Double Princes

By: Cassandra Dee
A Twin Step Royal Romance

(With BONUS Book His Tight Little Brat)



“Oh ick,” I murmured, looking down at myself. There was blood on my shirt, just a small red spot at the hem that I’d missed, but still … blood was blood.

My friend Jenny looked over and nodded knowingly.

“No worries,” she consoled me, “just say it’s the sauce from one of the weird things we had at lunch.”

I looked over at her and laughed.

“Okay, but then I’d have to admit that I actually ate that stuff,” I said ruefully, “which is pretty hard to stomach.”

I was referring to the food of Slovania. Their cuisine is typical Eastern European, filled with heavy meat dishes, creamy sauces, and heavily spiced cooked veggies. It would have been an awesome culinary experience if I weren’t a vegetarian but seeing that I was, I was basically subsisting on stale crackers and Slovanian wine, which fortunately is excellent.

Jenny just laughed with me, and I was grateful for her company. My best friend and I were here as volunteer translators, part of a group doing charity work for impoverished kids with medical disabilities.

We’re part of an overseas medical mission called Operation Smile. Doctors and nurses from the United States journey to third world countries to operate on kids with cleft palates, all free of charge. It’s a genius idea. The operation is straightforward and low-risk, and the difference to a child is enormous. Instead of having a gaping hole in their lip, the surgery repairs their palate, making things like swallowing, breathing, and speaking possible. Plus, the child looks normal once again, paving the way for a healthy, productive life. Again, the program was genius and I was honored to be part of the staff.

Well, Jenny and I are sort-of staff. The real staff are the doctors and nurses, Jenny and I were here for college credit, student interns to help with translation from English to Slovanian and back again. Hopefully, our language skills would bridge the gap between the American medical personnel and local doctors learning operating techniques.

But in the meantime, I still had this red spot on my shirt that to my eyes, was unmistakably blood.

“Jen, I’m going to head over to the washroom and try and get this stain out. You know how I feel about this stuff,” I said, wrinkling my nose.

“Oh sure, meet you at the canteen,” she replied. “I’ll save you something good to eat,” she said with a wink.

That only made me sigh again. More likely, there’d be nothing vegetarian and I’d have to resort to another dinner of bread and cooked goat’s milk, which actually wasn’t bad … if you added about ten packets of sugar.

But in the meantime, the stain. Sighing, I strolled into the locker room, checking to make sure no one was there. Our accommodations were Spartan and there was one restroom for the whole crew, male and female. So it was generally a good idea to scope out who was there before doing your business.

Satisfied that the coast was clear, I locked the door and whipped off my t-shirt, leaving my bra on. Unfortunately, the bralet was looking worse for the wear too, the edges a little grimy, the lace sticky and hot. What the hell, it was sweltering and there was no one around. Might as well hand wash that too.

Snapping the clasp, I let the bra slide down my arms and took a deep breath, looking at myself in the mirror. Hmm, brown hair, nice shoulders, and an even nicer rack. Yep, I’m curvy and my crowning jewels are my girls, Double Ds with a pale pink nipples, my boobs creamy and pendulous in the dim light of the bathroom.

But right, that stain. With a frown, I got busy. Blasting the water in the sink, I leaned over and began scrubbing the cotton, pumping soap from the dispenser liberally, lathering up the worn fabric. The spot was getting fainter, more of a light pink than deep red now, but still visible. Gross.

Suddenly, a shower cranked on, the creak loud and unsettling. What the? I’d thought I was alone in the locker room and clasped the wet t-shirt to my breasts nervously, aware that there was someone else here.

Or two someones in this case. Out of nowhere, twin forms appeared around the corner, coming to a halt when they saw me.

“Um, hi,” I said weakly, throwing a smile at Holt and Hayden. Or should I say Doctors Holt and Hayden. While most of the docs and nurses volunteering their time were middle-aged, Holt and Hayden were two recent medical school grads who’d joined the mission at the last minute.

And Jenny and I had practically swooned the first day during introductions. Six four each, with coal-black hair and penetrating blue eyes, the twins looked more like male models than guys with stethoscopes and prescription pads.

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