I wander along a tiled path past a large bar area with enough patios and tables enough to host several hundred people. The place is nicer than a resort and it's virtually empty, except for a gardener tending to plants toward the front and a man wearing a tropical patterned shirt standing behind the bar. I nod at him as I pass, and he points me in the direction of the princess, understanding who I'm looking for without my needing to ask.
It must be nice to have your own full-time pool bar staff just for you.
Princess Alexandra is at the far end of the pool, stretched out on her back on an half-covered oversized circular daybed. I can't see her from the other side of the pool area, only her legs sticking out from underneath the shade. When I'm standing right in front of her, she finally looks up, sliding her glasses down to the tip of her nose. "I thought I requested swim trunks, James."
"I think we decided that it would be difficult to hide my weapon if I were only wearing trunks," I reply.
It would definitely be difficult to hide my weapon in swim trunks – and I'm definitely not talking about my service weapon. It's hard enough dealing with the boner I get every time I look at her when I'm wearing regular slacks.
"Mmm. Maybe I was hoping to get another look at your weapon," she says.
I take my place standing behind her chair, which incidentally gives me the perfect view of her breasts. It's a perk of the job. "You know what you have to do," I tell her. "Say the word."
"James?" she teases.
"Yes, princess?" I ask. Is she actually going to do it? Is she really going to say my name and give in so easily?
"I'm afraid I need you to help me with the suntan lotion," she says, looking up at me with a playful smile on her lips.
I groan. She brought me out here so that she could torture me. "I'm sure that I can get one of the staff to assist you."
"If you insist." She sits up and reaches for the string around her neck, pulling the bikini tie. Then she does the same with the one on her back before tossing her bikini top off the edge of her chair and onto the pool tile. She makes a show of arching her back, her breasts proudly displayed. "I'm sure they'd be happy to help."
Grumbling, I pick up her tote bag and reach inside for her sunblock. Like hell I'm going to watch anyone else rub lotion all over her half-naked body, and she totally knows that.
She gives me a smug little self-satisfied smile as she pulls her hair into a messy bun perched on the top of her head. "Make sure you get the lotion everywhere," she says. "I do so hate to burn."
The leaves rustle behind me, and the bartender I passed when I entered the pool area appears from nowhere. "The princess doesn't need anything," I call, my voice tense.
"Thank you, Martin," the princess says, totally casual about the fact that she's lying here topless.
"Put your top back on," I grumble. "Someone else is going to come in here and see you lying there like that."
"They're boobs, James. I'm fairly certain that everyone's seen a pair of tits before."
"They're your tits."
"And?" she asks, her lips turning up in a playful smile. "This is also my pool and my house, so if I'd like to display my tits, I think it's my right."
I squeeze the bottle of sunblock a little bit too hard, and a giant dollop plops into my hand. Princess Alexandra notices my difficulty. "Now, you wouldn't be just a little bit jealous, would you?" she asks.
"Of what?"
"Oh, I don't know," she says. "Any man who might see my breasts?"
I'm irritated by the thought of anyone else seeing this girl naked. "No one is going to look at your tits," I growl.
"You really are a bit of a Neanderthal, aren't you, James? Is that part of being an American?" She doesn't wait for a response before rising up to her knees on the chair. "Now, how would you like me?"
The way she asks the question is breathy and seductive. She's asking where I want her to rub sunblock on her, yet it sounds like an outright proposition. So I answer accordingly. "On your knees, with those mouthy little lips wrapped around my cock."
"I would, but there's just one word that's getting in the way, James." She arches her back, her breasts fully on display in front of me. "You should start here with the sunblock, really."
22
Alexandra
Max's firm and calloused hands move over my breasts. The sunblock warms quickly in response to the heat of his palms on my body. My nipples are hard at his touch, and my breath come short when he teases me by paying extra attention to my nipples. "We wouldn't want those to get burned," he says, his voice thick.
He's close to me, sitting on the edge of the lounge chair as he touches me slowly. Squeezing more lotion, his hands move across the top of my chest and over my shoulders, then down my arms to my hands. He takes each of my hands in his large palms. I realize how tiny my hands are in comparison to his, and suddenly this feels a thousand times more intimate than I expected.
I intended this to be just about tormenting Max and getting the upper hand with him, since he insists on dishing out commands and denying me until I call him Max. Calling him by his actual name isn't an unreasonable request. Logically, it's the simplest, most benign request possible.
Say the name of the person you're lusting after, the person you want to feel inside you, fucking you into a state of oblivion.
I don't know why I can't bring myself to do it. It feels like more. It feels like a big thing, risky and scary, and it requires letting go of the fear of what it means if I say it.
Yet I'm still right here. He's holding both of my hands, his fingers massaging even though the sunblock is already rubbed into my skin, and I'm still right here, not running away. In fact, I'm beginning to relax, my eyelids lightly falling closed as he moves to my legs with the sunblock, taking his time and working his way up from my calves to my thighs.
When he reaches the tops of my thighs, he pauses with his thumbs on the insides, right where the edge of my swimsuit falls. He waits, like he's contemplating what he wants to do.
My body seems to respond automatically; I find myself arching my back and biting my lip and aching for him to just move his fingers a little bit farther between my legs.
"You want me to slip my fingers right inside that little swimsuit, don't you?" he muses. "It must have been torture before, not being able to come when I had you right at the edge."
"It's a good thing I have impeccable self-control," I tell him.
He laughs, a deep throaty sound. "Turn over," he orders. "We'll see how impeccable your self-control is."
I do exactly what he says, stretching out on my stomach as he massages lotion over my back, then from the tips of my toes all the way to my thighs. With every stroke, his thumbs get dangerously close to my pussy, but he doesn't go farther.
"It's too bad that you don't need sunblock here," he says, his voice low as he slides his palms over the sides of my hips.
I reach behind me and untie the strings on each side of my bikini bottoms. "Now, I definitely need sunblock there."
"You cannot be out here stark naked," he says. But his hands are on my bare ass cheeks anyway, squeezing the muscles the way he did before in the library. "You can't be out here like this with me."
When I roll over onto my back, the swimsuit falls away, totally exposing my pussy to him. Bending one leg, I slide my arm under the back of my head. I'm being reckless, aggressive, preening like this for him, yet I can't seem to help it. He's always in control, his reactions restrained, but I can tell he's struggling not to gape at me. His eyes linger as he takes me in, his gaze resting for a moment too long between my legs.
"Why can't I be out here this way, James?" I ask innocently.
"Someone is going to see you like this," he growls. "Someone is going to walk out here and catch you lying here like this, and me here with you."
That's not the only reason he doesn't want me out here with him like this.
I'm protected by the half-umbrella that covers part of the lounger. It s
hields most of me from the view of anyone who might casually wander over to this part of the pool area, and besides, Max already kicked out the bartender. I'm quite sure he's passed word to any other staff out here that I'm not to be disturbed.
Pushing myself up to a sitting position, I lean back against the piles of pillows that line the back of the lounger and let my thighs fall open so that Max can get a better view. If he thinks he's going to torment me by bringing me to the edge and not letting me come the way he did in the library, he's insane.
Two can definitely play his games.
"There we go," I declare. "Now no one can see me. They can only see you sitting at the edge of the lounger."
"Put your swimsuit back on," he demands.
"I could," I tell him. "Or..."
The throbbing between my legs reminds me that he left me hanging in the library, and then again afterwards. I didn't touch myself last night, despite what he thinks. I played along with his silly insistence that I did what he told me to do, which means that every part of my body right now is screaming for release.
Besides, I also need to teach him a lesson: he can't just issue orders and I'll blindly obey them.
He can't tell me what to do.
Sliding my fingers between my legs, I find my clit.
"What are you doing?" he asks, his voice thick.
"I think the answer to that question is fairly obvious, James." I let out a long sigh as I slowly touch myself, the relief already palpable even without orgasm.
Max sits there at the edge of the lounger, completely unmoving, his body as still as a statue.
Except for his cock.
His cock is definitely moving. It twitches in his pants and I can't help but be smugly satisfied that I have that kind of effect on him.
"You're so wet," he says gruffly. "I can see it glistening on your pussy."
My slickness causes my fingertips to glide easily over my clit. "I'm very wet, James," I whisper as I find my entrance with two fingers. I watch as the expression on his face changes, his brow furrowing tightly and then relaxing, his eyelids half-closing as lust writes itself all over his face. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and I can tell he wants to touch himself.
I want to touch him. I want him to touch me.
"You're being a very bad girl," he observes. "I thought I told you that you couldn't come until I let you."
His words only spur me on to defy him. Sliding my fingers inside my pussy, I begin to fuck myself right in front of him. My palm presses hard against my clit as I stroke myself, my fingertips finding the right spot inside me that sends heat shooting through my entire body.
It's not a question of holding out and coming when he tells me to come. That's not possible anymore. Even if I wasn't trying to defy him, I wouldn't be able to help myself. It's been too long, and he's been far too much temptation. I've been on edge because I haven't come, and that stops now.
"You did," I agree, my breath short. My other hand goes to my breast to pinch a nipple, heightening my arousal. "But I'm afraid I'll have to take my punishment instead."
"Princess," he says, so low and throaty that I'm close to coming just at the sound of it. I imagine him repeating the word over and over as he thrusts his cock inside me, bringing me right to the edge and then crashing over it. "I'm not sure you're going to like your punishment."
"Try me," I whisper, fucking myself harder with my fingers. My breath stops being little gasps and becomes more like panting, and I hear myself whimper as I hurtle toward the brink.
He growls my name, unbuttoning his pants and taking out his cock. Watching him stroke his length right in front of me makes me even wetter. "Alexandra," he repeats. "Look what you've made me do. Anyone could walk out here right now – the bartender, the gardener, your family – and you've got me sitting here with my pants down and my hand on my cock, watching you fuck your tight little pussy with your fingers."
"Yes," I breathe, my heart racing at his dirty words. I'm transfixed, watching fascinated as he strokes his length. I can't help but let out a little moan at the sight of the pre-cum that drips from the tip of his cock.
"Is this what you wanted, princess? Did you want to see how hard you make me? Did you want to watch me stroke my cock right in front of you?"
"Yes." My voice catches and I whimper as my pussy tightens around my fingers. "I'm ... so close."
He groans. "You're such a naughty little thing, taking your swimsuit off out here and fucking yourself the way you're doing right now. Are you imagining that it's my cock inside you instead of your fingers? Are you pretending it's me filling you up?"
"Yes," I admit. "Oh, God, yes." Except that it's not nearly as good as I imagine his cock would feel.
Max turns toward me with his pants around his hips and his cock in his hand. My heart leaps to my throat as he gets to his knees, one on either side of my legs. His cock is huge and thick and it's right in front of me as he places one hand on the top of the lounger chair's half-canopy for balance, keeping the other firmly on his dick.
His hand moves up and down his length more rapidly, and I desperately want to sit up and take his cock into my mouth right now. My mouth waters as I imagine running my tongue down the length of his shaft before wrapping my lips around his head and tasting his saltiness on my tongue.
"I told you that you don't come until I give you permission," he growls. "Yet here you are, about to come, aren't you?"
"Yes," I breathe. "Yes. Yes. Yes."
"And I told you that if you came before I gave you permission, that I'd punish you for being a dirty little girl."
"Yes," I whimper. Oh, God. I'm so close. I'm so close that I'm drunk with lust and I can't possibly think straight right now, and there's definitely no coming back from it. It builds like a wave inside me, getting bigger and bigger and bigger until it's nearly overtaking me.
"Don't come," he says roughly. "I'm warning you."
As soon as he forbids me, I'm coming. My orgasm explodes, the crescendo so strong that I hear myself crying out. He bends forward, covering my mouth with his hand. "Shhh, dirty girl," he whispers as I scream my orgasm into his palm. "You're going to have people running when they hear you screaming like that."
I can't help it. Instead, the tips of his fingers find my lips and I open, swallowing his fingers as my pussy pulses around my own. I mute the sounds of my orgasm with his fingers, even though what I really want in my mouth is him.
He groans. "That filthy little mouth of yours wants to take my cock, doesn't it?" he asks, stroking himself faster. "You want to take it and you want to swallow all of me, don't you, sweetheart?"
My muscles tighten and release around my fingers several times, the throbbing of my orgasm subsiding, but I'm still left wanting more.
Reflexively, I open my mouth, ready for him, asking for him.
His hand goes to my hair and he jerks my head toward his cock, but he doesn't enter my mouth. He strokes himself harder without touching my open lips. "Is that what you want, princess?" he asks. "Do you want to taste me? Do you want me to fuck your mouth, to come down the back of your throat while you moan?"
Why is it that his words make me so wet?
He's crude and arrogant and I should hate everything he says, but I don't. I love it.
"Well, not today, princess," he groans. He doesn't give me what I want. He doesn't touch his cock to my lips. He just holds my head steady, his fingers threaded through my hair.
I hold my mouth open, and he comes with a loud moan, shooting jets of warmth that drizzles onto my lips and across my breasts. When he finally stops coming, his breath is heavy and he looks at me with a kind of hunger in his eyes I've never seen from anyone before.
It's raw and primal and it makes me thrilled and frightened at the same time. He reaches for my face, his palm on my cheek. I think he's going to say something sweet, and then he says, "Don't worry. I'll think of an appropriate punishment for you later."
23
Max
/> Princess Alexandra smiles. She's the most stubborn woman in the fucking world. She refuses to say my name. It's so simple, and the second she says it, I can pick her rebellious little ass up and fuck her the way I know she wants to be fucked. I can thrust inside her, bringing her to the edge over and over and over until she comes, calling my name a hundred times.
Doesn't she understand that?
Voices from the far side of the pool ring loudly through the quiet in the space, and a loud clanging sound echoes as the door to the pool area swings closed.
Ducking to the ground, I grab the princess' swimsuit and toss it at her. "Someone's coming," I hiss.
I tuck myself back into my pants and smooth my shirt before moving to the table behind the princess, attempting to look casual and nonchalant – as if I didn't just jerk off all over the Crown Princess of Protrovia.
The Crown Princess, who's currently naked under the cover of that lounger and covered in my cum.
A minute later, Prince Albert appears, followed by a reporter and his crew: two photographers with cameras hanging around their necks, a couple of assistants, and a woman with a video camera on her shoulder. "I'm sure she's down here somewhere," Albert says. "I saw her headed to the pool earlier."
"This would be a great spot to get a shot," the photographer declares, pointing to a place on the other side of the pool. "The light is perfect, and it's a great setting for the August issue."
"We could do the interview right over there by one of the loungers, don't you think?" one of the crew asks the reporter.
"Max!" Prince Albert calls. "Here we go. That's my sister's bodyguard. Alex is around here too, isn't she?"
"What's with all the yelling? I'm right here." Alexandra appears from underneath the large umbrella top on the lounger, pushing the retractable top back as she stands. I breathe out a sigh of relief that she's actually wearing clothing. Part of me expected her to pop out from underneath in her birthday suit, as that seems like something the princess would do for shock value.
Her Bodyguard (Raunchy Royals Book 2) Page 14
