Chapter 44 | Robin
Uncle Gregory’s funeral was a somber affair, as expected. We buried him in the woods next morning, far from camp, to make sure he would never be found, desecrated, or exhumed by evil men.
More than half the camp joined us in the forest. Nearly a hundred people gathered to pay their final respects to the man. Some of them had known him well, and had stories to tell. Others hardly had known him at all, but knew what he meant to the leadership—me, Robert, and Briggs specifically—of the Merry Men-Oak Boys alliance.
I spoke briefly, fighting through an aching heart, with my mates surrounding me in support. Robert went on much longer, telling stories of our childhood, and getting things off his chest that he’d never been able to when Uncle Gregory had been alive.
Alan-a-Dale played wistful tunes, joined by a choir of orphans and accompanist musicians from camp. Friar Tuck gave the eulogy, as our chaplain.
Gregory had been my final link to the past. With him gone, there were no guiding hands in our family name. It was just me and Robert now, forced to fend for ourselves.
I would miss his guidance and kindness most of all. Beyond that, his stern education of the ways of life.
“He lived life by his own terms,” I had told the congregation of gathered bandits. “From soldier, to landowner, to bandit, he never wavered from what he believed was right. There’s honor in that. Gregory exemplified respect and virtue that seems to be missing today. I hope we can be reminded of those timeless qualities, and that we may dig deep and uncover them within ourselves, in the name of my uncle.”
Following the burial, Robert and Briggs led the procession back to camp. We were still on edge about Sheriff George’s army camped in Ravenshead, so we needed to prepare for a possible battle.
One that would surely be our end, if the Knights Templar combined forces with the dead Sheriff’s militia. They, too, had lost a master: Sir Amadeus Montford, who had been the leading knight in the region.
Our enemies were dead. Bishop Sutton, Sir Montford, Sheriff George, Sir Guy. All gone.
We still had one enemy in camp, but she wouldn’t pose much of a problem now that she had no one to scheme with. Marian had never been as powerful by herself, which was likely what made her so sad and deceitful. She knew that, in order to get ahead as a woman in this realm, she needed to use every bit of leverage she could to get her way.
It had backfired for the final time.
On the way to camp, a scout approached and spoke in a hushed whisper to Robert. I watched them converse, noticed my brother nodding, and then he turned to me.
“The army in Ravenshead is leaving,” Robert announced.
Everyone froze to listen. My heart stilled behind my ribs. “Leaving?” I asked. “. . . Where?”
“Back to Nottingham.” A small, sad smile flickered across his face. “They aren’t going deeper into the woods, sister. They’re retreating.”
I was stunned. It took a moment for my mind to comprehend . . . that we were finally safe.
I became lost in a swirling daze, trapped within myself. It was only when loud cheers and jarring hoots and hollers rose from the hundred people surrounding us that I was snapped back to reality.
People hugged me. I stared at them in shock.
We’ve . . . won?
“Long live Robin Hood!” called one voice, and the chant was repeated by dozens of others.
Fists pumped the sky.
“Long live the Queen of Sherwood Forest!” shouted another.
My mates surrounded me, shifting from one foot to the other as they awkwardly played bodyguard around me.
Too much had happened recently for them to let their sights off me, even if it was our own camp who embraced and cheered me.
We only needed to look to the Muddy Meddlers to understand that.
Still, once the shock wore off, the smiling began. I returned the hugs of my comrades, and then moved my eyes to the men I called lovers.
They had pride in their faces. All of them. I was their entire world, and they looked nowhere but my face.
All the attention made me nervous. I bit the inside of my cheek, chewing, trying to make sure this was real.
The scout’s news was the best we’d had in months. If the army was retreating, it was possible they would come back once they recouped.
But it was also possible that I had been correct, and once we cut the head off the snake—Sheriff George, in this case—then the rest of the troops lost interest. No one really wanted to delve deep into the woods of Sherwood Forest to try and fight against bloodthirsty bandits. Right?
I knew the Merry Men and Oak Boys would become the stuff of legend because of this. The ragtag band of thieves and outlaws who had defied a lord and gotten away with it.
A group who had won their freedom.
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.
“Excellent idea, little songbird,” Alan said in a breathy tone.
I cupped Will’s ass to urge him deeper inside me, while parting him for Alan.
Alan thrust forward, hands falling on Will’s narrow waist, and shoved his cock inside the younger man.
Will tightened his ass with a gasp. His hand clamped harder around my throat, and I felt my cheeks burning red and hot. His cock grew inside me, stretching my walls, and I moaned and came undone.
Alan bucked his hips into Will, their balls slapping together while the sash-wearing bandit thrust into me.
Tuck came around the side, cock freed from his habit, and grabbed my wrist to make me jerk his cock to utter stiffness. He made sure my hand wasn’t missing a damn thing, while Little John took Alan’s previous spot against the tree and forced his cock into my other hand.
While I stroked the two men at my sides, and Will fucked me frontward and passionately, and Alan fucked him from the back, my spine lifted and dragged along the bark of the tree trunk holding me up.
I groaned at the sensations of touch and feel that invaded my senses. The velvety smoothness of the men in my hands, and all the control and authority it gave me to have my two tallest, largest mates wrapped around my palms.
They owned me, but I also owned them.
The pressure of Alan gaping Will Scarlet’s asshole became too much for the warrior, and Will pulled out of me and showered my belly with his cum.
Once he was breathing heavily, his hand falling limp from my throat, Little John took over. As usual, the fiercely possessive man hauled me off the tree trunk and drove into me with his massive cock.
The size of him startled me every time. The protectiveness with which he wrapped his brawny arms around my lithe body, before falling down to my thicker thighs and taking handfuls of my ass in his palms. Squeezing. Lifting my leg to place on his hip, so he could get more leverage and fuck the thoughts out of my head.
The sun streamed through branches and canopies, dappling our sweaty bodies in delightful warmth.
I moaned loudly, the wet sounds of slapping flesh filling the afternoon sky, while my cries of pleasure reached the heavens.
The Merry Men made me whole. They ravaged me because they knew I could take it, and because they knew I wanted it like that. Rough, hard, passionate. Abrasive and embracing. Our bodies wrapped around each other, so I was never without a sturdy limb or a hard appendage on or inside me.
They kissed and tortured my skin while filling me. When John finished, there was another on the wings, waiting his turn—Tuck, this time, who filled the needy hole John had left widened.
I had no worries when I was with my men like this, lost in the depravity of our lust. It was a chance for me to take out my darkest desires on men I loved, without fear of reprisal or neglect.
My Merciless Men would never judge or neglect me.
As the day dragged on, we spent the entire afternoon in those woods, lost to the throes of heated lust. Coming, and then resting, and then crawling over each other and riding some more. I felt every inch of my men that day, because I needed them to help me drown out the rest of the world around us.
When I was with them, I forgot everything else. They were my everything, and all attention was focused on pleasure and the blissfulness of our lovemaking.
Gregory was dead. It was a gloomy time that could have broken us, yet we only came back stronger. We didn’t love with sadness in our hearts, because we didn’t know how to do that. We were fast, needy, and addicted.
My enemies were dead, too. It was an exhilarating thing, not knowing what the future held and, for once, it didn’t seem negative. The future was finally bright, as one of my mates had said about Griff in the past, after he had walked into that river and never come out.
Bittersweet memories took over as my mates loved me, doted on me, and filled me. As they ravished me and took every ounce of my reward to the brink of what I could take and offer.
They unraveled me and put me back together. Cared for me in the aftermath of our long session, when the night was beginning to fall and I worried the rest of camp would start to wonder what had happened to us.
It was no secret, though, how I felt about these four, and how they felt about me. Everyone knew, and no one besmirched us. That was the beauty of this life in Sherwood Forest.
Unlike what I couldn’t do with Marian, and what Guy couldn’t do with George, my mates were somehow able to do with me:
They fixed me, held me up, and made me the queen of the forest I had become.