The Ever Knight

by Fox, Georgia

  Then there was his brother, setting the rules of this game, giving her a chance when he might otherwise have turned his back and left in disgust.

  Remy was easy to read; his brother was not so willing to show his thoughts upon his strong face. In fact, Renard de Robynet frightened her a little, made her heart beat faster. One would always know when Remy was angry. Not so with Renard. He swallowed his emotions as if it was unmanly to have any, good or bad. That spelled trouble in any language.

  But, like her father, she was a survivor. Rather than be swept down by the tide of circumstance, she would swim with it. Gathering every ounce of courage, she said firmly, “How can I decide between you… since I’ve only known Remy?”

  A stiff muscle tugged Renard’s lips upward, first one thin corner and then the other. It was apparently the best he could do for a smile. “We can amend that.”

  He pulled on the ties at her throat and Remy stepped up behind her to catch the cloak as it fell. There was no objection voiced aloud from anyone. The two men were prepared to let her make her choice, even though she was “only” a woman and therefore her wants and needs were usually of no concern. She felt invigorated by the sudden power they placed in her hands.

  And then by the jutting cock placed in them immediately afterward. Renard was ready in the blink of an eye and just as well endowed as his brother.

  “What about the Mother Superior?” she muttered, stroking her fingers over the head and down the thick vein to his balls in their furred sac. Renard ignored her question, gathered her skirt and shift to her waist and thrust his large hand between her thighs, so forceful that she almost lost her footing.

  “You’re right, Remy, she is yearning. Bolt the door, we don’t want any interruption.”

  His brother moved to obey. He paused, watching as Renard lifted her to the table. “Shall I leave?”

  Renard looked at her, head cocked. “Should he leave?”

  She shook her head violently. No, she wanted Remy to stay. She never wanted him to leave her. Ever.

  “The lady insists you stay, Remy.” He laughed—the stark, unexpected, mirthless sound cutting the heavy atmosphere like a blade through a heart. “Perhaps she wants you to see how it should be done, eh?”

  So there was competition between them. At least on Renard’s side. A quick spark burned in his eyes, hastily snuffed. It must have been hard, she thought, to grow up with a half-brother so capable and strong like Remy—a half-brother who, due to his illegitimacy, probably had greater freedom to do as he pleased with fewer expectations on his shoulders. Remy was obviously popular with his men. He fit in. Renard, on the other hand, was treated with somber faces and chilly deference by the soldiers in the yard that morning. There was no witty, friendly banter. His expression didn’t welcome it.

  Now he hid the momentary lapse and his eyes were dark again, betraying nothing. He pretended he didn’t care about many things. Oh, but he did. That little glimpse, as he let down his guard, had shown her.

  Fox. In his tongue “Renard” was the name for a fox, according to Sister Annuncia who was the first to tell Jisella of her father’s marriage arrangement with the Normans.

  How apt it was, she realized now. Sly, lean, hungry. One of nature’s wildest creatures, untrusting of man, untamable.

  Like Remy, he too had long, black lashes and uniquely beautiful eyes, although his could be scornful and demanding. His features were strong, his jaw firm, roughened with stubble.

  She heard the clang of the bolts and then Remy’s heavy footsteps quickly returning. No one would come to her aid. Mother Superior would assume she was getting her “comeuppance” at the hands of her cuckolded betrothed. As indeed she would be, just not quite the way they could ever dream. She was now his property to do with as he pleased. The nuns handed her over with scarcely another thought.

  Renard kissed her mouth. He pulled her gown up over her thighs and his long fingers played with her sex, slipping inside, testing her capabilities. Behind him Remy whispered something in French and he answered in English, “Don’t worry. If she is sore from you, I will go slow.” He was a little resentful of the advice, but again he tried not to let it show. It occurred to Jisella that Remy, who must know his brother better than she, used this subtle way of crowing over Renard, reminding him that he’d had her first and thoroughly.

  Or perhaps, after all, it was just a well meant warning, for Renard rushed in like a young bull showing off. Where Remy had savored her, taken his time, Renard went straight at it, requiring and giving no preparation. She gasped, keening, her mind protesting his haste, her body ecstatic. Once fully sheathed, he licked her cheek, moving a long strand of hair aside with the tip of his tongue to whisper in her ear that she was beautiful, that his prick had lifted for her at first sight. And then, that pretty flattery disposed of by rote, he held her wrists over her head and proceeded to swive her roughly as if she was his slave. As if he had a point to make.

  “I wager…you say… that… to… all the… girls,” she panted between rapid, shuddering thrusts. He paused; another light flickered deep in his brown eyes. She saw she’d amused him and it seemed he was not often amused. He didn’t know what to do with it.

  Resuming that pounding rhythm, he slid his hands under her bottom, at least thoughtful enough to save her tender flesh from splinters. She wrapped her legs around his flanks, clinging on for dear life. His cock was not as thick, but even longer than Remy’s. They were both talented. His flesh moved slickly in and out of her clean, freshly-bathed pussy and the friction jolted through her sharply, bringing her to a peak that was almost too savage in intensity.

  Before it was completely over, he lifted her from the table and off his cock. She was still trembling inside, little quakes rippling through her, one atop the other so she couldn’t catch her breath. He hadn’t finished, she thought sulkily, eyeing his powerful staff, wondering why he waited.

  “Made your choice yet, my lady Jisella?”

  She shook her head. They accused her of witchcraft and yet the magic they used on her was far worse. She was spellbound.

  “I see you’re going to be difficult,” he said. “What shall I do with my young bride, eh?”

  She reached for his balls, grabbed them and squeezed, looking into his eyes. “If you don’t know what to do with me, my lord,” she said softly, “then you don’t deserve me. For your brother knew well and good.”

  From his perch at the end of the table, Remy laughed huskily.

  The gauntlet was laid down. Renard smirked at her, but his eyes remained fierce, pitiless. He beckoned with one curling finger and Remy slid from the table, drawing closer. “The Lady Jisella asks for trouble.” Renard paused, hands on his hips, still letting her hold his heavy balls. “Trouble she will get.”

  She let him go and spun on her heel, but Remy caught her by the braid, chuckling. “The Saxon Princess fears for her life.” His quick fingers were already loosening her hair, setting it free from the ribbon Sister Annuncia had bound it with that morning. Jisella thought of making another run for the door, but her feet would not comply and soon even her mind objected to the idea.

  “Let us try to win you,” Remy whispered, his breath soft on the side of her cheek. “We won’t harm you. Trust us.”

  Her heart thumped hard against her ribs and then Renard was there too, helping untie her braid, his fingers more dexterous.

  What was a girl to do? Yesterday morning there were no men in her life. Today there were two gorgeous specimens competing for her favors. No tiltyard could host a better tournament or provide more exciting entertainment.

  With his brother’s help, Renard set her kneeling on a bench, rolled her gown up over her hips, remarked casually to Remy on the beauty of her pussy, and then mounted her from behind, sliding in again between the dewy lips he’d left shortly before. He paused a moment to strip off his tunic and shirt for better freedom of movement and she felt his belt fall, the heavy buckle grazing her thigh, probably leaving a mar
k.

  A set of fingers untied the laces that ran down the back of her gown, but they were not Renard’s fingers, for he held her hips while he fucked her steadily, his booted feet standing astride the bench. Wave after wave washed over her, each one of his slyly positioned, slow-grinding thrusts starting a new shiver. She mewled softly, biting back the urge to scream with pleasure.

  Remy’s hands meanwhile tugged her gown and shift over her head. The brothers exchanged a few sentences in their own tongue and then Renard withdrew. She sighed, not with disappointment but anticipation. They would not leave her wanting, she knew that already. For a while they just touched her, the two pairs of hands all over her, stroking and petting until she arched her back like a kitten, frantic for more. Remy ran his fingers through her hair while Renard stood back to look at her, muttering about her wantonness as if this was entirely her doing and not their fault at all that she was so hot with desire, so ready to do whatever they wanted. Finally they helped her feet to the ground on either side of the bench, but kept her bent over it. Suddenly Renard was pressing that long organ between her ass cheeks. She gasped, flinching, thinking he meant to plow his way forward. But he rubbed the wet tip over her anus and then drew his fingers through her sticky slit, before using them to moisten his path. When she opened her eyes Remy was sliding under her on the bench.

  He kissed her breasts in greeting as he passed.

  Then he put his tongue to her cunt.

  Renard entered her slowly and found his rhythm again behind her. She swayed, struggling to hold her balance. The two men paid her their full attention and she was at their mercy. Renard reached for her breasts, grabbing and squeezing the swaying orbs in his hot hands, plumbing her ass ruthlessly, while his brother lay beneath her, avidly suckling her aching pussy, his mouth clamped greedily over it.

  It was too much for her. Jisella finally let her scream explode into the air. The room spun. She pushed back, grinding herself on Renard’s ramrod and into Remy’s eager mouth at the same time. Seconds later Renard exhaled a guttural roar, violently spending his load, while yet another climax rocked her body. Beneath her, his face buried between her thighs, Remy sucked away, flicking and digging his tongue into her cunny. As he lapped up the cream that trickled down, mingling with her juice, he chuckled softly, marveling aloud at her sweetness, cooing into her labia, even while his somber half-brother remained embedded in her anus almost to the hilt of his incredible weapon. She looked down as her sight cleared. Remy’s rampant cock was right under her face, the head scarlet, ripe to bursting. What else could she do but give relief? He’d just watched his brother swive her heartily like a beast in the field and himself participated in bringing her to screaming bliss.

  It wouldn’t be fair to leave any one of them unsatisfied. Opening her mouth wide, she bent down and took him once again into her mouth. Renard leaned over her, the firm slabs of his muscle pressing into her back. He stroked her hair away from her face and twisted it in one hand, pulling it over her shoulder so he had a clear view. Deeply he breathed, angrily even, and his fingers tightened in her hair, as if he might pull her back. But it wasn’t long before his own prick was stretching inside her, ready to go again, rising to the challenge, battling for her attention.

  Chapter Six

  Half an hour later Remy had her in his lap, her ass impaled on his staff, her thighs spread wide over his so that Renard could fondle her pussy at the same time with his long fingers. She’d asked if they often shared women like this. They’d both answered no. It was only half a fib. They had doubled up in the past, but didn’t make a habit of it. And it was never like this. Neither wanted to stop; neither wanted to give her up. They didn’t need to discuss it with words; the looks shot back and forth were sufficient for Remy to know where Renard stood and vice versa.

  But this woman was insatiable and they needed the extra help to keep her content. How could either man complain when she had so much to give?

  Jisella’s bountiful breasts cupped in his splayed fingers, her bottom riding his lap merrily, Remy said a mute prayer to the Gods that gave him and his brother this gift.

  “You haven’t a third brother by chance?” she asked saucily between gasps.

  “No,” they chorused, not wanting to give her any more choices. "Most people would say that two brothers de Robynet were enough," he mused, nibbling the sweet nape of her neck, tickling her with his stubble. She laughed and Remy felt it ruffling through her body to where he filled her. Never had this much passion for one woman taken him by storm, it was dangerous, powerfully distracting. Addicting. Glorious.

  Renard looked at him over her shoulder and Remy read the sheer need burning there in his brother’s intense, dark eyes. He fell still, sweating, his cock pulse beating hard in excitement at what was to come. His brother stepped closer to the table edge, between their wide-spread thighs and Remy gently squeezed her left breast, tweaking the sensitive, highly responsive nipple between the roughened pads of his fingers. This woman was an abundance of precious treasure and it would be selfish not to share with his brother. Remy was not a man who cared for too many possessions and an excess of riches would make him itch. But as long as he could still have her like this…

  “Perhaps she doesn’t have to choose, eh Renard?”

  “Hmmm. It doesn’t seem fair to make the lady choose.” Law and justice were important to Renard, who, unlike his brother, read a great many books and spent long hours pondering the world’s dilemmas. Head lowered, Renard let his elder brother guide her breast into his mouth and hold it there while his lips closed on the pink bud. He was primed, Remy noted, glancing downward to where his brother guided that long, lusty shaft, angling the engorged head between the petals of her sex. Jisella purred, reaching around to stroke Remy’s close-shaven head.

  “Well?” he demanded, hoarse.

  She didn’t immediately reply, so his brother bit her nipple and he hitched his hips, pushing up into her bottom another inch until she squealed.

  “Both,” Jisella cried, turning her head for Remy’s kiss, as his hands slid down over her belly and beckoned his brother’s tireless cock all the way into her honey pot. “I want you both,” she gasped.

  The words were barely out of her mouth before her wish was fulfilled, Renard’s great length joining his brother’s inside her.

  * * * *

  They were her Ever Knight. She never suspected there would be two and yet here they were. Embraced between them, pleasured by both at the same time, Jisella found what she needed, where she would love and be loved forever.

  Now she must locate Renard’s wounds and heal him—next year on All Hallow’s Eve. He’d have to wait until then and she’d put up with his grumpiness that long. He didn’t appear on the surface to have any injuries, but perhaps his were all inside. Those were the complicated ones.

  His lips now fought Remy’s for her kiss and she did the best she could to please them both. Her darling knights. Renard made a small sound of complaint, as if he thought his brother had more of her kiss than he did. To comfort, she tenderly caressed his warm, sweat dampened hair and saw his eyes open in surprise. Had no woman ever stroked his hair before, she wondered. She slid her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss for him, turning her face away from Remy, who settled now for the side of her neck and her shoulder, his strong hands resting on her thighs.

  Renard’s tongue swept her mouth and his eyes closed again, lashes twitching. Between her thighs he resettled his balance and began a slow fucking, so hard and strong, that she imagined it moved her up and down a little on his brother’s erection with every upward drive. Remy’s breath blew harder against her neck and she knew he was about to fire his arrow. She bore down on them both and plunged her tongue deeper into Renard’s mouth, her fingers entwined in the small curls at his nape, her breasts pressed to his chest.

  She felt his groan on her tongue, her nipples, her heart and far inside her sheath, even before she heard it shatter in the steamy air. The two brother
s shared not only her body but their climax, wrapping their arms around her as they spilled at the same moment.

  Hearing a slight sigh high above, she glanced up, misty-eyed, and smiled to see her friend spying on them from the gallery. Deorwynn would certainly acquire an eye-opening education today and she’d need it, because the next Norman soldiers that came would be all hers. Every one of them.

  Deorwynn must find her own Ever Knight. It was her turn next.

  The End

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