Free The Temporal Knights by Richard D. Parker Page B

flaming red hair, which intrigued the Viking War King but her eyes were too close together and her nose too long and pointed. Finally, his gaze fell on a young girl with long raven-black hair, which was so different from the women of the north. Her skin was white and flawless; she had dark eyes shrouded beneath prominent black eyebrows, but it was her legs that caught his attention. They were long and pale and stood out starkly against the black patch of hair at her crotch.
    His brain twitched at the sight of her, but little else, still he strode forward and grabbed her by the hair. She began to scream immediately but Ivarr ignored her protests and dragged her into the nearest structure which was not burning and threw the girl to the ground. She scrambled away from him but he fell to his knees and reached out quick as a snake and took hold of a bare ankle. He jerked her to him and struck her hard on the right temple. The fight went out of her then and he fell on her; he spent long minutes sucking and biting her large, firm breasts, relishing the warmth of her skin, and the sweet smell of her sex, which was growing wet, betraying that a bit of want mingled with her fear.
    When his mind was ready he rose up and yanked down his leather breeches, flipped her over roughly, and forced her onto her hands and knees. He desperately thrust his member against her hot, wet crotch, grinding against her, wanting, needing release, but to no avail. True to his name, no matter what he tried, he remained the Boneless. Again and again he pushed himself against her, wanting to feel himself slide into her warmth but in the end he failed. Finally, his frustration grew too great and he pulled out his knife and grabbed a handful of soft, black tresses.  He yanked on the girl’s hair, pulling her head up and back. Oblivious, the girl was now pushing her body back against his, craving his body despite her great fear. Her passion evaporated as the blade slid across the taunt skin of her neck and blood poured onto the dirt floor of the shed. She tried to scream and failed; she tried to breath and failed. She flopped down on her belly, rolling about clutching at her wound, but it did no good and she died staring up at Ivarr’s flaccid cock.
     
     
     
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    It was around three o’clock that same afternoon when Colonel Lemay’s predictions came true. Perimeter guards spotted a group of riders on horseback heading directly toward the camp, which quickly came alive with excitement and expectations. General Peebles swore softly to himself, a stirring cauldron of emotions.
    “No shooting,” he said, then shook his head and rescinded the order, and headed to the recently erected communications tent. Colonel Lemay, Gordon Rice and Major Thane were already present and staring intently at the pair of large 32 inch monitors. At the moment there was little to see, but slowly in the distance a group of horsemen appeared.
    “Who spotted them and where are they?” Peebles asked as he entered.
    “Captain Hersey,” Lemay answered not taking his eyes off of the screen in front of him. “The horsemen are still nearly a mile from his position, and not coming all that quickly.”
    “Captain Hersey,” Peebles repeated with relief and then picked up the nearest microphone. Hersey had a reputation for his professional calm in chaotic situations. He’d saved the lives of dozens of men with his cool head. His reputation was earned over years of heavy fighting.
    “Yes Sir,” the Captain’s voice sounded over the speakers…it was dead calm.
    “How many?” The General asked even though he was currently looking at the monitor which was receiving the exact information the Captain was receiving.
    “Nine Sir...all on horseback...possibly five or six large dogs with them.”
    “How long before they reach your present position?”
    “Approximately six minutes.”
    Peebles toggled the mic off and turned to Lemay and Thane. “Could we send out a couple