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

that Dree’s friend had good taste for ready-to-wear clothes. Dree’s other dresses fell to the top of her kneecap, but this particular dress—a dark red, skin-tight confection that molded to her body like thick paint—had only enough material to reach her mid-thigh.

Every time she tugged at the hem, Maxence watched out of the corner of his eye, wishing her fingers were his tongue.

There were several meetings that morning, several secretaries from Monaco’s various ministries and a new ambassador from the Netherlands to be received.

But first, a scouting visit, and it would be an interesting one.

Max could handle everything in the daily life of the sovereign without a second thought.

The only thing he couldn’t handle was Dree Clark sitting in the admin’s chair, which was a smaller, straighter chair and somewhat behind the two seats directly in front of his desk.

He couldn’t handle the way her skirt hem rode up farther on her thighs every time she stretched her bare legs.

He couldn’t handle the way she bit her lower lip in consternation that he might notice her fidgeting.

Maxence’s desk phone said, “Your Highness, sir, your next appointment is here to see you.”

“Five minutes.” He snapped off the intercom. “Sault, leave us. We have a matter to discuss.”

The gray-haired, gray-suited whisper of a man slipped through the door and closed it behind him.

“Dree,” Max said.

“What, yes?” She looked up. One of her fists was wrapped around the hem of her skirt, and the other was precariously balancing the tablet on her hip.

He said, “Set the tablet on my desk.” His voice felt lower and harder as he said it, as the blood moved from his brain and pooled lower.

She placed the tablet on the edge of his desk. “I’m sorry. I was trying not to drop it.”

“Scoot forward and sit on the edge of your chair.

“I—okay? Am I supposed to sit farther forward?” She balanced just her butt cheeks on the edge of the chair. “Is it ergonomic?”

“Take off your panties.”

A sneaky little smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “But this skirt is so short.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you are.”

“The panties. Now.”

She thumbed the straps over her hips through the dress, deliciously pushing them down to the tops of her thighs. Scarlet lace appeared at the edge of her dress.

Max’s heart flip-flopped, but he didn’t even blink.

That scrap of red lace—just the smallest, tiniest scrap—slid down her legs. She lifted one high-heeled shoe, then the other, and picked her panties up off the centuries-old Oriental carpet. “What should I do with them?”

Maxence held out his hand.

Dree leaned forward to drop them into his outstretched fingers and almost fell off the edge of her chair. She laughed and started to scoot back.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

He removed the pressed blue silk pocket square from the outer breast pocket of his suit jacket, folded her panties into a neat triangle, and tucked the scrap of scarlet lace into his pocket as a trophy. “Don’t lean back. Lick your finger and touch yourself.”

“I don’t need to lick my finger, Max, but okay.” Dree lifted one slim, scarlet-tipped finger to her mouth and sucked on the tip.

With that visual, he could almost feel her lips on the head of his dick. It swelled, growing heavy in his trousers.

This girl was going to kill him, but what a way to go.

He said, “The outside first.”

She did, massaging her flesh.

As her fingers moved, her skirt rode up higher.

The flesh between her legs was bare and smooth, more naked than naked.

His erection throbbed with his heartbeat, and he could hear his pulse.

Maxence had started this, so he had no one to blame but himself if his impending case of blue balls caused a massive stroke.

He said, “Near the top, right against the pubic bone.”

She did, and her blue eyes flared open a little.

Yeah, that was a good spot. “Now dip inside, slowly.”

Her finger slipped between her folds, and Maxence forced his breath to stay perfectly even as a blush rose on her cheeks.

“Back and forth,” he said. “Slowly.”

Her hand changed angle as she stroked.

“Not inside yourself,” he said. “That’s mine. Just the top.”

Her hand straightened and slipped through her soft skin.

Maxence didn’t move.

Her breath quickened, and her head fell back. She closed her eyes.

Maxence said, “Stop.”

She looked up at him with horror widening her blue eyes, but her hand had moved away from her sex. “Stop?”

He handed her a tissue. “Yes, stop. Now pick up that tablet.”

She complied. “Oh, no. It’s going to be like Paris again, isn’t it?”

He smiled. “Every time I say take notes, you will cross your legs the other way, making sure your thighs are wide enough for me to see your pink, sore, frustrated pussy while you do it.”

She settled the tablet on her lap. She said, still panting, “You’re diabolical.”

He’d been told that before. “And don’t press your thighs together to make yourself climax. I’ll know. Your subject to take notes on today is types of flowers to be imported for the Sea Change Gala.”

Dree frowned and glared at her tablet. “I don’t even know the names of all y’all’s European flowers. Roses?”

Speaking of official functions, Maxence tapped the desk phone. “Anna, have we scheduled an appointment with Lady Valentina Martini yet?”

“No, sir. I’ve spoken to her admin twice and the lady herself once. They have not been able to clear an hour for an appointment.”

“Even a virtual appointment over video-chat?” Maxence asked.

“No, sir. They’ve refused every attempt.”

He sighed. “I’ll call her. Send in my next appointment.”

His receptionist said, “Yes, sir. Your appointment is with His Highness, Prince Louis, but there is—”

The door to his office burst wide open, and two people entered the room, followed by Quentin Sault, who wore no expression, as usual.

The trailing one was Maxence’s great-uncle, his grandfather’s younger brother, Prince Louis Grimaldi, but the woman entering the room was—”

Maxence rose, buttoning his suit coat. “Marie-Therese, so lovely to see you.”

Marie-Therese advanced, leaving their great-uncle sauntering into the room. “Maxence, my favorite relative. How was Nepal?”

“Mountainous. How was