Page 52 of Queen of Sherwood

I nodded. Rolled onto my back, so I still had the grass all over me, yet it was no longer teasing my skin. “An excellent idea,” I said. My voice sounded far away in my ears, as if it wasn’t a part of me.

“What . . . is going on?” Friar Tuck asked, again, apropos of nothing. He was looking up at the sky, and frowned. “Does the sky look particularly blue today?”

“It’s always blue, except on a dreary day,” Alan helpfully pointed out, rolling the rose between his fingers.

“Aye,” Tuck agreed, “yet it sparkles like sapphires today. Amazing, isn’t it?”

“Ow, fuck,” Alan hissed, and I glanced over to see him drop the rose. A bead of blood dripped from his finger where a thorn had poked him.

“Told you to be careful,” Will grumbled next to him, and shook his head. “Now I’ll need to help you.”

With that, he leaned forward, locked gazes with Alan-a-Dale . . . and took the minstrel’s bleeding finger in his mouth. Their eyes remained fixed on each other as Will softly sucked Alan’s finger, and the minstrel’s body went taut.

“Oh my,” I murmured.

I found myself sitting up. Spreading my legs . . . dipping a hand between them. Rubbing and feeling the heat of my throbbing cunt through my pants, right there in the open. The sensations pitter-pattered over my skin, then dove deep to the pit of my belly.

John let out a growl of desperation, fell to his knees before me. “That does it.” He crawled forward and met me, slanting his face and claiming my lips with his.

The big man’s kiss was fervent yet soft. Imploring as he slipped his tongue inside my mouth. I sucked on his tongue and moaned at the wet warmth of it. My free hand cupped his grizzly cheek. Every point and prod of his whiskers sang to me.

I wasn’t sure how long we kissed. Only that I closed my eyes and gave myself over to the feral sensations igniting through my mind and body like a blacksmith’s forge.

I needed out of these clothes. Desperately, I wanted to feel more of John’s touch against me—between my thighs, my breasts, my hips.

“I need you, right now,” John grunted.

With a heavy breath, my gaze danced from his eyes over his shoulder, where the other three looked at us curiously. Will still had Alan’s finger in his mouth, and the erection he sported because of it was clear as day through his pants.

“And I need you all,” I answered.

Chapter 14

Robin

We abandoned our clothes, sending them in heaps across the colorful glade. The babbling creek nearby was drowned out by the rushing blood in my ears and the pressure building between my thighs.

As I leaned back from Little John and stared up at the wonderful sky, letting the headiness fill me, he peeled my pants away, which started the rustling of the others throwing their garments off.

I parted my legs and bared myself to him and the others, and John drew in a sharp breath.

“Perfection,” he said, staring at my wet, glistening cunt. “A feast fit for kings.” He licked his lips, smoldering darkness shading his eyes.

Before I could say anything, he lunged on his hands and knees like a primal animal and stuffed his face between my thighs. I gasped when his scalding tongue made impact with my wet heat, and the immediate slurping and grunting noises only made me more lustful and fiery. I folded myself, lifting my legs and ass off the grass from John’s strength, wrapping my calves around his middle.

My blood sang like Alan-a-Dale. Pure, sultry, thick. I wrapped my arms around John’s head and tightened my legs around his torso, all but hugging him like a front-facing pack while the giant man probed my cunt and sent lightning bolts of pleasure jagging through me.

With a soft cry, I opened my eyes and saw Will and Alan on their knees a few feet away, facing each other but with their eyes zeroed in on me and John, watching intently.

While they watched, Alan-a-Dale had his hand fixed between Will’s legs, gently stroking the younger man’s thick cock and lightly squeezing the bulbous crown, swiping away arousal that beaded at the tip.

My eyes widened at the sight.

They, too, went onto their hands and knees, because it seemed like the grass and foliage and undergrowth was particularly soft and pleasant this afternoon, beneath our fingers and toes, dancing across our skin, drawing out little stabs of pleasure.

Speaking of little stabs of pleasure, John was going in on me. He ate my cunt like it was his final meal, and all I could do was jiggle and quiver around his tongue, squeezing my legs against his ribs. His large hands outlined my thighs and languished on my skin.

Suddenly, there were four of us on the forest floor, a tangle of limbs all near one another, while only Tuck stood off and watched. I chanced a glance over and saw he had opened his habit at the front, the belt discarded, and was stroking his fat cock while standing there.

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