Beverly Barton - Guarding Jeannie

Sam unbuttoned his short-sleeved cotton shirt, slid it off his shoulders and tossed it onto the floor at the foot of Jeannie's bed. The way she looked at him—her eyes caressing him, her lips tasting him, her hands tormenting him without once touching him—stirred his blood and hardened his body.

Thick, cascading strands of her silky brown hair covered one bare breast, leaving the other an uncovered temptation. Her breasts rose and fell as she breathed. Her lips parted on an indrawn sigh.

He sensed her longing, her need a viable force, strong enough to sweep them both over the edge of conscious action. He had to remain in control for just a while longer, until he was certain he wouldn't hurt her, wouldn't destroy her with the power of his desire.

Unzipping his navy blue shorts, Sam didn't take his eyes off Jeannie. He trembled, wanting her, needing her. Lured by her femininity, lost to her seductive charms, he surrendered to the desire he could no longer control.

Sliding his shorts down to his ankles, he kicked them aside. He stood before her, all power and masculine muscle, in a pair of navy blue briefs, his sex straining against the silk fabric. Perspiration moistened his hands and forehead; dots of sweat broke out across his upper lip. A white-hot need seared him to the bone.

Jeannie wanted to touch him, to run her hands over every inch of his body, caress every bulging muscle, kiss his tiny, pebble-hard nipples, thread her fingers through the thatch of thick brown hair on his chest. If only he would come to her, allow her to touch him.

Her magnificently beautiful, elegant savage.

Sam eased down on the bed, placing his knees on either side of her feet. Crawling slowly up her body, bracing himself with his hands so that the contact was whisper light, he covered her body with his. She touched him hesitantly at first, sweeping her hands across his shoulders. He shuddered; she trembled.

And then exactly what she had been waiting for happened. The connection. The blending. Gradually, with just faint glimmers of awareness, Jeannie felt Sam's hunger and knew that it more than equaled hers. He was a virile man, experienced in the ways of the world, and yet he was uncertain. He was afraid his desire would be too much for her to handle, that it would be too powerful for her fragile innocence.

He needed her reassurance. She had to do more than issue an invitation; she would have to be the persuader, seducing him beyond the point of no return.

Arching her body, lifting herself closer to Sam, she kissed his chest, then drew a damp circle around first one and then his other nipple. He sucked in a deep, excruciating breath.

She felt the first crack in his iron control. She kissed his shoulder. He eased his body lower, his chest brushing her breasts. She gasped when her breasts tightened, almost painfully, and sent a signal straight to her core.

Slipping her arms around his waist, she buried her face in his shoulder. Her tongue drew spiraling circles from his shoulder, up his neck and to his ear. She squirmed beneath him, well aware of what her movements were doing to him. He was holding back, trying to be patient. And it was killing him!

Didn't he know, she wondered, that she felt every painful throb of his sex, every pulsating ache? Had he no idea that the longer he postponed their lovemaking, the more painfully aroused she would become?

She kissed his cheek. The pulse in his neck twitched. She covered his mouth, licking like a kitten lapping cream until he opened to her insistent little tongue, taking her inside as he followed her lead. Intensifying the kiss, Sam devoured her as he gripped her hips, lifting her up and against his arousal. She cried out, the sound trapped in his mouth, as shudders of intense pleasure skyrocketed through her.

Continuing the kiss, he divested her of her pink panties and eased his hand between her legs, parting her thighs. With an equal amount of urgency, she tugged on his briefs, pulling them down and over his firm, rounded buttocks, pausing to stroke him lovingly. Using her foot, she slid his briefs to his ankles and off onto the floor.

With each touch, each kiss, each urgent moan, the link between them grew stronger, until Sam, too, faintly sensed Jeannie's feelings. Knowing she wanted him as much as he wanted her only added fuel to the blazing flame of his passion.

He touched her nipple, already beaded and throbbing. She swallowed a moan. He placed his mouth on her, suckling her breast. She wrapped herself around him, her soft little cries a plea for release.

"Please, don't wait any longer," she whispered as he suckled her other breast. "Oh, Sam, put an end to our pain."

Too soon! Too soon! his mind told him. Now! his body urged. She feels what you feel, his heart told him.

"I need to protect you," he said.

"I need no protection from you, Sam."

And then he sensed her probing, seeking entrance inside his mind. He allowed her to come in, and when their minds joined, each realized the searing-hot fire and uncontrollable force of their combined madness. Knowing he would hurt her, if only briefly, Sam tried to be gentle, lifting her hips, entering her by slow degrees.

He was so big; she was so small.

He was a savage brute; she was a gentle angel.

No! she cried out silently. I'm as savage as you are and you are as gentle as I am. Take me, Sam. Please take me now!

Sam responded by thrusting to the hilt, giving her all of himself. She groaned, accepting the quick, hot pain. He stopped, his breathing ragged, sweat dripping from his body onto hers.

Heaven help him, but he'd felt her pain. How was that possible? It wasn't.

The pain subsided. She knew he'd felt it, too, but had dismissed it as impossible.

Jeannie moved, lifting up, wrapping her legs around Sam's hips, urging him to resume. Pleasure rippled through him as the pressure built. Pulling partly out of her, he hesitated only a second before plunging deeply again and starting the primeval mating dance.

His iron control cracked in a dozen places, weakening his defenses, making him more vulnerable, open to her possession. The agony intensified, the pressure inside them close to exploding. Jeannie clung to him, whispering his name in gasping little chants. Sam moaned dark, desperate, erotic words to her.

Release hit them simultaneously, or so Jeannie thought, but she soon realized that the fulfillment she felt was Sam's. Wild, hot, savage. He emptied his seed into her, shudders of pleasure jerking his big body. The sensations rocketed through her, and she cried out, trembling with the aftershocks.

Agony turned to ecstasy. But before she fell from the heights of rapture, she gripped his hips, lifting herself up against him, stroking her body against his frantically. Strong, forceful spasms clutched her sex, then threw her headlong into the heaven of carnal fulfillment. She clung to him as wave after wave of joyous release washed over her.

Sam held her, aware of her completion, and fully aware that in some way, though faint and subdued, he shared her release.

Easing off her and onto his side, he drew her into his arms and kissed her forehead. They lay there in the aftermath of a loving so profound neither of them could find the words to express how they felt. When their ragged breathing settled to normal, Sam got out of bed, lifted Jeannie in his arms and smothered her with passionate kisses. She clung to him, knowing that she was now Sam Dundee's woman in every sense of the word. She had never felt closer to anyone in her life.

Sam carried her across the bedroom, kicked open the bathroom door and stepped into the shower. When he turned the faucets, a spray of cold water hit their naked bodies. Jeannie squealed. Sam held her with one hand while adjusting the water temperature. The shower poured over them with refreshing warmth. He picked up a bar of white soap, smelled its sweet perfume, then grinned.