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And the darkness was creeping in.
By the third time I came, the stars in my eyes were floating by. My moans had turned into ragged whimpers. My sweaty body slid on Will and Tuck from either end, while Alan continued to minister his daredevil tongue across my most sensitive areas.
“Can’t . . . hold on . . .” I mumbled, eyes rolling like when Will had first sank inside me.
The pressure was becoming too much to bear. I had no recollection of when we had started, where one man began, or where our limbs ended. I was in a trance of pure pleasure, and all thoughts were forgotten and lost to the tide of ecstasy.
Then I screwed my eyes shut, felt the wave of heat demolish every border and wall I’d been desperately trying to throw up before these merciless men had barged into my tent—
And I collapsed in their arms.
Used, loved, exhausted, and utterly content.
Chapter 19
Robin
Iawoke to a hissing voice—“Fuck! Thing is hotter than Robin’s cunt.”
My eyes fluttered open at the mention of my name. A haze of warmth swaddled over me. I assumed it was my mind returning to the land of the living. The soreness of my muscles called in protest, and the rumbling of my belly demanded food.
I was on my side, naked. Curled up in a ball, staring out at the interior of my sparse tent.
Will Scarlet, Alan-a-Dale, and Friar Tuck stood in a half-circle around me, fully clothed, with smug smiles on their faces. Steam rose between them, and I realized the haze of warmth wasn’t my mind—it was actually sweltering in here.
Between the men sat a tin water basin, oblong in shape. Steam rose from the water inside it, which nearly reached the lip.
Tuck swept his hands out, smile turning proud. “We decided to bring the river to you, little heathen. After what we put you through, we thought it was the least you deserved.”
I blinked and sat up, scratching my head. My hair was knotty and plastered to my scalp. My palms were clammy, and I felt altogether disgusting.
Slowly, it dawned on me what they had done.
Will Scarlet was still shaking his hand, evidently having burned himself bringing the hot tub inside my tent. He said, “Baron Easton had this thing stashed in one of his carriages. Not surprising for a lazy, pretentious fuck like him.”
“Much the Miller’s Son pointed it out,” Alan added. He was hiding something behind his back, and could hardly keep the grin from his face. “Poor lad told us Easton would make him fill this thing a thimbleful at a time, for the baron’s morning baths.”
I gawked, swinging my legs around in front of me. “All this . . . for me?”
Alan’s hand came out from behind his back, the grin lighting up his face. He held a platter filled with flaky, heavenly-smelling pastries. “There’s berry tarts!”
“Tuck made them,” Will grunted.
Tuck rubbed the back of his neck, blushing and shaking his head. “Alan demanded he hold the plate so he could look like he did something, since Will foraged the berries and I made the pastries. Emma helped.”
I laughed, full-throated.
Alan’s face sank. “I’m not a connoisseur of cookery like you are, friar!”
“Or a hunter,” Will murmured.
Alan lifted a haughty finger as he held out the plate to me, and I couldn’t stop myself from snagging one. “I can fill an empty drum full of water with the best of them, though.”
“And then bitch about having to haul the thing off the fire pit and into the tent,” Will pointed out.
Alan glowered at him. “That’s just great, little badger. Make the minstrel feel useless.”
“Is it more than a feeling if you are useless, dandelion?”
