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“Nice and warm. It feels like home, almost. A home I never had.”
He laughed. “You have a flare for the dramatic, little heathen.” His hand cupped the back of my neck. Bumps sprouted along my arms. I scooted closer against him as the warmth in my belly spread lower. One of my legs lifted and rested on the top of his meaty thigh.
“So,” he said, moving his hand to my thigh to rub lazy circles above the nightgown, “you can’t sleep. I think I know what ails you, but why don’t you tell me?”
I was unable to tear my eyes away from his thick fingers teasing my hot flesh. The fabric of my nightgown was thin enough that I could feel his touch to my core. “I’m sorry for running away from you in Nottingham. I feel like none of this would have happened—”
His finger fell on my lips, shushing me. I had an intense urge to take that finger in my mouth, but I resisted. “Don’t apologize for that, Robin. None of this is your fault.”
I swallowed hard. “I’m wondering if I should confess and repent for what I’ve done.”
“That is between you and God, lass. I don’t have authority to hear confessions any longer . . . but I will, if that’s what you seek.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think it is. Not right now. I’m having trouble thinking about that.”
“I wonder why . . .”
As his voice trailed off, his hand dipped under my nightgown and I gasped. “F-Friar Tuck.”
His hand stopped. It wasn’t fear in my voice, but surprise. He began to move his hand away, quickly, saying, “Apologies, lass, I’m afraid I misread—”
“No,” I said, snatching his wrist and slapping his hand back on my thigh. “It’s not that. Don’t go anywhere.”
“What is it, then?”
“Maid Marian . . .”
His hand paused its lazy circles. His body tensed against mine. “What of her?”
“She said something to me in the cottage. I accused her of sewing the map in the dress, realizing I’d seen her in the carriage the morning before you left for Nottingham. She said she was there to have . . . to have something soft to lay on so she was comfortable while you, erm . . . plowed into her.”
A growl fell out of Tuck’s mouth. His hands abruptly took my arms, and he all but pulled me onto his lap, so I was forced to straddle his hips. I let out a small yelp as my body moved, leg looping over, and noticed a tinge of fire in his amber eyes.
“That damned woman,” he said, and then searched my body up and down before locking eyes with me. I could feel a hard protrusion against my ass, and I tried futilely to ignore it as his eyes ravenously ate me up. “There’s no truth to her words, lass. I understand why she said it—to pit us against one another. I want you to know I haven’t laid a finger on that succubus since laying eyes on you. I won’t ever touch another woman while I have you. That is my solemn vow.”
Awestruck, I nodded dumbly. My eyes were wide. He looked so sincere. I believed him. To my bones, I believed him.
It wasn’t a small thing for a priest—excommunicated or not—to make an oath. “Do you trust me?” he asked.
I nodded quickly. “Yes.”
“Do you believe me?”
“Yes, Tuck.”
“Then perhaps I can show you how much you mean to me, and why I’m hopeless to be absolved of my sins.”
My chin trembled. I nodded slowly this time, leaning forward. “Please,” I whispered, touching my hand to his warm chest. “I need someone.”
He cupped the back of my neck as he kissed me. Claiming me with his lips, ravenously, in a way I never thought a priest could do. I didn’t know priests had experience like this—I’d grown up thinking chastity was important to them.
But not Friar Tuck. He was a master with his tongue. The intense heat that billowed inside me begged for more. There’s a reason he’s an ex-priest, I thought.
It came on hot and fast. The bulge below me became undeniable—painful, I felt, for him. He threw his blanket aside and his thick cock rose and slapped against my ass.
My legs were spread wide so I could straddle the girth of his lap. His rotund stomach gave me a perfect place to push against, and I crouched forward to kiss him harder.
Tuck’s hand roamed through my hair as the dim moonlight bathed us. Our bodies became all touch and feel. His hand crept down, where my wetness had begun dripping onto his stomach. His fingers hooked beneath my nightgown, sinking into my cunt, toying with my wet heat.
