Page 31 of Sherwood
The smell of Sherwood itself.
Hope—that dizzy, half-melancholy bitch—leapt nervously in my chest. It couldn’t be her—it would be pathetic to wish for it to be her—especially since she hadn’t tried to find me or talk to me since that night here in the club.
She’d given up on me, of that I was certain, or had at the very least shoved me to the back of her mind.
But there was something about this new contestant’s touch...something so arrogant and practically autocratic in its categorical certainty that my body was theirs to toy with. That my body was there for them, their pleasure, their amusement, and I would submit to their handling without complaint or delay. The arrogance I would have responded to from anyone, I was sure, but thatcertainty…
Only Rafe and one other person had ever touched me like that.
The stranger found my breasts, and—still holding onto my cunt with a strength that was nearly cruel—began teasing the already well-loved tips, pinching and rolling my nipples until heat had strung a taut web between my chest and my clit and I was twisting in my bonds, arching for more. I hadn’t thought I could come again, I hadn’t thought could evenhandlethe possibility of coming again, and yet within a moment, I was already panting for it, straining for it.
“Please,” I begged. “Please,please.”
The stranger didn’t respond and Rafe stayed silent, but I heard the crowd responding to my response, stirring, sighing. Moaning. Just beyond my blindfold, there was a sea of people kissing and stroking and so much more.
Just beyond my blindfold, there was Rafe de Lacy, watching me with those hooded eyes, and just beyond my blindfold, there was a stranger bunching my dress in their hands to drag it all the way up to my chest so that everything below my ribs was exposed. My navel, my hips, my sex.
All of it was available to them and to the audience, and would it be so twisted if I allowed myself to believe it was Lox? Would it be so wrong? To imagine that vicious hand between my legs was hers, to decide that it was her breath ghosting over my breast before it was given a hard, lingering bite?
My cries echoed up to the high ceiling of the club, mixing with the thudding music and the crowd’s moans, and then that biting mouth moved to my other breast, biting me over the silk of my dress before sucking hard at a nipple. This stranger didn’t bother to pull the bodice down or to the side as the others had—the stranger simply sucked and bit through the fabric, greedy and indifferent all at once. And then they moved down again, biting my stomach, licking the rim of my navel, biting the top of one thigh hard enough that a guttural, animal noise tore out of my chest.
The pain was localized and yet it was everywhere too, the bites like burning stars in a constellation I’d waited my entire life to name, and it was as I was panting and keening my way through the searing sensation of it that the stranger slid three fingers inside my pussy.
I was already open from earlier, wet enough for it be humiliating, but the abrupt invasion still had my head thrashing on the platform, my mouth open in a soundlessO. The fingers filled and pressed—there was no jabbing or sawing in and out—and as they hooked towards the front of my vagina, the stranger’s mouth found my clit and sucked.
There was no fastidiousness here, no hesitation. The stranger sucked hard, licked messily, nipped until I was wild in my restraints, not sure if I was trying to get farther away from or closer to the stranger’s brutal, delicious mouth.
And then I felt Rafe’s hands on my waist, securing me to the table and holding me as securely as a leather band around my middle. He held me still as the stranger fucked my cunt with a sweet viciousness that made my body sing and my heart soar, and I couldn’t hear anything at all anymore, not the noises of the crowd nor the thumping beat of the music, because there was only the blood rushing in my ears and my own desperate, slutty noises—panting breaths, begging moans, and the slick sounds of my spread cunt.
The orgasm, when it came, nearly ripped me apart. It was the blindfold, yes, and the cuffs, and the avaricious gazes of the crowd. It was the strangers that had come before and the orgasms they’d given me. But mostly it was this: Rafe’s hands holding me down, the stranger’s merciless possession of my body.
Both of them had absolute sovereignty over me in this moment, and the world was magical, electrical, glorious with potential in the face of that truth.
I was theirs, and through their possession, more my own than I was anywhere else.
My womb was contracting hard enough to send tears to my eyes, and my body was trying to curl in on itself, trying to survive the onslaught of sensation crashing through me. My thighs were tight and straining, the cuffs were digging into my wrists and ankles, and the throbs surging from my clit outward to every part of my body were agonizing and wonderful.
And then the moment the orgasm began to ease, the stranger’s hands moved. A slender hand pressed above my belly button, joining Rafe’s hands in holding me still, and then I felt an unfamiliar sensation against the taut muscles of my lower hole. The stranger was rubbing me there, and then with a finger lubricated with my own slick, I was slowly, inexorably invaded. All while the stranger’s hot mouth nursed on my clit, flicking their wicked tongue over the sensitive bud protruding from under my hood.
I couldn’t tell where the first orgasm ended and the second began, but it didn’t matter, nothing mattered except Rafe and the stranger and me, and I was nothing but theirs, nothing but mine, and I’d been born to feel this, made for the sole purpose of feeling their ownership, right here, right now. The sensation crashing through my body only confirmed this,affirmedthis, etching me from the inside out with that indelible truth.
I was theirs.
I was theirs.
And I wasn’t sure whose name I said first as I came, but I knew that I said both—keened out a hoarseLox, Rafe, Lox.Rafe.
Whether or not Lox was actually there didn’t matter, because she was thereto me, she was there in my mind, taking this from me. Giving this to me.
It wasn’t until Rafe’s hands loosened on my waist and the stranger pulled away that I realized I was sobbing, trembling, a wreck. The stranger’s orgasms had wrecked me, and I didn’t know that I ever wanted to leave the rubble they’d left behind.
“I think we all know our winner, then,” Rafe said, and I was distantly aware of laughter, whistling. “Everyone, please applaud our victor: Robin Loxley.”
ChapterEight
LOX
I ignoredthe applause and stared across Marian’s trembling body to the wolf on the other side.
