The Centaur's Woman

By Shellie Jayne Black

Chrysanthe is young, beautiful, and running away from a wedding she doesn't want. But running away isn't as easy as she thought, and to escape, she'll need help. Help that presents itself in the form of a handsome centaur who seems quite kind... at first. Nothing good comes free, Chrysanthe learns, when the centaur begins to make his own demands. She may have escaped one man's clutches only to land in the embrace of a creature much more devious - and tantalizing.

**Please note: This erotic short story contains naughty, quirky sexual content featuring a mythological creature - a centaur. If this is not your cup of tea, please read elsewhere.**

The Centaur's Woman
Approx. 8,300 words

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shellie Jayne Black
• Release date: Dec 6, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311677907

Shellie Jayne Black

Shellie Jayne Black is nothing but a good country girl with a kinky streak a mile wide. She grew up on a small dairy farm surrounded by a big forest, and has worked a succession of jobs in customer service and finance. Writing is the true love of her life, especially if it involves damsels in distress and complicated man-creatures.

Book preview

The Centaur’s Woman

by Shellie Jayne Black

Copyright 2014 Shellie Jayne Black

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Part I

Chrysanthe stood on the edge of the riverbank and fought the urge to cry. Never had a distance so short seemed so far.

The Thunder River lived up to its name. A wide stretch of blue-gray water that rushed foaming and furious over big, black boulders. Crashing and twisting and impossible to cross.

At least, if you didn’t know how to swim.

Chrysanthe frowned and absently twirled a lock of bright blond hair between two fingers. It had seemed like such a perfect plan when she lay abed dreaming it up. Her uncles forever complained that their hunting dogs lost the scent of prey when it escaped across the Thunder River. By the time they send the dogs after me, she’d thought, I will be across the river and headed far away.

To a place where uncles could not force their orphaned charges to wed fat old men. To a place where she would be free to seek the love of a man as young and fair as she.

But first she would have to cross the river.

The urge to cry returned. It was while she was angrily blinking back tears that the voice spoke over her shoulder.

Pardon me…

Chrysanthe startled and turned. When she saw the creature facing her, she couldn’t help but gape.

A centaur stood on the grassy bank behind her, his golden tail swishing lazily in the summer breeze.

Good morning, he said mildly.

He seemed excessively large. Especially since she had only previous seen centaurs as depictions in artwork. His withers were at a height with the top of her head, legs strong and muscular. He was also—she blushed—excessively handsome. His human chest was equally as muscled as his horse half, and quite bare. Unruly golden hair curled over his temple, and his face bore godly statues to mind.