Naughty Vs. Nice: A Holiday MMF Bisexual Romance

by Victoria Cabot

  But when I think about Nadia giving herself to that man, it completely fucking destroys me.

  I've been drinking a lot the last two weeks. Hell, I even tried fucking birds on a couple of occasions. It didn't go so well. I couldn't even get myself excited enough to try.

  I sound like a fucking woman right now, don't I? Well, fuck off if that's all the help you're going to give me. I can go to rock bottom on my own, thank you very much.

  And in case you're interested, that journey to rock bottom has been going on rather nicely. I pour some scotch into a glass and sit down on the couch. I know it's 11 am, but what are you gonna fucking do about, huh? I've already spent the morning at the gym, and now I plan to start getting blasted. It's the only thing that seems to work from thinking of her.

  Fucking ironic isn't it? The lady-killer Prince, drinking himself to death because of a fucking bird who he caught in bed with another fucking man.

  I turn on the television and take a sip of the scotch. The amber liquid burns as it goes down my throat. But it’s just the sort of burn I need to focus on the pain in my fucking heart.

  I'm a real fucking poet this morning, aren't I?

  I'm not paying attention to the television at first, just letting it sit as white noise. But then I hear something that jerks my head up.

  "And so today, I stand here and pledge that the Kingdom of St. Penares will impose economic sanctions across the board against the Kingdom of New Parthenia..."

  What the fuck?

  It's King Silas D'Avington from St. Penares. I've only dealt with him in passing a few times. St. Penares is an economic powerhouse and responsible for a fair amount of trade.

  This is bad. This is really fucking bad. But why all of a sudden out of the fucking blue?

  "The actions of Prince Liam in the last few weeks, especially at the UNESCO dinner, have convinced me that the Prince's friendship is not something I covet," Silas continues. Fuck. That fucking dinner. That ended up being one very fucking expensive blowjob indeed.

  "In fact, at this very moment, the Kingdom of St. Penares is determining with other nations whether or not to formally declare war on New Parthenia."

  I spit out my scotch. No fucking way is this happening. War?

  "Already, elements of the St. Penares Fifth Armored Infantry Division are mobilizing and we are in process of establishing a blockade around major trade routes of the Kingdom," Silas continues, speaking into the cameras. There's a fucking deadly glint in his eyes and I can tell this shit is quickly getting out of hand. Don't get me wrong. If there's a war, I'm there - two guns blazing and falling out of the sky. But why are we fucking going to war in the first place? Because I came on a girl?

  "And in case Liam Caldwell is sitting in his hotel room wondering why our two Kingdom's are going to war, let me just say this," Silas continues. Fucking hell, it's like he knew everything that was going to be going through my head before he even started this shit. "His Kingdom has been nothing but a blight upon the civilized island nation-states of Europe for its entire existence. The Kingdom of Parthenia is a close ally. In the spirit of Christmas, I as King, wanted to do something nice for Prince Gabriel Argent."

  So, it was fucking Gabriel. I fucking knew it. That cunt bastard must have gone and pleased with the Prince to do this. I wonder what he fucking gave to get St. Penares to go to war with us.

  The phone rings. I look over. I know exactly who it is. I put it to speakerphone.

  "Liam," my Father's voice rings out. "What is going on?"

  Fuck. What to tell him. How do I explain something I don't even know fully?

  "And the first beginnings of our attack will be coordinated tomorrow," Silas continues into the camera. "I plan to sit down with Prince Gabriel and discuss strategy during the Christmas Gala being hosted by Nadia Moore Consulting. We can decide what to do with the scraps of the country that are left after we conquer it."

  "Liam, what have you done this time?" Father asks again.

  I can't believe it. A King of one country. A Prince of another. And, Nadia Moore?

  Was this her plan all along?

  "Father, give me until tomorrow to figure this out," I say into the phone. "I have no fucking clue what is going on here."

  "Your Kingdom is depending on you, Liam," Father says. "I've been fine with your exploits, hoping you'll learn your lesson and grow out of it, but if you're taking us to war, that's a whole different matter altogether."

  I still can't believe that fucking and cumming all over Jennifer Castleton in front of her sister is enough to drive our two nations to the brink of war.

  "I invite all of you to tune in the day after tomorrow when the attack commences," Silas says with a flourish. And then, as if taking a bow, he adds a final, "Thank you."

  That cocky motherfucker.

  "Liam," Dad says again and I can understand the frustration in his voice. "Please fix this."

  That cocky fucking asshole that you've come to know and love till now just dies at this point, love. Hearing my father, a man who loves his people and is a wonderful fucking King, tell me to fix a mess that I got us into because of my giant 12-inch cock and the gallons of cum that I can shoot is enough to break my fucking heart.

  If it's the last thing I do, I'll stop this fucking war.

  "You got it, Dad," I say quietly. "I'm sorry."

  "Just fix it," he says. His voice is shaky.

  We hang up and I go get dressed. The bottle of scotch sits at my desk but I'm not thinking about that now. We're going to war if I continue this path. I need to fucking focus.

  I'm going to get ready. I'm going to sober up. And then I'm going to crash that fucking Christmas Gala that Nadia is putting on and I'm going to get to the bottom of this entire disaster.

  And it's either going to be me or Gabriel that walks away from it. I guarantee it.

  10

  Gabriel

  I head down the elevators from the second floor of the Macy’s department store on Herald Square and go through the secure email that my aide has sent me on my phone. This can’t be right - apparently St. Penares has just declared a total economic blockade of New Parthenia? They’re threatening war? Over Liam’s actions at the UNESCO dinner two and a half weeks ago.

  I sigh. This makes no sense. As soon as I get back to the hotel I’m going to have to call my aide and get the full story of why King Silas D’Avington would go after a helpless economic power like New Parthenia.

  It makes very little sense to me. After all, St. Penares is a massive economy - roughly around the size of Parthenia in terms of its wealth. Liam’s kingdom could never compete. They posed no threat.

  Even though Liam is a boor, an ass, and a complete miscreant, he doesn't deserve to be bullied in such a fashion.

  I’m thinking about the official response of Parthenia and the meetings that I’ll need to have and am completely oblivious to the stares of admiration that I am receiving as I walk towards the doors.

  I’m in this department store with my security because I was just meeting with the head of the store about a possible presence at the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade next year. They want to do a float of my head and invite a contingent from Parthenia to march in the parade.

  To be quite honest, I have no desire to see a float of my head travel down Central Park West and down 5th Avenue. I have no desire to have my Kingdom be made a mockery of. But this is the only meeting that my aides were able to arrange ever since I fired Nadia and spurned her large list of clients.

  It’s my own fault why I fired Nadia. I mixed business with pleasure. I made the mistake. And thus I’m paying the price at this very moment.

  But what could I have done? Ignore such a strong woman? A glorious woman? Lady Nadia Moore revels in her sexuality. She excuses confidence and isn’t afraid to take what she wants.

  Compared to these meek women who eye me hungrily when they think I’m not watching and quickly avert their eyes when my gaze falls on them, Nadia is a lioness.
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  But there was something else that I felt when Liam came bursting in. When I realized that she had not only been with me, but him as well.

  Yes, there was anger. But it wasn’t anger that overwhelmed me. That made me fire her.

  It was desire.

  I can’t explain it. I can’t explain any of this.

  By all rights, I should be basking in a foreign policy triumph. I have effectively thwarted the ability of New Parthenia to do anything in the international sphere by St. Penares’ declaration of economic hostility. I don’t know how I caused that, but it’s an objective that the National Security Office of the Kingdom will be pleased with.

  But I’m not pleased. I’m actually rather disturbed.

  I can’t stop thinking about Liam. About his degenerate ways. His irresponsible nature. Of course, everyone in the world has followed his exploits. I’ve cringed when I’ve seen his name splashed on the newspapers time and time again. But I’ve never interacted with him.

  I’ve never shared the same woman as him. I never even thought it would be possible.

  I’ve never been half naked as he stood close by.

  And I have certainly never in my life felt my cock twitch as violently as it did when Nadia and I stood and he looked at us.

  A part of me tells me that had the situation been calmer, and lasted just a few minutes longer, it wouldn’t have been long before….

  Stop this.

  This is idle thinking and not worthy of a Prince. I have many things that need consideration today and this most certainly is not one of them.

  By now I’ve nearly shut down the part of the store I’m walking through, having excited so many stares. Nearly all the women are in various stages of ogling my frame or pretending that they are much more interested in something else than me. I shrug. I’m used to it. I am a specimen of fine breeding - there is no denying that. However, I do not go wantonly hurting those who admire me. Unlike others who are blessed with similar attributes. Such as Liam. To simply stare into his eyes, one would be transported to a world away from this one. They wouldn’t notice until his strong arms encircled you…

  Again!

  I shake my head to myself. This must stop.

  I push the revolving door to exit the Macy’s and enter the bustle of 34th Street.

  And right into a maelstrom of media.

  Cameras are pointed and boom mikes careen towards me. A gaggle of reporters shout questions - none of which I can make out. They’re all speaking at once. The flash photography starts to go off and my Royal Security forces begin to make a path towards my car.

  I assume that this is about the recent announcement that St. Penares is on the brink of an inexplicable war with New Parthenia.

  Perhaps I should say something. I pause in my step towards the waiting limo and am about to speak when I hear the first of the reporters shout their questions at me.

  “Prince Gabriel, do you have any comment regarding the recent declaration by St. Albans to place Parthenia on an economic blockage?” a reporter shouts out.

  I furrow my brow. I think this reporter is mistaken. He must not be aware of all the facts.

  But another reporter, from the News of the Times shouts out a question, “Prince Argent how do you respond to the fact that Prince Anders Blaine of St. Albans has called your Kingdom and the Royal Family one of the most corrupt and bought and paid for ruling families in Europe?”

  I’m shocked and suddenly my mind begins to process what exactly is going on.

  They’re no longer talking about New Parthenia. They’re talking about my kingdom. Something terribly wrong is happening.

  I hurry my step. I must not falter. Not in front of the news media. Why would St. Albans declare any sort of hostile actions against Parthenia? We have had cordial relationships with them up until now. Perhaps we were distant at times, but that’s mainly because we focused on building our own infrastructure.

  My aides are waiting for me in the limo as I hurry to enter. But one final question gets lobbed my way, and it makes me stare out in shock.

  “Prince Gabriel, how do you respond to the fact that Anders Blaine has suggested that your country is so corrupt a regime change may be needed?”

  The door closes and I breathe heavily. Regime change? Are we going to war? All within the space of time it took to go shopping?

  “I need to know what’s happening,” I say to my aides. Then to emphasize the urgency of the matter, I declare so there are no areas of miscommunication. “Now.”

  There’s a furious scrambling until someone hands me a tablet. I turn it on and play the video from CNN that they had loaded.

  Prince Anders Blaine is on the steps of the United Nations. He’s at a podium and there are reporters below, recording his words.

  “The situation in Parthenia has gotten to a breaking point, folks,” he says and I almost feel as if he’s looking right at the camera towards me. “Never has a government been so corrupt and in the pocket of special interests.”

  I gasp. This is all new!

  “If they kept their illegal profiteering to themselves, that’d be fine. But when they start to affect the lives of the citizens of St. Albans, something needs to be done,” he declares to scattered applause. I have to wonder how this could be happening. “As of today, I am instructing our banking and commercial sectors to begin cutting their ties with financial institutions in Parthenia. I am not ruling out the option to go to war.”

  Prince Anders has some steely eyes and for the first time in my life I feel helpless. Like many industrialized countries, we rely on the banking system of St. Albans to ensure operations in my kingdom are sufficiently liquid to be able to operate. A financial embargo would destroy us. It would be the exact opposite of what I came to New York to accomplish.

  “I plan to announce my allegations during the Christmas Gala being held at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel by Nadia Moore Consulting tomorrow,” the Prince says before declining to take any questions.

  So, that’s it, is it?

  This is some sort of revenge by Lady Nadia Moore. Perhaps even hatched up with Liam Caldwell himself. Just when I started to feel sympathy for that excuse for a man.

  Well, if it’s a fight they want, then it is a fight they shall get. Tomorrow evening, I will show up to this gala.

  And I shall get some answers.

  11

  Liam

  It’s a cold night as I get out of the limousine and walk the few steps to the entrance of the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, where the Christmas Charity Gala sponsored by Nadia Moore Consulting has begun. People are dressed in tuxedos and I’m not always used to wearing one, but I think I fill out the one I have pretty fucking nicely. I get some stares, sure, but that’s mainly wolfish stares from any bird under 65 and looks of jealous from men of all fucking ages.

  I walk through the double doors and down the hallways towards the ballroom. I’m going to have some fucking words with some people tonight. First off, Nadia. Just because I showed up to her apartment as she was fucking Gabriel and stormed off does not give her rights to push my country around. Sure, she may be well connected, but I’m Liam fucking Caldwell. And if there is one thing I will do till my dying breath; it’s protect my fucking people.

  but before I have a chance to even figure out what the fuck I’m going to say, my path is blocked by a man in a dark suit.

  “Excuse me, Prince Caldwell, but please follow me this way,” he says to me.

  Normally, I’d tell him to fuck off and leave me alone, but just looking at this man with his dark suit, earpiece and bearing, I can tell that he’s either Secret Service or some very well-fucking-trained security. And one thing about fucking security is the they always travel in packs, never alone. Which means his fucking mates are around here somewhere.

  I’m here for my fucking kingdom - to help my people avert a disastrous economic blockade and possibly war - and so with great fucking effort I swallow my words and follow that man down another hallway.


  Fuck. I had to basically tell myself that my pride and attitude were second priority this evening. I couldn't throw a tantrum at this fucking gathering and expect any multi-national corporation to ever take me seriously when I tried to help my people ever again. Hell, if this guy really was Secret Service and I caused another fucking incident, New Parthenia would be lucky to get enough foreign direct investment from multi-national corporations to open up a lemonade stand.

  Before I can ruminate on that thought, the agent turns to his left as an elevator door opens. He gets in the elevator and I follow. We go up in silence and then get out into a hallway. I realize I forgot to look at what floor I was getting out on, but the agent seems to know and he goes and opens a door to a room and holds it open for me.

  I walk in. It’s a rather large hotel room of some sort filled with bookshelves and overstuffed leather chairs. There’s a fireplace in the corner. A large four poster bed near the window. They must use these rooms for guests or dignitaries during functions.

  I look around the room and am about to sit down when the door opens again, and I see her walking in.

  If you haven’t figured out who the ‘her’ is by this point, love, I’m fucking sorry.

  There can be only fucking one ‘her’.

  Lady Nadia fucking Moore.

  God, she’s absolutely fucking gorgeous.

  She’s wearing a black blouse and a black long, tight skirt that has slits up her legs. It looks so fucking sexy and yet so elegant at the same time. Her clothes hug her body, and my eyes hungrily devour each inch.

  But I can’t be fucking distracted at a time like this - my Kingdom might be facing a war because of something she’s responsible for.

  With regret, I tear my gaze away from her proud tits and magnificent ass and look towards her. She seems to be smirking. She has a hand on her hip, and her body is slightly cocked. She looks at me quizzically, as if wondering who’s going to fucking start first.

  Fuck it. I need answers. Now.