Free Bound By Honor: An Erotic Novel of Maid Marian by Colette Gale

swollen quim and the engorged nib, the pleasure and heat collecting and rising in her belly and between her legs as she shifted and bent her knees, working faster and more furiously . . . and then at last, an explosion was shooting through her body.
    Warmth rushed over her as she shuddered and sighed and felt her whole person quake and shiver . . . and then lull into quiet and satiation.
    Her hands slid away. She’d never felt like that after the rushed beddings with Harold. He joined her in bed, parted her legs, squeezed her breasts a bit, and then pounded himself inside her five or six times, cried out, and rolled away . . . and that was all.
    After the first few occasions, Marian had learned to ease the way by slipping her own fingers up inside her quim beforehand, using her own moisture—or butter from the kitchen—to lubricate her body before he came to her . . . but she’d rarely given herself pleasure like she had this morning. And when she had, the results had never been so intense . . . so desperate. So necessary.
    She had a sudden flash of Will’s face last night as he stood by the door.
    I’m no saint, Marian.
    She doubted that not a whit.
    Yet he hadn’t forced her. He hadn’t even attempted it.
    Even though in John’s chamber Will had had his hands all over her—despite the fact that she’d felt his own heart slamming in his chest, his breathing harsh in her ear . . . and the unmistakable bulge of his cock beneath her—he’d left her untouched in the chamber.
    He’d left her still burning with a need she hadn’t, until now, really understood how to resolve.
    Marian looked through the gap of ill-fitting bed-curtains and glanced at the tapestry on the wall, where the telltale horse’s eye peered over at her, black and empty. He’d warned her about the peephole.
    And he’d just as likely gone back to join the prince in the rest of his salacious activities. Ones that she would be forced to witness again. Perhaps even join.
    A pang tingled in her belly as she thought of Will rearing up and over her, his large body covering her, piercing her. His mouth and hands on her bare skin. Her eyes closed and she swallowed, her stomach swirling like a swarm of butterflies.
    She could endure it. It would be no different from submitting to Harold; he had been her duty because he was her wedded husband, and a coupling with Will would also be in the name of duty. Duty to her queen, and ultimately to her sovereign.
    Marian could think of worse ways to be dutiful. Like being imprisoned. Or feeling a noose around her neck. Or going off to war, where her life was at stake, and it was kill or be killed. Nay, this fate was not of her choice, but it would be proof of her loyalty. And mayhap she might even be able to help Robin if she got close to the sheriff and the prince.
    It occurred to her then that she’d been kissed by two different men yesterday—two enemies, two men on opposite sides of the law, two who had very different perspectives.
    Dashing Robin, laden with arrogance and charm . . . with the dancing eyes and sensual, smiling mouth. And Will, with a darker, different sort of fierceness about him. As though he was almost . . . unwilling. Even angry.
    And yet, both kisses had left her breathless and weak.
    A knock at the chamber’s inner door drew Marian from her disturbing musings, and she bade Ethelberga to enter.
    The maid had returned to Marian’s chamber shortly after Will left, apologizing that she’d gotten lost in the unfamiliar building. After assisting her mistress for bed, she’d closed the door that separated the antechamber from the rest of the room, and settled on her pallet to snore the night away.
    Now she was here, wide-eyed and well rested, ready to help Marian dress for the hunt that John had arranged for the day.
    Marian would attend Mass and break her fast with the other ladies. She then planned to participate in the hunt in hopes that she might see Robin again, though she realized he