Tender Savage (Siren Publishing Allure)

by Rosemary J. Anderson

  “Eat these,” he ordered, his look cynical as he noticed her brushed hair and retouched makeup. “They should help quench your thirst.”

  “What are they?”

  “Berries. Don’t worry I’m not about to poison you. They’re quite safe and taste a little like strawberries.”

  Cautiously, Eleanor popped one in her mouth.

  “Good?” he queried.

  Nodding, she finished off the rest in her hand.

  “Can we make a fire?”

  “Not cold, are you?”

  “No, but it would feel comforting somehow.”

  “Sorry, but no. A fire would be seen for miles, and it’s not worth the risk.”

  “But that would be a good thing, wouldn’t it? I mean the more people that see it, the more chance of rescue.”

  “Indeed.” Savage hesitated looking at her thoughtfully. “And the more chance of Indian tribes seeing it—and maybe not friendly ones.”

  “Oh!”

  “I suggest you try and get some sleep. We’ll be moving again in a few hours. Oh, but if you need the loo, don’t go too far away, and spray the surrounding area with this.” He handed her a small bottle of insect repellent. “If you don’t, the leeches will make a beeline for your blood. They can smell a sweet, tender morsel like you from yards away.”

  Dumbfounded Eleanor silently took the bottle. “Oh but I…”

  Abraham scrutinised her face. “You what?”

  “Err, well I, err, I’ve already done it.”

  Abraham looked incomprehensively at her. “What?”

  “I’ve been to the loo,” she whispered, trailing off into silence.

  “Best I have a look-see then.”

  “What? You can’t mean you want me to, err, show you my, err, my…”

  “Your bottom.” He lifted a quizzical eyebrow. “Yes.”

  Eleanor bit her lip, undecided. Bloody hell, what was she to do? Should she drop her pants for him, or should she just hope there weren’t any bloodsucking leeches attached to her.

  Decision made, she stood quickly up and, avoiding his eyes, dropped her trousers and her miniscule panties, her face feeling as hot as the sun.

  Her eyes narrowed, she knew he was enjoying her predicament. His hastily suppressed grin was a dead giveaway, and she hated him for it. Abraham indicated that she should bend over, and as she did so, he placed his hand on her coccyx and, bending down minutely, examined her derriere.

  “You’re okay.” He gave her a small smack on her bottom. “Nothing has attached itself to you, but be more careful in future. It’s not only leeches you have to worry about. There are ticks as well—now they are nasty little buggers.”

  Hastily pulling back up her clothes, and without looking at him, she made a quick escape to the shelter and all but scrambled inside. Tiredly still squirming in mortification, Eleanor lay back, falling almost instantly asleep.

  Savage settled comfortably beside her, his thoughts on her and the journey ahead. She was slowing him down, and there was no way he’d be able to go back the way he’d come. The journey would be too treacherous, with landslides and other hazards. Eleanor could barely cope with the easy track of today, so an alternate route was the only option, one which would take longer. Unfortunately, it was also one with other dangers, human ones. Not wanting to frighten her, he had not made her aware of the fact that they were being followed, the documents in his backpack of utmost importance not only to the government but to whoever had brought the plane down. Her stamina was low and her nerves frail. A world of fashion and ease was a long way from a route march through the Amazon rain forest.

  Turning on his side, he tried to block out the scent of her. She smelled of sweat and rain, and her hair smelled faintly of the shampoo she used, a light, clean fragrance of violets. Breathing deeply, he firmly closed his eyes. Sleep was essential. He needed to be fresh and alert, ready to face whatever the morning would bring.

  * * * *

  Eleanor stirred restlessly as another downpour hit the canvas above their heads, the noise like a thousand tiny tapping feet. Her hip hurt, and so did her shoulder. The ground on which they were lying was lumpy and uncomfortable and felt hard on her already-aching limbs. Mumbling incomprehensibly, she turned over, seeking warmth.

  Snuggling closer, she came instantly awake as the steely heat of a hair-roughened chest penetrated her consciousness.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled, pulling back.

  “No problem, princess. It was kinda nice having you nuzzle up like that, but I’d appreciate it if you would stop wriggling so much. It’s like sharing my bed with a sack of snakes.”

  “Charming!” Huffily, she turned away.

  Reaching out a large arm, Savage encircled her waist and pulled her back up against him.

  “Quit your pouting, princess, and just enjoy the warmth, mmm?”

  About to argue with him, Eleanor changed her mind and, although stiff at first, soon relaxed, snuggling closer, her bottom wriggling into the curvature of his body as he spooned into her back. Sighing softly, her lashes fluttered briefly before closing over heavy eyes as she succumbed once again to sleep.

  Savage gritted his teeth. Being this close to her was doing something to his libido, and it took all his concentration to keep from throwing her onto her back and immersing himself into her soft, yielding body.

  “Stop it, Savage,” he muttered, disgusted with himself. It wasn’t as if he was short of sex. Females seemed to be drawn to him like bees to honey. But he couldn’t stop the mental images. Images of Eleanor, her legs wrapped around his hips as she groaned in sexual gratification at his deep penetration, of her using her mouth to pleasure him, and in turn, of him caressing her breasts, her soft, flat stomach, and tonguing her velvety, wet pussy. Groaning silently, he made a concerted effort to put the thought of fucking her out of his mind.

  “Concentrate on the mission at hand, man. You’ve no time to dillydally with a spoilt, irritating, clotheshorse whose only aim in life is to get herself laid as many times as possible in the aim of finding a rich husband.”

  Sighing deeply, he closed his eyes. Falling into a deceptively deep sleep, his body became relaxed, and yet his mind stayed alert.

  * * * *

  Pins and needles shooting up her arm brought Eleanor from sleep. Groaning, she shifted restlessly before sitting abruptly up and flexing her abused limb in an effort to restore the circulation. Savage’s eyes snapped open, immediately on guard.

  “What’s up, princess?”

  “Nothing. It’s just pins and needles, that’s all, and will you stop calling me princess?”

  “What would you rather, princess or Ms. Vance?”

  “It’s miss, actually. Miss Courtney-Vance—Eleanor.” She lifted her chin, determined to put him in his place. “But you may call me Miss Courtney-Vance.”

  “Indeed! Well, Miss Courtney-Vance, I suggest you get some more rest. We’ll be leaving in a couple of hours, and you’ll wish to God you’d slept by the time I’ve finished with you.”

  Throwing herself back on the ground beside him, she turned away from Savage’s mocking eyes and huffily hunched one small shoulder.

  “Infuriating beast,” she muttered under her breath.

  Lying on her side, shoulders stiff and back straight, she attempted to return to sleep, but unfeeling and arrogant as he was, she just couldn’t help but be aware of the silently powerful man beside her. She shifted restlessly, willing herself to relax, not wanting him to think he had the power to disturb her.

  A hard arm slithered around her middle and pulled her closer, Savage’s hand flat on her taut stomach causing a nervous fluttering to invade her limbs and a tightening ache to explode between her legs. Tempted to pull away, she thought better of it as she felt his warmth penetrate her from behind. Involuntarily, she pushed back, pressing closer to his muscled chest.

  Mmm, he felt so good, and, she thought as she delicately sniffed, he smelled wonderful, all earthy and masculine, not lik
e the usual men she hung around with, those who were effeminate and smelled of perfume and makeup. The scent of him, the warmth of his hard body behind her, and the overpowering feeling of security he gave her was setting her all aquiver. She breathed deeply. He was so commanding, so virile, a true Alpha male, supreme master of his environment, and he turned her on like no other man she’d met. Biting her lip, she tried to control her earthy impulses. She wanted him, arrogant and irritating though he might be, but her body trembled with the need for his possession.

  “Quit your wriggling, princess.”

  “Sorry.” She bit her lip. “Savage?”

  “What?”

  “Err, well—I’m sorry for being, well you know.”

  “Bitchy.”

  “Well, really!” She sniffed. “That wasn’t exactly the word I was going to use.” She drew a deep breath. “Anyway, I am sorry. My name’s Eleanor. Please call me Eleanor.”

  He was silent for so long Eleanor thought he’d fallen asleep.

  “Very well—Eleanor.”

  “Savage?”

  “What now, woman?”

  “Well, it’s just, well, what’s your name? Your first name?”

  “Abraham.”

  “Abraham!” She stifled a giggle.

  “What’s so amusing?”

  “Well, it’s a bit biblical, isn’t it? I would have expected something more…more.”

  “More what?”

  “Well, more macho, like, well like—Jake or Dirk or even…” She giggled, feeling slightly whimsical all of a sudden.”Goliath!”

  “Goliath! Please, Abraham’s bad enough. You, princess, can call me Savage, or Abe if you must.”

  “No, I like Abraham. It kinda suits you somehow, so from now on I’ll call you Abraham.”

  Chapter Seven

  Eleanor, undecided, lay quietly, her mind racing and her heart thumping. Should she? Shouldn’t she…

  Then, surrendering to her baser instincts, she made a monumental decision and, rolling over to face Abraham, placed a soft, caressing hand on his chest.

  “Abraham Savage, my hero!” she breathed flirtatiously.

  Hesitating, she then, throwing caution to the wind, moved her hands sensuously across his shoulders, along his throat, and to the buttons of his already partially opened shirt.

  His hand, as her fingers tremulously began opening the buttons, halted hers.

  “Enough, woman. You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

  “Really, I do!” she whispered, moving closer, her leg entwining with his hard muscular one.

  Pulling her hand free of his, she let her fingers glide down his chest and onto his stomach to rest on the buckle of the belt that hung low on his hips. Falteringly, she looked deeply into his eyes before she began undoing the buckle with shaking fingers.

  “Eleanor!” he growled warningly.

  “Abraham,” she whispered back, reaching up and planting a soft, light-as-air butterfly kiss on his firm lips.

  Stifling another groan, Abraham cupped the back of her head and deepened the kiss, his mobile mouth caressing her lips. Opening her mouth, she allowed the kiss to deepen, and as his tongue entwined with hers, they began the mating dance.

  Rolling her onto her back, Abraham unbuttoned her blouse and the front fastening of her bra. Eleanor’s breasts sprang free, bouncing into his waiting hands, and he caressed and kneaded their round softness. Abraham’s head bent, and he licked the satiny areola, drawing her nipple deep into his mouth. His gentle suckling caused tingles of pleasure to invade her womb and fiery liquid to pool between her thighs, wetting her minuscule panties.

  Her head thrashed from side to side, and Eleanor growled low in her throat, begging him to take her.

  “Ask for it,” he demanded, stilling.

  “What?”

  “You must ask for what you want, Eleanor.”

  She stared into his hard eyes. Pouting prettily in annoyance, she considered telling him where to get off, but, as she squirmed against him, she desperately wanted his cock inside her.

  “Fuck me!” she demanded. “Fuck me hard, dammit.”

  Pulling down her trousers, Abraham ripped apart her panties, freeing her to his gaze and ministrations.

  Gasping at the savagery of his actions, a wild abandonment took over her, and she willingly kicked free of her slacks and, opening her legs, urged him to look his fill at the flowerlike, soft, velvety lips as they opened in eager anticipation of his penetration.

  Savage moved down her body and bent his head, and his mouth closed over her already-swelling clitoris. Lifting her legs over his shoulders, his hands hard on her thighs, he raised her cleanly waxed pussy to his mouth, sucking and licking. His tongue danced around her vagina, tasting the sweet flavour of her and taking her to the heights.

  Crying out as passion mounted, she crossed her ankles around his neck and, grabbing at his hair, pressed him further against her, wanting him to devour her clitoris and wanting him to take it deeper into his mouth and drive her to the very edge.

  “Please!” she pleaded. “Pretend it’s a sweet—suck it, lick it, bite it!”

  Lifting her bottom, he cupped her peachy cheeks, and her legs fell wider apart, inviting, alluring. Working his tongue, he thrust it into her opening, his teeth grazing her clitoris. He laved her entrance, his saliva mingling with her juices, wetting her thighs and trickling into the crease of her bottom. Eleanor’s thighs jerked, and her hips lifted as an orgasm swelled, rising and undulating, until she exploded on a climax so powerful and so intense she could feel herself losing touch with reality.

  An explosive cry fell from her lips. Her breath became fast and short in her chest, and with her hands clawing at his shoulders, she slowly came back to earth. Her thighs now relaxed on his shoulders, Abraham eased her back to the ground. Bending her knees, he spread her wide and thrust his cock deeply into her, penetrating her core. Groaning, Eleanor caught her breath. This was what she wanted. It was ecstasy. Having him filling and stretching her made her feel helpless. She was Eve to his Adam, Delilah to his Samson, Juliet to his Romeo. Plunging deeply, his cock a powerful instrument that tormented and pleasured at the same time, he ground into her, his hips like pistons as they worked his cock.

  Enclosing his hips with her long legs, she urged him on, small mewing cries at the back of her throat inciting and seductively urging him to mate. Kissing her deeply, he caressed her breasts with his hands, and then his lips left hers to work their way along her neck, throat, and shoulders until they reached her hard, puckered nipples. Closing his mouth hungrily over a peak, his teeth grazed its softness, and he began suckling hard, the action mirroring the urgent thrusting of his hips.

  The air became thick with the guttural sounds of pleasure and the musky smell of sex. With the sweat dewing on their hot, heaving bodies, he began slowing the pace. As he pulled his cock almost out of her constraining internal muscles, their eyes met, hers misted with the drugging pleasure of sex, and he felt a burning animal need. Powerfully, he thrust back into her willing body. Her nails grazed his back, marking the flesh, and, reaching down, she dug her fingers into his hard buttocks, crying out for him to make her come. Egged on by her impassioned pleas, he surged into her, his engorged cock stretching her to the utmost. The tip of his cock grazed her G-spot, and she screamed.

  Eleanor felt powerful ripples of pleasure pulsating from her womb and the throbbing swelling of her clitoris, a pleasure made more powerful by a feral growl ripping from Abraham as his cock jerked violently, spilling his seed hotly into her. Climaxing together, they reached the pinnacle of gratification. Eleanor’s limbs shook, and tears fell onto her cheeks.

  So, she thought dizzily, this was what it felt like to fall off the edge of the world. A feeling so profound continued to surge through her, making her light-headed yet euphoric at the same time. She felt enervated, fragile, and her own person, but now forevermore, part of Abraham.

  * * * *

  A hand on her shoulder s
hook Eleanor awake. Sitting groggily up, she looked dazedly at Abraham.

  “What time is it?” she mumbled, pushing hair out of her eyes.

  “Six thirty, time we were moving.” He handed her a stick of beef jerky and the canteen. “Have a gulp of water and eat that, and then we’ll push on.” Narrow eyed, he looked her over.

  Her eyes looked heavy from lack of sleep, a red crease mark marred her cheek, and her blouse was unbuttoned, giving a glimpse of bouncing breasts, a rosy hue of passion still marking the tender downy skin. She looked, he thought with satisfaction, as if she’d well and truly been fucked. His gaze moved on, admiring her long, naked limbs, remembering how it felt to have them wrapped around his hips. His loins tightened in remembered anticipation. Grinding his teeth, he swallowed hard as he resisted the urge to throw her onto her back and immerse himself within her again.

  “Cover yourself,” he growled huskily. “You’re not on a modelling shoot now. You’ve”—he checked his watch—“fifteen minutes, and if you’re not ready, then I’ll leave you behind.”

  Eleanor stared at him. God, he was unfeeling. Their shared experience of last night seemed to be forgotten, whereas she, well… She bit her lip. She still felt nervy and insubstantial, as if her limbs weren’t her own. Trembling as she remembered their passion, her eyes grew soft. Two orgasms, that had never happened to her before, and it was, well, wonderful. She squeezed the thighs together as an ache began to make itself felt. God! She still wanted him. He looked so good, rugged, and dangerous but well rested and reasonably clean, whereas she, well, she looked as if she’d been pulled through a hedge backward.

  Gulping some water, she nibbled at the edge of the beef jerky. It was vile! She threw it into the undergrowth. She was starving, but without more water, she just couldn’t swallow the jerky. It was as dry as char and tasted like dog dirt.

  Finding a last pair of panties, she shimmied into them and, happening to glance up, caught Abraham watching her. Desperately wanting to be fucked again, she made much of adjusting her panties over her crotch. He turned away. Feeling rejected, her breath caught and then exploded out of her lungs. Disappointment and frustration had her pouting in annoyance as she quickly pulled on the creased trousers. Shaking out her boots to dislodge any creatures which might have set up home inside, she then she eased them on. Her heels still hurt. In fact, they felt like fire, but there was no blood on her socks, so that was surely a good sign. Scrambling to her feet, she rummaged in her small bag and, finding a brush, tugged it through her tangled hair, surreptitiously watching Abraham as he went about his tasks. Every movement was minimalist, as if he knew how to conserve his strength. Captured, her gaze followed him. When he walked, he had a pantherlike grace, and his lissom hips had just the right amount of swagger. He was, in fact, gorgeous even with the scar. She absently wondered how he’d got it. Some adventure, she mused, probably fighting some cad out to tie a virgin to the train lines or skirmishing with pirates on the high seas or duelling for some maiden’s honour. She grinned in real amusement as her fantasies got more outlandish by the minute. Her wayward thoughts were brought to an abrupt end by Abraham grabbing her arm and telling her to get a wriggle on.