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  Knights of Pleasure

  Sahara Kelly

  Copyright 2011

  SK Private Label Publications

  Cover copyright Sahara Kelly 2011

  Dedication

  In 2011, I had the pleasure of attending the Maryland Renn Fest. It's enormous, filled with more wonderful things than I can begin to describe. The vendors are amazing, from the simplest of treats to the most elaborate costumes and breathtaking workmanship I've ever seen. It's far too easy to drop a ton of money and come home with a selection of uniquely beautiful things you'll most likely not wear again until the next Renaissance Faire. But that's pretty much okay because we all do it.

  This story is dedicated to those who work at, attend, and organize such events. A way of thanking them for the delightful hours I've spent wandering the "medieval world" they create.

  And I must also thank those who continuously support me as I take baby steps toward my independence by self-publishing these novellas. They buy my ebooks and order my print books when they come out. That kind of friendship is truly beyond price. Thank you all, my dears. You are my lighthouses in the dangerous waters of our business.

  To my best friend and partner, I've already said it more than once! Your advice, brilliance, humor and encouragement continue to influence my writing and my life. Both for the better. Thank you.

  Author's Note

  I have tried to remain as true as possible to the actual environment of the Maryland Renn Fest. It's set on a large acreage, so if I have failed to adequately describe it, my apologies. The sheer size took my breath away and I spent more time gaping at the wonders within, than actually writing useful notes during my visit. Any errors are completely my fault.

  Forgive me. On Faire days, it's all about the corsets…

  Prologue

  The low light fell on the writhing bodies, highlighting muscles, caressing curves, brushing over limbs that moved in a slow dance of rising ecstasy.

  It was a massive bed, one that the two who used it regularly had grown to relish. It offered plenty of room for three people to play, to enjoy each other, and to share sexual experiences that some might describe as outside the norm.

  Neither man viewed such matters that way. They looked upon their preference for sharing sex as an enhancement; an addition of one more body to the pairing which increased the excitement of foreplay, enriched the creativity of their positions and--eventually--multiplied the orgasmic pleasure.

  Tonight was no exception.

  The lady they'd met at the theater was eager to accommodate them both, making her interest clear, understanding the potential of two handsome lovers. She was nude, her body lush and inviting as she straddled Tyler Adams's cock. The round globes of her ass invited his touch and he let himself enjoy the pleasure of squeezing and pinching the full mounds.

  She sighed and moaned. Speech was impossible, since Logan Kent was kneeling in front of her with his cock in her mouth, teasing her ripe breasts. Soft sucking noises let both men know she was fully into the moment, and her pleasure added to theirs.

  She was undeniably bold. Perhaps even familiar with this particular sexual configuration. Tyler wasn't sure, nor at that moment, did he care. He simply relished the feel of her snug body as she moved rhythmically on his erection, not with a bounce but a slow squeezing tug that he found absolutely exquisite.

  Logan's breaths were becoming quicker and sharper, and with a knowledge born of experience, Tyler knew his friend was closing in on his release. It was time for all of them to come, to fall into that whirling maelstrom of bliss. To let go, shout out their cries of orgasm, and eventually to tumble together into exhausted sleep.

  He let go of one buttock and slipped his hand around her hip, finding her clit hard and slick and thrusting past its concealing hood. He fondled the wet folds, knowing better than to rub her at this point, understanding that a direct touch would be more pain than pleasure.

  She moaned more loudly and he felt her muscles tense as he stroked.

  His own arousal was creeping toward its inevitable finale as her hot flesh began to shudder around him. Her skin became increasingly taut and all the signs were there, the moment was so close…

  Daringly, he decided to seal the deal with a quick movement of his free hand. Slipping down the shadowed cleft between her butt cheeks, he thrust a finger into her anus and she exploded on a choked scream.

  Logan groaned loudly, a dull roar signaling balls erupting and seed pumping from his cock. In this case it was going down the throat of their playmate.

  Tyler sucked in a breath, thrust his hips upward--and it was done.

  A storm of pleasure rocked him as his cock throbbed, pulsed and poured semen into the condom. Her continuing spasms milked him, squeezing him dry, leading him into the mad blindness that always accompanied his orgasm.

  As the magnificent sensation slowly faded and his vision returned, Tyler realized something. It had never been this good until he and Logan had formed their bond and begun to hunt the right prey.

  It had never been this hot, this passionate or this much fun.

  Would their adventures last? He had no fucking clue. But while they did, he was going to seize every naked blissful moment out of them. And not worry about what came next.

  Life, mused Tyler as he drifted off to sleep, was a helluva lot more fun when one made one's own rules.

  Chapter One

  Prepare thyself for Merriment.

  The large sign, appropriately displaying medieval-style lettering, was emblazoned across the front of a large fake castle, above windows where customers could pay for the privilege of being merry.

  And apparently merry didn't come cheap.

  Susannah "Slash" McGill fidgeted with her corset and sighed. She stood in line with the rest of the crowds eager to enter the medieval world of the Renaissance Faire, and from the look of the license plates on the cars in the huge field behind her, half the population of the Northeast Corridor had shown up.

  Maryland was well represented, of course, since that's where they were. Virginia, being a stone's throw away, was also here in force. Then there was Pennsylvania, Delaware, New Jersey, New York, some Ohioans, a few folks from North Carolina and one car she'd noticed from Alberta, Canada.

  Long ride for a Renaissance Faire.

  But then again, if you were a fan of these things, then no distance would be too great. For her, the hour or so drive from her home in Northern Virginia was too much. She wasn't a fan, didn't know a damn thing about medieval history, and had she been asked, she would have quickly pointed out that there were some things she cared less about, but not many.

  So how had she ended up in a line of eager faire-goers, with her corset laced tightly and her breasts almost under her nose?

  Good question. Especially in light of her usual clothing--jeans, comfortable shoes and a t-shirt or sweatshirt, depending on the season. People who ran their own private detective agencies needed ease of movement, not long skirts and cleavage.

  McGill Investigative Services was doing quite nicely in spite of the recession. Not that she was raking in millions, but she was paying her bills and living comfortably. She could swing the occasional bottle of good scotch, bought top of the line sneakers for herself and her car wasn't showroom-fresh but wasn't an embarrassment either. Her needs were modest, and she was able to tuck a little something away each month into what she privately referred to as her Fantasy fund. Some day she'd use it to indulge herself in a fantasy. What it was, she didn't know yet, but it would come to her.

  All of which was fine, but it hadn't brought her here, to the doorstep of a long-ago time. She found herself facing the wench behind the window--and yes, wench was comp
letely the right word for anyone with breasts that size. The word "buxom" simply had to precede it.

  "How much?" Susannah blinked. "Did you say nineteen dollars?"

  "Yes ma'am." The buxom wench stared through the grille. "It's an all day pass. You got a coupon? Downloaded from the Internet? Saves you three bucks."

  "Nope."

  "Nineteen dollars, please."

  She forked over her credit card. "Should be a pass for a couple of historical eras for that kind of money."

  "Yes, ma'am. Have a nice day."

  Now possessed of a ticket and with the distinct feeling she'd just been politely mugged, Susannah made her way carefully through the turnstile and into the fairgrounds. Carefully being the order of the day, since she wasn't quite used to a lot of fabric swooshing around her bare legs.

  The whole costume thing was starting to irritate her a bit, as did the cheerfully lustful glances she intercepted from more than a few men. Some of whom should have known better, since they were with their families. It seemed that these pseudo-medieval gentlemen didn't worry about where their gazes landed, or whether their wives noticed.

  Of course, after the third bold, costumed and muscled knight walked across her path, she had to confess that the wives might well have been a tad preoccupied. There was some prime male flesh being displayed, without a doubt.

  Susannah's thoughts darted to a specimen of the same description she'd admired recently. The darkly attractive, blue-eyed Logan Kent. He'd opened a small business near hers in Alexandria, and they were sharing a couple of local suppliers. His bookstore was doing well, as far as she knew, and there had been more than one occasion when she'd dropped in, on the pretense of looking for a certain title, but actually to look at the owner.

  She wasn't sure about him, and for her to be unsure about someone was rare. He looked at her with all the interest of a male on the prowl, sending her girl-radar into major ping mode. And yet a couple of times she'd seen him with another man, equally handsome but with a harsher edge.

  There was something about their interaction that spoke of intimacy, but what kind and how intense, Susannah had no clue. They could have been gay, but somehow she didn't think so. The dynamics were wrong.

  Together, the two of them probably caused more than a few indrawn breaths when they strolled past women. She knew she wasn't immune. How could she be? Beauty was beauty wherever one found it. Man or woman, it made no difference to her.

  She knew she wasn't beautiful in the true sense of the word. She was tall, yes. But she was also solid, strong in the shoulders and with a firm woman's body honed by a daily workout and an energetic lifestyle. She had curves, a flat stomach and breasts that were, at this moment, upthrust and barely hidden by the frills of lace topping the corset.

  One lock of dark hair fell toward her cleavage, since she'd obeyed a whim and pulled the rest of it up into a twist on top of her head. It was out of character, but so was this entire day.

  If it hadn't been for a foolish dare...

  "I dare you, Susannah McGill."

  She could still hear the words as they echoed over her cell phone. She'd been catching up with Sophie Lewis, a college friend who'd kept in touch long after the days of all-nighters and keg parties were over.

  Sophie was all the feminine things that Susannah wasn't, but this hadn't stopped them from bonding. In fact it was in art class together that Susannah first received her nickname. When the lecturer saw her technique, he drew a rather harsh parallel with Jack the Ripper, comparing her brushstrokes to slashes of the Ripper's knife. Sophie had immediately run to her and said "Never mind, Slash. Let's get lunch."

  The rest, as they say, was history.

  So Susannah had become Slash McGill, and as Slash had moved on through a couple of years with the FBI to the present and her own agency. Sophie was now living in Florida and taking photographs of tourists, flamingoes and whatever else lived down there. Probably alligators.

  But she still retained a little imp of mischief and knew how Susannah responded to a dare. This one had been a beaut.

  "You're not dating anyone, Suz, are you?"

  "No." She sighed.

  "Okay, so I dare you to dress like a girl and get a date. No, wait. I've got an even better idea."

  Susannah had held her breath, knowing something outrageous would be forthcoming. Her friend didn't let her down.

  "I dare you to dress in costume and spend the day at the Renaissance Faire. It's the fall so it's on now. No excuses and I want pictures. Cell phone ones are okay, but taken by someone else."

  Susannah had closed her eyes in pain. "Is that all?"

  "No. I want a picture of you with a fully costumed knight. A good-looking one if you can find one. Not some old guy who's probably a janitor come Monday and just out looking to squeeze a girl's bum over the weekend."

  "I can't tell you how excited I am about this idea." Susannah's tone could have sliced through steel.

  "Oh, and you have to have sex with him."

  "The bum-fondling janitor?"

  There was an exasperated huff of sound over the line. "Idiot. The good looking knight."

  "Ah. And if I can't find one?"

  "Substitutes are acceptable."

  "I won't tell you about my sex life." Susannah tried to sound as firm as she could.

  "Since you don't have one, that's not a problem, is it?"

  "Okay. Score one for the munchkin."

  Sophie had snorted and the conversation had moved on, but the damage was done. Susannah knew she'd do this insane thing, dress up and find herself a knight for a photo. The sex she wasn't so sure about, but it had been quite a while since anyone had curled her toes. If he was an okay guy and up for--she winced to herself as the joke giggled at her--a one knight stand...

  She walked on, her attention flitting from one thing to another, her brain attempting to process and categorize all she saw. There were performers of various acts and skills. Ladies in elegant garb accompanied by fools, every bit as colorfully clad. The requisite knights wandered the realm, yet Susannah didn't see any she'd care to undress for. With a wry inner smile, she figured that was probably not on the day's agenda.

  The vendors were amazing though, artisans in wood and glass, working metal and jewelry--and probably making more in a good day here than she took home in an average week. She lingered appreciatively at the blacksmith's forge, watching in fascination as a strong arm, a massive hammer and a glowing red strip of metal combined to produce the blade of a sword.

  Not far from the clang of his anvil, the smithy's neighbor plunged a long tube into a searing hot furnace and withdrew a small glob, which he proceeded to blow into a glass bowl.

  She was joined by others, silent and mesmerized by the skill it took to puff air into liquid glass, twirl it and then repeat the process until the entire thing had taken on a life of its own.

  She reflected on what she was seeing, and realized she probably wouldn't ever look at the kitchenware in Crate and Barrel quite the same way again. It was wonderful to experience something like this and remind oneself of where everyday things originally began. She silently promised not to take her wineglasses for granted and strolled on, attracted by the sound of some unusual music not far away.

  Just around the turn onto Meadow Lane was a typical wooden vendor's stall, but on the little raised deck in front was a man playing a stringed instrument with two small hammers.

  Enchanted, Susannah joined the little audience gathering on the low benches and carefully pulled her skirts around her knees as she clambered to a seat.

  "It's a dulcimer, lass. Ever hear one a'fore?" A costumed woman leaned toward her, smiling and ignoring the creak of her corset stays.

  Susannah shook her head "No. It's lovely."

  And it was. Delicate and lyrical, the tunes ranged from somber to merry and toe-tapping. She could almost see the village maidens dancing around the maypole, or the older folk turning and shifting to the slower rhythms.

  T
he sun shone brightly, the colors flickered for a few moments and Susannah caught her breath as it seemed everything became crisper, clearer--dusted with a little medieval magic.

  She didn't notice the woman leave her seat, nor was she aware that another had taken her place. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the sparkling sounds of the dulcimer, enjoying the fanciful experience.

  When it ended, she wasn't sure whether to applaud or let the tears flow. It was an unusually emotional response; something Susannah wasn't expecting, which caught her by surprise.

  As did the words from the man sitting next to her.

  "Hello lovely lady. Fancy meeting you here."

  *~*~*~*

  Logan Kent wanted to laugh aloud at the twist of fate that had landed him next to the one woman on earth who had shattered his usually impenetrable defenses. He prided himself on his ability to engage in relationships without getting engaged. The appallingly bad pun inevitably produced much eye rolling on the part of his best friend Tyler. But then again, Tyler couldn't complain, since it was a philosophy that had resulted in some truly amazing sexual experiences.

  What few people knew was that Logan and Tyler shared their women. After a lousy marriage for Tyler and a truly terrible relationship for Logan, they made a pact. Each would guard the other from making mistakes like that again. Their trust in each other was absolute, born of many erotic adventures over the years since their "gentleman's" agreement.

  They knew each other's bodies and together they knew women. It was a win-win situation. With only one drawback.

  It wasn't easy to find the right woman to share their adventures.

  Ever since Logan had first set eyes on Susannah McGill, he'd been convinced she was the right kind of woman. But as he watched her stride across the parking lot in front of his store on the way to her office, or saw her adjust what was probably a pistol in back of her pants as she unlocked her car door--well, he'd felt something stir deep inside. An urge to know her, not just her body. An interest in learning what could drive an undeniably attractive woman to embrace a career that probably offered danger instead of glamor, and stakeouts instead of overtime.