Prince Albert (A Step-Brother Romance #4)

I want Belle to kneel in front of me, those lush lips parted, her tongue outstretched.


I want her to kneel at my feet and take my cock in her mouth.

I want to come in that perfect little mouth. Right here in the throne room.

My cock hardens at the thought, and I don’t even bother to try to pretend differently.

“I wasn’t joking,” I say, my voice thick. “On your knees, Belle.”

Her eyes linger on mine, and then drop lower, down to the obvious erection tenting my tuxedo pants. “Oh,” she says, more of an exhale than an actual coherent word.

“Oh isn’t an answer, Belle,” I say, slowly undoing my pants. “The right answer is Yes, Your Highness.”

She raises an eyebrow. “I’m not ever calling you Your Highness.”

“You need to be taught royal manners.”

“Is that a threat?” she asks. She looks at me with a strange mixture of impish innocence and total deviousness.

“It’s a promise that I’ll be the one to teach you, luv,” I say. “And you’re awfully cavalier, for someone who’s standing before the ruler of a country.”

“You’re not the ruler of a country,” she says. But she steps toward me, her eyes going lower as I slide my pants down, take out my cock, and stroke it lightly, aware of her steady gaze.

“You really are pierced,” she says, inhaling deeply.

“You’re still standing,” I note. “I do believe I asked you to kneel.”

Belle stands there unmoving for a moment, the expression on her face changing as she looks at me with unwavering focus. The lust in her eyes betrays her. “You’re such a dick,” she says.

And she kneels.

She grasps the sides of her dress, pulling it up daintily, and kneels before the throne.

She kneels before my cock.

Her dress billows around her on the floor, her breasts practically spilling out of the tightly fitted top. Her hair pulled off her shoulders and piled on her head, the dress she’s wearing…she looks like she stepped off the pages of a magazine.

She looks like a doll. My own personal, slightly disheveled Cinderella.

Her lips fall open, parting just enough so that I can’t help but picture her mouth wrapped around me.

My dick twitches in response to the very idea.

“And yet, the thought of my cock in your mouth makes you wet, doesn’t it?” I ask. I know it’s true. I know she’s soaked just by the look she gives me when I ask the question. “I know that underneath that dress, you’re throbbing at the thought of tasting me. Tell me.”

“Yes,” she whispers. “I want your cock in my mouth.”

I slide forward, the tip of my dick near her face, and her mouth falls open like a reflex, her tongue on the edge of her lips.

But I don’t give her my cock. Not yet. I reach around to the back of her hair, to that ridiculously appropriate updo of hers, and grab a handful before it tumbles over her shoulders. “I want those sweet lips of yours on me, Belle."

Belle directs her dark eyes to me, watching me as she wraps her hand around the base of my cock. Her eyes stay on mine while she licks me slowly, her movements languid as she moves over the head of my cock before she envelopes me in her mouth.

That mouth.

That warm and wet and perfect mouth.

I groan as she takes me in, running my hands through her hair and pulling it away from her face so I can watch her work her mouth over me. She makes little moaning sounds when she sucks me, her eyes closing each time she pulls back on the length of my cock, like she’s savoring the sensation of me in her mouth.

My groan seems to spur her on. She works me over, easing me deeper and deeper into her mouth until she’s practically inhaling me, swallowing me so far that it's all I can do to keep from coming down the back of her throat. I watch her head bob up and down on my length, her tongue working magic for what seems like an eternity until I can’t possibly take it any longer. When she brings me to the edge, I have to grab a handful of hair and wrench her away.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks, looking at me with disappointment.

“God, no,” I whisper. “I just don’t want to come like that. I want to come inside you, luv."





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Belle



I stand there in my designer dress, in front of the throne of Protrovia, as Prince Albert unwraps a condom and rolls it onto his length. I'm mesmerized by his cock. My mouth aches for him, mimicking the throbbing between my legs that is so incredibly insistent.

“You’re staring,” he says.

“You can wear a condom over the piercing?”

“Are you disappointed?” he asks, drawing me to him. His hardness presses up against my belly, and I instantly regret the fact that I’m still wearing my dress. I want to rip it off. I want to feel his nakedness against mine, his skin against my skin. "I'll take it off, if you'd like."

I want him inside me, bare.

I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life. I want to feel his piercing inside me, pressing up against me.

But I don’t want to tell him that.