Page 15 of Far From Sherwood Forest (Far From #3)

Now that he says it—the way he says it—it’s as though I travel back in time, and I understand what he means. I know exactly what we did to him.

The air around me thins, and I struggle to suck it into my lungs as a heavy weight settles on top of my chest.

“I had to watch my cousin die—the only kin I had left, by the way—and then I was forced into this strange new world against my will.” He takes another step, and this time, I do retreat. “You left me there. Alone. In a world and time I didn’t know or understand.”

“Henry…”

“You had John, and I had no one. For two fucking years! ”

I flinch as though he’s physically struck me. However, what’s really hitting me is worse than if he had. Guilt is kicking my ass, pummeling me over and over again until I can’t catch my breath. It kicks me in the ribs. Its claws tear open my skin, and its fangs sink deep.

“Henry, please.”

“Shut up,” he says, dismissing me easily. “I was alone for two years. Completely and utterly alone. Can you imagine what it’s like to go seven hundred and fourteen days without seeing another person? Without speaking to another human?”

He counted them? He counted the days.

All seven hundred and fourteen of them.

What the fuck have I done?

“Henry, I’m so sor—”

“I said shut up. You wanted to talk, so now you’re going to fucking listen.” He continues advancing, and I trip my way backward across roots and rocks. “You and John knocked me out and abandoned me to figure out this strange place all alone. You deserve everything I’ve done to you and more.”

“You were going to kill me,” I tell him, but it feels like a weak argument at the moment.

I stopped John from killing him on that hill, but I hadn’t stopped to consider the consequences of leaving him by himself to navigate this world.

Maybe killing him would’ve been kinder.

“It happened to all of us, Robin. We were in it together. We could’ve figured things out together .”

I shake my head because that’s really hard to believe, to imagine. But, to be fair, we never even gave him the chance, and, right now, he seems so sincere. So… broken . I think maybe he’s telling the truth.

“Please, Henry,” I say, my voice trembling with all the shame I feel. “Tell me what I can do.”

“For once in your pathetic life, you can shut the fuck up . I don’t want to hear any of it.”

But, of course, I don’t listen. Because I can’t shut up. Because I have to apologize. I have to make things right.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Henry. I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t in my right mind. Our world had just been turned upside down. If I had stopped to think about the fate we were leaving you to, I never would’ve left you.”

The more I speak, the redder his face grows, and the harder his gaze gets. I really should stop talking before he decides to shoot me again, but the guilt has my self-preservation going out the window.

“We don’t have to be like this,” I plead with him. “You don’t have to be alone anymo—”

His hand shoots out, and just as my back hits the trunk of a tree, his palm covers my mouth, pressing hard as the length of his body presses into me. His cold eyes remain locked on mine.

“You’re just incapable of keeping your mouth shut, aren’t you?”

I’d probably come back with some kind of retort if I could, so…yeah, he’s not entirely wrong.

But because I can’t speak, a silence settles between us, leaving only our heavy breathing and intense staring.

The longer it goes on, something begins to shift.

Henry’s eyes darken. Not with his usual fury, but with something else I’ve seen in them exactly once before—the thing that was quickly chased away when he had me pinned to the ground.

The thing we’ve both clearly been avoiding speaking about.

The grip he has on my face turns harder, his breathing harsher. Then the pressure eases, and his hand moves, sliding across my mouth. His fingertips roughly sweep across my bottom lip, his eyes now zeroed in on it.

“Henry—”

The whispered almost-question is interrupted when he pushes two fingers past my lips, drawing a surprised grunt out of me. They glide over my tongue as the next sound comes from Henry—a deep, rumbling growl from deep in his chest. I’m too shocked to fight him off or push him away.

“Is that what you need to finally shut up, Robin? Something stuffed in your mouth?”

I think I… fuck . I think I whimper .

I’m mortified until Henry growls again and grinds his hips against mine. Judging by his erection pressing into my thigh, I’m guessing he liked it, so my embarrassment is short-lived.

In fact, it feels good to do something he doesn’t hate, to give him something that actually might even make him feel good too.

Henry pushes his fingers a little deeper as his gaze meets mine again. He holds me hostage with those chestnut brown eyes and his fingers in my mouth. I gag around them when he goes further, and my eyes water.

“Goddammit,” he snarls as he slowly pulls his fingers out. His eyes track the movement as he brushes them against my lips, painting them with my own saliva. “What the fuck are you doing to me?”

His brow furrows so deep as though he’s genuinely trying to figure it out. I don’t understand it either, but…I don’t think I want to stop.

My dick definitely doesn’t.

I never thought I’d get hard from a man shoving his fingers inside my mouth—the former Sheriff of Nottingham at that—but here we are.

I know exactly what it was I saw in his eyes now—lust and hunger—because, once again, it flickers out like a light as he snaps out of whatever trance we were both just trapped in. He takes a staggering step back and turns around.

He’s not fucking running away this time.

“Henry, stop.” It’s not until I take a single, shaky step forward that I realize just how weak my legs are. “We can’t keep doing this. We should talk about—”

He spins back toward me, and I don’t have a chance to react before his heavy hand falls on my shoulder, squeezing hard as he pushes down until I’m forced to lower my body. I go easily, wincing as my knees hit the hard ground.

When I peer up, I see it again. That same craving that’s growing exponentially in myself.

I don’t know how he can keep snapping back and forth without breaking apart completely. Maybe he’s not as broken as he thinks he is. Or maybe he’s just too used to breaking.

“I just figured out how to shut you up,” he growls, his hand moving from my shoulder into my hair. He grabs it tight and yanks my head back until I whimper again. “You’re really going to test me right now?”

I just can’t help myself.

“It’s what I’ve always done best, isn’t it?” I ask, attempting to grin through the pain ripping through my skull.

Each thump of my heart feels like a countdown if the time on the clock was moving faster and faster and faster. My stomach twists, fluttering like those butterflies born of magic. But beneath it, there’s something else, something warm and electric.

Meanwhile, Henry’s mind is engaging in another war. I can see it in the deep crease of his brow, the hard set of his jaw.

I may not know where my own mind is on this thing we’re doing, but I know I want to give him this. I want to make him feel good. I want to take away his tension and his strife.

A blow job says I’m sorry, right?

But I have a feeling he’s going to need that extra push. I, on the other hand, have already made up my mind because I know the second I open my mouth, my choice is decided.

“What’s the matter, Sheriff? Haven’t you always dreamed of bringing me to my knees and punishing me?”

That internal conflict of his lasts about two more seconds before he roughly releases his hold on my hair, his hands going to his belt. “Fuck you, Robin.”

My eyes drop to his hands as they deftly undo his belt and lower the zipper of his jeans. His right arm is still bleeding, but it doesn’t seem to be bothering him enough to slow him down.

The beating in my chest stutters and then surges when he frees his cock. It’s hard, uncut, and thick . It has a slight curve, making the bulging veins on one side even more prominent. The head is flushed, a bead of precum already leaking from the slit.

Fuck me.

I lick my lips, feeling a hell of a lot more eager than I thought I would. I raise my hand, wanting to feel the weight of him in my palm, but before I can wrap my fingers around him, he smacks my hand away.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he snarls as he grabs the base of his cock in one hand, his other gripping the hair on the back of my head again. “I don’t want your hands anywhere near me.”

That stings a little.

“But my mouth is okay?” I snap back.

“Yes. Do you want to know why?” He brings the head of his dick to my mouth, smearing his precum across my lips.

“Because you’re right. I do want to punish you.

I want to make you suffer. But I also really want to know how this mouth feels, so I’m going to fuck your throat so hard it’s going to hurt to swallow for days. ”

Wait…

Henry gives my hair a harsh tug, and I cry out.

The sound is quickly muffled as he shoves his dick past my lips, his head hitting the back of my throat on the first thrust, my nose buried in the dark, thick patch of hair above the root of his cock.

Tears spring to my eyes. So many tears that my vision instantly blurs.

I struggle for air, but none comes. I bring my hands up, placing them on his thighs and attempting to push him back.

Not that I have any hopes of making him budge.

And he doesn’t. He stays just like that, unmoving. It goes on so long that I start to feel lightheaded. I think maybe he won’t let me breathe at all, that maybe I’ll pass out.

My hand slaps weakly against his thigh, and he suddenly pulls me off his cock. I gasp for air, coughing as wet, hot tears stream down my cheeks.

“I’ve always wanted to see what you look like when you cry.”

Holy fuck.

“Do you want to tap out?”

I blink and blink again, until I can at least look up and see a blurry version of Henry’s face. After him nearly making me black out, I was almost expecting him not to give me a choice.

My voice is already wrecked and ruined when I answer. “Not a chance.”

I think he grins, and I’m kind of a little sad I can’t see it clearly.

With his grip on my hair, he hauls me back onto his cock.

This time, he doesn’t stay still. He does exactly what he said he was going to do.

He fucks my throat. Hard. His cock glides across my tongue, letting me feel the veins, taste his skin.

I gag a few times, but the sound only seems to urge him on.

I barely resist the temptation to take my own cock out. It’s so fucking hard in my jeans. But I want to show him that I can be good.

That I can make him feel good.

“This is where you belong, Robin,” Henry says, deep and breathless. “On your fucking knees being used.”

That probably shouldn’t make me even harder, but it does.

When I moan, Henry thrusts brutally into my mouth a few more times before pulling me off once more, giving me a chance to breathe as I slump a little lower to the ground. Then his boot comes up, and he rubs my aching cock through my jeans. I moan again as I grind against him.

“Who knew Robin Hood was a little thief and a little whore?”

I stare up at him, feeling more pathetic and more turned on at the same time than I’ve ever been. But I can’t even care right now with the warmth of pleasure pooling low and surging upward, blooming along my spine like catching wildfire.

He continues rubbing his boot on my clothed dick as I grind against it, that heat growing hotter and my balls tightening.

“I don’t think you should get to come,” he says to my absolute horror.

I whine and shake my head. “No. Please. Please, I’ll—”

“Shut up,” he growls as he drives his cock back into my mouth. He doesn’t thrust, just holds it there, heavy on my tongue, as his boot continues applying pressure. “I’ll tell you what. If you can come like this, I’ll allow it.”

Fuck yes.

I’m already so fucking close, so it doesn’t take much more thrusting and grinding on my part, chasing every bit of friction I can get. Henry’s dick twitches in my mouth, throbbing on my tongue. I won’t even try to deny it. That’s what sends me over the edge.

Whatever sound I make is choked off by the thick cock in my mouth as my entire body shudders just before every muscle locks up tight. It hits me like a dam breaking, and I flood the inside of my boxers as Henry’s boot drops back to the ground.

“Fuck.” His voice sounds a bit like it’s underwater, but I can hear the shock and wonder in his tone. “You actually just came on my boot.”

I’m not surprised considering how fucking turned on I am by him using me.

I am surprised he let me come at all.

Before I’ve even come down from my orgasm high, he thrusts into my mouth again, just as intense and savage as before.

He grips the sides of my head with both hands as he ruthlessly fucks my mouth.

Everything goes a little hazy around the edges, and I barely register the first burst of salty cum on my tongue before he pulls out of my mouth, stroking his cock so the rest of the thick, hot ropes shoot out onto my face.

The half growl, half gasp sound he makes has my soft dick twitching in the sticky mess it’s already made.

“Fuck,” he says again, his chest heaving as he tucks his cock back into his underwear and does up his jeans.

A moment passes where we both just stare at each other, catching our breaths.

His gaze is somewhere between content and tortured, and when my lack of understanding what that means is too much to take, I start to lower my gaze.

Before it drops too far, his hand shoots out and grasps me by the chin, forcing my eyes to lock with his again.

His thumb brushes along my heated skin, swiping through his cum on its way to my mouth. My lips part for him, and I suck on his thumb, tasting the evidence of the pleasure I gave him.

He groans. “You know, Robin, you’ve actually got a pretty face when it’s covered in tears and cum.”

Despite sounding like he hates admitting it, something inside me lights up.

But then it goes dark again when he pulls his thumb out of my mouth, takes a step back, and says, “And now I never want to see it again.”

Something in my chest aches, and I hate how much it hurts.

This time, I let him walk away.