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Cover: Sex With StrangersAbout the book

Love on the Dark Side collects twelve short stories introducing Black Lace's paranormal range with a mix of fantasy, fairytale, vampires, werewolves, witches, ghosts... the magical worlds where anything is possible.

About the story, The Black Knight

The Black Knight has served his king for years, always faithful to his true love Lily and dreaming of the day he'll be free to marry her. In battle, he shot the enemy queen, a sorceress, and finally the land is at peace.

Now read on...

The Black Knight's wedding present for Lily was to be a silver brooch to hold the lock of his hair, which he would ask her to twine with her own. Then the two would lie curled together, the gold and the black, encased in silver. When he took the King's wedding invitation, he planned to detour past a silversmith, leave instructions, and on the way back collect the finished piece.

He set off early in the morning, and Lily came out in her long nightgown to wish him farewell. He clasped her close, feeling the loose weight of her breasts beneath the fabric, and thought with longing how soon they would rest against him every night.
"Ow!" cried Lily, at a sharp pain in her scalp. A black bird flew away, the shining threads of hair caught in its crimson beak. "That bird pulled out my hair!"
"It's so golden that even the magpies can't resist its lure…" replied her lover, chuckling and kissing the little injury tenderly.

All day he rode, thinking dreamily of his beloved. It occurred to him that he had never yet kissed the soft skin behind her knees, though he'd often admired it when he lifted her legs high and slid back and forth inside her. When he returned, he promised himself, he would amend that oversight. He'd raise her leg, her skirt slipping over her thighs, and brush his lips over the soft crease of skin. Then he'd raise the other leg, and her skirts would tumble further… The fantasy spun on pleasantly, so that by sundown he hurt with need for her. He lay by his fire, under a thin blanket, and let his hand wander inside his trousers, his mind full of his darling Lily, as he had done so often before. Soon, it would never be necessary again… He began to plan their wedding night while his hand stroked, but he got no further than undressing her before he came with a long, shuddering groan.

The silversmith's village was near the sorceress's lands, and the knight shook his head at the sharp difference between these healthy fields and those neglected stretches. He lodged in the local tavern, where his identity was quickly discovered and many drinks pressed on him. Even one of the women, exceptionally beautiful and forward, insisted on buying him a glass of golden mead. He accepted it, not wanting to embarrass her in public, but saying "my fiancée will be very grateful to all these good people for their kindness to me".

If she was disappointed, she didn't show it. Instead, she was coolly charming, entertaining him with her witty, cruel humour. He noticed how lovely her dark hair was, how pale her skin. The merciless perfection of her beauty cut the eyes, and her painted smirk suggested she was knowledgeable, too. He glanced at her plump, half-naked breasts, and imagined releasing and handling them… At that he decided the mead had gone to his head, and withdrew to his room.

The drink had only just started to take effect, however. By midnight, its hold was firm. She made her way into his darkened room, where he lay sleepless and consumed with lust for the raven-haired lovely. When her naked body insinuated itself next to his, a wave of fire swept through him. With a quick, panther-like twist of his elegant body, he held her pinned beneath him, his knee forcing her thighs apart. Delighted, she fought a little, straining her arms which he held fixed by the wrists, struggling to keep her thighs together. She would have the chaste knight force himself on her - and her groin melted at the thought.

They wrestled, skin rubbing, as she tested his strength. He was lost to everything in the darkness, his hunger to take her like a roaring in his ears. All he could think of was the sweetness of spearing her, whatever her resistance. Her hard nipples crushed against his chest as they fought - she was using her whole strength in earnest now, full of glee that he was so much more powerful - and it spurred him into a frenzy. His knee forced her open, his hips wriggled into the gap, and with one hard shove he sank to the hilt. Then he roared with pleasure, bucking and heaving in her slippery clasp.

He fucked hot and hard, thinking only of his gratification, the girl a mere sheath and a succulent shape to titillate him. He rode her to the crest of his pleasure, and shot his hot seed into her, then found it was not enough. After two minutes of gasping to catch his breath on top of her, his cock was painfully hard again without so much as withdrawing. Feral with lust, he began to slam into her again, squelching in his own juices. She was screaming, in pain or orgasm or both, he hardly cared, except that the sound made him even harder. He howled murderously as he came.

Through all that night, he kept taking her with his full brutal strength. Though he hardly cared to notice, her own orgasms kept pace with him five to one. Truly, the Black Knight was everything the sorceress had hoped and imagined.

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