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In all the time you’ve worked for Guy of Gisborne he’s never asked you to come to his bed, a fact that has been incredibly frustrating, especially given the man’s reputation. While part of you thanks your lucky stars that he considers you valuable for reasons other than what you have beneath your skirts, another part would desperately love to find out if the whispers and murmurs among the serving girls hold even a sliver of truth. They say he’s a skilled lover, that despite his cruel demeanor when he’s doing the Sheriff’s bidding, behind closed doors he’s both considerate and more than a little…gifted.
Tonight he’s been distracted, barely acknowledging your presence as you moved around the chamber, pouring him a goblet of wine from the carafe and adding wood to the fire as you did every evening he was here at Locksley. When you’re finished with your tasks you turn to look at him.
“My lord, is there anything else you need?” you ask, and it takes a few beats for him to even realize you’d spoken.
He raises his gaze to yours. “No, that will be all,” he says, his voice low and gruff.
Stifling your disappointment, you nod at the all-too-familiar answer and make your way to the door.
“Wait,” he says, and you turn back with your hand on the latch, giving him a curious look.
“My lord?” you press when it seems he’s not going to say anything more.
He draws a deep breath and crosses the room, stopping before you so you have to look up at him. Then he raises one hand to your face, brushing the backs of his knuckles across your cheekbone, and your breath catches in your chest at the unexpected tenderness of the gesture. One corner of his mouth turns up in a crooked smile – not his trademark smirk, but rather an almost boyish expression that you’re fairly certain you’ve never seen on his face before.
“I promised myself I would not do this,” he murmured, letting his fingers slip through the strands of hair that had fallen out of the knot at the back of your neck.
“Do what, my lord?” you ask, the breathless quality of your voice making you cringe inside.
He tips your chin up, letting his thumb trace your bottom lip and you can’t suppress the shiver that works its way through you at his touch. He holds your gaze steadily as he leans down, brushing his lips over yours in a feather-light caress before drawing back once more. His voice, when he speaks, is husky and leaves you aching in places you haven’t thought about in far too long.
“I need you.”
Absolutely certain you’re dreaming this, you allow him to lead you to the bed and step easily into his arms when he pulls you closer. It’s better than you could have imagined, the feel of his long, hard body against yours, and your breath comes out on a shuddering sigh when his hands slip around you and he buries his face against your neck. Uncertain, you let him guide your actions, your arms reaching up to twine around his shoulders as he kisses his way across your collarbone before moving back up to claim your mouth, this time with a hunger that startles you. It’s as if he’s trying to devour you, and when he deepens the kiss you part your lips, your tongue tangling with his as he groans into your mouth.
His hands slide down to your hips, drawing you tight against him until you can feel the rock-hard evidence of his desire pressed against your belly, the heat of him nearly enough to scorch you where your bodies meet. Unable to stop yourself, you shift your hips against his and he clutches at you, fingers digging in enough to hurt just a little. You don’t mind, though, lost in the sensations he’s wringing from you. He breaks the kiss then, nipping and kissing his way down the column of your throat while he begins untying the laces of your bodice with nimble fingers, pushing at the fabric until he’s bared your breasts. He gazes at you for a moment before bending down to capture one pink nipple in his mouth, his tongue flicking at the taut peak. You thread your fingers through the silken hair at the back of his head, holding him in place and arching your back, feeling the pleasure cascading through you.
It’s not enough, though. Before long hands are tugging at laces and seams are straining with the sudden desperate need to be closer still, and he releases you just long enough to push your dress down past your hips to pool on the floor at your feet. You’ve managed to remove his jacket and his shirt is bunched up while your hands explore the broad expanse of his chest, your fingers testing the firm muscles that ripple beneath your touch. He tugs off the undershirt and tosses it aside carelessly, pulling you hard against him once more so your breasts are pressed to his chest, the unbearable heat of his skin taking your breath away.
When your hands slide down to the laces of his breeches, pausing to cup the hard bulge through the leather, he moans softly and grinds his hips against your palm, shuddering helplessly under your hands. You untie the laces and your trembling fingers slip inside the snug-fitting leather, wrapping around him with a firm grip, his breath hissing between his teeth as you stroke the velvet length of his cock.
Suddenly he’s pushing you away, easing you down onto the bed before tugging off his boots and shedding the last of his clothing, his body revealed to your hungry gaze at last. There is no part of him that isn’t perfect, from the broad shoulders and strong arms to the narrow hips and muscular thighs, and somewhere in the back of your mind you acknowledge that the serving girls weren’t wrong, the man is remarkably ‘gifted.’ If you were at all inexperienced he’d probably intimidate the hell out of you, frankly, but instead you let your eyes devour him eagerly as he joins you on the bed, his eyes nearly black with desire.
You’re more than ready for him, but when you try to draw him down to settle between your legs he takes your wrists in one hand and pins them above your head, a smirk tugging at his lips as he looks down at you. His other hand travels down the length of your body, caressing your curves with his fingertips, his touch ghosting over you as he leans down to nuzzle the tender skin beneath your ear. You can’t help but shiver at the feeling and he chuckles softly, feeling the way you tremble and sigh with each new sensation.
When he frees your hands at last it’s to move further down your body, his long, elegant fingers slipping between your thighs, and you cry out when he circles your clit with his fingertips. Your fists clench in the sheets as he sets up a rhythm that leaves you gasping, his mouth coming down to capture one nipple as he teases and torments your body endlessly. You’re so close to coming that you’re nearly sobbing with the tension and need surging through you, but it isn’t until he buries one long finger in your slick heat that you finally break, waves of pleasure crashing over you leaving you shaken.
Before you’re even able to catch your breath he’s rising above you, his eyes locked with yours, an unspoken question in them. You draw your knees up to cradle his hips and reach down to guide him into you, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as he fills you. The feeling is exquisite; you can’t help but moan when he sinks into you completely. But then he draws back and surges forward again, the long, slow slide of his cock almost more than you can bear, and you arch your hips to meet him, clutching at his back with each deep, powerful thrust.
He claims your mouth now, his lips capturing the tiny whimpers and cries that you can’t seem to keep inside and his hands slip under your shoulders to keep you in place as he drives into you. It’s intense, the feel of him over you and inside of you, unlike anything you’ve experienced before and you lose yourself in the staggering pleasure that he’s giving you.
But then he quickens his pace, those slow thrusts becoming harder, faster, and then he changes the angle of his strokes and you cry out, your body coiling tightly as he pushes you higher and higher. When you draw your knees up higher and take him even deeper his hips stutter and a low groan rumbles through him, and the combination of the things he’s doing to you and the sound of his voice is enough to push you over the edge. You come apart in his arms, your inner muscles clenching around him as you shatter, and the force of your orgasm pulls him along with you. He jerks against you once, twice, and then with a shuddering cry escaping him he spills himself within you.
When he collapses in your arms you hold him to you, your fingers winding through his hair while his breath rasps against your neck, and you realize you’ve never felt so content in your life. It’s a bittersweet feeling, since you know that soon enough you’ll go back to being just another servant. But you push the thought away and savor these moments in his arms.
There will be time for regrets later.
He’s caught his breath and raised himself up, withdrawing from you with a sigh and rolling to the side. You aren’t sure what he expects from you now, if you’re supposed to leave now that he’s done with you…if he’s done with you, you amend to yourself, and he’s just laying there quietly with one arm draped across his face. You decide it might be best to slip away – he’s probably going to fall asleep anyway, you reason. But when you move as if to get up he wraps his hand around your arm, stopping you from leaving.
“What are you doing?” he asks softly.
You look away, uncertain. “I was going to go back to my room.”
He nods abruptly and releases your arm. “Very well.”
There’s a flatness to his tone that puzzles you, and you risk a glance at him, seeing the frown on his face. “I assumed you’d want me to,” you say quietly.
After a moment of silence he turns his head to look at you, his eyes hooded in the shadows of the room. “Stay.”
When you nod and shift closer to him he reaches out and enfolds you in his arms, tucking you against his side and pulling the coverlet up over you. It’s a gift you never expected to receive, and you snuggle into his warmth and feel his hand stroking your back gently, lulling you to sleep in no time. But as you doze off, you hear his soft whisper against your hair.
“Mine.”