running my palm over her ass, I draw my hand back and bring it down hard, the crack reverberating through the room.

  “Damn it, Albie,” she says, then moans. And she doesn’t move. She shakes her hair, tossing her head back, and I realize something.

  She likes it.

  “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” I ask. “You’re so close to coming, and you liked my hand on your ass, spanking you.”

  “Maybe,” she whispers, looking at me over her shoulder.

  I reach between her legs, my fingertips brushing along the length of her pussy lips. “You’re drenched,” I say. “Soaked. You fucking love this. Say it. You want me to make you come.”

  “I’m not saying it,” she says. “I won’t beg.”

  I bring my hand down on the opposite cheek, and she flinches. But she doesn’t stand up and walk away. She arches her ass out more. I caress the red mark that’s rapidly spreading across the expanse of her skin, while she moans low under her breath.

  “Say it, luv,” I tell her, reaching between her legs from behind until I find her clit with my fingertip. But I don't move my finger. I just press it gently on her clit. “Tell me how much you want me. You want me inside you. You want to feel me, coming inside you.”

  “Albie,” she says, groaning loudly, her frustration evident.

  "Belle."

  "What?" her eyes are closed, her forehead wrinkled, and I know how much she wants to let go.

  "You're the only one I want to make come. Not Erika, not anyone else. Do you understand? Now say what I want to hear."

  “Yes." She whispers the word so softly that I barely hear it.

  I don’t move. I know she’s close. I know she’s on the edge, so close to coming, and I want to send her hurtling over the edge. “Yes, what, luv?”

  She groans again. “Yes, I want you inside me. Yes, I want you to make me come.”

  “Not enthusiastic enough,” I tell her. But I finally move my finger on her clit. “You want to come. You want release. All you have to do is tell me how much you want it.”

  “Oh my God, Albie,” she whispers. “Please.”

  The please is what gets me. It’s the please, coming from Little Miss Do-Gooder, Miss Propriety, that kills me.

  But I can’t stand not seeing it on her face. I want to see the expression on her face when she comes.

  When I take my fingers away from her clit, she practically cries, until I spin her around and push her roughly against the wall. Yanking the piles of fabric of her dress up, I thrust my fingers between her legs, returning them where they were on her clit, and she practically melts against me.

  It takes all the willpower I have not to crush her mouth under mine, but I want to see her face as I roll my fingers over her clit, faster now. “Come for me, luv,” I tell her. “I want to hear you say my name.”

  “Fuck,” she says, clutching at my wrist, pressing my hand against her pussy as she jerks involuntarily, a full-body spasm. “Albie. Oh my…holy shit, Albie.”

  The expression when she comes is the hottest thing I've ever seen. Her eyes are closed and her face is angled up toward mine, her lips barely parted. I savor it for all of a split second before flicking off the vibrator.

  I don't wait for her to finish. Instead, I slide my fingers along her pussy lips until I reach her entrance. I find the vibrating egg easily. Her slickness makes sliding it from her the simplest thing in the world. I toss it on the floor with the remote, not caring if they shatter into a million pieces.

  “Tell me you want it,” I say. “Tell me you want my tongue. I want to taste you. I’ve been aching to taste you. Say it, Belle.”

  75

  Belle

  The most handsome, most eligible bachelor in the world – well, maybe bachelor isn’t the right word, not if we’re counting our fake marriage -- is looking into my eyes, telling me that he aches to taste me.

  And that’s after making me come twice in a night.

  The rational part of me is telling me we could get caught. It’s my mother’s engagement party, for goodness’ sake. And I’m in the pool house with Albie.

  Albie, my stepbrother, who’s telling me he wants to put his tongue between my legs.

  “I want you,
I whisper, hardly sure I’m even hearing the words coming out of my mouth. “I want your tongue on me.”

  “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.

  The asshole.

  “Oh,” I say, feigning breeziness in my voice I definitely do not feel. “Um, yeah. I was just getting away from the party. Getting…something to drink, you know.”

  “Come on,” Finn says, pulling her arm. He looks like he stepped off the pages of Yachting and Polo Magazine, even in his tuxedo. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “This is my new sister!” Alex says brightly. “Stepsister, I mean.”

  “Yeah, uh, you guys should go,” I say. “I mean -- I just, um, need a few minutes.”

  “Come with us,” Alex says. “We’ll go up to the roof and get baked. I have weed in my clutch, if you want some.”

  She’s like a walking dispensary. I’m about to answer, when Albie’s touch – his hand underneath my dress, on my thigh -- practically makes me yelp.

  “Are you okay?” Alex asks.

  “Yeah,” I say, my voice innocent. “Yeah. I’m totally okay. More than okay. I’m like, completely fine.”

  Fuck. I’m awful at lying.

  I think I hear Albie chuckle and I want to kick him, but I’m afraid he’ll yell and that will be the end of our little secret. So I stand there, totally motionless.

  And then Albie does the unthinkable.

  He edges his way in front of me, pushes my legs apart, and arches his head up. His mouth is so close to my pussy that I can feel his breath warming me.

  I reach down with one hand, try to push his head away, but he grabs my ass cheeks, gripping them so tightly I have to grit my teeth to keep from crying out.

  “Are you mixing cocktails while you’re back there?” Alex asks. “Why don’t you make me and Finn one?”

  “No!” I cry out, sharper than I should as Albie touches his tongue to me, licking me, probing me, his hands pulling me hard against his face. “I mean, um. It’s really better if I just take a breather from everything right now. Because…”

  Because your brother is currently sucking my clit into his mouth.

  Because your brother’s tongue is lodged inside of me.

  Because your brother is going to make me come right here.

  Those are all inappropriate excuses.

  “Because, my social anxiety,” I lie.

  “Your stepsister is so weird,” Finn says, as he slips his hand around Alex’s waist and pulls her against him. “Let’s go up to the roof.”

 
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