"Wie sollten wir dies tun?" - "How should we do this?"
"Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas avec ce que nous faisons maintenant?" - "What's wrong with what we're doing now?"
"Il devrait être spéciale. Mémorable." - "It should be special. Memorable."
"Sie mag es." - "She likes this."
It's strange, I never realized how small my bedroom was until I saw two horny, shirtless Irishmen crowded into it.
They're standing beside my bed; Connor expectant, Murphy giddy, and the late afternoon sun streaming through the window at their back makes them look like tattooed angels.
I'm momentarily stunned by the sight.
"Alright, lass?" Connor asks, his voice gentle, and I nod.
"Just not sure where to start."
They both smile and Murphy tugs at the hem of my shirt. "You could start with this."
Seems reasonable. I take a deep breath and pull it off over my head.
It's nothing they haven't seen before but they both perk up.
"C'mere," Connor tells me softly and I step into his arms.
They move slowly, like they're afraid of spooking me. Connor tilts my head up and presses his lips to mine as Murphy moves behind me, sliding his arms around my waist.
Quick fingers, I'm not sure whose, unhook my bra and slide the straps down my arms. Then Murphy's warm hands are on my breasts, palming them, kneading them, and rolling the tips between his fingers until I lean back against his chest. He kisses my neck, his tongue hot on my skin.
Connor moves closer, deepening the kiss. He's pressed tight against my front now, sandwiching me in between his hot, hard body and Murphy's.
It's intoxicating being trapped between them like this. My head is spinning.
I shiver as Murphy slides one hand down my stomach and under my waistband.
"Wie sollten wir dies tun?" Connor murmurs, thumb lightly stroking my lips, and I feel Murphy shrug.
"Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas avec ce que nous faisons maintenant?"
His fingers press into me and I jump, fingernails accidentally scratching at Connor's back.
Connor doesn't seem to mind; he looks down into my eyes as he tells his brother, "Il devrait être spéciale. Mémorable."
"I don't know what you're saying but it sounds pretty damn sexy," I mutter breathlessly as Murphy begins to rub his fingers in slow circles that make my knees feel weak.
"Sie mag es," he tells Connor, nuzzling his rough cheek against my neck.
I reach up to run my fingers through his hair, turning to find his lips. Murphy turns me around to face him, hoisting me up until I wrap my legs around his waist.
We tumble onto the bed, his lips never leaving mine.
I hear Connor opening drawers, muttering, "Scarves…aye, where does the lass keep her scarves?"
"Hanging in the closet," I answer and Murphy takes the opportunity to kiss his way down to my breasts. "Why do you need a scarf?"
He doesn't answer but I hear him rummaging around as Murphy unbuttons my jeans and tugs them down my hips.
He pulls my underwear down, ready to dive right in, but stops when his brother murmurs something to him.
Connor is standing by the bed with my silky black scarf in hand and, when I see the bulge in the front of his jeans, I remember what I've been wanting to do all day.
I slide my hand over him, looking up into his eyes, "I want to –"
But he cuts me off, catching my fingers in his and leaning over to kiss me.
"Later," he murmurs against my mouth, smiling at my doubtful expression. "Aye, I promise, lass."
"Now," Connor begins and Murphy climbs off of me, leaving me feeling bereft, "how do you feel about being blindfolded?"
Blindfolded? Honestly, I've never understood the appeal but hey, if they get off on it I'm all for it.
"Uh, that's fine," I answer and the next thing I know, Connor is tying it over my eyes.
Well then.
It's a little disorienting. I feel one of them kneel between my legs, pushing them up until my knees are bent and my feet are planted firmly on the mattress.
And then? Nothing. Not a damn thing.
I can feel their eyes on me but no one touches me for what seems like a very long time.
And suddenly I understand the appeal.
Without the advantage of sight, everything is heightened. It doesn't make any sense but it's like I can feel the air touching my body. As the seconds tick by, my breath quickens. My body is buzzing, every nerve ending tingling in anticipation of being touched.
I squirm, imagining them watching me, and then I can't help it. I reach for the blindfold.
But the mattress dips as I feel someone lie down beside me. He pins my wrists to the bed with one hand and turns my face towards his with the other. His thumb sweeps across my bottom lip, then he's kissing me, deep and hard, and I know it's Murphy.
Meanwhile, the brother between my legs ghosts his hands up and down my inner thighs, barely touching me. I can only hold my breath with each slow sweep downwards, praying he'll go lower.
Yes, it's definitely Connor. Murphy wouldn't have that much self-control.
Speaking of which, fingers I'm now absolutely positive belong to Murphy are working their magic on my breasts. I moan and he covers my mouth with his own, his tongue thrusting against mine.
Connor is still teasing me, trailing his fingers everywhere but where I need them to be.
He shifts and then I feel his warm breath against my bare skin.
"Oh god," I whine, my hips bucking embarrassingly.
He laughs and I decide I hate Connor. He's not an angel at all. He's Satan.
He breathes on me again, closer, and I hear myself begging, "Please. Please, please, please."
It seems that Satan is not in a merciful mood.
"Enough of that," Murphy mutters.
His fingers immediately find the spot I've been dying for Connor to touch and I decide I love Murphy. I love Murphy so much.
I throw my head back, thighs squeezing tight around his hand as I let out a desperate, strangled sound. If my neighbors don't call the cops before this night is over, I guess I'll never be able to depend on them if I'm ever actually being murdered.
Murphy groans in my ear, his tongue sweeping over the throbbing pulse at my throat.
I imagine Connor glaring at his brother as he knocks his hand away and replaces it with his tongue.
And dear god, he's just as talented in that department as his brother. Different, less…voracious, but definitely satisfying.
Murphy tilts my head up towards his and kisses me again, swallowing my ecstatic moan as Connor pushes a finger inside of me.
He slides it in and out, then adds another, hooking them upwards.
And just like that, I run screaming over the edge. It feels like I'm falling but Murphy's lips on mine help me settle my feet back on solid ground.
The bed shifts again and I imagine Connor is probably standing over me with quite a smug grin on his face.
I hear the sound of a belt buckle hitting the floor and then he straddles my chest, careful to keep his weight off of me.
Something smooth and hot brushes against my lips. "Is this what you wanted, lass?"
Oh god.
"Yes," I say breathlessly, snaking my tongue out to taste him. "Yes."
I can't move to touch him and, for some reason, that makes it even hotter. All I can do is open my mouth, allowing him to slide inside. He groans, one hand fisting in my hair as he gently rocks his hips forward.
Murphy releases my wrists for a moment to slide the blindfold off and I look up into Connor's eyes, moaning when I see the way he's looking down at me.
But still I'm aware of Murphy, close by my side and pinning my wrists down again. Out of the corner of my eye I can see him lazily stroking himself through his jeans.
I look up at Connor, eyes begging, and he nods.
"Go on then," he murmurs to his brother and Murphy rolls to his feet, unzipping his jeans.
He's naked by the time he reaches the end of the bed and I feel him sliding his hands up my legs.
Connor pulls out of my mouth gently and I hear Murphy say, "Roll over, girlie."
I'm half-delirious but I do as I'm told. Connor lays down beside me and I flip over onto my stomach in front of him, immediately wrapping my lips around him as Murphy thrusts into me from behind.
Connor whimpers, actually whimpers and it's the most delicious thing I've ever heard.
He props himself up against my pillows, his hand resting on the back of my head. "Aye, you were eager for it weren't you, lass?"
I feel my cheeks growing hot but he looks so awed by that fact that the embarrassment fades almost immediately.
We slip into a rhythm so natural that I forget I was ever nervous about this. Murphy rocks his hips against mine while my head bobs up and down over Connor.
I look up at him, remembering what he said the first time we kissed. It feels right.
Murphy curves his body down over mine, his mouth on my neck and his hand on my breast. I can't help but notice how intently Connor is watching us.
He likes to watch, I realize suddenly. I guess it should have been obvious before. He gets off on it.
Every time Murphy groans, Connor's hips twitch in response.
As if Murphy knows it, and he probably does, he takes it up a notch. His hand leaves my breast to find the spot he's all too familiar with and then he begins pounding into me, grunting with every thrust.
"Fuck," Connor hisses, hips bucking involuntarily. He tugs at my hair, "Fuck, lass. I'm going to –"
I hold fast, looking him dead in the eye, and off he goes, groaning my name.
My own release rips through me, leaving me gasping, turning my bones to Jell-O and my muscles to mush.
Murphy follows closely, his hips faltering and his hand gripping my hip hard enough to leave bruises.
And then we collapse into a sweaty, tangled pile of limbs.
I definitely need a bigger bed.
Murphy rolls us onto our sides and I rest my head on Connor's stomach, thoroughly drained. I'm pretty sure I couldn't stand up right now even if the room was on fire.
I haven't even caught my breath when they pop the question.
"So, lass," Connor says, lazily running his fingers through my hair, "tell us something."
"What?" I mutter drowsily, nuzzling my face into his soft, warm skin.
It's Murphy that replies, "Which one's bigger?"
"What?" I repeat, baffled.
"Which one of us is bigger?" Connor asks insistently.
They can't be serious, can they?
"Really? You're really asking me that? You're twins," I point out stupidly. "They're the same."
Connor shakes his head and Murphy pipes up from behind me, "No, see they can't be exactly the same, can they?"
Oh god, this must be how they feel when I ask them if an outfit makes me look fat. I cover my face with my hands, vowing never to do that again.
"Come on, lass," Connor tucks a strand of loose hair behind my ear. "We won't be mad will we, Murph?"
"At our Nicky? Never," Murphy says against my skin, pressing kisses along my spine.
I melt a little. God, he's so precious.
"Fine," I finally give in, taking a deep breath to steel myself. "Connor, you're longer but Murphy, you're thicker. So there."
They're silent. Completely and utterly silent.
I look up at Connor to see that he now looks stunned.
Please don't tell me I've broken them.
A few seconds later Murphy snorts and they both dissolve into hysterical laughter.
"What?" I look back and forth between them. "What did I say?"