Double Dirty Royals: An MFM Menage Romance Read online

  She serves first. I manage to hit the ball back once, but when she darts across the court her skirt flies up and I can see the soft, white tops of her thighs and just a hint of white panties.

  I don’t even come close to returning that ball. I don’t even see where it goes, because just about all I can do is stare at her, across the court, that skirt taunting me.

  She calls out the score and serves again. I miss it, because I can’t take my eyes off her, and as I retrieve the ball I’m fantasizing. Katarina, up against the fence, me on my knees in front of her, one leg hooked over my shoulder.

  I bite the inside of her thigh hard, suck on her until she bruises, just so she knows she’s mine. Then I tear her panties away, teasing her perfect little clit with my tongue as her hands clench in my hair while she moans my name.

  “Dom!” she calls, her breath coming just a little hard. “Were you going to get the ball?”

  I snap to attention, turn, and grab the ball from the court.

  No fucking wonder Bruno volunteered to sit this match out, because he doesn’t have to worry about staring at the Princess while trying not to get hit by a tennis ball — he can just watch at his leisure.

  Katarina serves again, and this time, through sheer force of will I manage to watch the ball, not her, and return it. But then I lose after she whacks it back neatly, no problem, and she wins the match.

  We both approach the net. We’re breathing a little hard, and her neck and face are slightly flushed with the exertion, her red hair nearly glowing in the sun.

  She smells like vanilla and roses, and it’s all I can do not to grab her right there and kiss her as hard as I can. Turn her around, bend her over the net. Her round little ass is perfect for spanking, and I bet she’d yelp and moan...

  “Good match,” she says, holding out her hand.

  I swallow hard, trying to will down my erection, even though it’s pointless.

  “Good match, Princess,” I answer, enveloping her hand with mine.

  She plays Bruno, and he has the exact same fucking problem that I’ve got: she’s distracting as hell in that outfit, and he hasn’t got a snowball’s chance in hell of returning any balls. He loses in near-record time, so then it’s my turn again.

  Bruno and I trade back and forth. The princess wipes the floor with us. It would be embarrassing if the view weren’t so fucking delectable.

  “I think you two are just trying to wear me out,” she says, breathing hard, after she beats me for the third time.

  “And why would we do that, Princess?” I ask.

  “Beats me,” she says, smiling. “But apparently, you and Bruno want me spent and exhausted for some reason, and I wish I knew why.”

  I do want that, but not from tennis. I want to taste her honey, lick her until she comes twice, and then fuck her until she can’t come any more. That’s the kind of exhausted I want Katarina to be.

  “We could go for a swim,” Bruno suggests, standing next to me. “Unless I’m mistaken, there’s a very nice pool on the grounds.”

  Katarina clears her throat, and then looks from me to Bruno and back. I swear she’s checking us out, and my dick only swells in my pants.

  “All right,” she says. “A swim sounds lovely. I’ll get my suit on and meet you there in twenty minutes.”

  Chapter Six

  Bruno

  “You’re welcome,” I tell Dom as we head from the lavish dressing room to the pool area. At a place this extravagant, it would be completely uncouth to change in your quarters and then walk to the pool in your bathing costume — instead, there are dressing rooms available.

  “For what?”

  “For getting the princess wet,” I tell him, smirking.

  He looks over at me, one eyebrow raised.

  “You sure that was your doing, grunting out there on the tennis court?”

  “I suggested the pool, didn’t I?”

  “I wasn’t talking about the pool.”

  I chuckle, and Dom grins. Somehow, suddenly, the atmosphere shifts and instead of being awkward and uncomfortable between the two of us, it’s... friendlier.

  We both want her. We know that. But now it feels like we’ve got a shared interest, instead of something we’re fighting over.

  I’ll see how long it lasts.

  We get in the water. It’s a little too late for the people who swim for exercise, but since it’s still morning, it’s too early for anyone to be having drinks by the pool, so we’ve got it to ourselves. I do a few laps while Dom does a few showboating dives.

  Then the door to a private changing area opens. Dom pauses on the diving board, and I tread water as the princess steps into view.

  God in heaven, she’s stunning.

  Katarina’s wearing a white one-piece bathing suit with halter straps, but it’s got a plunging neckline that goes almost to her sternum, the curves of her full, perky tits just barely on display. I think my jaw drops, and for a moment I forget to tread water until I start sinking.

  “Hi again,” she says, walking to the edge of the pool nearest to me. “Is it cold? I haven’t been in for a while.”

  I swim over to her, and I hear the diving board sproing behind me as Dom jumps off again.

  “Come on in, the water’s great,” I say.

  She dips one toe in and makes a face, her hair a halo around her head.

  “I think it’s fed by a mountain creek or something,” she says. “I don’t know. My father’s always going on about it, sometimes I don’t listen.”

  Dom swims up next to me, and we both grab the side of the pool.

  “You gotta just jump,” he says. “Come on, Princess. Be brave.”

  She tilts her head, putting her hands on her hips.

  “I tend to prefer the gradual approach,” she says. “A little at a time makes everything less intense.”

  With that, she walks for the stairs at the other end of the pool, and Dom and I swim for her.

  Katarina enters the pool to her knees, and then stops, crossing her arms over her stomach.

  “You guys are liars,” she teases, a sly look in her eyes. “This is freezing.”

  Neither of us answer for a moment, because her nipples are hard as diamonds underneath her white bathing suit.

  Finally, Dom clears his throat.

  “You get used to it,” he says.

  “Come on, give me your hand,” I say, and hold my hand out.

  “You’re going to pull me in,” she says suspiciously.

  “I won’t,” I lie.

  “You will.”

  “Don’t you trust me, Princess?” I ask, grinning wickedly at her.

  She frowns, but she holds out her hand.

  I take it, wink at her, and pull her into the pool with a splash.

  Katarina yelps and gasps. The water’s only about three feet deep here, so she’s not even fully submerged, just up to her waist, but I swear her nipples are even harder now, and I’m fucking staring. I want to grab one in each hand and pinch them until she moans, until it hurts just the tiniest bit, but it feels so good she can’t tell me to stop.

  I want to push aside her pristine white bathing suit, lift her onto the edge of the pool, and suck those hard, pink nipples until she’s warmed up and moaning, slide my fingers under her suit and rub her clit slowly, drive her completely crazy.

  “Your problem is that you’re not all the way in,” Dom is teasing her. He’s got her hand now, pulling her deeper into the water. “Once you’re really wet it just feels good.”

  She blushes again at the double entendre.

  She was thinking it too.

  “Come on, Dominic, it’s cold,” she says, half-giggling.

  “Princess, you can call me Dom,” he says.

  “You two can call me Katarina.”

  I grin, floating next to her, and grab her other hand.

  “I like calling you Princess, Princess.”

  Now she’s neck deep in the water, one of us on either side of her. Kata
rina’s green eyes are slowly getting wider, and whether it’s with cold or whether she’s realizing what we want I don’t know.

  “It’s still freezing,” she admits. “But it’s kind of nice in here after getting all hot and sweaty playing tennis.”

  “See? I told you,” I say.

  The princess kicks her legs up and starts floating on her back between us, looking at the sky. Now every inch of her perfect body is on full view.

  I don’t care how cold the water is, I’m impossibly hard.

  “You don’t have to hover over me to make sure I don’t drown,” she teases. “I’ll be fine, I’ve been swimming my whole life.”

  “We just thought we should keep you company,” Dom says, his eyes still raking over her body. “It was our idea to come here. It would be rude to—”

  Another door to the pool area opens from the dressing rooms. Katarina stops floating, looking over at the side of the pool, and when she gets back on her feet her body brushes against mine on the way down, her leg against my thigh.

  Her thigh against my cock, standing straight up like a goddamn flagpole. She just looks at me, surprise written on her face, but then the newcomer shouts.

  “What a beautiful day, am I right?” Sven shouts.

  I lock eyes with Dom, and I can tell we’re having the exact same thought: fuck this joker.

  “Princess Katarina, looking lovely once more,” he says, coming up to the side of the pool. He’s got Hawaiian-patterned swim trunks on, his belly bulging slightly above them, pale, hairy, and doughy. I can see his tan lines where his shirts end on his arms.

  “Thank you, Prince Sven,” Katarina says coolly.

  He zeroes in on her nipples instantly.

  “You cold? You look cold. You look real cold. I better get in there,” he says.

  Without waiting for a response, he backs up a few steps, then runs heavily to the edge of the pool and cannonballs in, splashing all of us and making waves lap against the sides.

  “Woo! That’ll put hair on your chest, huh? Though I guess I’m the only one in here who doesn’t need that,” he says.

  Katarina just looks at him, perfectly straight-faced.

  “Laugh, Princess. It was funny,” he says.

  She tilts her head and smiles, just a little.

  I think we’re about to have an excruciating time in this pool.

  Chapter Seven

  Katarina

  I start trying to make my excuses to Sven and leave the pool after about ten minutes, but he’s the kind of guy who can’t take no for an answer. He has absolutely no idea that I’m trying to be polite when I say I’ve got something else I need to do, rather than simply telling him I think he’s horrid and I’d rather eat bees than talk to him any longer.

  And the worst part? I was just nearly-naked between Princes Dominic and Bruno. The two hottest men I’ve ever seen in my life. Muscles everywhere, arms that ripple every time they move, and washboard abs I’m dreaming of running my hands over.

  Even though I know better than to think I could do anything with either of them — especially, here, in the pool, which anyone has access to — it’s a nice fantasy to think about.

  Plus, Bruno has an erection. Or, had one. I’m sure it’s gone now.

  I’ve never really, you know, touched one before, but I’m 95% sure that’s what it was. I’ve seen pictures, after all, and God knows I’ve thought about them plenty.

  I think Dom had one too, though I didn’t touch it, and I blush again, just at the thought of both of them.

  I get out of the pool, Dom and Bruno trailing me. We use the towels from the towel warmers in the cabana to dry off while Sven keeps splashing around in the pool and shouting nonsense in our general direction.

  “I need to go get changed,” I say. “I really do have some official duties I should take care of,” I say apologetically, looping the towel under my armpits, hiding my nipples. I’ve seen them looking.

  Not that I think I mind.

  “As do we, I’m afraid,” Dom says, then looks at Bruno. “I think we’re both expected at a very important roundtable on tariffs and their effect on net population growth as it concerns immigration?”

  Bruno grins and shrugs.

  “I’m pretty sure you made all that up, but it sounds right,” he says.

  We all head into our individual dressing rooms, and I crank the heater in mine, stripping my wet swimsuit off. That pool really is fed by a glacial stream, and it was freezing.

  I toss my suit in the wringer and stand in front of the heater, waiting for it to warm me.

  As I wait, I slide the fingers of one hand over my rock-hard nipple, and gasp. Despite the cold, heat suddenly floods down through me, my nipples engorging. Wetness slides between my lower lips, and I swallow hard, squeezing my thighs together.

  I imagine if Dom or Bruno were here, teasing me like this. Licking my nipple slowly, sucking it into his mouth. His hand sliding down my belly and moving between my legs, finding my wetness, his fingers entering me...

  I moan. My eyes fly open, and for a second I don’t even realize it was me, I’m that surprised. I don’t moan when I masturbate. Who the hell does that?

  I shake my head, clearing it, then grab the other clothes I brought and sit on the wicker chaise lounge. I pick up my panties — white lace, just about as naughty as I’m allowed to wear — but I put them back down slowly.

  I’m still wet as hell, and I think this entire Council Summit is going to be hard. I need some relief, even if it’s fast and in the dressing room. What does it matter? I’m alone in here.

  I move my hand between my legs and lie back on the lounge, biting my lips. I’m already wet and swollen, just from being near Dom and Bruno and their two perfect bodies, their teasing smiles, their hungry eyes. They look at me like I’m prey, and I think I like it.

  My eyes drift close, and then I’m lost in fantasy, circling my clit with my wet fingers. I’m imagining Bruno in front of me, his dark eyes serious. Dom’s behind me, kissing the back of my neck, his lips trailing down my spine, and I move my fingers faster.

  Bruno slides his fingers into my pussy. I gasp out loud, moving my hand faster. My other hand comes up to pinch my nipple, and now I’m panting for breath. It feels good but it’s not enough.

  “Please,” I whisper to no one.

  Now Bruno’s fingers are out and Dom’s lifting me on top of him, his strong arms bulging. I’m rubbing myself furiously, whimpering and biting my lip.

  I can feel the tip of his cock right at my entrance, just waiting to be filled, and then, in my fantasy, Dom lowers me onto himself.

  I moan again, pushing the fingers on my left hand as deep into my pussy as they’ll go. My back arches and I pretend it’s him, Bruno rubbing my clit as he sucks on my nipples, both of them fucking me at once, totally filled, moaning their names —

  I come with a gasp, my pussy spasming around my fingers. I bite my lip and keep going, wishing desperately that it was one of them inside me, pumping me full of their seed. Soon my orgasm slows, and then I’m lying on the chaise lounge, naked, fingers covered in my sticky juices.

  And I’m filthy. Not physically, but I just came hard to the thought of having two men at once. It’s un-princesslike, to say the least.

  But somehow, I’m still not satisfied. I still feel empty and hollow, like what I really need is—

  I shake my head quickly and sit up, grabbing my clothes. I cannot get carried away like this. I’m a princess, and it’s not my place to get distracted by two incredibly sexy, handsome men.

  It’s my place to marry who I’m told to marry, and I’m pretty sure that’s going to be Sven. Besides, it’s not like Dom and Bruno would ever be interested in sharing me. That’s just not what men as dominating, powerful, and confident as those two do.

  I get dressed in a simple white sheath dress and heeled sandals, because next I’m heading to lunch, then to yet another council meeting where we all pretend that our royal titles have mea
ning.

  When I open the door to the dressing room, Dom and Bruno are both standing there, leaning against a white wall, talking to each other. They both look over as soon as I emerge, and I freeze.

  I thought they were gone already. I just got myself off, moaning their names, and they were right outside the whole time.

  Bruno catches my eye, then Dom turns. They’re both grinning cocky, satisfied grins, and I’m terrified that I know why.

  “You didn’t have to wait for me!” I blurt out. “I can get myself to the luncheon just fine, I know exactly where it is.”

  Dom just laughs, and holds out his hand for mine. I don’t take it, because I know he’d be able to smell me on my fingers, and I turn bright, bright red.

  “We just thought we’d be chivalrous,” he says. “What, I can’t kiss a princess’s hand?”

  I look from him to Bruno and back, totally certain that they both know. Reluctantly, I give Dom my hand, wishing I could just dissolve into the floor.

  He kisses it and looks at me, his eyes sparking. My stomach writhes, and then Bruno steps forward, kissing my hand as well. Now they both know what I’ve been up to, and I’ve got a feeling they know it wasn’t Sven I was thinking about.

  “Okay, well, let’s head to this luncheon, I’m really hungry, you guys must be hungry, right?” I blurt out, and then practically sprint past them out of sheer nerves and awkwardness.

  Things can’t keep up like this, I think. Something has to give.

  And I think that something might be me.

  Chapter Eight

  Dominic

  That afternoon and the next day pass without us seeing much of the princess. I can’t tell if she’s avoiding us, or if she’s just busy with affairs of state. It’s a huge castle, after all, and the grounds make it even bigger.

  It wouldn’t be surprising that we hadn’t run into her if we weren’t both looking for her.

  That night — thirty-six hours after we went swimming — I can’t sleep. Bruno texts me that he can’t sleep, either, and I’ve got a feeling it’s for the same reason: Princes Katarina and her sudden avoidance of us.