But if you liked what you saw, and want to see where it goes, then you’re in for a ride, love.
Think you can hold on?
1
Nadia
It's the most wonderful fucking time of the year. That's what the popular fantasy is. Christmas, the holidays, right before the New Year, whatever you want to call it - you need to be a cheery, happy drone in order for people to not feel uncomfortable around you. If not, people will start to avoid you. They'll think you're weird, antisocial, and a downer.
But give them that cheery smile, however fake, and they'll feel happy. They'll let their guard down around you. They'll be sheep.
Tell people what they want to hear and they'll forget all the things you ever did to them - even if you royally screwed them over. A few fake apologies, some time away from the spotlight, and maybe even some well publicized good works for the community and people will embrace you with open arms.
I used to be the girlfriend of the King of St. Penares. I mean, he was a Prince back then. We fucked like rabbits. His giant cock used to shoot me to orbit whenever we had a moment. But then-Prince Silas D'Avington went for a sweet little virgin of a stepsister of his and left me out in the cold. I hit back hard. And he won.
Great. I moved on. Nadia Moore - that's me - is always a fighter. My father is a noble in St. Penares - with oil and gas holdings around the world. I have a trust fund. I was able to move to America where I got on the team of a man who was the youngest Speaker of the House in the United States Congress. Helped him craft legislation that would make it possible for someone to be President of the United States even if they weren't 35 years old. Then he inadvertently exposed the nation to a sex scandal involving the President and his Veep. All of a sudden, Austin Bain went from Speaker of the House to President of the United States. And I went to be his Chief of Staff. But I watched as his sweet little stepsister, Ashley came in and just got her claws in him. Got him to pardon a wanted criminal. I tried to stop him. This time, it wasn't even about sex. It was about keeping his job, but Austin fired my ass.
Fine. So your Prince lover marries his stepsister and then your ex-lover President boss fires you because you were a bitch to his stepsister. What is it with alpha males and their stepsisters anyways? I swear if I had a fucking nickel for every stepsister story I see recommended on my Kindle, I would have a fortune bigger than my own trust fund.
Anyways, so I start taking up work using my law degree - and before you ask hon, yes I do have a law degree. I got a job in the New York City District Attorney's office and within a year was acting as the Manhattan County District Attorney. I wasn't just some pretty piece of ass in St. Penares. I went to school and I fully intended to support myself. And so then I see another bad boy Prince start to act like Silas. This time it’s Anders Blaine, and he fucks and cums all over the place on national network television. I don't know - maybe it was all the men that treated me wrong or something but I snapped. I began to prosecute him to deport him out of the country and remove his diplomatic immunity. So what if I used a newspaper I had a controlling stake in to try and make him look bad? What good is money if it can't influence voters.
Only guess who steps in and ruins the day? Austin fucking Bain - the most badass President of the United States.
Completely disgraced and hated by pretty much everyone, I decided to take 6 months and go lie on a beach in Cabo.
Three days in, I realized I couldn't just sit around.
And that's why I'm here, 3 years later at the age of thirty, having bought my own public relations company and still working to rehabilitate my image.
Don't get me wrong. I'm rehabilitating my image. I'm still a Bad Girl. I still love sex. But in front of people now, I'm that bubbly, cheery, and completely fake type of girl that all these alpha men seem to fall all over themselves for.
And trust me, I'm looking for an alpha of my own.
I guess that's what I'm doing right now, standing next to Jeremy Ironwood, the CEO of the investment bank Carter Jeffries.
I swear, with a name like Ironwood, who can resist? But I had tickets to the tree lighting ceremony at Rockefeller Center and I figured he'd be good man candy to have on my arm.
As part of my rehabilitation for my image, I’m planning a Christmas Charity Gala at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. Scheduled in three weeks, I need as much star power as I can get. Jeremy Ironwood is just the sort of man candy that can open more door for me.
This Charity Gala is supposed to be my big ticket back into the spotlight. My public relations company, Nadia Moore Consulting, has been working on the periphery for the last few years. But with this party, I’ll make a splash back into the mainstream.
I just need something right now that will help me make that splash. To prevent it from becoming the snoozefest that this tree lighting ceremony is becoming.
I mean, I always loved the tree lighting at Rockefeller Center, but, so far, it's been kind of a dud. I mean, we're standing mostly by ourselves - just the two of us - in a section of the stage that's pretty isolated from everything else. They're having a concert prior to the tree lighting in Rockefeller Center and no one is even paying attention to us.
A deliciously dirty thought goes through my head. Let's see just how much of a bad boy this guy really is. I like bad boys - they're the only ones that can keep up with me - and I have a simple test as to gauge his level of badassery.
I lean over and whisper in Jeremy's ear. His eyes go wide. I put my hand on his crotch.
Looking over his shoulder and making sure that no one’s around, he goes to his knees right in front of me. A smile on my lips, I slightly part my legs as he reaches for me. I bite down on my lower lip, his hands climbing up my legs and diving under my skirt, slowly making the way toward between my thighs. He tries to gauge my reaction, his eyes never leaving mine as his fingertips brush against my soft skin.
What? I'm bored, okay? It's boring. It's not even cold after Thanksgiving like it used to be. This is going to be a warm Christmas. I just want to make it hotter.
“Keep going,” I tell him, each word charged with desire. The moment I feel a slight pressure over my thong, his fingers right above my pussy, I let out a gentle moan of satisfaction. Satisfied with how wet I am - and I’m very wet, I can assure you - he grabs the side of my thong and I lift my ass up, allowing him to pull the fabric down my legs.
As my black lace thong falls at my feet, I lift one leg straight up, my wet underwear dangling on the tip of my foot, and take it in my hands. I stuff it down my cleavage, not wanting anybody to simply find it lying around here later, and place both my hands on his head. His hands go to my knees, gently forcing me to part my legs, and that’s exactly what I do. I can’t help but grin mischievously as his eyes immediately wander down to between my legs.
I love this. It's so forbidden. So wrong. Thousands of people at the ceremony. Millions of people watching. The fear of getting caught has me so fucking wet.
I lean back against the chair and throw my head back, his lips resting against my knees, laying soft kisses on my skin, and slowly climbing up my legs. Grabbing the hem of my tight fitting skirt, I hike it up to my waist; in an instant my hands are back on his hair, my fingers curled tight around locks of brown hair. I pull him into me hard as I slightly thrust my hips at the same time - after all, there’s not enough time for all this teasing and foreplay. Whatever’s going to happen, it needs to be now.
Luckily, he seems to be on my wavelength - he presses his mouth against my pussy eagerly, sucking hard on my labia as he runs his tongue up and down in a repeating motion. I gently tug on his hair and, getting the hint, he goes for my clit. A shiver goes up my spine as he wraps his lips around it, pressing down with his tongue at the same time.
I close my eyes, savoring the moment and trying to forget the fact that, even though nobody can see us right now, we’re surrounded by an enthusiastic crowd waiting to see the Christmas Tree in all its full glory. In a way, that only makes what
we’re doing here even more exhilarating. After all, how would I have fun if there wasn’t just a bit of risk involved?
He keeps on sucking my clit softly, his tongue now flicking at it with constant strokes, and I start swaying my hips. Grabbing his hair, I am in control - I let him know exactly how much pressure I need, and how I want his rhythm to be, and he follows suit. He doesn’t seem to have God level skills on what concerns going down on woman, but with my guidance he’s doing well enough. Now, I don’t want to come across as someone that’s too harsh and judgmental, but I’ve been with some men that… Well, let’s just say that they kind of ruined all posterior experiences. Some men are on a level of their own.
Thrusting my hips faster, he starts sucking at a matching pace and then places his middle finger between my inner folds. He slides it in carefully, my body starting to burn in a bonfire of lust. Damn, I’m actually starting to want more than just his mouth between my legs.
I breathe out deeply, trying to calm myself so that I don’t start to moan louder than I can. Even so, I can’t help it - when he starts to fingering more harshly, I let a quivering moan escape my lips, my skin prickling as the sound of my own voice caresses my mind.
He pulls back for a moment, just enough for him to catch his breath, and I make the effort to open my eyes and look at him. My heart kicks in devilish joy as I see my own juices dripping down his chin and, surrendering to a lustful impulse, I pull him into me once more. This time I stop guiding him - by now he has realized what I want and, more important than that, what I need. And what that means is that, instead of sucking and licking gently, he starts devouring me, his mouth open wide as he kisses my pussy all over.
A wild scream threatens to escape my mouth then, and I have to grit my teeth and take a deep breath. Still, even though I’m trying to be stealthy, that doesn’t mean I want to take it slow: I lift my legs up and place them over his shoulders, trapping his head as his lips and tongue tap-dance all over my clit and labia, his middle finger going in and out of me at a violent pace.
Even though I don’t mean to, I kick him in the ribs, my legs suddenly jerking as my body starts to convulse. Pleasure has just checked-in, a sudden orgasm clawing and biting at my insides. I grit my teeth, breathing through my nose as my muscles tremble in absolute abandonment, and run my hands back and forth over his hair, disheveling it. To his credit, he doesn’t stop - he keeps eating me out wildly, each flick of his tongue making my brain release more and more endorphins.
Only when I take my trembling legs out of his shoulders does he pull back, a huge smile on his face as he anticipates the way I’m going to return the favor.
Jeremy doesn't wait. He unzips his fly and pulls out his cock. It's decent size - maybe 8 to 9 inches. He's hard and he wants me. Bad. Nothing spectacular. I'm also kind of disappointed that he didn't take off his pants. A real bad boy would just drop them right here.
I take a few steps back and turn around, smoothening my dress and getting everything to look normal in case anyone happens on us.
And that's when the tree lights up.
I swear to God it looks beautiful. But my heart stops. Because I'm standing there and all of a sudden half a dozen cameras come up to me.
I realize in that moment that where we were standing were primetime spots when the tree was lit, but horrible spots during the concert. I was so busy cumming that I had no idea that lighting the tree was what they were planning on doing. Now I'm standing there like a deer in headlights.
God, I really hope Jeremy put his cock back in his pants.
"Ms. Moore!" a reporter yells as her cameraman zooms in on me. "There's a man behind you exposing himself!"
Shit!
"I think he's staring at her ass!" another reporter yells!
I can't turn back. I'm frozen.
"Ms. Moore, there is a man who is masturbating to the sight of your ass!" another reporter exclaims.
Oh wow. They think I'm standing here so enraptured by the concert and the lights that Jeremy is behind me exposing himself and jerking off to my ass.
I mean, my ass IS curvy. And this red dress does make it stick out.
But my reputation is still secure.
"Ms. Moore, don't move!" one reporter yells.
I have no idea what Jeremy is doing but I turn around.
His face is white as a sheet and you can tell this man has no idea the shit storm he just stepped in.
But I know. I've been there three times. And I've built myself back up. And this time, I'm not going down again. I'm not letting them catch me having sex in public.
I do the only thing that I can in this situation to preserve my dignity.
I kick him.
“Pervert!” I yell as I kick him in the shins.
I may be burning a bridge here, but I worked too hard to spoil my image now.
The cameras eat it all up, and eventually someone drags me away.
That was close. I know need to be more careful in the future.
Let’s just hope I take my own advice, but how much do you want to bet that I’m not?
2
Gabriel
If I didn't know better, I'd think that it was business strategy on Lady Nadia Moore's part to dress as provocatively as possible.
Lady? I don't know if she kept her title after her disgrace from St. Penares. If only the disgrace from St. Penares were the only skeleton in her closet. Add to that getting fired as Chief of Staff from the White House and then literally thrown in jail for contempt while she was District Attorney for New York County.
None of this means that she isn't a goddamn attractive woman. I'd be lying if I didn't say that I didn't smile at her curvaceous body as I walked in the door. That dark brownish black hair, those wide-set deep brown eyes. That face - it either looks slutty or sexy or sweet depending on what it wants and what you're looking for. That elegant neck and slender frame holding onto those luscious tits and flat stomach. That ass.
I know my cock is semi-hard just sensing Nadia being close to me, but I came here at her invitation to listen to her proposal. I didn't come here for anything more than that. And I force myself to listen to her speak from across her desk.
"So while I know that Parthenia has received a lot of foreign direct investment, Prince Gabriel, I also know that in order to stay competitive in the global marketplace, you'll need to keep courting those corporate interests from moving to cheaper locations," she's saying, leaning forward.
God, if she leans forward just a little more I'll be able to see a bit more down the blouse of her black dress.
"Are you even listening to me?" Nadia asks and my eyes dart back to her face. My guilt must be showing but she just looks at me and gives me a broad smile.
"Sorry," I say. "My mind seems to have wandered."
I'm not going to lie that I was staring at her. I never lie. I never have reason to. If I do something that bothers people I apologize that it bothered them. I'm not going to live in fear and I'm never going to satisfy all people. Those who try such things are cowards.
She gets up out of her seat and slowly walks towards me and sits down on the edge of her desk - I watch as her ass contours itself to the desk - and gives me a playful smile.
"Am I distracting you?" Nadia asks.
Damn it if she isn't forward.
The fact is that this beautiful body is distracting me. Ever since I sat down. I always knew she was beautiful, but not so much that it would get me distracted from business. Right, business. That’s why I’m here.
The collection of Kingdoms in Europe where monarchy still reigns and First World economic prosperity exists comprises only a small number of nations. There are St. Penares, St. Albans, Parthenia, and New Parthenia. Although New Parthenia might not be completely accurate to be described as having First World living conditions.
But if those people are suffering, it's their own damn fault. They're the ones that decided to leave the country one hundred years ago after the First World War. They'r
e the ones that never got along with the rest of us. Just because they wanted to change faster than the rest of the Kingdom. Well, what did that get them? They left after a bitter referendum and look where it got them: they were stunted economically because of their lack of exploiting their natural resources. During the Cold War, when Parthenia allied itself with the United States that meant that New Parthenia had to find a counterweight with the Soviet Union.
I'm not sure if people remember who the Russians even were nowadays - it's been so long since they collapsed. And once they collapsed, where did it leave our cousins who left the fold?
That's right. Nowhere. Without anything. So, while Parthenia became developed and started entering the information economy, New Parthenia began to finally industrialize and start moving in the right direction finally, but at least 50 years behind us.
All that means now, is that New Parthenia has cheaper labor than the industrialized Parthenia does.
It means that on the verge of Christmas, our future depends on my coming to the UN General Assembly as it meets for the last time this year and try to work with the corporations headquartered in New York City to continue to invest in our kingdom. To not go off searching for cheaper markets.
Of course, Lady Nadia knows that. She's intelligent, shrewd, and the one that contacted me.
"You may be making my mind wander, yes," I respond back to Nadia's question. I am, if nothing else, honest. And I feel the excitement level in the room rise as I say these words to her.
"Well, your mind is free to wander wherever it wants, my Prince," Nadia says, bringing me back from my thoughts. "But it's your country that needs you at this gala."
In the end, that's the only reason that I'm here. I need to find corporate partners to come invest in Parthenia. Nadia Moore can help me find those partners. I need to build networks. Nadia Moore is built into that network.
It doesn't hurt that she's gorgeous.
Naughty Vs. Nice: A Holiday MMF Bisexual Romance Page 2