A Family Affair
Disclaimer: I don't own the Witchblade characters; Top Cow, TNT, et al, do. I'm just playing. Enjoy!
Author's Note: WARNING!!! Sexually explicit scenes are contained in this chapter. This material is not suitable for anybody who has a problem with this or who is under the age of 17. If you fall into either of these categories, PLEASE READ NO FURTHER. You've been warned, so please don't report me to ff.net!
Chapter 54
Sara was all hot and bothered. Ian Nottingham had had the colossal nerve to leave her high but not even remotely dry.
After thoroughly lavishing attention on her breasts for several extremely enjoyable minutes, he had abruptly opened his mouth wide in a jaw- cracking yawn.
"You know what?" he muttered, scrubbing both hands over his face wearily. "You are right: a nap would do me a world of good." And to her amazement, he turned around, presenting his broad back to her, and lay his dark head on the other pillow.
"You're kidding me, right?" Sara growled incredulously after a moment of stunned silence. To add insult to injury, she realized that, somewhere along the line, he had magically made her bra disappear. A furtive glance around the immediate vicinity confirmed that it was nowhere to be found.
"Hmmm?" Ian murmured, already sounding drowsy, damn him!
"You're not really gonna nap, are you, Nottingham?" Sara hated the pleading note that had crept into her voice. It sounded entirely too much like she was begging.
Knowing she couldn't see his expression, Ian allowed himself to grin, and had to struggle to keep the laughter out of his voice. "Yes, I am. You may cuddle me if you wish."
"I may cuddle you if I -- !?!" her words broke off with an audible snap of her teeth.
Sara blinked in disbelief as she spotted her bra hanging from the doorknob of the closet across the room. It was still swaying gently from side to side. 'How the hell did he manage to do that without me noticing?' she wondered, fuming.
Ian could sense the frustration and irritation radiating off her in waves. Schooling his features to sleepy innocence with an effort, he glanced over his shoulder at her. "Are we not supposed to be practicing our cuddling skills, Sara?"
Sara glared at him, storm clouds on her brow, but then her expression relaxed into an appreciative grin as she detected the devilish gleam in his sparkling hazel eyes. "You had me going there for a minute!" she chuckled. "Silly me! I should have just done this."
Ian was unable to stifle a groan as her hand slid up and over his hip to caress the prominent bulge in the front of his jeans.
"Hmmm, does Mr. Hoody wanna come out and play?"
"Yes, he does," Ian breathed, turning on his back so that she had easier access to his button fly.
With agonizing slowness, Sara undid the buttons, never breaking contact with the tumescent flesh beneath the denim. Her other hand insinuated itself beneath his faded blue thermal cotton undershirt and began lazily drawing random designs on his abdomen, ribs, and chest.
Ian raised a hand to her face, cupping it, his thumb brushing her lips, inciting her to lean down and press her mouth to his. Their tongues met in a hot dance of desire.
Sara swallowed the gasp he emitted when her hand slid beneath the waistband of his boxers and closed around his hard sex. Her whole body tingled with anticipation of once again being joined with his, and suddenly she couldn't bear to have any barriers between them.
"Hold that thought," she murmured, giving his erection a little pat. "Get naked with me, cowboy. Now!" she commanded, grabbing the hem of his shirt and helping him drag it up over his head.
Their gyrations were comical as they hurriedly tried to divest themselves of their jeans and underwear while lying side by side on the bed. Sara burst into laughter when she heard the way the bedsprings were creaking madly even before they came together. She started deliberately bouncing on the bed as she shimmied out of her jeans, complicating Ian's efforts to do the same. When he realized what she was doing, his husky laugh mingled with hers, and then they were both bouncing around on the firm mattress like little kids on a sugar high.
"Hey, hey, hey! What's going on up there?"
They both froze at Paula Siri's shout from downstairs.
"Um, nothing!" Sara yelled back, meeting Ian's wide hazel eyes.
"Do I have to come up there and separate you two?" Paula called from where she stood at the bottom of the stairs, her amusement plain to hear in her voice.
"Not yet," Ian shocked Sara by shouting back. "But give us a minute!"
"Oh, you're so bad!" she admonished him before dissolving into laughter again.
"Not as bad as I want to be," he grinned, shucking off his jeans and boxers and tossing them on the floor in a single motion.
Sara's breath caught, her gaze hungrily devouring his elemental masculine beauty and rampant virility. Hands shaking, she finished removing her own jeans and sodden panties.
"My God," Ian whispered, eyes glowing with barely contained desire as they slowly traveled over her nude body, "you are so incredibly beautiful. I could just eat you up!" With a playful growl, he pounced on her and started nibbling on her neck.
Giggling uncontrollably, Sara squirmed beneath him. "Stop, stop, that tickles! I'm serious, Ian!" she gasped, grabbing his head in both hands. Smoldering green eyes met gem-bright hazel eyes, signaling that play was at an end. "Besides, that's not where I want you to nibble on me, cowboy!"
With firm but gentle pressure, she began to guide his head south. Obligingly, Ian followed her direction, his hot tongue emerging to sample the riches of her body along the way.
Sara frowned as she realized that his hair was still confined in that ridiculous French braid, and she quickly set about freeing it. By the time his lips reached the triangle of softly curling chestnut hair below her navel, his luxuriant sable mane was loose and waving around his face and shoulders.
At the first touch of his scorching mouth against her nether lips, Sara gasped, her back arching. His long, gifted tongue emerged to swirl the entrance to her sex like it was an ice cream cone, lapping up the juices so freely flowing there.
"Mmmmm, delectable," Ian murmured, deliberately drawing out the vibration against her throbbing clit.
Soon, Sara was writhing helplessly beneath his ministrations, her head thrashing back and forth on the bed. "Please, oh, Ian, I can't . . . Don't stop! Yes! There, there, there!" she cried, her voice rising.
Just as she was about to fly to pieces, Ian moved up the length of her body quick as a cat, and surged all the way into her with one powerful stroke. Sara's scream of ecstasy was almost but not quite muffled by him as he captured her lips with his. His chesty groan at the exquisitely pleasurable sensation of her hot, satiny sheath contracting powerfully around his aching hardness turned into a shout of completion as he climaxed seconds later.
Downstairs, Paula Siri glanced up from her book and smiled approvingly.
*****
Some time later, Sara's stomach growled loudly, echoing with emptiness, and although she was loathe to abandon her lover's closeness and the cocoon of warmth beneath the blankets, hunger drove her to wakefulness.
"Hungry," she mumbled, shoving at the slack weight of Nottingham's left arm, which, as usual, was draped around her slender frame. "Must get food. And pee."
"You want pee?" Ian murmured sleepily. "I had heard that pregnant women get strange cravings, but that is a first."
"Ha, ha, very funny," Sara said, pushing at his arm again. "But, seriously, Ian, I really gotta go, so let me up!"
Yawning, Ian raised his arm, stretching it above his head. He was pleased when his shoulder didn't so much as twinge at the movement.
Rising, Sara came around the bed and snatched up his cable-knit sweater from the floor. "This'll have to do in a pinch," she said, quickly pulling it over her head. "I hope I don't scandalize anybody."
"I do not think there is any danger of that," Ian said wryly. The bulky garment came down to mid-thigh on her, completely camouflaging her curves. However, despite this and her sleep-creased face and wild hair, she still managed to look devastatingly sexy. 'Down boy,' he thought with a touch of exasperation as he felt his body begin to respond to the mere sight of her.
"I'm gonna use the bathroom in the master bedroom. It's closer. Be right back," she said, opening the door to the guest room. She left it slightly ajar as she dashed into the room next door.
Ian got up and snagged his boxers and jeans from the carpeted floor. Sara still hadn't returned by the time he'd pulled them on, so he headed down the hall to the kids' bathroom to answer his own call of nature, donning his undershirt as he went. He was thankful that the act of urinating caused his budding erection to subside. Ian was swiftly discovering that his body's spontaneous reaction to the delectable Sara Pezzini could be quite inconvenient, especially when the tightness of one's jeans left very little to the imagination. There were decided advantages to the loose-fitting, black wool trousers he normally favored.
When he returned to the guest room, Sara was sitting on the disheveled bed regarding her damp panties distastefully. She had taken off his sweater and put on her bra.
"I just can't bring myself to put these back on," she said, shaking her head. "I guess I'll just have to go au naturel beneath my jeans."
"You did laundry did you not? Perhaps there is a clean pair of your underwear downstairs," Ian suggested.
She beamed at him. "Clever you! I sure did. Could you do me a favor and run down and grab a pair outta the dryer for me?"
"It would be my pleasure."
"Here," Sara handed him the scrap of moist cotton. "Stuff these in the dirty clothes while you're at it. I still have another load to do after lunch." She glanced at the rumpled bedclothes. "Make that two loads."
"I can start another load while I am down there," Ian told her, stuffing the hi-cut briefs into his back pocket.
She stared at him in surprise. "You know how to do laundry, Ian?"
"Yes. Ever since I watched you put the first load in this morning. And I am certain I can figure out how to operate the dryer." He tapped his temple. "Brainiac, remember?"
"How could I forget?" Sara grinned. "Oh, by the way, you were utterly brilliant in bed a little while ago. For that, you get the coveted and elusive A+."
He grinned, his chest visibly puffing up with pride. "I aim to please, my Lady."
"Oh, you definitely did. However, I don't think I'll be able to look Paula in the eye. She must have heard us."
Nottingham's smile faded and red tinged his bearded cheeks. "Undoubtedly."
Sara shrugged. "Don't sweat it. We're both consenting adults, and she's no prude. Now, go get me another pair of undies before I wither away from hunger!"
"Yes, Ma'am."
She watched as he pulled on his sweater with a graceful economy of motion that inexplicably sent a warm quiver of desire through her body.
"Wait a sec, you have a severe case of bed head," she said huskily when he turned to go. She hunted around the tangled sheets until she found the bright-pink hair band her niece had given him. "Come here and let me at least attempt to make it look like we napped instead of having wild, monkey sex."
"We napped," Ian said, grinning again.
"More like passed out from exhaustion," she said, her lips quirking in an answering grin.
Clasping his hands behind his back, he came to stand before her, spreading his legs wide and bowing his tousled head so that she could reach it more easily. This stance was so achingly familiar, it paralyzed her for a moment and made emotion tighten her throat. How very much had changed since the last time he had assumed this submissive pose!
Oblivious to the fact that she was naked from the waist down, Sara finger-combed his hair into a passing semblance of order. It took an almost superhuman effort for Ian to refrain from putting his arms around her sleek body and gathering her closer to him. As she worked, he watched her expression through the curling, gold-streaked locks of dark-chocolate hair that habitually escaped restraint. The way she worried at her full lower lip with small white teeth as she concentrated on her task sent a bolt of heat straight to his groin, and Ian closed his eyes against the tempting sight, biting back a groan. 'How can I want her again so soon?' he asked himself. 'No, not again,' he acknowledged ruefully, 'always.'
After taming his wild, springy locks as best she could without the aid of a brush or a comb, Sara gathered Ian's long, incredibly soft hair in one hand and secured it at his nape with the hair fastener. In order to accomplish this, she was forced to put her arms around his neck, and she couldn't resist leaning against the tall, muscular frame that had swiftly become almost as familiar to her as her own body. His intoxicating scent filled her nostrils, making her legs go weak with wanting him again.
Automatically, Ian's hands settled on her hips, subtly moving them against the marked swelling in the front of his jeans.
"Oh, dear," Sara murmured. "Look what's come up again!" But then she shook her head as if to clear it, and forced herself to take a step back from him. "No, no, no! Must have nourishment! Quick, Nottingham, go now, or I won't be held responsible for my actions!"
"If you insist," Ian grinned, immensely pleased to know that she reciprocated his desire. He gave her slim, nearly naked body one last lingering glance, and Sara imagined she could feel heat lick her wherever his burning gaze fell. Involuntarily, she swayed toward him and he toward her, and she found herself draped on him again, her arms around his neck.
"Your mission, Ian," she breathed a tad desperately. "You mustn't lose sight of your mission."
"My mission?" he murmured, bending his head so that his lips were scant millimeters from hers, his big hands cupping her derriere possessively.
"Panties," she said, resolutely pulling away from him once again as her stomach gurgled insistently. "For the love of God, get the panties before me and mini-Ian starve to death."
"I will be right back, my love," he sighed, forcing himself to turn and leave the room.
Sara fell back onto the bed with a dreamy sigh as the door closed behind Nottingham. 'What's come over me?' she mused to herself, shivering a little as though from withdrawal. 'I'm like some kind of sex-crazed addict! You'd think I hadn't gotten any in years instead of less than an hour ago!' She looked at the bracelet on her wrist. 'I just bet you have something to do with this!' The blood-red stone was glowing happily, and Sara imagined she could feel a sort of smug warmth emanating from it. 'Yeah, uh-hunh, that's what I thought.'
She put her right hand on her belly. 'Show me our baby again,' she commanded the Witchblade, and was immediately plunged into a vision.
Sara lay on her back in a bed, much like she'd been only moments before, except now she found herself staring at the enormous mound of her stomach rising up in front of her. 'Wow,' she thought. 'I'm as big as a house!'
The door to the bedroom opened, and Ian entered. Her eyes widened as she saw that he had a pajama-clad, dark-haired toddler on his hip. 'His very own Mini-Me,' she thought wryly, smiling at the sight.
"Mama, Mama!" the small boy beamed, reaching for her.
Sara levered herself upright with a mighty effort and leaned back against a pile of pillows before holding out her arms for her firstborn, who appeared to be somewhere between two and three years of age.
"I explained to him that you were trying to rest, but he wanted to see for himself that you were all right before he went to bed," Ian said, handing her the toddler. "How are you feeling, Sara?" He eyed her huge belly warily, as though it were a bomb that could go off at any second.
"Just peachy," she replied. "The contractions seem to have stopped. I guess it was a false alarm. Hello, handsome!" she smiled at her son. "Are you my big boy?"
He nodded, dark ringlets bouncing. "Where da baby?" he asked in his sweet, high voice, gently patting her stomach. "Still in dere?"
"Yes, your baby sister is still inside me. But she'll be here soon," Sara told him, planting a big wet kiss on his chubby cheek. He giggled, squirming. "Oh! She's kicking! Wanna feel?"
The small boy nodded, and Sara placed his hand high up on her distended abdomen. "You, too, Daddy?" she invited Ian.
Nearly identical expressions of delight and wonder came over the faces of the father and son as they felt the strong thuds. But Ian's smile turned into a frown as he felt her stomach harden beneath his hand and he saw the way she grimaced. It was then that present-day Sara realized she didn't actually feel the intense pain her future self was obviously experiencing, and for this she sent the Witchblade a mental thank-you.
"Whew! That was the real deal," future Sara breathed when the powerful contraction passed. "I think you'd better call the doula and the midwife."
"They are already on the way, my love," he told her.
"That famous Protector's intuition at work again, eh?" she murmured, stroking their son's soft, dark curls as he snuggled against her. A brilliant sparkle caught her eye, and Sara saw that she wore a white gold or platinum engagement ring and wedding band on the ring finger of her left hand. 'Nice rock!' present-day Sara thought irreverently, eying the large, emerald-cut center stone, which was flanked by lovely, deep-green emerald baguettes. 'Really nice rock! I guess this means me and Nottingham get hitched.' An unexpected sense of satisfaction filled her at this realization.
Ian shrugged. "You were very restless last night and moaning in your sleep. I decided that you were either in the early stages of labor, or would go into labor shortly, so I called Cheryl and Liz this morning and informed them that in all likelihood they would be hearing from us later today. Cheryl called me back a few minutes ago, and I told her to head on over. Then I called Liz and requested that she do the same."
"Good thinking. I'd like to get into the birthing tub as soon as they get here. I've been having some wicked back pain on and off all day, and it'll probably get worse as things progress."
"I will go prepare the tub. Is he okay with you?" Ian asked, indicating their son.
"Yeah. I think he's falling asleep. Hey, little monkey, you sleeping?" she asked the drowsy boy.
He shook his head. "No, I not seepy," he lisped, obviously struggling to keep heavy eyelids open.
"We'll be fine," Sara smiled at Ian. "He'll be out by the time you come back. Hand me the phone before you go, and I'll call Marie and let her know it's showtime."
"She, too, is en route. I called her as soon as I hung up with your doula."
Future Sara eyed her husband suspiciously. "You're way too calm, Nottingham," she said. "I know you have nerves of steel and all, but you'd think this whole me-giving-birth thing was old hat." Suddenly, another contraction hit her, and she closed her eyes tight as she rode it out, remembering to breathe the way her doula had taught her to. When she opened them again, she glimpsed fear in her mate's beautiful eyes before he could hide it, and she realized that he was as nervous as she was about the impending birth.
"That's more like it," she chuckled softly. "Go on and get the tub ready, my love. I'm itching to get in it!"
Suddenly, the scene shifted, and Sara found her future self submersed from the waist down in a freestanding fiberglass tub. The pale dome of her belly just peeked above the wonderfully warm and soothing water.
"Here comes another one," she gasped as a powerful contraction gripped her.
"Remember to breathe, Sara," said a blond woman in her mid- to late 30s who sat to Sara's left, massaging her back beneath the water.
Sara jumped as she felt something touch her between her legs beneath the water.
"Relax, it's just me," said the graying, 50-ish woman who knelt at the foot of the tub. "Okay, you're fully dilated, Sara. You can start pushing with the next contraction."
"Cheryl, she's still having a lot of back pain. I read that that sometimes indicates a breech birth," Ian said anxiously from where he sat cross-legged next to the tub to Sara's right. He held a cup of crushed ice, a few pieces of which he poured into his hand and offered to his laboring wife. Gratefully, she accepted and thirstily sucked on them.
"Give me your hand, Ian," Cheryl said.
Transferring the cup of ice to his left hand, Ian gave her his right.
The midwife took it and guided it beneath the water and between Sara's legs.
"Feel that?" she asked.
He nodded.
"That's your baby's head. She's in position and ready to make her entrance into the world, but first Sara's got to do some hard work. Ready?" she asked the mother-to-be, detecting the onset of another contraction.
Sara nodded and grabbed hold of her knees. Ian gently applied pressure to her swollen belly as instructed by Liz, biting his lip as he watched his beloved strain to give birth to their child.
"You're doing great, Sweetie," Cheryl smiled. "Two, maybe three more like that, and she'll be here. What are you going to name her again?"
"Isabel Magdalene Nottingham," Sara panted. "Here comes another one!"
"The head's out!" Cheryl crowed a minute later, peering into the murky water. "Another good push and you're done!"
"So tired," Sara murmured, sagging against Ian's and the labor doula's supportive arms.
"Just one more big push, my love," Ian whispered in her ear, "and then you'll be able to hold our daughter in your arms. You can do it!"
Sara gave vent to a loud groan as another contraction gripped her, and with the last of her strength, she expelled the infant from her sore, aching body.
"Here's your baby, Sara, grab him!" Cheryl said, lifting the squirming baby out of the water and placing it on the exhausted woman's chest, where it promptly took its first breath.
Sara clutched the tiny slippery body to her breast, and smiled wearily when the baby opened one eye and squinted up at her, as if to say "What's all the commotion about?"
"Wait a sec," she frowned as something the midwife had said dawned on her. "Did you say 'him'?"
"Yep. Congratulations! You've got a healthy baby boy," Cheryl said, swiftly and efficiently clearing the baby's nostrils and mouth with a suction bulb. "Proud Daddy, do you want to cut the cord?"
It took a moment for Ian to recover from his shock, and then he could only nod mutely in the affirmative. The midwife handed him a pair of scissors, and he cut the bluish-green and red umbilical cord.
*Oh, isn't he beautiful?* Sara said privately after thoroughly examining the baby to make certain he had the requisite number of fingers and toes. *But how can this be, Ian?*
*He's gorgeous, just like his mother. And I have absolutely no idea why the Witchblade allowed us to have another male offspring. I was certain this one would be a girl,* Ian replied, tears sparkling in his eyes as he stroked his newborn son's back. The infant rooted around Sara's chest and then promptly latched onto her left breast to enjoy his first meal. But after nursing for only a few minutes, he dozed off, apparently as wiped out from the ordeal of his birth as his mother was.
"Okay, let's get this little guy cleaned up," Liz said, carefully swathing the baby in a towel before picking him up. Only then did the infant begin to cry, unhappy at being deprived of his mother's closeness and warmth. "Nice to meet you, too!" the doula laughed.
"Another boy," Sara breathed, trembling from exhaustion. "We have another boy."
"He's got nice strong lungs," the midwife commented as she examined the placenta. "Sonograms can fool even the most experienced technician. That's why you should always pick out a boy's name and a girl's name. You aren't the first parents to be surprised, and you certainly won't be the last."
Sara exchanged a look with Ian and neglected to mention the fact that she hadn't had a sonogram. The blood-red stone in the intricate silver bracelet on her right wrist pulsed rhythmically for several seconds, and she could have sworn that It was laughing at Its bemused Wielder and her Protector.
Then the vision abruptly released Sara. "Ha, ha, ha," she muttered, glaring at the Witchblade. "You're a real laugh riot." But she couldn't help but grin as she recalled the astonishing events of the extraordinarily vivid vision. "Thanks for that glimpse into the future, Witchy," she whispered.
"One possible future," Ian said, and she looked up to see him standing in the doorway.
"It showed you the vision, too?" she queried, but she had her answer when she saw the tears in his eyes.
"Yes," he said softly, his glittering gaze filled with emotion. "I will do everything in my power to make that future a reality, Sara."
"That's good to know," she said huskily, sitting up. "I suggest we start by coming clean about your former profession to my family and friends before Irons has a chance to. We've got to take the fight to him if we're gonna have any chance of successfully freeing you from his clutches."
"Take the fight to him," Ian repeated slowly, closing the door behind him. "You have just given me an idea."
"Tell me about it."
Ian shook his head. "After lunch," he said, holding up his right hand. Dangling from his fingertips was a pair of her undies. "Mission accomplished," he grinned.
More to come. I truly appreciate the feedback everybody has left me. It genuinely gives me encouragement and a great deal of pleasure to log onto my computer and see that somebody cared enough to write a review of my story. Please, keep it coming!
Disclaimer: I don't own the Witchblade characters; Top Cow, TNT, et al, do. I'm just playing. Enjoy!
Author's Note: WARNING!!! Sexually explicit scenes are contained in this chapter. This material is not suitable for anybody who has a problem with this or who is under the age of 17. If you fall into either of these categories, PLEASE READ NO FURTHER. You've been warned, so please don't report me to ff.net!
Chapter 54
Sara was all hot and bothered. Ian Nottingham had had the colossal nerve to leave her high but not even remotely dry.
After thoroughly lavishing attention on her breasts for several extremely enjoyable minutes, he had abruptly opened his mouth wide in a jaw- cracking yawn.
"You know what?" he muttered, scrubbing both hands over his face wearily. "You are right: a nap would do me a world of good." And to her amazement, he turned around, presenting his broad back to her, and lay his dark head on the other pillow.
"You're kidding me, right?" Sara growled incredulously after a moment of stunned silence. To add insult to injury, she realized that, somewhere along the line, he had magically made her bra disappear. A furtive glance around the immediate vicinity confirmed that it was nowhere to be found.
"Hmmm?" Ian murmured, already sounding drowsy, damn him!
"You're not really gonna nap, are you, Nottingham?" Sara hated the pleading note that had crept into her voice. It sounded entirely too much like she was begging.
Knowing she couldn't see his expression, Ian allowed himself to grin, and had to struggle to keep the laughter out of his voice. "Yes, I am. You may cuddle me if you wish."
"I may cuddle you if I -- !?!" her words broke off with an audible snap of her teeth.
Sara blinked in disbelief as she spotted her bra hanging from the doorknob of the closet across the room. It was still swaying gently from side to side. 'How the hell did he manage to do that without me noticing?' she wondered, fuming.
Ian could sense the frustration and irritation radiating off her in waves. Schooling his features to sleepy innocence with an effort, he glanced over his shoulder at her. "Are we not supposed to be practicing our cuddling skills, Sara?"
Sara glared at him, storm clouds on her brow, but then her expression relaxed into an appreciative grin as she detected the devilish gleam in his sparkling hazel eyes. "You had me going there for a minute!" she chuckled. "Silly me! I should have just done this."
Ian was unable to stifle a groan as her hand slid up and over his hip to caress the prominent bulge in the front of his jeans.
"Hmmm, does Mr. Hoody wanna come out and play?"
"Yes, he does," Ian breathed, turning on his back so that she had easier access to his button fly.
With agonizing slowness, Sara undid the buttons, never breaking contact with the tumescent flesh beneath the denim. Her other hand insinuated itself beneath his faded blue thermal cotton undershirt and began lazily drawing random designs on his abdomen, ribs, and chest.
Ian raised a hand to her face, cupping it, his thumb brushing her lips, inciting her to lean down and press her mouth to his. Their tongues met in a hot dance of desire.
Sara swallowed the gasp he emitted when her hand slid beneath the waistband of his boxers and closed around his hard sex. Her whole body tingled with anticipation of once again being joined with his, and suddenly she couldn't bear to have any barriers between them.
"Hold that thought," she murmured, giving his erection a little pat. "Get naked with me, cowboy. Now!" she commanded, grabbing the hem of his shirt and helping him drag it up over his head.
Their gyrations were comical as they hurriedly tried to divest themselves of their jeans and underwear while lying side by side on the bed. Sara burst into laughter when she heard the way the bedsprings were creaking madly even before they came together. She started deliberately bouncing on the bed as she shimmied out of her jeans, complicating Ian's efforts to do the same. When he realized what she was doing, his husky laugh mingled with hers, and then they were both bouncing around on the firm mattress like little kids on a sugar high.
"Hey, hey, hey! What's going on up there?"
They both froze at Paula Siri's shout from downstairs.
"Um, nothing!" Sara yelled back, meeting Ian's wide hazel eyes.
"Do I have to come up there and separate you two?" Paula called from where she stood at the bottom of the stairs, her amusement plain to hear in her voice.
"Not yet," Ian shocked Sara by shouting back. "But give us a minute!"
"Oh, you're so bad!" she admonished him before dissolving into laughter again.
"Not as bad as I want to be," he grinned, shucking off his jeans and boxers and tossing them on the floor in a single motion.
Sara's breath caught, her gaze hungrily devouring his elemental masculine beauty and rampant virility. Hands shaking, she finished removing her own jeans and sodden panties.
"My God," Ian whispered, eyes glowing with barely contained desire as they slowly traveled over her nude body, "you are so incredibly beautiful. I could just eat you up!" With a playful growl, he pounced on her and started nibbling on her neck.
Giggling uncontrollably, Sara squirmed beneath him. "Stop, stop, that tickles! I'm serious, Ian!" she gasped, grabbing his head in both hands. Smoldering green eyes met gem-bright hazel eyes, signaling that play was at an end. "Besides, that's not where I want you to nibble on me, cowboy!"
With firm but gentle pressure, she began to guide his head south. Obligingly, Ian followed her direction, his hot tongue emerging to sample the riches of her body along the way.
Sara frowned as she realized that his hair was still confined in that ridiculous French braid, and she quickly set about freeing it. By the time his lips reached the triangle of softly curling chestnut hair below her navel, his luxuriant sable mane was loose and waving around his face and shoulders.
At the first touch of his scorching mouth against her nether lips, Sara gasped, her back arching. His long, gifted tongue emerged to swirl the entrance to her sex like it was an ice cream cone, lapping up the juices so freely flowing there.
"Mmmmm, delectable," Ian murmured, deliberately drawing out the vibration against her throbbing clit.
Soon, Sara was writhing helplessly beneath his ministrations, her head thrashing back and forth on the bed. "Please, oh, Ian, I can't . . . Don't stop! Yes! There, there, there!" she cried, her voice rising.
Just as she was about to fly to pieces, Ian moved up the length of her body quick as a cat, and surged all the way into her with one powerful stroke. Sara's scream of ecstasy was almost but not quite muffled by him as he captured her lips with his. His chesty groan at the exquisitely pleasurable sensation of her hot, satiny sheath contracting powerfully around his aching hardness turned into a shout of completion as he climaxed seconds later.
Downstairs, Paula Siri glanced up from her book and smiled approvingly.
*****
Some time later, Sara's stomach growled loudly, echoing with emptiness, and although she was loathe to abandon her lover's closeness and the cocoon of warmth beneath the blankets, hunger drove her to wakefulness.
"Hungry," she mumbled, shoving at the slack weight of Nottingham's left arm, which, as usual, was draped around her slender frame. "Must get food. And pee."
"You want pee?" Ian murmured sleepily. "I had heard that pregnant women get strange cravings, but that is a first."
"Ha, ha, very funny," Sara said, pushing at his arm again. "But, seriously, Ian, I really gotta go, so let me up!"
Yawning, Ian raised his arm, stretching it above his head. He was pleased when his shoulder didn't so much as twinge at the movement.
Rising, Sara came around the bed and snatched up his cable-knit sweater from the floor. "This'll have to do in a pinch," she said, quickly pulling it over her head. "I hope I don't scandalize anybody."
"I do not think there is any danger of that," Ian said wryly. The bulky garment came down to mid-thigh on her, completely camouflaging her curves. However, despite this and her sleep-creased face and wild hair, she still managed to look devastatingly sexy. 'Down boy,' he thought with a touch of exasperation as he felt his body begin to respond to the mere sight of her.
"I'm gonna use the bathroom in the master bedroom. It's closer. Be right back," she said, opening the door to the guest room. She left it slightly ajar as she dashed into the room next door.
Ian got up and snagged his boxers and jeans from the carpeted floor. Sara still hadn't returned by the time he'd pulled them on, so he headed down the hall to the kids' bathroom to answer his own call of nature, donning his undershirt as he went. He was thankful that the act of urinating caused his budding erection to subside. Ian was swiftly discovering that his body's spontaneous reaction to the delectable Sara Pezzini could be quite inconvenient, especially when the tightness of one's jeans left very little to the imagination. There were decided advantages to the loose-fitting, black wool trousers he normally favored.
When he returned to the guest room, Sara was sitting on the disheveled bed regarding her damp panties distastefully. She had taken off his sweater and put on her bra.
"I just can't bring myself to put these back on," she said, shaking her head. "I guess I'll just have to go au naturel beneath my jeans."
"You did laundry did you not? Perhaps there is a clean pair of your underwear downstairs," Ian suggested.
She beamed at him. "Clever you! I sure did. Could you do me a favor and run down and grab a pair outta the dryer for me?"
"It would be my pleasure."
"Here," Sara handed him the scrap of moist cotton. "Stuff these in the dirty clothes while you're at it. I still have another load to do after lunch." She glanced at the rumpled bedclothes. "Make that two loads."
"I can start another load while I am down there," Ian told her, stuffing the hi-cut briefs into his back pocket.
She stared at him in surprise. "You know how to do laundry, Ian?"
"Yes. Ever since I watched you put the first load in this morning. And I am certain I can figure out how to operate the dryer." He tapped his temple. "Brainiac, remember?"
"How could I forget?" Sara grinned. "Oh, by the way, you were utterly brilliant in bed a little while ago. For that, you get the coveted and elusive A+."
He grinned, his chest visibly puffing up with pride. "I aim to please, my Lady."
"Oh, you definitely did. However, I don't think I'll be able to look Paula in the eye. She must have heard us."
Nottingham's smile faded and red tinged his bearded cheeks. "Undoubtedly."
Sara shrugged. "Don't sweat it. We're both consenting adults, and she's no prude. Now, go get me another pair of undies before I wither away from hunger!"
"Yes, Ma'am."
She watched as he pulled on his sweater with a graceful economy of motion that inexplicably sent a warm quiver of desire through her body.
"Wait a sec, you have a severe case of bed head," she said huskily when he turned to go. She hunted around the tangled sheets until she found the bright-pink hair band her niece had given him. "Come here and let me at least attempt to make it look like we napped instead of having wild, monkey sex."
"We napped," Ian said, grinning again.
"More like passed out from exhaustion," she said, her lips quirking in an answering grin.
Clasping his hands behind his back, he came to stand before her, spreading his legs wide and bowing his tousled head so that she could reach it more easily. This stance was so achingly familiar, it paralyzed her for a moment and made emotion tighten her throat. How very much had changed since the last time he had assumed this submissive pose!
Oblivious to the fact that she was naked from the waist down, Sara finger-combed his hair into a passing semblance of order. It took an almost superhuman effort for Ian to refrain from putting his arms around her sleek body and gathering her closer to him. As she worked, he watched her expression through the curling, gold-streaked locks of dark-chocolate hair that habitually escaped restraint. The way she worried at her full lower lip with small white teeth as she concentrated on her task sent a bolt of heat straight to his groin, and Ian closed his eyes against the tempting sight, biting back a groan. 'How can I want her again so soon?' he asked himself. 'No, not again,' he acknowledged ruefully, 'always.'
After taming his wild, springy locks as best she could without the aid of a brush or a comb, Sara gathered Ian's long, incredibly soft hair in one hand and secured it at his nape with the hair fastener. In order to accomplish this, she was forced to put her arms around his neck, and she couldn't resist leaning against the tall, muscular frame that had swiftly become almost as familiar to her as her own body. His intoxicating scent filled her nostrils, making her legs go weak with wanting him again.
Automatically, Ian's hands settled on her hips, subtly moving them against the marked swelling in the front of his jeans.
"Oh, dear," Sara murmured. "Look what's come up again!" But then she shook her head as if to clear it, and forced herself to take a step back from him. "No, no, no! Must have nourishment! Quick, Nottingham, go now, or I won't be held responsible for my actions!"
"If you insist," Ian grinned, immensely pleased to know that she reciprocated his desire. He gave her slim, nearly naked body one last lingering glance, and Sara imagined she could feel heat lick her wherever his burning gaze fell. Involuntarily, she swayed toward him and he toward her, and she found herself draped on him again, her arms around his neck.
"Your mission, Ian," she breathed a tad desperately. "You mustn't lose sight of your mission."
"My mission?" he murmured, bending his head so that his lips were scant millimeters from hers, his big hands cupping her derriere possessively.
"Panties," she said, resolutely pulling away from him once again as her stomach gurgled insistently. "For the love of God, get the panties before me and mini-Ian starve to death."
"I will be right back, my love," he sighed, forcing himself to turn and leave the room.
Sara fell back onto the bed with a dreamy sigh as the door closed behind Nottingham. 'What's come over me?' she mused to herself, shivering a little as though from withdrawal. 'I'm like some kind of sex-crazed addict! You'd think I hadn't gotten any in years instead of less than an hour ago!' She looked at the bracelet on her wrist. 'I just bet you have something to do with this!' The blood-red stone was glowing happily, and Sara imagined she could feel a sort of smug warmth emanating from it. 'Yeah, uh-hunh, that's what I thought.'
She put her right hand on her belly. 'Show me our baby again,' she commanded the Witchblade, and was immediately plunged into a vision.
Sara lay on her back in a bed, much like she'd been only moments before, except now she found herself staring at the enormous mound of her stomach rising up in front of her. 'Wow,' she thought. 'I'm as big as a house!'
The door to the bedroom opened, and Ian entered. Her eyes widened as she saw that he had a pajama-clad, dark-haired toddler on his hip. 'His very own Mini-Me,' she thought wryly, smiling at the sight.
"Mama, Mama!" the small boy beamed, reaching for her.
Sara levered herself upright with a mighty effort and leaned back against a pile of pillows before holding out her arms for her firstborn, who appeared to be somewhere between two and three years of age.
"I explained to him that you were trying to rest, but he wanted to see for himself that you were all right before he went to bed," Ian said, handing her the toddler. "How are you feeling, Sara?" He eyed her huge belly warily, as though it were a bomb that could go off at any second.
"Just peachy," she replied. "The contractions seem to have stopped. I guess it was a false alarm. Hello, handsome!" she smiled at her son. "Are you my big boy?"
He nodded, dark ringlets bouncing. "Where da baby?" he asked in his sweet, high voice, gently patting her stomach. "Still in dere?"
"Yes, your baby sister is still inside me. But she'll be here soon," Sara told him, planting a big wet kiss on his chubby cheek. He giggled, squirming. "Oh! She's kicking! Wanna feel?"
The small boy nodded, and Sara placed his hand high up on her distended abdomen. "You, too, Daddy?" she invited Ian.
Nearly identical expressions of delight and wonder came over the faces of the father and son as they felt the strong thuds. But Ian's smile turned into a frown as he felt her stomach harden beneath his hand and he saw the way she grimaced. It was then that present-day Sara realized she didn't actually feel the intense pain her future self was obviously experiencing, and for this she sent the Witchblade a mental thank-you.
"Whew! That was the real deal," future Sara breathed when the powerful contraction passed. "I think you'd better call the doula and the midwife."
"They are already on the way, my love," he told her.
"That famous Protector's intuition at work again, eh?" she murmured, stroking their son's soft, dark curls as he snuggled against her. A brilliant sparkle caught her eye, and Sara saw that she wore a white gold or platinum engagement ring and wedding band on the ring finger of her left hand. 'Nice rock!' present-day Sara thought irreverently, eying the large, emerald-cut center stone, which was flanked by lovely, deep-green emerald baguettes. 'Really nice rock! I guess this means me and Nottingham get hitched.' An unexpected sense of satisfaction filled her at this realization.
Ian shrugged. "You were very restless last night and moaning in your sleep. I decided that you were either in the early stages of labor, or would go into labor shortly, so I called Cheryl and Liz this morning and informed them that in all likelihood they would be hearing from us later today. Cheryl called me back a few minutes ago, and I told her to head on over. Then I called Liz and requested that she do the same."
"Good thinking. I'd like to get into the birthing tub as soon as they get here. I've been having some wicked back pain on and off all day, and it'll probably get worse as things progress."
"I will go prepare the tub. Is he okay with you?" Ian asked, indicating their son.
"Yeah. I think he's falling asleep. Hey, little monkey, you sleeping?" she asked the drowsy boy.
He shook his head. "No, I not seepy," he lisped, obviously struggling to keep heavy eyelids open.
"We'll be fine," Sara smiled at Ian. "He'll be out by the time you come back. Hand me the phone before you go, and I'll call Marie and let her know it's showtime."
"She, too, is en route. I called her as soon as I hung up with your doula."
Future Sara eyed her husband suspiciously. "You're way too calm, Nottingham," she said. "I know you have nerves of steel and all, but you'd think this whole me-giving-birth thing was old hat." Suddenly, another contraction hit her, and she closed her eyes tight as she rode it out, remembering to breathe the way her doula had taught her to. When she opened them again, she glimpsed fear in her mate's beautiful eyes before he could hide it, and she realized that he was as nervous as she was about the impending birth.
"That's more like it," she chuckled softly. "Go on and get the tub ready, my love. I'm itching to get in it!"
Suddenly, the scene shifted, and Sara found her future self submersed from the waist down in a freestanding fiberglass tub. The pale dome of her belly just peeked above the wonderfully warm and soothing water.
"Here comes another one," she gasped as a powerful contraction gripped her.
"Remember to breathe, Sara," said a blond woman in her mid- to late 30s who sat to Sara's left, massaging her back beneath the water.
Sara jumped as she felt something touch her between her legs beneath the water.
"Relax, it's just me," said the graying, 50-ish woman who knelt at the foot of the tub. "Okay, you're fully dilated, Sara. You can start pushing with the next contraction."
"Cheryl, she's still having a lot of back pain. I read that that sometimes indicates a breech birth," Ian said anxiously from where he sat cross-legged next to the tub to Sara's right. He held a cup of crushed ice, a few pieces of which he poured into his hand and offered to his laboring wife. Gratefully, she accepted and thirstily sucked on them.
"Give me your hand, Ian," Cheryl said.
Transferring the cup of ice to his left hand, Ian gave her his right.
The midwife took it and guided it beneath the water and between Sara's legs.
"Feel that?" she asked.
He nodded.
"That's your baby's head. She's in position and ready to make her entrance into the world, but first Sara's got to do some hard work. Ready?" she asked the mother-to-be, detecting the onset of another contraction.
Sara nodded and grabbed hold of her knees. Ian gently applied pressure to her swollen belly as instructed by Liz, biting his lip as he watched his beloved strain to give birth to their child.
"You're doing great, Sweetie," Cheryl smiled. "Two, maybe three more like that, and she'll be here. What are you going to name her again?"
"Isabel Magdalene Nottingham," Sara panted. "Here comes another one!"
"The head's out!" Cheryl crowed a minute later, peering into the murky water. "Another good push and you're done!"
"So tired," Sara murmured, sagging against Ian's and the labor doula's supportive arms.
"Just one more big push, my love," Ian whispered in her ear, "and then you'll be able to hold our daughter in your arms. You can do it!"
Sara gave vent to a loud groan as another contraction gripped her, and with the last of her strength, she expelled the infant from her sore, aching body.
"Here's your baby, Sara, grab him!" Cheryl said, lifting the squirming baby out of the water and placing it on the exhausted woman's chest, where it promptly took its first breath.
Sara clutched the tiny slippery body to her breast, and smiled wearily when the baby opened one eye and squinted up at her, as if to say "What's all the commotion about?"
"Wait a sec," she frowned as something the midwife had said dawned on her. "Did you say 'him'?"
"Yep. Congratulations! You've got a healthy baby boy," Cheryl said, swiftly and efficiently clearing the baby's nostrils and mouth with a suction bulb. "Proud Daddy, do you want to cut the cord?"
It took a moment for Ian to recover from his shock, and then he could only nod mutely in the affirmative. The midwife handed him a pair of scissors, and he cut the bluish-green and red umbilical cord.
*Oh, isn't he beautiful?* Sara said privately after thoroughly examining the baby to make certain he had the requisite number of fingers and toes. *But how can this be, Ian?*
*He's gorgeous, just like his mother. And I have absolutely no idea why the Witchblade allowed us to have another male offspring. I was certain this one would be a girl,* Ian replied, tears sparkling in his eyes as he stroked his newborn son's back. The infant rooted around Sara's chest and then promptly latched onto her left breast to enjoy his first meal. But after nursing for only a few minutes, he dozed off, apparently as wiped out from the ordeal of his birth as his mother was.
"Okay, let's get this little guy cleaned up," Liz said, carefully swathing the baby in a towel before picking him up. Only then did the infant begin to cry, unhappy at being deprived of his mother's closeness and warmth. "Nice to meet you, too!" the doula laughed.
"Another boy," Sara breathed, trembling from exhaustion. "We have another boy."
"He's got nice strong lungs," the midwife commented as she examined the placenta. "Sonograms can fool even the most experienced technician. That's why you should always pick out a boy's name and a girl's name. You aren't the first parents to be surprised, and you certainly won't be the last."
Sara exchanged a look with Ian and neglected to mention the fact that she hadn't had a sonogram. The blood-red stone in the intricate silver bracelet on her right wrist pulsed rhythmically for several seconds, and she could have sworn that It was laughing at Its bemused Wielder and her Protector.
Then the vision abruptly released Sara. "Ha, ha, ha," she muttered, glaring at the Witchblade. "You're a real laugh riot." But she couldn't help but grin as she recalled the astonishing events of the extraordinarily vivid vision. "Thanks for that glimpse into the future, Witchy," she whispered.
"One possible future," Ian said, and she looked up to see him standing in the doorway.
"It showed you the vision, too?" she queried, but she had her answer when she saw the tears in his eyes.
"Yes," he said softly, his glittering gaze filled with emotion. "I will do everything in my power to make that future a reality, Sara."
"That's good to know," she said huskily, sitting up. "I suggest we start by coming clean about your former profession to my family and friends before Irons has a chance to. We've got to take the fight to him if we're gonna have any chance of successfully freeing you from his clutches."
"Take the fight to him," Ian repeated slowly, closing the door behind him. "You have just given me an idea."
"Tell me about it."
Ian shook his head. "After lunch," he said, holding up his right hand. Dangling from his fingertips was a pair of her undies. "Mission accomplished," he grinned.
More to come. I truly appreciate the feedback everybody has left me. It genuinely gives me encouragement and a great deal of pleasure to log onto my computer and see that somebody cared enough to write a review of my story. Please, keep it coming!