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Glynna gasped, pulsing around her, and Marian nearly cried out in surprise as she felt the quivering sensation from the woman next to her . . . the woman on her, around her, sucking and licking and teasing. Marian’s breath came faster. Her hips threatened to move, to buck against the post behind her. . . . Her head wanted to roll from side to side as she waited for her peak. . . . She climbed, and grew closer . . . tighter, pulsing, trembling . . . felt her insides tighten . . . ready. . . .

And then she realized Will stood there, in front of her, his face tight and dark, and Marian felt herself trapped by his eyes. Even as the dancing finger wriggled insistently over her pip, another finger pressed secretly inside her, shoving deeply and working in and around, the torturing tongue flickering faster than John’s whip. . . . She felt herself drowning . . . ready . . . so ready. . . .

And then the pressure eased . . . ceased. The tongue stopped, leaving her nipple hard and hot and wet beneath the open mouth . . . her little pearl pounding uselessly next to a finger that had frozen and merely teased itself between her thick, swollen lips.

Marian gasped, realized she was breathing as if she’d been running, and . . . she moved.

She moved; she couldn’t resist any longer. Her hips thrashed, her body shuddered, and she heard the cry of victory from somewhere in the room.

Dimly, she was aware that Glynna moved away. . . . The pressure between her legs receded, leaving her quim throbbing and slick, needy . . . and her breast cold and wet, dripping with saliva, hard and painfully pointed at the nipple. The necklet still heavy over her shoulders, no longer cold, shifted, clunking against her, as she moved.

Hands were on her . . . pulling her arm down from the post.

Marian stumbled. She was next. . . . She knew it. . . . She felt strong hands, warm ones, moving her, sliding over her skin . . . the sharp deep voices . . . then the smooth wood of the barrel behind her, beneath her.

Her arms drawn long and tall, her back stretched so that her breasts shifted toward her shoulders. Her legs . . . opened, revealing the need throbbing there for all to see. She didn’t care. . . . She wanted it, needed it there, touching her, filling her . . . please. . . .

She breathed, gave a little sob, thrashed her head against the cool wood, heard the delicate clank of the chains that bound her. Felt the ungainly slide of the necklet to one side.

Shadows filtered about, harsh voices, and then strong hands at her hips. The brush of warmth against her, rough cloth. She opened her eyes. Aye . . . Will loomed over her, just as she’d imagined . . . just as he’d done before. Please . . .

He blocked the light, his face turned away. She had the impression of closed eyes, cheeks sharp and hollow, jaw dark and scruffy. . . . He settled there, and she tried to lift her hips, tried to rise onto her toes and meet him. . . . She needed this . . . needed him . . . needed . . . please . . . Will. . . .

She felt him, hot and smooth against her, then the sudden filling of her center . . . the sweet relief of joining . . . and she cried out and her body surged around his hard cock, tightening as he moved in and out, fast and urgent and desperate . . . over and over . . . yes, aye, yes . . . and her body coiled, readied. . . .

She needed to move, to rock and thrust and touch. . . . Her fingers curled helplessly against wood instead of flesh. She cried out in frustration, in rising desire . . . needing. . . . Then she felt it . . . closer . . . the promise, the fulfillment … coming, coming . . . and then the sensation of shattering, of breaking apart, as she slipped over into rolls of pleasure, waves of relief, shuddering violently against her chains, against him as she cried out.

A short, sharp moan, low, followed, and he arched into her one last time. She felt him tense, then sag, his own pulsing filling her core as his fingers tightened painfully into her sides, dark hair falling to obscure his averted face.

Her breathing settled into long, low gasps, and the warmth of satiation settled over her. And then she realized where she was: her position, her vulnerability. . . . Her eyes flew open as Will pulled away, leaving her cold and empty and suddenly frightened.

Nay. She could not. . . . He’d turned so that his back was to her; she could not see his face . . . but beyond him she saw John’s glittering dark eyes and his full red lips. . . . He’d be at her in a moment. Looming over her, shoving himself inside her.

Nay, Will. Please.

Marian tried to move, to pull free. . . . She may have cried out . . . but she was well and truly caught, and the remnants of her pleasure disappeared. Vulnerable, open, helpless . . . she closed her eyes, holding back a sob.

Nay.