by Dee Brice
“Every lick,” he added, his voice deepening. “Every stroke.”
Kerrie felt a blush seep up her nonexistent body. “Shh,” she warned, even though she knew none of the living could truly hear them. “Let us see how this plays out.”
The sensation of Alexandre curling his warm body around her was so real she ached. Snuggling into him, she saw what Gerard and Edgar saw. Felt their shafts stir. Heard their thoughts as if they were her own.
* * * * *
Pale flesh. Flaxen curls rioting over bare shoulders. Four half-moons, perfectly round, perfectly ripe. The women on their hands and knees on the wide bed, their faces hidden in the pillows.
“St. Christopher on a crutch!” Gerard swore.
Edgar swore as well. “Bartholomew’s balls! Have you ever seen Edina displayed thusly?”
“No. Rowena?”
“No.”
“’Tis not the easiest position to maintain,” said one twin, her delectable derriere waving from side to side.
“Be quick, lest you fail this test,” said the other. Her twin half-moons swayed as well.
“While I have never seen Rowena in this position,” Edgar drawled, “I believe I would know her arse anywhere.”
“Likewise. Were I allowed to touch it now, I think I could recognize Edina’s. Well, ladies, are we allowed to touch you?”
The women glared over their shoulders then together, said, “Aye.”
“If you must,” one added, her tone surly.
Gerard flicked a questioning glance at Edgar. Had his younger brother also claimed touch as a means of recognizing his twin? Edgar shrugged.
“I hope the bed ropes hold,” Edgar said as he crawled across the mattress.
“It might prove more interesting if they broke. We’d tumble together like a litter of kittens.” Gerard sounded as if he wanted to laugh.
Edgar chuckled then stroked a hand over one smooth globe then the other. Each in turn quivered under his touch.
Gerard touched the twin on his side of the bed. “Hmmm. I cannot tell as yet.”
“Neither can I. Perhaps we should trade places.”
The bed ropes groaned as the men crawled across the wide bed. The twins moaned. Edgar and Gerard touched each twin’s buttocks then sat back on their heels.
Grinning, Gerard said, “Before Edina and I swived, I held her on my lap. I think I would know her if I held her like that again.”
Without waiting for permission, he and Edgar positioned their cocks between each twin’s thighs.
Though rigid, Edgar’s cock failed to celebrate its nearness to its goal. Nor did the woman’s quim weep for want of him. Gerard shook his head. The men shifted once more.
One hand stroking over her firm, round buttock, Edgar used his other to guide his cock between this new twin’s legs. And found the welcome he wanted most. Her nether curls dampened. Her outer lips puffed while her inner lips heated and seeped her juices over his cock.
Gerard apparently found a welcome of his own. His chest rose and fell in rapid pants. His eyes darkened then glazed. Edgar could hear his own shallow breaths and suspected his eyes were dark with need.
“We need you to sit up,” Gerard said, his hands sliding over the mounds of Edina’s buttocks and around her waist to cup her breasts.
“I—ahh. Oh Gerard!”
“Yes, Edina, ’tis I. And in this position I know ’tis you I hold.” He touched her pleasure button then slid his middle finger into her slick channel. Her quim tightened and her juices flowed more freely. She wiggled against his hand. Little ohs of pleasure escaped her lips as she rode his finger to release.
Rowena huffed her disgust. “Which still required our nakedness and that you touch us. You still—”
Edgar eased his cock into her juicy warmth. Her protests became sighs of pleasure.
“You set the test, Rowena. You must admit we passed it.”
Rowena’s moan somehow combined bliss and reluctance.
Edina said, “Bartholomew’s balls, Rowena! Give it up. If I cannot have Gerard’s shaft in me this instant, I shall hate you forever!”
“Aye, Rowena, give it up,” Edgar murmured against her neck. “Or I shall leave us both on the edge of madness.” He slid back until only the tip of his cock remained within her channel. He held her hips, preventing her taking him deeper.
“Gerard, please! I admit—even if my sister won’t—that you have passed our test. Take me, Gerard. Please! Oh yessss. Yes, yes. Yessss!”
“Well, Rowena, what shall it be?” The sound of Gerard’s balls slapping against Edina’s bottom made Edgar’s restraint even more difficult to hold. His cock wanted what Gerard’s was having. If Rowena failed to give her consent, he feared he might take her anyway. With her legs splayed over his, his thighs holding hers open, she could not prevent his spearing her. Choking back a groan, he pushed a little deeper.
“Oh!” she cried, pushing her hips backward.
“Say it, Rowena. You know the words. Say them!”
“Swive me, Edgar. Swive me.”
Sliding his hands down her arms, he eased her forward until her forearms met the mattress. “Keep your hips raised, sweeting, so I can swive you like a stallion swives a mare.”
He drove into her. One hand found her breasts and stroked her rigid nipples. The other hand cupped her nether curls, one finger finding her nubbin between her soaked curls. She shuddered. Her queynte spasmed, drawing him deeper still. He fought his own release and continued to stroke with his hands and cock. Her spasms went on and on. Only his shouted name brought him to completion.
Collapsing against her back, Edgar chuckled.
“What do you find so amusing, Edgar?” Rowena sounded more sated than peeved.
“Swive me was not what I meant.”
“Oh? What should I have said then?”
“‘I give. You passed.’”
“Rowena is more stubborn than I am,” Edina observed, yawning. Her voice reminded Edgar they were not alone.
“You put up a gallant fight,” Gerard said, “but succumbed to my superior determination.”
Edina giggled. “You crushed me into submission, you oaf.”
Reminded that his weight on his lover’s back might easily crush her, each man rolled so that he lay back-to-back with his brother, his woman spooned against his front.
“’Tis a bit late for modesty, Gerard.” Edina twisted her head so she could look up at him. He frowned.
Rowena added, “I have seen my sister naked before. In fact, I have seen Edina naked since our birth.”
“And—since you’ve admitted to bedding Yvonne—” Edina said.
“’Twasn’t…” the men insisted again.
“We told you ‘twas more like…” Edgar looked helplessly at Gerard.
“Edgar swived—er—her ring and I—er—”
“Had her mouth. Which is still not swiving as we see it,” Gerard said.
Looking confused by this explanation, but determined not to let it influence what she would say, Rowena continued. “You’ve seen us naked. Moreover, we’re certain you have seen each other naked as well.”
“And aroused.”
“Which we—”
“Have not.”
“Not together at any rate. Not aroused together, I mean.” Rowena grinned up at Edgar, who glared down at her.
“You mean to compare us? Now?” Incredulity dripped from his lips.
“Aye, here and now,” Rowena said.
Edina clarified. “’Tis the only opportunity we will have to do so. We are determined—”
“To be faithful.”
“And expect the same of you.”
“You have seen our…” Rowena uncharacteristically hesitated.
“Buttocks,” Edina provided.
“Yet had to touch us to tell us apart.” Rowena still sounded resentful.
“Should you mistake us in the future—”
“We must know the differences between your spears.”
Looking at his obviously puzzled brother, Edgar glanced at Rowena. Were she and Edina testing them still? Or was this their way of playing? Judging by the merriment in Rowena’s eyes, playing was the twins’ intent.
Gerard laughed. “I see no graceful way out of this, Edgar.” He released Edina then rolled to his back.
Groaning, Edgar said, “I cannot guarantee my cock’s cooperation. He may be too shy to rise to the occasion.”
“Hmph,” the twins said as one.
Rowena rose to her knees, pushing Edgar to his back. “If you want to swive me ever again, your cock will more than rise.”
Edina leaned across Gerard’s chest, her breasts grazing his. “I think you must show your little brother how it’s done.”
“I never said I was little. I said I was—”
“Less wide. I heard you. Now ‘tis time to show us.”
Rowena quirked one flaxen brow. “Before we wed, Edgar, you must tell me what led to that singular description.”
Gerard’s chuckle sounded pained. “I believe you’ll soon see.” He glanced down at Edina’s hand surrounding his growing shaft.
“Oh my,” she said, admiration shining from her bright blue eyes. She released him and saw his shaft snap toward his belly.
Rowena saw the same thing. “He truly is curved like that Saracen’s sword Father has hanging in his solar.”
“As is Edgar,” Edina observed, reaching out to touch Edgar’s cock.
“No!” Rowena slapped her sister’s hand.
Looking insulted, Edina explained. “Edgar said he is not as wide as Gerard. How else are we to verify the claim if we do not touch their cocks?”
Rowena looked at each man in turn. Their cocks were shrinking, apparently needing direct rather than intellectual stimulation.
“And,” Edina challenged, “did they not need to touch us to tell our differences?”
Rowena, nodding, said, “We’ll need to bring them to full arousal.”
“Hands?”
“Aye, hands first. If that does not suffice—”
“We’ll employ other means.” Edina licked her lips. Looking directly into Gerard’s eyes, she wrapped her fingers around his shaft.
“Close your eyes,” the twins murmured.
The men obeyed.
“They are of equal length.”
“Let us trade positions.”
For several moments the only sound was that of the men’s shallow breathing.
“Gerard is enormous,” Rowena said, sounding highly impressed, earning a glare from her sister.
“As is Edgar. And he is also curved like that sword you spoke of.”
“Their crowns appear equally wide.”
“Perhaps the difference is at the base.”
Gentle fingers stroked down then up and down again. A momentary pause before they repeated the process.
The men groaned. Their fingers clutched at the bedding.
“Keep your eyes closed,” Rowena commanded.
Both women laughed.
“I still cannot tell the difference.” Edina sighed.
“Do you think—if we were men—we could tell?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps one can piss farther.”
“That I don’t wish to see.” Rowena shivered.
“Nor do I.”
Sitting back on their heels, the women stared at each rigid cock. Rowena said, “Perhaps the difference is in their scent.”
“Perhaps.”
They sniffed each man in turn.
“Not precisely the same.”
“Yet not so very different either.”
Gerard groaned. “I think you smell yourselves on our shafts.”
“Your juices drenched us earlier,” Edgar added.
“How does that signify?” one twin asked.
The men opened their eyes and flicked a glance at the other.
“You’re the elder,” Edgar said.
“Explain,” said the women.
“Well…in my experience—”
“Which I’m sure is vast,” Edina interrupted with a frown.
“Vast enough to be of use?” Rowena questioned with a frown of her own—for her sister.
Edgar squirmed but nodded.
“No two women smell exactly the same,” Gerard went on. Even to himself, he sounded relieved to get the information stated and done.
“Or taste exactly the same,” Edgar added.
Gerard winced, wishing Edgar had kept that thought to himself. That particular intimacy was…intimate and not shared indiscriminately.
To his amazement, the twins merely grinned at each other. No barrage of questions as to whom the men had tongued or how many. Just a conspiratorial smile that made him shiver—as did Edgar.
“Close your eyes,” the women said together.
Each twin stroked a cock until a milky drop of dew seeped from its head. Each twin touched her tongue and lapped away that drop. The bed ropes creaked softly.
“Bartholomew’s balls, Edina,” Gerard muttered, fastening his fingers in her hair. Somehow he managed not to force her to take him more fully into her bewitching mouth. Her tongue swirling over and around his shaft’s crown drove him wild with need.
“How do you know ‘tis Edina?”
“No other woman can bring me…ahh…to the brink…this quickly.”
Giggling, she sucked him into her mouth and took him over that brink.
Edgar’s shouted “Rowena!” announced his own release.
* * * * *
Alexandre’s groan brought Kerrie’s gaze to his face.
“’Twas almost as good as truly swiving,” he muttered.
“Mayhap we should watch more often,” she said, stroking down the magnificent chest she remembered so well she could feel his warmth heat her palm.
“Mayhap,” he echoed as he always had, “we should.”
Chapter Ten
The Next Morning
Nearly six weeks after they left Marchonland, Willa and Pippa returned with their husbands.
Urged from their bed by Aida’s commands to hurry, vexed by their lady-in-waiting’s complaints about appearing below wearing tunics so short their calves showed, the twins barely had time to rebraid their hair. Risking life and limb, they clattered down the stairs still striving to tie ribbons around each other’s thick braid. Recovering their breath if not their dignity, the twins followed Gareth and Yvonne, Gaspar and Aida from the great hall into the bustling bailey.
Rowena nodded toward the couples in front of them. “At least Joan will cease carping at us. The royals are no more dressed than we are.”
Giggling, Edina whispered, “Their tunics are silk, ours simple linen.”
“Ours are cooler. ‘Tis warm for such an early hour.”
“St. Christopher! ‘Tis not too early for Gerard and Edgar to don full chain mail.”
Rowena blanched almost as white as her nightrail. “Or for our parents to arrive days before expected.”
“Bartholomew’s balls!” Edina swore under her breath. She looked about for someplace to hide.
“Too late.” Rowena sounded like a herald of doom.
Edina swallowed hard.
Too late, indeed. As if everyone in the bailey had been struck mute, utter silence fell. The jostling crowd ceased to jostle. The knights and men-at-arms formed a wide corridor down which rode their parents.
Gareth himself helped the twins’ mother to dismount. His warm smile and cordial, words of welcome wrested a smile from Beaufort’s queen. Yvonne offered a warm smile of her own to both rulers, apologizing to everyone—royal and peasant alike—for appearing so informally dressed.
“We were too anxious to greet our most welcome quests.”
“And your sisters and new brothers,” Basil, King of Beaufort, boomed in his most stentorian tones.
His voice seemed to break the spell of silence, the enchantment that had held them motionless. His expression loving, Vinn lifted Willa from the back
of her gentle palfrey. Pippa practically jumped Banan’s arms from the back of her powerful destrier. He frowned at her, but before he set her on her feet, he kissed her soundly.
Yvonne and Gareth, Aida and Gaspar surged forward to greet their loved ones. The twins touched hands then curtsied deeply to their parents.
“I am grateful,” Beatrix, Queen of Beaufort, said softly, “that this place has not stolen your manners.” Her tone censored them, but her eyes—as bright a blue as her daughters’—twinkled. Waving them to rise, she swept them into her arms. “My babies. My darling babes. Rowena with that dreadful scar under her lip. Edina with her disgraceful freckles. Both to be brides despite their flaws.”
King Basil cleared his throat. “If you bathe them in tears, Beatrix, we shall have flaws and scandals to worry us.”
Reminded of their near-naked state, the twins blushed.
“We will join you once we’ve donned more appropriate attire,” Rowena said. To her own ears she sounded shocked at her mother’s discerning description of her daughters. Before this very moment, their mother had never so much as hinted she could tell them apart.
Edina’s expression mirrored her sister’s astonishment.
They bobbed brief curtsies. Scampering up the steps to the great hall, up the twisting tower stairs, they reached their solar.
Rowena slammed the door shut. Edina dropped the heavy beam that barred the door to all intruders. Out of breath, they collapsed on the window seat.
Lost in thought, Rowena rubbed the dreadful scar under her lower lip. As if she wanted to scour them away, Edina rubbed the disgraceful freckles dotting the bridge of her nose and her cheeks.
“What’s dreadful about this scar is how I got it,” Rowena said at last. “That crofter’s lad—what was his name?—hit me. Me! A princess of Beaufort! I should have had Father banish him.”
“Gerard does not think my freckles disgraceful. He counts them and gives me a kiss for each.” Edina giggled. “He loses count very quickly. Besides, the only reason Mother finds my freckles frightful is because she must hide her own.”
“No, banishment would have been too mild a punishment. Father should have had him whipped. Better still, I should have whipped him myself.”
“Whipped who, Rowena?”
“Mother has freckles? Where?”
Realizing they had heard only a portion of what each had said, they burst out laughing.