Prince Albert: A Billionaire Stepbrother Romance

by Sabrina Paige

  “Out here,” I say.

  “In the grass?”

  “Stop being so prissy,” I say. “You’re not a princess yet.”

  “I’m not being prissy,” she says, huffing. “You’re asking me to sit on your face, outside in broad daylight.”

  “I’m asking you to sit on my face and put my cock in your mouth,” I whisper, my lips near her ear. “Outside in broad daylight. And I know the thought makes you wet.”

  “You’re a bad influence on me,” she whispers, her hands running down my chest.

  “I hope so,” I say.

  Despite her protest, she straddles me on the ground without further objection. The fabric of her skirt falls around my face and tents me. She rises up on her knees, hovering over my mouth, her movements tentative as she pulls up the front of her skirt and peers between her legs at me. “Is this okay?”

  Her hesitation makes me laugh. “Stop worrying, and wrap your lips around my cock.”

  “God, you’re so crude.”

  “I know you worship me, but really, you don’t need to refer to me as a deity,” I say, pulling her down onto my face before she can object. I enjoy the little squeal she lets out when my mouth covers her pussy. I lose myself in her taste, in the fact that she doesn’t do what I say immediately, doesn’t reach down and pull my cock out of my pants and wrap her lips around it. She sits up, riding my face, her hips grinding against me as I eat her.

  I imagine what she looks like sitting on my face out here in the garden, her hands running over her breasts, her head tossed back so that her hair spills over her shoulders and down her back. The image of her riding me outside here, throwing yet another inhibition to the wind, makes me want to explode.

  When she reaches between my legs, unzipping my pants and wrapping her fingers around my cock, I think I actually might explode at her touch.

  Her mouth is like heaven. It’s warm and wet and she takes me in deeper than she has before, so deep that I swear I can’t go any farther. Then she pulls back, stroking the base of my cock and teasing me with an open mouth. The head of my cock hits her tongue. “Look at all that pre-cum,” she whispers.

  I pull her away from my mouth so I can speak, knowing my warm breath on her pussy will only make her hotter. “I want to hear how much you love the taste.”

  She laughs, pushing her pussy down onto my face to shut me up, and I eat her greedily. I thrust my tongue inside her until she’s bucking against me, beginning to lose control as she strokes me, her movements jerky. When she finally brings her tongue back to the head of my cock, she rolls it over and over, licking me.

  Tasting me.

  “I love the way it tastes,” she says, her voice husky. She rubs her finger on the head, massaging the tip before sliding her hand down the shaft. “You’re so full. Your balls are so heavy. I know you want to come. I want you to come for me.”

  Fuck.

  She wraps her lips around my cock, stroking me in short hard bursts as I devour her pussy. She’s not holding back any longer. All of her inhibitions are gone. Now, she fucks my face with abandon, grinding against me as I lick her clit, sucking even harder when I slide my fingers inside her pussy, one finger pressing against her asshole.

  I can’t stop thinking about the filthy way she just talked to me.

  I love the way it tastes.

  I know you want to come.

  She moans as she sucks me, her pussy swollen around my fingertips. I can’t hold back any longer. My balls clench tightly, and I let go, flooding her mouth. As soon as I do, I hear her scream her orgasm. The sound is muffled by my cock and she grinds her pussy against my face as she comes.

  Afterward, she crawls away from my face on her hands and knees, looking over her shoulder at me as she straddles me with her legs on either side of my face. “What are you doing to me?”

  The better question is what is Belle doing to me? This girl is consuming me, taking possession of everything I am.

  And I think I like it.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Belle

  I roll over. Albie’s naked chest is underneath me, and I'm still half-asleep as I listen to the beating of his heart underneath my ear. Mid-morning light streams through the windows in my room.

  My bedroom.

  Albie.

  Shit.

  “Oh my God, Albie,” I hiss, unable to hide the panic in my voice. I sit bolt upright in bed. “You need to get back to your room. You fell asleep in here last night.”

  Albie groans as he rolls over and pulls me against his hardness. “Mmm-hmm,” he says. His fingers find their way down my stomach and between my legs. “Just five more minutes.”

  “No,” I insist. “Seriously. Noah is going to realize you’re not in your room.”

  “Killjoy,” he says, slapping me on the ass before he slides out of bed.

  “We’re getting too comfortable,” I call to his retreating form as he disappears into the bathroom.

  We’re getting way too comfortable, far too blatant in our sneaking around. It’s one thing to be hooking up the way we’ve been, but spending the night? That’s just dangerous.

  It’s an unacceptable risk.

  Albie ambles slowly across the bedroom to pick up his pants and shirt from the floor. He doesn’t appear the least bit concerned about being caught wearing the same clothes he wore yesterday, doing a royal walk of shame back to his room, even if it’s through the secret passageway. “You worry too much,” he says.

  “You don’t worry enough.”

  “Life is too short to worry,” he says. “In fact, I have something that might ease your anxiety.”

  “That is not going to help my anxiety,” I say, laughing as he walks to the bed and starts to climb on top of me. I push playfully at his chest. “You’re going to get us in trouble. That doesn’t help me feel less anxious.”

  “No?” he asks, bringing his mouth to a spot just below my ear. A chill runs up my spine at his touch, my body immediately sensitive.

  “Definitely not.”

  “Then I must not be doing it right,” he says, trailing kisses down the side of my neck before his warm mouth finds my breast. He presses his tongue against my nipple, and it hardens immediately at the sensation. “Oh, and by the way, you should make sure to forget your panties under your skirt at the charity event tonight.”

  Heat surges through my body at the thought of being with Albie again at a public event. “No vibrators this time,” I whisper.

  Albie’s hand finds its way between my legs, and he murmurs his approval at my wetness. Of course, that shouldn’t be surprising to him. He has an uncanny ability to turn me on with a mere glance, to evoke a response from my body with a word. “I can promise there won’t be any vibrators, luv,” he says.

  He slides easily inside me and I let my eyes close for just a moment, savoring the feeling of his bare cock, the coolness of his metal piercing before it warms with my heat. “No vibrator means you have something else up your sleeve,” I say, my words punctuated with sharp intakes of breath as he thrusts slowly.

  “I’m not sure what you mean, luv,” he says, the trace of a smile on his lips. “I’m offended that you think I’d do something inappropriate to you at your own charity event.”

  “I’m…” I start, but lose track of what I’m saying as he thrusts deeply inside me, sending waves of pleasure rushing through me.

  “What, luv?” he asks, his eyes on mine as he does it again, his movements slow.

  “I…can’t remember.” Whatever I was going to say doesn’t matter, not when he’s doing what he’s doing with his cock.

  “Good,” he says. “Rendering you speechless is the best part of my day.”

  And that’s what he does. He fucks me slowly and leisurely, like he has nowhere else to go and as if there’s no one else in the world but us. He fucks me tenderly, his mouth on mine, his tongue exploring me like it’s the first time he’s kissed me.

  And when I’m close to the edge, just
about to crash over, I think this is what it’s like to be comfortable with someone.

  This is what it means to be at ease, to be able to let go.

  This is happiness.

  Afterward, I breathe in Albie’s scent, trying to etch it on my brain. Because, I know, without a doubt, that this is too comfortable.

  I’m too happy, holed up in my own little world with Albie, sneaking around underneath everyone’s noses. And happiness like that, the kind I have right now, is fleeting. It doesn’t last.

  What’s happening with Albie can’t last. Our parents will be married by the Fall. And by the Fall, Albie and I have to be over.

  I’ve known it all along. Except now, it suddenly makes me sad.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Albie

  “Where’s Belle?” Alex walks toward me in her blue cocktail dress with a champagne glass in her hand, seemingly oblivious to the glare of Max, who stands beside Noah a few yards away on the other side of the room.

  “I haven’t seen her in a while,” I lie.

  A while.

  I left her room not more than fifteen minutes ago, after sufficiently disheveling her. She was way too irresistible to keep my hands off, wearing a black cocktail dress with a flirty skirt, almost ready to come down for the event.

  Tonight is a cocktail party, informal compared to most of the parties that are hosted at the palace. We’re supposed to be minimizing public events, but this was Belle’s idea. She wanted to raise funds for an organization affiliated with the local children’s hospital where she’s been volunteering, one that grants wishes to kids with terminal cancer.

  I almost feel badly about debauching her right before the party. Almost, but not quite.

  I can still taste her on my lips.

  “I’m sure,” Alex snorts. “The two of you have been pretty cozy lately.”

  I raise my eyebrows at my nosy sister. “Is Finn here tonight?” I ask pointedly.

  Alex rolls her eyes. “I made sure he was left off the list,” she says. “He’s been on my nerves.”

  “Good. He’s a bad influence.”

  “Save your lectures, big brother,” Alex says, huffing. But she doesn’t walk off. She stands there beside me, surveying the room with her champagne in hand.

  “Max didn’t like him either,” I note.

  She looks beyond me toward where Max stood across the room. “Max should mind his own business.”

  “I think you are his business, Alex.”

  She gives me a ‘fuck you’ look, but then Belle comes into view and my attention is immediately diverted away from Alex. Belle walks across the room with long strides, pausing only once to smile and nod at a guest who interrupts her. She wears the same dress she wore earlier, the one I pushed up to her waist before bending her over the bed.

  Her forehead is wrinkled.

  I know that look. She’s upset about something.

  When she reaches us, she puts a hand on each of our forearms, furtively glancing behind her before she speaks. “You guys,” she hisses. “Did you know about this?”

  “Know about what?” I whisper.

  “Did you know he was going to be here?” she asks. “Or that he was in Protrovia? Did my mother tell you?”

  “I literally have no idea who you’re talking about, Belle,” Alex says, looking behind Belle and across the room. “I don’t see anyone. Who’s he?”

  “Derek,” Belle hisses.

  “What?” I ask. Irritation surges through me at the mere mention of the name of the asshole ex-fiancé who cheated on Belle.

  “Who’s Derek?” Alex asks. Her voice is just a little too loud, and I “hush” her.

  “My – just an assho – my fiancé,” she says. “Ex-fiancé.”

  “Oh no,” Alex says, wrinkling her forehead.

  “What should I do?” Belle’s face is ashen. “I don’t want to cause a scene in the middle of a charity event.”

  I have an idea of what I’d like to do to her cheater ex-fiancé. It involves my fists and would definitely cause a scene.

  “I’m just going to sneak out of the room that way and hope no one notices,” Belle whispers. “Right?”

  “I’ll go with you,” I start, but Alex glares at me.

  “No,” Alex says. “I’ll go with her. You don’t want to draw any extra attention to you.”

  “Belle!” A group of people part and Sofia walks toward us, her hand outstretched toward Belle. Belle’s eyes widen as she looks at me before slowly turning around to face her mother.

  “Did you do this?” Belle asks. Her hands are clenched into fists by her sides. I can’t see her face, but I can tell by her tone that she’s no longer anxious as much as she is angry.

  Sofia draws Belle in to hug her, standing with her hands on Belle’s arms, smiling broadly. “Derek is here because he wants to apologize, darling,” she says, her voice soft but still audible. “He and that friend of yours are no longer together. He contacted me because he wanted to make it right. He flew all the way in from the States to surprise you and to support you publicly at this event. He still wants to get married. Isn’t that fantastic?”

  “Oh, fuck that,” Alex says beside me, her voice too loud.

  I elbow her hard. “Be quiet, Alex.”

  “What?” Alex whispers. “That’s a load of bull. She’s going to take him back?”

  Sofia clears her throat and glares at Alex. “Well, Isabella, I’m sure the two of you have some things to talk about. Perhaps in another more private room, Isabella?” She asks the question without waiting for a response before putting her hand on Belle’s back and turning her around to casually direct her through the crowd.

  I stand there watching Belle walk away, like this whole thing is a damn train wreck, because that’s what it is.

  Alex elbows me. “You saw that, right?”

  “I saw it,” I say, my voice the epitome of calm. But that’s only on the outside.

  “So Belle just walked off to meet her cheating ex-fiancé who wants to get back together with her,” Alex says. She sets her empty champagne glass down as a caterer passes with a tray and turns back to me. “And you’re standing in here.”

  “Where else would I be?”

  How about someplace like punching Derek in the fucking face?

  Alex raises her eyebrows. “I don’t know, maybe stopping her from getting back together with him?”

  “Why would I do that, Alex?” I whisper.

  Alex cocks her head to the side as she looks at me. “I don’t know,” she says. “Maybe because you like her.”

  “I never said I liked her.”

  “Yeah, right,” Alex says. “You guys have been obsessed with each other since she got here.”

  “Says the girl who’s pointedly ignoring the bodyguard she clearly has a thing for?”

  Alex crosses her arms over her chest. “It’s not the same thing.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “So you’re just going to let her run off with her crappy ex,” Alex whispers.

  “I’m not letting her do anything,” I say, my tone low. “Belle is capable of making her own decisions.”

  “You’re so stubborn.”

  “Go talk to Max.”

  “Fuck off, big brother.”

  “Love you, little sister.”

  I walk away as Alex flips me off while pretending to scratch the side of her face. Outside of the ballroom, I walk down the hallway, fully intending to go straight to my room.

  I should just let it go. I know I should.

  That would be the appropriate thing to do.

  It would be the royal thing to do. We’re taught, from the very beginning, to do what’s appropriate, to maintain bearing above all.

  Our name is all we have. That’s what my father would say.

  I can think of few things that are worse ways of ruining my family’s name, or my father’s legacy, than falling for my stepsister.

  Belle is her own person. She should make her own
decision. And if that decision happens to involve getting back together with the jackass who was stupid enough to cheat on her, then so be it.

  The rational part of me knows that letting it go would be the mature thing to do.

  I stand in the middle of the hallway for a long minute.

  Maybe I’m not that mature after all.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Belle

  “I know I screwed up, Isabella.” Derek stands in front of me with his hands in his pockets. And he shrugs.

  He fucking shrugs.

  Nonchalantly, like it’s no big deal.

  “You screwed up,” I say. “I’m pretty sure that fucking my maid of honor – not once, but repeatedly – doesn’t count as screwing up. Screwing up is forgetting my birthday, or –“

  He interrupts. “It was an accident, Isabella,” he says. “I didn’t mean to –“

  “Ohhhhh,” I say, my tone exaggerated. “Well, you see, I didn’t realize it was an accident. In that case, since you only accidentally put your penis in Adriana over and over and over for two years, obviously I’d have to forgive you.”

  “I knew you’d see reason,” Derek says.

  “That was sarcasm, you idiot,” I say, my voice coming out louder than I intend.

  We’re inside one of the drawing rooms, a civilized place surrounded by priceless antiques. And I have to clasp my hands in front of me to keep from picking up one of the porcelain pieces of art on a nearby table and throwing it at Derek’s stupid head.

  Because that would be inappropriate. And soon-to-be princesses are never inappropriate.

  “You were gone for two years, Isabella,” he says. “How was I supposed to last for two years? Besides, it was just sex. It meant nothing to me. She meant nothing to me.”

  “You could have just said you wanted to break up,” I hiss, my hands on my hips. I’m dangerously close to reaching for the porcelain figurine nearby. It’s a horse, rearing back with its legs in the air. I wonder how much it’s worth.

  I wonder what it would look like bouncing off of Derek’s forehead.