*** Warning: This Chapter has explicit sexual situations. Don't read if this will bother you or you're underage! Skip to the next chapter and pick up from there***

For all of you who wanted a ratings change, and for them to finally get it on, here you are. I think they've had enough time to get to know one another. I hope you all enjoy. Let me know. And thanks for the continued wonderful reviews. I'm really glad you are enjoying my work.



"Ian, its alright," Sara said, looking down to where he knelt on the floor, holding her hands. "Please get up." Ian climbed to his feet, but did not relinquish his grasp on her hands. He looked searchingly into her eyes for a long minute, then smiled, satisfied by what he found. Suddenly Sara flinched, and looked down, her eyes widening at what she saw. Ian followed her gaze to watch in fascination as the Witchblade extended a silvery tendril across their joined hands, snaking around to the underside of his wrist. Guessing what was to come, he held perfectly still as it stabbed into his flesh, into the vein. The pain was greater than he expected, and accompanied by fiery heat, but he did not move for the minute the 'Blade was joined to him. Sara kept looking back from his face to his wrist, her eyes becoming panicked.

"Relax, Sara," he said softly. "This is necessary."

The tendril withdrew, retracting slowly back into the bracelet. The stone swirled redly one last time then faded to quiescence. He turned his hand over to gaze at the red mark, already scarring over, identical to the two on her wrist. Sara looked up at him, feeling something was different.

"So, what does this mean," she asked, sitting down on the bed. "Something has changed."

"We are connected through the Witchblade in a bond breakable only by death," he said, sitting down next to her. "Perhaps not even then. You will start to notice you can sense when I am near, as I can you."

"That could be useful."

"I believe Irons can no longer sense you," Ian ventured. "The connection should be severed. You didn't choose him."

"That could be even more useful." She grinned. He ventured a tentative smile back. "Tell you what," she offered. "You pack the guns back away and I'll go get that sunburn lotion and help you put it on."

"As you wish," he replied, grinning at last. The tension between them was broken finally. Ian swiftly packed away the guns, but did not lock the case this time. Now that Sara knew he had them, he would not deny her access. He put them back in the closet as Sara came back with the bottle of lotion in hand.

"You need to take off your shirt if I'm going to do this properly," she said. He blushed a bit, but complied. She stopped short and looked him over, letting her eyes roam freely. She had known he had to be in good shape, but he was stunningly exceeding her expectations. Shoulders that were surprisingly broad for such a slender man, every muscle toned and defined, not an ounce of fat anywhere. He was the definition of male, strong and breathtakingly handsome. She was amazed that he had hidden this under all those layers of clothing. Then again, it had been winter. He looked down, unable to endure her blatant perusal of his form, a blush raging on his face. He had no experience with which to handle such a situation, no idea what to do about the simmering look in her eyes.

"My God, Ian," Sara breathed reverently. "Adonis has nothing on you."

"My lady," he asked, looking up, unsure of what she meant.

"Do you have any clue just how gorgeous you are?" She saw the confusion in his eyes, and guessed not.

"You find my body pleasing, my lady?" He sounded so innocent and unsure her heart melted.

"Yes, Ian, I do," she said softly. She poured some lotion in her hand and started smoothing it down one arm slowly. Ian shivered at her touch, closing his eyes to concentrate on the sensation. The lotion was cool against the heat of his burned skin, but her fingers sent tingles through his body. She worked a generous portion of lotion into his arm, then slid her hands up to his shoulders, working the lotion gently into the damaged and parched flesh. The whole thing felt unreal to Ian, like his dream, and he feared to move and break the spell. She moved around to sit behind him to rub lotion into the burned semicircle above his shoulder blades, then worked her way downward, massaging the pale expanse of his back with strong fingertips, reversing just at his belt line to graze her fingernails back up.

Ian sucked in a surprised breath as her nails skimmed up his back, having never felt anything like it. Sara ignored the scars there, running her nails back down and up again one more time, then moved back in front of him, coating his other arm, and finally his chest with the soothing lotion. She worked her way downwards, her fingers slipping through the soft curls of hair on his chest, to slide down to his sides and rest there. Slowly, he opened his eyes, gazing into her green ones, and gifted her with another of his breathtaking smiles.

"Thank you, Sara," he said simply, but there was so much more meaning in his eyes. He dared to slip his hands around her waist and pull her closer. She leaned down to take his lips with hers, and his eyes closed again as he lost himself in her embrace. She pushed him back onto the bed, stretching out beside him without ever breaking the kiss. Her arm braced her up, her other hand tracing patterns up and down his chest. His hand wove into her hair at the base of her neck and he groaned in the back of his throat.

It was Sara who broke off the kiss this time, smiling down at him. He cupped her cheeks with his hands gently, wonder and fire in his eyes, and traced the curve of her lower lip with his thumb.

"Let's get more comfortable," she suggested with a grin. Rising for a moment, she flipped the ceiling fan on to high, then returned to the bed. Motioning for him to lay down in the center of the bed, resting his head on a pillow, she straddled his hips and pulled off her white nightgown. He sucked in a breath as her weight settled on his crotch, against the growing bulge there, and she revealed herself to him in all her magnificence. All she wore now was her underwear. Unsure what to do next, his hands shaking, he looked up at her, his angel, his Lady.

"Sara," he said, his voice unsteady and deeper than normal. "I've never done this before." His confession took her by surprise.

"You're kidding," she sat back, astonished. "Gorgeous guy like you, and you've never had sex?"

"I was waiting for you," he replied simply, nervous now at her reaction. She smiled gently.

"Then let me know if I go too fast for you," she replied, "and I'll show you what you've been waiting for."

Just as she leaned back down over him to kiss him, his celphone rang. With a hiss of frustration he sat up and pulled the phone from his pocket and answered.

"Sir?"

"Ian, is something wrong with Sara?" Irons' tone was sharp with worry.

"No, Sir," Ian responded.

"Does she still have the Witchblade with her?"

"Yes, sir. She is wearing it now," Ian confirmed.

"Hm," Irons responded slowly, thinking hard. "Inform me the moment anything changes, Ian."

The line clicked dead and Ian put away his cel with a growing grin.

"It seems Mr. Irons is unable to sense the Witchblade any longer," he told Sara. "He had no idea if you were still wearing it or not. He could always sense it before."

"This is good news," she said, grinning back at him and pushing him to lay flat again. "We should celebrate." Her grin turned wicked. His pulse quickened as she kissed him again, deep and sensual, flicking her tongue along his lips until he parted them. He groaned at the sensation of her tongue exploring her mouth, then he followed her example and explored her hot mouth. They kissed for long minutes, Sara wanting to take this slowly so Ian could enjoy his first time, but she was beginning to wonder if she could hold out. He was a really fast learner, and it was especially turning Sara on to have control of the situation. She was tough and independent, and too many of her past boyfriends had expected the lioness to become a kitten in the sack so they could prove their manliness. Ian was allowing her to direct him, having nothing to prove, content to let her lead, and it was an element of lovemaking she found stimulating.

"You have me at a disadvantage, you know," she murmured against his lips. He looked up at her, and she grinned. She found she was doing a lot of that lately. Ian was good for her sense of humor.

"How can I remedy the situation for you, my lady," he asked.

"Well, you seem to have more clothes on than me, so what do you say we just strip and balance things out." Her fingers were already working on his belt, and it was soon on the floor. Her underwear followed in short order. It was a good thing Ian was working on stripping out of his own pants, because as they joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor he got his first look of Sara naked in all her glory, and his breath caught in his throat. It finally sunk in that this was no dream, because he knew he could never have imagined this. She was more perfect than he could ever have imagined. All her time in the gym left her lean and sculpted, but still shapely. Sara smiled at his awed gaze, knowing he must be thinking along the same lines as she was as she let her gaze travel down his strong thighs and calves, and back up to his hard, magnificent cock. Again, he exceeded expectation, and she found herself wanting to taste him.

"Here, Ian," she said, pushing him gently. "Sit on the edge of the bed." She knelt before him and pushed his knees apart. He let her direct him, completely trusting, but he was totally unprepared for the shock that spiked through his groin as she sucked the tip of his cock into her mouth. She smiled around it as he groaned and threw his head back, his eyes closed, his fingers twisting into the sheets as he sought something to hold on to. As she moved her mouth up and down he groaned and panted, nearly unable to stand the exquisite pleasure she evoked with her ministrations. He could feel the tension building in him, but she stopped before it peaked.

Joining him on the bed, she got him to lay back in the center of the bed again and climbed on top of him, sheathing his cock slowly in her moist heat. It had been a while for her, and she took her time getting used to his generous size. He looked up at her, chestnut hair flying around her head and shoulders, framing her beautiful face, her eyes closed as she savored the feeling of him sliding into her, her hands warm on his shoulders where she leaned on him for support. He reached up and caressed her face, then moved his hands down to her breasts, touching lightly, then more firmly when she smiled encouragingly, squeezing her nipples. He leaned up and captured one nipple in his mouth and she gasped, moaning as he bit lightly and sucked. He ran his other hand down her back, gently running his fingernails along her skin, and she shivered.

She took his other hand and moved it down to her crotch, guiding him to her sensitive spot and showing him how she liked to be rubbed and teased. He again proved to be a quick study, and soon had her squirming on top of him, moaning, making it hard for her to hold back her climax. She wanted him to enjoy this, drawing it out as long as she could, so she concentrated on him to hold back. She began moving on his cock, gliding up and down, squeezing with her muscles, using her hands to pinch his nipples lightly and stroke along his chest. His breath came faster, and when she sensed he was on the edge, she allowed herself to climax, crying out and shuddering on top of him, and he came with her, moaning, pushed over the edge by her pulsing tightness. After long, shuddering moments, she collapsed across his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her temple, and they lay, trying to get their breathing back to normal.

"Is it always like that," he asked after a time, awe in his voice. She reached up to run her fingers through his hair, playing with his silken curls.

"It gets even better with practice," she said. "First times are special, and I'm lucky to have shared yours. But there is something to be said for knowing what your lover likes best, and being able to give it to them."

"Impossible," he said, his tone serious but humor in his eyes. "It can't get better than that."

"Is that a challenge, Mr. Nottingham," she asked archly, raising one eyebrow at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"I believe it is, Ms. Pezzini," he replied, grinning.

"I accept," she said, and spent the next few hours proving her case, much to Ian's delight.