I’m mid-sentence when the vibrator in my pussy roars to life, trying to get through the talking points outlined in the document Julian’s people gave me.

My knees nearly buckle, and I grab the sides of the lectern, trying to hang on for dear life while also not letting anyone know what’s going on, because dear God this feels good.

Even with a remote and a vibrator, Julian somehow knows exactly how to play my body, the waves of vibration moving through me again and again, stealing my breath from my lungs.

Just a little more, I think, desperately, mouth dry.

But then I look out at the gathered audience, everyone staring back at me, waiting for me to finish my sentence even as I feel a single bead of sweat make its way down my neck and between my breasts.

I clear my throat, toes curling, heart going like a jackhammer in my chest.

“I assure you all,” I start, then swallow.

My voice sounds strange and tight to my ears, but I breathe deeply and power through, fighting against an orgasm.

“…that I’m being treated well and fairly by His Highness, Prince Julian.”

Last night flashes through my mind, sitting on Julian’s lap wet and splayed.

I swear he turns the vibrator up. I can’t look at him, because my mind is so flooded with the images of the dirty things I want now, right now that I’m afraid I’ll lose control completely and come, screaming, right here at this lectern.

Somehow, I get through the rest of what’s written on the paper, all about how well I’m being treated, how I’m not hurt, all that. I can barely concentrate because Julian’s playing with the vibrator’s settings, turning it up and down, making it vibrate in wave after wave, each one bringing me right to the edge of climax before he backs off.

It’s all I can do not to look at him, all I can do not to walk over to him, sit on his lap, beg him for relief. My wetness is dripping down the inside of my thighs, making me sticky, and I swear he knows it.

Finally, I’m done, and I turn away from the podium.

The moment I do, the vibrations stop, and I gasp. One of the other people on the stage gives me a weird look, and I realize I must look insane, my face probably flushed, my hair wild, but I sit back down anyway, let Julian’s press secretary take over again.

At last, I dare to look at him, sitting to one side of the audience. His scarred-but-handsome face is totally impassive, stern, with no hint of what he’s been doing to me on it.

But when we make eye contact, I swear he smiles. Just a little, but his eyes crinkle. His hands are resting on his legs, but slowly, so slowly, he reaches into his pocket, making sure I’m watching every single movement.

I hold my breath. I steel myself for the wave of pleasure, looking away from Julian, trying not to squirm in my seat.

Just make me come, I think desperately.

I don’t even care who sees me anymore.

I just need this.

For a long moment, nothing happens. I sit there, legs together tightly, hands clenched in my lap, but the vibrator doesn’t activate.

Finally, I look up again, wondering what’s happening.

The moment I make eye contact, the vibrator goes off inside me, stronger than ever before, buzzing wave after buzzing wave.

I close my eyes and knot my hands together, squeezing as hard as I can. The woman sitting next to me gives me a strange look, but she doesn’t say anything, and all I can do is concentrate on this, on both wanting so badly to finally climax and the horror of doing it in front of all these people.

But just as I’m on the edge again, it stops suddenly, and it takes me a long, long moment to realize that the press conference is over and I’m seconds from lifting up my skirt, right then and there, rubbing myself to my frustrated completion.

I don’t. Of course I don’t, but as Julian’s men lead me straight back to him, I want to. I want him so much that my legs are wobbly in these heels, that all I can think about is the way he’d pull my hair when he fucks me, how wet it made me when I licked every drop of cum from his cock last night.

We leave through a hidden door, but I barely notice until suddenly the two of us are alone in a corridor and Julian grabs me by the wrist, pinning it above my head and spinning me around so my back is to the wall.

“You did what I asked,” he growls, a smile barely lighting up his eyes.

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry.

“Yes, sir,” I whisper.

His other hand is already making its way up my skirt, skimming over my inner thigh, his fingers stroking the wetness there.

“And you liked it,” he goes on. “You like being under my control, don’t you? You like knowing that every orgasm is at my mercy, that I can make you come or not come whenever I want.”

“Yes, sir,” I whisper, my eyes fluttering shut.

His hand reaches my panties, shoving them aside roughly, finding my clit.

I moan, mouth open, panting for breath. I know it’s ridiculous, and I know that anyone could come down this corridor at any moment, but I can’t help myself. This man has reduced me to a quivering puddle of desire, and I honestly don’t care who sees me anymore.

“I nearly made you climax in front of all those people,” he murmurs. “Would you like that, you filthy girl? Would you like having a hundred people watch as I made you come as many times as I wanted?”

I can barely even process the question, his fingers teasing and taunting me. The heaviness and girth of the vibrator inside me, even turned off, drives me toward the cliff, and all I can do is look up at Julian, my vision slowly fogging over with pleasure.

But just as I’m about to come, his fingers slow, my chest still heaving, and I writhe helplessly against the wall, trying to make him keep going.

“Do you know how tempting it is to keep you here on the edge like this, Belle?” he murmurs, one rough finger moving slowly over my clit. “Do you know the things I could ask you to do right now, the things I could make you do?”

I bite my lip. I’m desperately aroused, so turned on that he’s right. I’d do anything he asked.

“I could tell you to go back out there, pull your skirt up, and bend over the table for me and you’d do it,” he goes on.

I swallow hard, because not only is he right, the thought of bending over a table for him — in front of all those people, it doesn’t matter — makes my pussy throb even harder.

“Please,” I whisper.

He drags his fingers over my clit again and I whimper.

“I’m not going to do that,” he whispers, his fingers moving again, teasing me as he massages my clit slowly but firmly. “I’m not about to share this with anyone else.”

Suddenly the vibrator inside me turns on again and my whole body jolts as I gasp, the sound quickly turning into a moan. Julian rubs me faster and faster, and it’s mere seconds before I’m coming hard, still standing against the wall, shuddering and bucking and probably screaming loud enough for everyone outside these doors to hear me.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs into my ear as I finish, my knees nearly buckled beneath me.

This time, when he holds his fingers up to my mouth, I suck them in and lick my own juices off excitedly, eyes still closed.

And when I’m done, I want more.