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 meaning.

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.