Prince: Royal Romantic Suspense (Billionaires in Disguise: Maxence Book 5) by Blair Babylon (best ereader for comics .TXT) 📗

His fingertip scraped over her panties, sending little shudders through her skin.

She couldn’t help herself, and a whimper squeaked out of her throat.

He hooked his finger under the elastic of her panties, and his thumb gently pressed her nub.

Her back bowed, trying to press herself against his hand, already hungry for release.

He growled into her neck. “You’re wet. I could throw you face down on this desk and take you.”

She nodded. She would’ve nodded at anything he offered her.

His voice was a gravelly whisper in her ear. “I’m not going to make you wait for it today.”

He ground his hand against her, his thumb slipping over that hard, sensitive nub, and his long fingers parted her folds and entered her.

Her hips were moving, and she was riding his hand as she sped toward the edge of release.

His long fingers pressed her front wall, holding her impaled on his hand as his thumb rubbed circles on her.

The tension building inside of her was unbearable, an excruciating clench pounding in her veins.

She knew she was whimpering, making little sounds, and she hoped no one could hear but she couldn’t even think about anything other than his fingers deeply penetrating her and driving her toward orgasm.

Just as she was getting close, just as she was tipping and beginning to topple, Maxence ducked his head and bit her bare shoulder.

The pain launched her over the edge, and the orgasm blasted up her spine and filled her head with buoyancy. God, how did he do that, make pain feel like everything she’d been missing?

She throbbed. She throbbed and she clenched, and she kept throbbing as he pulsed his hand to force her to keep going.

Just as it was going to become too much, his thumb lightened, and his fingers inside her, which felt huge because she was swollen inside, gentled.

She followed the crest down, landing gently in his arms.

Maxence slowly removed his hand and tucked her panties back where they belonged. He opened his desk drawer with his pinky, removed a handkerchief, and wiped his hand.

She was a limp flower, wilted over his lap.

His low voice was rough in her ear, “When you were sitting across the desk from me with Nico smiling at you and your shoe dangling off your toes, I wanted to throw you on the floor and take you until you screamed my name. I want to make you suck me off between every meeting, all day long. I’m the man who wants you every minute and in ways you’re afraid to think about. I want to break you until you won’t say no to me, no matter what I decide to do. I want your body to be mine to do with what I want. That’s who I am. I’ve never been able to reconcile that with what I wanted to be. But if we have any chance of having a future, you need to know what I am.”

Chapter Six

Michael Rossi

Maxence

Near Maxence’s elbow, his office phone clicked, and his receptionist said, “I’m sorry, your highness. He’s coming in now.”

Her voice sounded minorly distraught and probably due to a breach of protocol, rather than terrified at an intrusion, so Max merely raised one eyebrow as his office door popped open and a pudge of a man bounced through the doorway.

Oh, dear Lord.

Maxence had been accustomed to courtly manners his whole life, so he merely rose, buttoned his suit jacket, and waited for his uncle to bobble the length of the room before he extended his hand across his desk. “A pleasure as always, Prince Jules.”

His uncle shook his hand and chortled, “Surely, Maxence, we don’t need to be so formal as that. We’ve never been that formal when no one else is around. It’s splendid to see you again, and so soon. You’ve had a haircut!”

Max sat in his office chair and smoothed the short hair around his ears. The back of his neck still felt chilly. During lunchtime in his apartment, his barber had sheared off almost three-months’ worth of growth that had curled over his ears and collar like a teenager. “Indeed.”

Jules placed his fingers on his red-checked vest as he looked between Max and Dree, who was dutifully scribbling on her little tablet-computer. “I see your little Nepalese admin has settled in. You don’t look Nepalese, my dear.”

Dree looked up at him, her blue eyes bright with laughter. “Oh, I’m not from Nepal. I was born in New Mexico, but I was working in Arizona before I went on the mission with Catholic Charities.”

If Maxence leaped across the desk and slapped his hand over her mouth, it would draw more attention to the fact that she had given Jules Grimaldi four pieces of information he could use when investigating her to find Max’s weak spots.

His emotion—whether it was impatience, irritation, or rage—must’ve shown on his face, because Dree caught his eye and then her head dropped straight down to stare at her tablet, and she scribbled something.

Jules was practically cackling with this new information, and he asked her, “Oh, do tell. You don’t seem to be merely an admin. I’ll bet you’re something much more interesting.”

Maxence said, “If you’re done harassing the staff, what brings you here today?”

Jules turned back to Maxence, his blue eyes sparkling with good humor, and took a seat in a chair on the other side of Max’s desk. “I heard our nephew Alexandre had arrived back in Monaco.”

Our nephew. Jules used the royal plural whenever he could get away with it. “Where did you hear that?”

Jules flipped his fingers at the air as if magic might emanate from them. “One hears things. I heard his sister is with him.”

Maxence didn’t have to act anymore. “I don’t think Lady Christine is in Monaco.”

“Oh? Where is she?”

“I have no idea.”

“Surely, you must. Is she staying at Alexandre’s house, that lovely château overlooking the ravine like she always does?”

“I don’t think she’s in Monaco, Jules. I don’t think she