Page 157 of Queen of Sherwood

Obviously, I wouldn’t have been able to do it alone. I couldn’t take credit for our great victory.

Which was what brought my eyes back to my mates. The men who had been with me every step of the way, and cared for me in a way I never thought possible.

As a young girl, I had imagined a different life for myself. A life as a princess, on plush pillows, waited on by a loving husband. A nobleman, most likely, given my status at Wilford.

That dream, that fantasy, had quickly been dashed by the turns life gave me. By my mother’s sad death and my father’s despicable betrayal. By the loss of our family name and the respect it used to garner in my youth.

And yet . . . I had found my dream, regardless. I wasn’t a princess—I was a huntress. I didn’t sleep on plush pillows—I slept on hard cots. I didn’t eat lavish meals—I ate what everyone else ate in the woods: berries, nuts, the occasional squirrel, hare, or deer.

And I wasn’t waited on by a loving husband. No, I was the obsession of four loving men, all of whom catered to me in a different way. Yes, they could pamper, but they could challenge and infuriate and love in a way I never knew existed. Their passion knew no bounds. Their expertise in various fields made them wise and worldly and intelligent. Nothing had been given to them—they had fought and earned everything they owned, which, admittedly, wasn’t much.

John, Will, Tuck, and Alan gave me everything I needed and more. Every part of them was mine, and I was within every one of them. It swelled my heart.

Our bond would never break.

Now we were victorious.

And they deserved a reward for all their sacrifice.

AFTER THE SCOUT’S MESSAGE, I sent Robert off with the rest of the Merry Men-Oak Boys. Our gathering dispersed, headed back to camp, leaving me alone with my mates in the forest.

They huddled around me, eyes smoldering. Words unspoken. With sly grin, I ran my fingers over their sturdy chests. I kissed them, going on my tiptoes to reach the tallest oak of a man, and slanting my face to level with the shortest.

All different backgrounds, with different tragedies that had brought them to me and informed the way they loved.

Will, temperamental and vindictive, who had dealt with the loss of his mother at an early age. A fierce, violent lover, in turn, who spiked my pulse and was the first to grab me and wrap a hand around my throat.

He claimed my lips with a harsh kiss, plunging his tongue in my mouth while groping at me. His deft fingers, so expert with swords, now expertly teased and played with my nipples. He shoved me against a tree trunk, letting out an oof from my throat as he continued to ravage my mouth.

He was the first to spread my legs once I slipped out of my pants. He squeezed between my thighs, stroking his hard cock before I even noticed he had it out.

The man was an animal, feral and unruly, and I lived for the thrill of making love with him, because I knew it would be something new and invigorating every time.

This time, he fed his cock into me while facing me full-on, lapping at my mouth and obsessing over every inch of my body. He peppered my collar with kisses, keeping a hand firmly grasped around the thin column of my neck. The slope of my shoulder and nape were hillsides he dominated and owned.

And, whenever I wanted, I could bring the man to his knees, because Will appreciated the more nuanced ways of lovemaking, thanks to his relationship with Alan-a-Dale.

Speaking of Alan, once Will was sheathed inside me, and the warmth spread through my belly, the minstrel came to my side.

I was surrounded, overwhelmed, by these stuffy, overbearing men who were addicted to me.

Alan, mischievous and high-spirited, whose tragedies lay with being passed around and forgotten as a youth, treated as an object for other men’s desires.

My prettiest mate had the saddest story, and I still didn’t know all of it. I didn’t pry, because I knew it had informed much of his life—which likely wasn’t a healthy way to live.

But I was greedy. Selfish. I wanted Alan just as much as the others, and he wanted me as much as the music in the wind. His hard cock, gliding through his hand as he watched Will thrusting into me—was proof of that.

Alan was not afraid to make Will squirm or assert his own style of dominance when it suited us. He reached behind Will, and my warrior bandit grunted when Alan cupped his balls. Will throbbed inside me, and my eyes rolled.

My hand fell to my side, and I fingered my stuffed cunt until my fingers were wet with arousal. Then I wrapped my palm around Alan’s long cock and stroked him, moving my face over to kiss him.

Will twisted my face to claim me again, and then I was giggling and the two of them were fighting over dominance of me.

“Excuse me,” I said breathlessly once they had unhanded me. “I’m missing a cock in this hand.” I wagged my brow at Tuck and John, teasing them.

Their eyes smoldered.

Will and Alan’s faces tilted to lave kisses along my bare skin, heating me with every soft touch. I moved Alan by his cock, in full control, and positioned him behind Will. With my hand stroking him blindly, I guided the minstrel where I thought he should be.

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