It was insane. Beyond insane, really. Because there was our locker room fling, the girl we’d probed, teased, fondled, right there in front of us again.
“What the?” growled Holt, his eyes disbelieving.
I wasn’t much better.
“The fuck?” I grunted, my gaze glued to the sight before us. Because she was even more beautiful than we remembered. The brunette was gorgeous, hands down, clad in a pink mess of a gown, her skin glowing, her face flushed.
“Summer?” my brother asked. “What are you doing back?”
But before she could answer, Halson interrupted. As soon as the females fell, he’d gone to his knees and helped up the older woman, who was now leaning into him, her blonde head pressed cozily against his shoulder.
“This is my intended Candace,” he proclaimed, pressing the woman’s hand in his. “And this is her daughter Summer,” he indicated with his chin. “Help her, will you?”
My twin and I jumped into action then, picking up the sweet girl, steadying her, our eyes never leaving the miles of leg on display, the heaving boobs which threatened to pop out of her dress. My cock stiffened in my dress pants, the material suddenly uncomfortably tight, restricting the hardness.
“Summer,” I growled, brows lowered. “What the hell are you doing here?” I asked.
But before she could respond, music blared, cutting us off. I turned in confusion because it wasn’t your standard elevator fare. It was the wedding march, the melody unmistakable. I craned my neck, thinking another party must have gotten mixed up somehow, this was our private room.
But Halson was on top of it.
“Brothers,” he proclaimed, raising his voice to be heard above the chords, “You’re here to witness a royal marriage.”
Hayden and I gaped. We were here for drinks, to meet a woman he’d been dating for a couple months, a casual fling from the States at best. There’d been no talk about marriage, much less a wedding ceremony.
But big bro had already turned to gaze at his bride, looking deep into her eyes as they made their way towards the bar. Holy shit! Father Pavel was waiting, looking mighty official with a Bible in hand, a cross in the other, his clerical collar gleaming white in the low light.
The music stopped and like out of a movie, the couple turned towards one another on cue.
“Dearly beloved,” Father Pavel intoned, his voice resonant, ringing through the wood-paneled space.
And so it was.
Our older brother, the Crown Prince of Slovania, eloped that night with Hayden, Summer and I as his unwitting witnesses. Dad was going to be pissed no doubt, he had some in-bred noble girl picked out and this was going to ruin his plans. Besides, our brother was the heir to the throne. Guys like that can’t just go off marrying whomever they want.
But even more importantly, what did this mean for us? If Summer was our brother’s new step-daughter, then we were her … uncles? Holy shit, we’d diddled our niece? Could they put you in jail for that?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Summer
I was too shocked at the turn of events to absorb what was happening at first. It didn’t help that we’d made an entrance of sorts, with Candace’s drunken fall as we entered the room, tripping on her heels and dragging me down with her.
“Oomph!” I grunted as my ass hit the marble floor. It hurt, but the good thing about being curvy is that I have a little extra padding as cushion, my cheeks smushed against the cold surface. I was just about to open my mouth to scold Candace when twin shadows appeared from nowhere, looming over us.
No biggie. It was probably just security to lend a hand but an unexpected frisson ran over my skin and my heart started beating faster, my body heating to a hundred degrees. I glanced upwards and sure enough, there were my twin lovers, the men who’d DP’d me … in the best way possible.
Confusion swarmed my brain. What were Holt and Hayden doing here? The mission had ended weeks ago and unless they’d re-upped for a second tour, there was no reason they should have been in Slovania, much less at this particular restaurant.
But then a smaller man swooped in and picked up Candace, treating her like she was the most delicate flower. He looked oddly like the twins, a smaller, frailer version, sallow and in ill-health.
“Beloved,” he murmured to my mom under his breath. “You’re here.”
And Candace was like a little girl, giggling all the while looking up at him through her lashes.
“Halson,” she sighed, melting against his arm. “I’m here.”
Well, that solved one mystery. The small man was the Crown Prince himself, future king of Slovania. But that didn’t answer the mystery of Holt and Hayden’s presence. I was just about blurt out a question when the strains of the wedding march came on.
And Halson spun into action.
“It’s time,” he proclaimed, and with my mom on his arm, he proceeded to a vicar standing behind the bar.
“What?” I gasped, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. I turned to the twins for an explanation but they just shrugged their shoulders, helping me up before taking places next to the Crown Prince.
And befuddled, I did the same, standing tentatively next to my mom. When the vicar intoned rhetorically, “Is there anyone who protests this marriage?” I almost screamed.
What was going on? We were here for a meet and greet, not to attend a last-minute elopement. I looked at the twins for guidance but they shrugged their shoulders again. They were clearly just as surprised as me, but weren’t about to stop the proceedings.
And I still didn’t get why the twins were even here. They were witnesses to the ceremony, sure, but as what? Best friends of the groom? His buddies from college? What the hell was going on?
It was only after the ceremony ended that the relationship became clear.
“Candace, Summer,” said Halson jovially, hugging his bride to his side, “I’d like you to meet my younger bros, Princes Holt and Hayden. Or as I like to say,” he said conspiratorially, lowering his voice, “The two spares.”
And I stood stock still, unable to breathe. I’d flirted with these men, they’d touched me in my secret spaces, intimately fondled me, made me scream with desire. And in my lonely single bed, sometimes I touched myself, re-living that awesome interlude with the twins, fantasizing I’d be with them again.
And unbelievably, they were here now, in the flesh, those massive, muscular forms imposing in this small space, blue eyes flashing as they took me in. But Holt and Hayden were ... my uncles now? Oh god, oh god, I’d had intimate relations with them, let them have their way with me. My face flushed and my body rocked with the memory of what we’d done and what it meant now. We’d started down a path of the forbidden … and I only wanted more.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Hayden
“So,” I drawled, looking at the girl up and down. “How’d your mom meet brother dearest?” Summer was gorgeous, her curves filling out that pink dress, over-filling it really, the material hugging her in all the right spots. I was dying to taste her again, my pole growing semi-hard in the dim light.
But first things first. After the ceremony, Halson dragged us off to the castle and disappeared with his bride without a word, no doubt enjoying some honeymoon nookie. That left the two of us with our best girl, sitting awkwardly in a drawing room, her curvy form perched daintily in a Louis Quatorze armchair.
Summer looked up at me, those warm caramel eyes filled with light. I could have dived right in and lost myself in her forever, but shook myself with disgust. Get a grip, I thought. She’s your niece now. Don’t be a disgusting lech. But I couldn’t help the stiffening in my pants, it had a mind of its own as I took in those pale thighs, the luscious curve of her breasts.
“Candace said she met him at an event,” Summer said slowly. “It was a fancy shindig, your brother must have been in attendance.”
I shrugged. It was part of Halson’s duties to attend formal events on behalf of the royal house, so
it was totally possible he’d met the blonde woman there. There were always ladies swarming at these galas, rail-thin wannabes in thousand dollar gowns.
“Was your mom on the planning committee or something? Easiest way to swing a table,” I remarked.
And here, Summer flushed, biting her lip.
“Um, not really,” she hedged. Rosiness crept over her chest before she took a big breath, straightening her shoulders.
“My mom works as a caterer,” she said. “Not the owner of the company or the person cooking,” she clarified. “Candace is a server, passing around hors d’oeuvres and drinks.”
My eyebrows shot off my forehead.
“Is that so?” I asked curiously. Seems that there was more to our girl than I’d previously thought. The students who go on Operation Smile usually pay their own way, the mission can’t afford to splurge on plane tickets, much less pay a salary. So to hear that Summer was the daughter of a working class family was a surprise.
And she nodded, as if hearing my thoughts.
“I got a scholarship to go on Operation Smile,” she said slowly. “I’m studying to be a translator and the Linguistics Society of America awarded me a stipend based on my grades and commitment to the profession.”
My eyebrows must have been on the ceiling at this point, I was so impressed. Not only did the girl speak impeccable Slovanian, but she’d been talented enough to win an award for her skills.
My brother was nodding as well, newfound respect in his eyes.
“What was it about our language that attracted you?” he asked smoothly.
Summer flushed a little.
“Well like I said, I’m studying to be a professional translator. I’m hoping to work for the U.N.,” she said quickly, “and Slovanian is a good choice because there aren’t many professionals specializing in the language.”
Our interest was piqued because translating isn’t exactly a well-paid gig despite the shortage of Slovanian professionals. So we pressed a little harder.
“But what was it about our language in particular?” I asked. “Was there something about the country that you found interesting?”
And here Summer flushed.
“Have you ever heard of Hans Halborg?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. Had we ever heard of him? Hans was our ancestor from a couple centuries ago, the founding forefather of the Halborg dynasty.
“Yeah of course,” Holt said, looking at her closely. “He’s in the history books. What about him?”
Summer colored.
“Well, I used to read stories about King Hans and the Knights of the Star Order. The legends were far-fetched and I know a lot of it is myth, but I used to dream that I was part of that world with castles, moats and ladies in waiting.”
I chuckled. Summer was a smart one but the stuff she’d read was made-up. The real King Hans had been a ruthless tyrant, a mercenary with a taste for blood and war. We held the crown today thanks to him, but it hadn’t come easy and certainly hadn’t been pretty.
So I smiled at her condescendingly.
“Sure,” I said with a smile. “All little girls like castles and magic, it’s a lot of fun.”
And her eyes flashed, spitting sparks of spirit and fire.
“No, not castles and magic,” she said frostily. “I mean real history. I studied the Knights of the Star Order and they were a mean bunch, rampaging through the countryside, killing peasants, murdering for no reason.”
Not to mention the mayhem the Order created when overthrowing the Bulgar Empire. Although the title sounds regal, the men weren’t “knights” by a long shot. More accurately, they were mercenaries paid a wage to slaughter in the name of the king, and they carried out that mission ruthlessly, scorching the earth in their wake.
But it took some serious digging to find this truth, and again, we were impressed that Summer had figured it out. She had to be a devoted scholar of Slovania if she knew this much, since our forebears had paid a lot of hush money, re-written a lot of history, to erase the past.
“So King Hans is your guy, huh?” growled Holt. “He was a real asshole, a ruthless tyrant, but if you’re interested, we can tell you more.”
The girl’s eyes lit up and she smiled.
“I figure you guys must know a lot,” she said slowly, “being his direct descendants and all.”
I shrugged. Our birth was an accident, we’d done nothing to deserve our royal status.
“Even better than tell, we can show,” I said smoothly. “Come on, let’s head to the relic room,” I said, nodding towards a passageway.
The beautiful girl was excited and her eyes sparkled. This was the opportunity of a lifetime, but Summer hesitated despite her obvious interest.
“Um, I’m not sure,” she hedged. “We don’t really know each other, I mean, we know each other,” she stumbled, her face flushing again, “but not really, you know?”
Holt chuckled deeply.
“If you mean that we only met briefly during Operation Smile, then you’re right,” he growled. “But we’ve been thinking of you.”
Her brows lowered. This was no chick you could fool with some slick words.
“Well, why didn’t you reply to my emails then?” she said, her voice low but challenging.
I took a mental step back. How to explain that we didn’t think we’d ever see her again, and plus, she was way too young? Holt and I were dirty horndogs, MDs be damned, and there was no way an innocent eighteen year-old should be getting involved with us.
Except it was too late now. The way she looked in the pink dress had aroused our interest plus a lot more.
“Honey,” I ground out. “We didn’t reply because it was better for you that way,” I said. “But now the situation’s different, your mom’s a Halborg and you’re one too by extension. So just trust us, okay? There’s some good stuff in this castle and look,” I said, taking my hands out of my pockets, “I’ve got no weapons,” I said, holding my hands up in mock surrender.
Holt did the same and Summer had to laugh then. It made her feel safe, even though as two six four muscular athletes, we could easily take down a curvy female blindfolded with our hands tied behind our backs.
“Okay,” she said, a smile lighting on those beautiful lips. “Let’s see this surprise then.”
And I ushered her into the stone passageway, bowing slightly at the waist. Holt and I had a surprise for her … and a filthy one at that.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Holt
The relic room is a museum, deathly silent, dim inside so that ambient light can’t damage the priceless treasures inside. My favorite items are the suits of armor, the gauntlets, cuisses, and grieves, not to mention the helmets burnished to a shine, and the racks upon racks of swords, staffs, and bludgeons.
But we weren’t here to show off a collection of medieval weaponry. Instead, I led Summer to a portrait hung on the wall, hung prominently on the main wall.
The girl gasped when she saw it.
“Is it?” she asked breathlessly.
And Hayden nodded.
“Sure is,” he confirmed.
The brunette stepped forward tremulously, a hand raised as if to touch the portrait, to feel for herself. Because even I have to admit, Hans Halborg was a good-looking mofo. An asshole, sure, but a good-looking one still. Coal-black hair and penetrating blue eyes seized the viewer from the depths of the painting, with a crown on his head and an ermine robe thrown over a shoulder.
And Hayden and I are his mirror images. Sure, the charcoal hair and blue eyes run in our family, but the bone structure, the height, the athletic build are one hundred percent pure beefcake, courtesy of our forebear.
So when Summer professed her fascination for Hans, we knew she was a match. Not only was she entranced by Slovanian history, but her nuanced knowledge of our country’s lore, ability to speak our language perfectly, and unfeigned interest in King Hans made her an ideal catch. Whether Summer knew it or not, the Halborgs were coming.
“Baby,” I said smoothly. “You like?”
She hadn’t looked away from the portrait yet, her hand still raised as if to stroke Hans’s jaw.
“I like,” she breathed, before turning to look at me, her eyes entranced. “I like very much.”
And my brother and I descended on her then. I pulled her towards me for a kiss, my breath light on those rosebud lips, gently tracing her mouth before running my tongue along the seam.
“Glad you appreciate Slovanians,” I ground out, my breath mingling with hers. “Because you’re about to get two,” I said as my hands stroked those lush, firm breasts. And I groaned, feeling those Double D’s, round and soft, the tips already hard from our touch, pointy like they could cut glass. Hayden chuckled as he pulled her nips, gently tweaking and twisting as the girl sighed with pleasure.
“More,” she breathed, her eyes wide with delight, leaning backwards in our arms. “More.”
“No worries,” Hayden ground out. “Because you’re gonna get more than you can handle,” and with that, he plunged a hand into her dress, lifting out those gazongas, our gaze feasting on that firm flesh, the creamy orbs bouncing and jouncing.
“Yes,” Summer sighed, tilting her head back, brown curls hanging midway down her back. “Yes,” she breathed again, closing her eyes and arching her back as if offering herself to us.
Her boobs lifted towards the ceiling and I couldn’t resist. Like a hungry dog, I was on her, sucking ravenously at a rosy tip, running it around in my mouth, savoring the tasty morsel. She squealed and sighed, wriggling her hips, pushing more of her breast into my mouth.
Fortunately, the relic room, while not equipped for sex, at least had a cushy carpet on the ground. The thing probably cost hundreds of thousands of dollars, but no matter. Using it to bang a girl, let her secrete her juices on the priceless wool, was a good use of our ancestor’s stuff. So we lay her down on the floor gently, and what do you know but Summer wriggled on the soft pile, half-clad, shooting us a sly smile.
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