Tempted By The Knight (Medieval MFM Menage Romance)

by Kalena Lyons

  Catherine watched in abject horror as the two rivals descended into a primitive state of enraged combat; their swords clashing like cymbals in the air above them as they literally growled their anger.

  She once again opened her mouth to order them to stop; yet instead of issuing another frantic command, she instead let loose with a deep, throaty yawn that stopped both men dead in their tracks.

  Turning as one to face their lady with wide, disbelieving eyes, the two men in her life froze in their places as they said at once, “Aye?”

  Letting loose with a second yawn, this one deeper and more pronounced, Catherine ran some absent fingers through her smooth russet ringlets; fixing her two stunned lovers with a bored, sleepy eyed stare.

  “What do ye two manly, oh so fiercesome gents plan to do next?” she asked, arching her eyebrows in a show of keen disinterest. “Pull out your manhoods and compare their length? Perhaps ye could do battle with them! That may indeed be more interesting to watch than this dry show of desperate masculinity.”

  Gerald rolled his eyes.

  “Ye and yet filthy mind, milady,” he chided her, sharing a knowing look with a watching Gaston, which indicated that they at least agreed on something. “So tell us then, milady. If ye do not wish us to do battle with swords, then just how would ye like us to vie for your affections?”

  “Name your tournament, milady,” Gaston chimed in, adding as his dark feathered eyebrows rose in a show of keen curiosity, “Would ye like to see us race our horses in your honor? Joust? Run a foot race? I well take it that ye would prefer we settle this in a nonviolent manner.”

  Gerald nodded.

  “Aye,” he agreed, adding as he lowered his sword and shuffled his feet beneath him, “And, frankly, I well share your sentiment. I always have liked Gaston, and have no wish to harm him.” He paused here, adding through gritted teeth, “And I harbor an even greater wish to not be harmed by him.”

  Gaston nodded.

  “I agree, milord. I’ve always liked ye, as well,” he revealed, adding with a broad gesture in the direction of their lady, “but I love her. I always have. And while I have no wish to overstep my station and intrude on your engagement, I feel that I must at this point confess my feelings to both of ye—before she becomes your bride.”

  Gerald nodded.

  “I’ve well suspected this fact for a long time, Gaston. I indeed could tell it, every time ye looked at her,” he told Gaston, adding as he shifted his gaze in the direction of a silent Catherine. “What I do not know, however, is how milady feels about you—or even me, for that matter. So in lieu of staging boyish tournaments in a desperate bid to curry her favor, I suggest that we ask her opinion on this matter.” He paused here, finishing with yet another annoying grin, “Because if I know anything about my intended, she does indeed love to offer her opinion.”

  Catherine thought a moment, and then nodded.

  “All right then,” she assented, sliding with a smooth flourish from the back of her horse as she came to stand tall and proud before them. “If ye truly wish to know the truth, then I shall tell it. I love ye both. I have loved Gaston since the time we were children, and oft lamented that I could not be his bride. I have loved Gerald since the first eve we met, five summers ago at the queen’s birthday feast.” She paused here, throwing her hands up in the air as she insisted, “I tell ye, a woman should not be forced to choose between two such perfect, divine men. I have enjoyed such splendid experiences with both of ye, and cannot rank one of ye above the other. Ye both shine in your intellect, your grace, your strength, your gentility and nobility. I daresay any maiden would be proud to claim either of ye as a husband.”

  Gerald nodded.

  “So how, then, do ye plan to choose between us?” he pressed his intended.

  His mouth fell agape moments later, as a newly beaming Catherine raised her hands to unlace and loosen her sky blue kirtle.

  “Aye,” she breathed. “I do believe I have thought of a way.”

  Chapter Five

  Soon Catherine stood naked in the eyes of her two lovers; her kirtle, under-kirtle and sheer chemise discarded on the ground beside her.

  She smiled as an awestruck Gerald, seeing her nude, curvaceous body for the first time, stared at her in blatant admiration. Then he parted his full, luscious lips and uttered words that she’d heard often throughout the course of her lifetime.

  “Have ye gone completely daft?”

  She never grew tired of hearing these words, as they usually indicated that she had just done something wicked fun—or, in this case, that she was about to do something even more wicked fun.

  “Well my darling, ye asked me to find a way to choose between ye,” she told her intended, adding with the shrug of her markedly bare shoulders, “As I see it, this be the only way.”

  Letting loose with a whoop of agreement, a smiling Gaston stripped away his tunic and hauberk with slow, deliberate moves; revealing again the hard, toned body that Catherine so adored.

  His sense of competition immediately returning, Gerald also peeled off his bright silk tunic and his tight black pantaloons; finally displaying the massive golden body that often invaded her dreams.

  Her heated nocturnal visions came beautifully to life moments later, as her lover came forward to sweep her off her feet; cradling her voluptuous body closer than close as he knelt in the grass below them.

  Laying her trembling body in the softness of the clover filled grasses below them, Gerald covered her body with his as their arms and legs entangled.

  Seizing her lips in a passionate kiss, her intended massaged her lips with his as their tongues entangled between them, the tendrils of his heather soft golden hair falling soft across and whipping against the sensitive skin of her breasts.

  Leaning full into his kiss, she wrapped her arms around his muscled shoulders as her breasts crushed his hard muscled chest; her wandering hands feeling and stroking the hardness of his planed abdominals--before stealing downward to caress the length of his long, hard shaft.

  This move elicited a sensual growl from the throat of her beloved, whose long, wet tongue lapped the roof of her mouth as his hands coursed and massaged her back.

  “This day, my love, I plan to prove that it is I who belongs in your arms,” he hissed against her lips. “No man can please you better than I can.”

  With this he swept her up in two strong arms, his magical fingertips tickling her sides as their hips and thighs locked between them.

  “No one can love you better than I,” he repeated on a whisper, gyrating his hips salacious against hers as he buried his head in her chest.

  “Aye. We shall see about that, milord.”

  Taking Gerald’s words as something of a dare, Gaston dropped to his knees in the grass and planted a daring kiss on Catherine’s lips; then settling at her back to massage her back and shoulders as he planted sweet baby kisses on her neck—also stroking her hair in long, tender strokes as he whispered in her ear.

  “As always, milady, I am at your disposal,” he whispered, pressing his hard golden body flush against her back as he added, “Just remember the pleasure that I brought you last eve.”

  Shooting him a gem-eyed gaze that dripped with defiance, Lord Gerald secured two strong hands around Catherine’s waist and pulled her closer to him.

  “Do not simply recall your pleasure, milady,” he whispered in her other ear. “Seize it, here and now in my arms.”

  Accenting his words with delicious action, Gerald cupped his hand between her legs and stroked open her feminine folds; stroking her bulging nub as she sighed with delight. Then his free hand clasped her shoulders in a warm, protective clench as—finally and fully—he plunged his long, hard shaft to the depths of her soaking wet femininity.

  Throwing herself deep into the arms of her ardent lover, Catherine writhed wild as their hardened nipples scraped together and her legs wrapped around his waist, deepening his intense penetration as their hips found a perfect rhyt
hm.

  Even in the fevered frenzy of their first carnal encounter, the couple continued to kiss and cuddle with the greatest tenderness; their tongues entwining as their bodies clenched in a sweet erotic cocoon.

  Catherine gasped against Gerald’s lips seconds later, as the hand of another man squeezed her full ass—his equally lush, ardent mouth layering her back with a smattering of sweetest baby kisses. An invigorating rain that made her tremble in Gerald’s arms as, with a long, last stroke, his shaft sank forth to her very core. With a deep binding kiss he sent them hurtling across the bounds of an intense mutual orgasm.

  Their bodies rolled wild in the grasses beneath them as their arms and legs entangled; their lips merging in a passionate kiss as their beings pulsated in the heat of an incredible climax.

  Catherine’s body still trembled in the heat of pleasure as she rolled over onto her back; her vision of a clear crystalline sky blocked by an even more pleasing vision--that of her dark haired lover.

  Hovering over her with a devilish smile, a resolute Gaston swept her up in two strong arms and bowed his head reverent to the crest of her neck; kissing and licking her nape as he settled his gorgeous naked body between her parted legs and ran agile but soothing hands across her breasts and down her rounded stomach.

  “Just relax, milady. Think not of my pleasure, only of your own,” he whispered with a smile, his tender touch stroking and caressing her nipples, her belly button, her hips, her thighs, before descending lower still to tickle the strands of her feminine nest. “Allow your knight to demonstrate the most improperly proper way that a lady should be loved.”

  With these words he lowered his hand to stroke her inflamed clit and toy nice and tender with her delicate opening—still soaking wet with arousal in the wake of her last encounter.

  Then, seizing her lips with a passionate kiss, he slipped his strong, agile finger deep in the confines of her feminine garden; his delicious touch probing and penetrating her pulsating walls.

  His magical fingertip echoed the back and forth motion of his tongue as he kissed and fingered her senseless, his intimate touch searching her insides for the ultimate source of her pleasure.

  And just then, he found it.

  Jumping upward from the ground beneath her, Catherine shuddered in Gaston’s comforting embrace as her entire body exploded in the heat of a very special form of release; one that actually caused a thin stream of thick fluid to erupt from the depths of her feminine garden, as her entire body pounded and pulsated with the intensity of an incredible climax.

  Soon she felt two pairs of adoring arms clutch and embrace her naked body; cradling her between them as they whispered in unison, “Tell us, Catherine. Which one of us do you choose?”

  “Both of you,” Catherine gasped out, wrapping her arms around their shoulders as she added with a lusty gasp, “I swear I will claim two golden rings!”

  THE END

  ***BONUS STORIES INCLUDED***

  The Viking Queen And Her Warriors

  MFM Menage Romance

  In Tribute to the Queen

  And so it has been told in the annals of Viking lore the story of the queen who harbored two kings, great and faithful Norse warriors who pledged their lives and their fidelity to one magnificent woman. Queen Astrid, Norse maiden of Sweden, claimed two hearts and dual bodies, both of which she held in equitable acclaim for all her days on earth. And so this is how their story commences….

  Chapter One

  Riding high on the crystalline waves of the sparkling North Sea, the gold-hued longship known as Astrid’s Dream gleamed in the glory of the afternoon sun; its tall scarlet sails and jewel-encased helm, one that took the form of an exquisite swan’s head with eyes that glittered diamonds, both glowing resplendent as the ship approached its native home base of Birka, Sweden.

  Magnus the great warrior, the keeper and captain of this heralded Norse vessel, always basked in the vision of the ship that he helmed with his brother, Eirik, one that the two piloted on journeys that took them all around the world—trading and selling the goods crafted and produced in their home village, in their beloved clan of Sigrid.

  “Our honorable Queen Astrid insisted on naming the clan in honor of Sigrid the Haughty, one of the bravest and proudest of Norse women,” Magnus reflected, keen gaze focused straight ahead of him as a vast expanse of crystal blue ocean gave way to the appearance of golden land. “Aye, but she would—our dear Astrid is herself a portrait of strength and nobility. I daresay I worship that woman as I would the greatest Norse goddess.”

  “Are ya talking to yourself, my brother?” Magnus’ grin broadened as he heard the deep, robust voice of his younger brother Eirik, the man who now approached him at the helm of their ship. “Indeed, if you continue to display such insane behavior—insane, I daresay, even for a warrior—then I just may have to seize command of the ship.”

  Erupting in laughter, the two brothers exploded in hearty, robust chortles as they clapped each other’s backs.

  “Nah my brother,” Magnus shook his head, adding as he kept his gaze trained on the sparkling land mass before them, “I simply was taking a moment to reflect on our wondrous queen, Astrid the Good, one who constantly realizes her reputation as a kind, strong leader—just as she always embodies and demonstrates the literal meaning of her name, which as you know translates to ‘godlike beauty.’”

  Eirik nodded.

  “Well while I am not certain that I would deem our queen a beauty, at least in the traditional sense,” he offered in a low, reverent tone, “She is indeed an incredible woman. Who could have imagined that a peaceable queen, one that taught us to bargain for goods as opposed to stealing or pillaging them, who also reminds us to be kind to all, especially women, also could reign among the most powerful Cheiftans in all of Scandinavia?” He paused here, adding with a broad smile, “Astrid is a great lady, true to her name—it’s a shame, then, that she seems a bit lonesome at times.”

  Magnus arched his eyebrows.

  “The queen? Lonesome?” he asked, adding with lips pursed, “Eirik, Astrid has told us repeatedly that she desire no mate—that she is married to our clan. How could she be lonesome?”

  Eirik sighed.

  “Well perhaps lonesome is not the right word,” he amended, adding in a lowered tone, “I hesitate to mention this, my brother, but about a moon ago I happened to overhear a conversation that transpired in Astrid’s longhouse, between her and her sister Inga. She mentioned that, with all the time she expends ruling and caring for our clan and village, she has little time for, um, other pursuits.”

  Magnus shook his head.

  “Other pursuits?” he repeated, adding with a chuckle, “I daresay the gal guzzles just as much ale as we do, and she regularly bests us at foot races; a fact which rather troubles me, in all honesty….”

  “I do believe the good queen was referring to carnal pursuits,” Eirik interrupted, adding in a tentative tone, “She told her sister that it has been ages since she enjoyed the company of a man—and that, as much as she reigns as a proud and powered queen, she is still a woman who has certain needs, so to speak.”

  Magnus nodded.

  “Say no more, my brother,” he declared, adding as he raised his sturdy hand high in the air, “As you well know, Eirik, that woman has bestowed upon us riches and tokens beyond our wildest imagination, as well as both the well-honed skills and the gallant longship that we need to carry out her missions—thus helping us to secure our position among the wealthiest Norsemen in all the lands. Most of all, she has given us heart—a commodity that comes all too rare to the beings of many a warrior.” He paused here, adding with a sharp, defined nod, “The least we can give in return, my brother, is the free use of our bodies and bed skills to in all ways satisfy and satiate her long neglected needs.”

  Eirik jumped.

  “OUR bodies and skills?” he echoed, adding in a disbelieving tone, “You mean both of us at once? The two of us in her bed, filling the wants
of her body?”

  Magnus shook his head.

  “Not only the wants of her body, Eirik, but also the desires of her heart and mind,” he corrected his brother. “That fine woman deserves romantic gestures and tender overtures, those sweet accents that tend to elude the vast majority of warriors.”

  Eirik nodded.

  “Tis true,” he acknowledged, “The average berserker, with his skull helmet and typically blood soaked sword, is not the most romantic of figures—not precisely known for his tender love of sentimental, poetically composed ballads and daffodil bouquets in the fullest, richest of bloom. Yet thanks to the nurturance and guidance of our most benevolent queen, we are better, more loving men.”

  Magnus snorted.

  “We also happen to be unattached and seafaring gents who have yet to make an offer for a maiden bride,” he reminded his brother, adding with a wink, “What better men to love our fair queen, to satisfy her longings and make her feel—not only like a fearless queen—but like a full and free woman? A well-pleasured woman of passion, who leaves no fantasy unfulfilled.”

  Eirik grinned.

  “So then, my good brother,” he cocked his head sharp in Magnus’ direction, “We shall encourage and allow our queen to conquer us?”

  “At least,” Magnus agreed with a wicked smile.

  Chapter Two

  Walking tall and proud across the hard stone floor of her timber made longhouse, Queen Astrid of the Clan of Sigrid projected what she hoped was a portrait of sleek regality; one characterized by her flowing gown of rich scarlet red embroidered with rich, ebullient rosettes at the collar and cuffs, a silver necklace carved in the shape of a luminous crescent moon, and—of course—the shining golden helmet that sat atop her waist length mane of chestnut brown hair, that signified her status as the queen of her clan.