Samantha and Her Genie

by Daisy Dexter Dobbs

Yup. That sounded reasonable.

  It would be so easy. She should do it. She should just forget about her stupid insecurities, her ridiculous reservations and her annoying conscience and let him sweep her off her feet. Make mad, passionate love to her.

  “Did you have sex with Abigail Henley?” she blurted.

  Clearly taken aback, Lugal’s eyebrow shot up. “An honorable man does not discuss his sexual history or conquests, Samantha. To do so could tarnish the reputation of the females a man has bedded.”

  “It’s not like Abigail has anything to worry about,” Samantha pointed out as kindly as possible. “She’s been dead for well over a hundred years. I-I need to know, Lugal.”

  She’d made her decision. If he’d slept with Abigail, then Samantha would turn him down. She wasn’t sure she could get over the ick factor, picturing him pleasuring a pruny, crinkled, naked old lady. Not that she had anything against seniors having active sex lives, in fact, she thought it was great, but…nope. Uh-uh.

  On the other hand, if he hadn’t slept with Abigail, then Samantha would jump his bones.

  Or order him to jump hers.

  Pausing in thought for a moment, Lugal nodded. “I did not bed Abigail. It was not her wish. Although I would have gladly accommodated her in that respect if she so desired.”

  Samantha’s eyes widened in surprise. “She didn’t want to sleep with you?” Old or not, Samantha couldn’t imagine any woman not wanting to have a beautiful, incomparably masculine creature like Lugal make love to her.

  “We did sleep together at times. Just sleep, Samantha. It made Abigail feel safe. We did not have sex because she dearly loved another and felt it would be a betrayal to that love.”

  “I’m assuming it couldn’t have been her husband,” Samantha said with a coy smile, “because I sort of doubt he’d be all that thrilled to have you sleeping next to his wife.”

  “The one she loved was, indeed, her husband. He was killed during their long covered wagon trip over the Oregon Trail from the eastern side of America. It was 1843, they had been married only a few months. She was a widow.”

  “Oh. How sad. That means she was alone for…” she mentally calculated, “about sixteen years.” Samantha reached for the faded photo, studying the kind-looking face of the old woman. “She must have already been elderly when they got married. She looks about eighty in this photograph.”

  “The day I came to Abigail was her birthday. She was fifty-one. She married Owen Henley when she was thirty-five.”

  Fifty-one? Focusing on the picture again, Samantha gasped. “My God…”

  “She was a pioneer woman, making her way alone, in difficult, dangerous times. Life was very hard for her. Abigail was a good woman, Samantha. Kind, sweet and considerate of others.”

  Samantha was struck by Lugal’s obvious compassion for the woman and the knowledge warmed her heart. While her swarthy genie may have bold, ferocious, warrior looks and a chauvinistic mindset, he apparently had a heart of gold.

  “It was my pleasure, my honor, to serve her and grant her three wishes,” Lugal finished.

  “Can you tell me what they were?”

  Lugal leaned in so close, Samantha thought sure he was going to kiss her. “Perhaps,” he whispered against her ear, “after I make your body quiver and shudder beneath me, I will tell you.”

  Her breath caught. The man was a living, breathing aphrodisiac. Impossible to resist. “No perhaps. I want your word that you’ll tell me.”

  His handsome face still nestled in her hair, Lugal gave a deep, husky chuckle. “You have my word, little one.”

  Well, if that was the only way she’d be able to find out what Abigail’s three wishes were, Samantha figured she’d make the monumental sacrifice.

  “Okay,” she said so softly she barely heard the word as it left her lips. “Let’s do it.”

  Lugal scooped Samantha up and into his arms so fast she barely knew what happened.

  “Wait! We haven’t eaten the pineapple yet.” Good Lord, did she really just say that? Was she really that much of a foodie, a dork, a dweeb, to think of chowing down on pineapple when she was on the verge of mind-blowing sex with a fantasy man?

  Oh brother. She was plainly in serious need of a good mind-clearing fuck.

  Lugal picked up a chunk of the juicy fruit and slid it past her lips. Then he did the same for himself. “Good,” he said, licking his lips. “Unlike anything I have eaten before. There, we have had our pineapple, Samantha. Now we will have sex.”

  Turning to gaze up at him, Samantha’s face collided with Lugal’s chest. She was met by hot male flesh, hard bone and perfectly sculpted muscle.

  His pectorals flexed.

  Samantha sighed.

  It was one of those prolonged, melodic sighs heroines of old movies made when the hero gathered them up at the end and took them behind closed doors.

  Now she knew why they made those sounds. Lord have mercy, the man was an orgasm waiting to happen!

  “Where?” Lugal asked.

  “My bedroom.” Samantha pointed. “And leave the saber in the kitchen.”

  “A warrior is never without his weapon,” Lugal countered. “I must keep it at my side to protect you.”

  Images of Lugal’s handsome features taking on a fierce demeanor, his naked, sweaty chest heaving as he braved the unknown, slashing his sword this way and that to defend Samantha from the dreaded cell phone and refrigerator, made her feel like she was the heroine in one of those movies now.

  “Wait a minute,” she said, the logical side of her brain rudely interrupting her fantasies. “I don’t suppose you have condoms. Because I don’t.” It was a sorry truth to have to reveal. The last condom she had was so old it had become brittle.

  “Condoms?” Lugal asked, not breaking his stride. “What is that?”

  “You know. Rubbers. Prophylactics.” Lugal was silent. “Something to cover your penis so no sexually transmitted diseases are spread,” she explained.

  “Ah, so you have a sexual disease,” Lugal noted, taking the information in stride.

  “No! Of course not! I’m not the one who’s slept with dozens of women.”

  “Hundreds,” Lugal corrected, and Samantha groaned. “Which room is it?”

  “There. The question is, do you have a disease? I mean, with all the places you and that busy appendage between your legs have been, your cock could be teeming with billions of nasty organisms and bacteria.”

  Lugal kicked the door of her bedroom fully open and threw Samantha on the bed. She landed with a surprised oooph!

  “You have no need to worry about my cock being tainted. I am clean and healthy. I am unable to die, unable to transmit disease and unable to father children. These precautions were all written into the incantation when I was imprisoned.”

  Lugal removed his vest and Samantha got the full effect of his massive chest and all its muscles. It was beautiful, exquisite. There were also a number of long, ragged scars, which made her heart clench.

  “Are all those scars from battles?” She asked, suddenly eager to run the tip of her tongue over each one of them.

  “Yes. All of them before my incarceration. Any wounds I received since then have healed without any trace of the injury. Again, it was part of the incantation.”

  “So, you can be hurt but not killed.”

  “Exactly. No matter how close I come to death, I will always survive.”

  “That’s good,” Samantha said.

  “It is a vile curse,” Lugal spat. “You cannot imagine, Samantha, what it is like to be hacked to—” He stopped abruptly, sucking in a deep breath, straightening his broad shoulders and elevating his chin. “My apologies. I am not here to whine like a babe and bore you to tears with my trials and tribulations.”

  “I don’t think it’s boring at all, Lugal. Have you received many injuries since you were put in the bottle?”

  Lugal gave a curt nod. “Many. I have come face to face with Ereshkigal more times than I
can remember, each time to be jolted back to…life.” Lugal’s small laugh was humorless.

  “Who or what is Ereshkigal?” Samantha asked.

  “Goddess of the underworld. You must remove your trousers,” he said without missing a beat. “I do not like to look at them. They are not womanly.”

  Scooting to the edge of the bed, Samantha complied, wishing she’d worn something other than her plain, white cotton bra and panties. As she kicked off her slacks, she heard Lugal’s intake of breath.

  “This is all you wear beneath your trousers?” he walked over to her, pushing her back against the bank of pillows and smoothing his big hand over her panties.

  “Sure. What else would I wear under them?”

  “In 1859, this would have been scandalous.” He bent to plant a kiss on her cotton-covered mound and Samantha gasped. “I cannot tell you how happy I am that we are not in 1859, Samantha.” His thumbs slid beneath the elastic leg bands, smoothing over her moist curls. Before he slipped his thumbs out, he toyed with the stretchy elastic, snapping it against her skin.

  “I am most eager to find out what awaits me beneath the rest of your clothing. What is this garment called?” Lugal asked, fingering her sweater. “It feels like the soft fur of a rabbit.”

  “It’s a sweater. Cashmere. I splurged on it.”

  “I am familiar with the Kashmir civilization,” Lugal noted.

  “You mean the goats?”

  “Goats?” he asked.

  Samantha laughed. “I have a feeling we’re talking about two different things. The yarn for my sweater came from cashmere goats raised here in Oregon. What cashmere are you talking about?”

  “The area around the country called India. I was there briefly, several hundred years ago.”

  “Did you see any goats?”

  Lugal nodded. “If I recall, yes.”

  “Well, there you go.” Samantha grinned.

  He slanted her a baffled look. “Where do I go?”

  Samantha blinked. It sometimes felt like she and Lugal were engaging in a round of Abbott and Costello’s “Who’s on First?”

  “You’re not going anywhere. I believe you were about to take off my sweater,” she said boldly.

  Yanking her up and away from the pillows, Lugal stripped the sweater from her so fast her hair stood on end from the static.

  “By gods, you are big.”

  Well, hell.

  With a defeated gasp, Samantha’s ego shriveled to the size of a raisin. Instinctively, she crossed her arms over her chest and crotch.

  “Big blazing hair,” he said, threading his hands through her just-below-the-shoulders auburn hair. “Big hips made for birthing, big, heavy tits… You have a body built to stop an army in its tracks.”

  Oh. Well, that didn’t really sound all that bad. Her spirits lifted a bit. “Are…are you saying that’s a good thing?”

  “Good?” A low chuckle rumbled in Lugal’s chest. He drew his saber from his side and Samantha felt the blood drain from her veins.

  Oh Jesus, her body wasn’t that much of a disappointment, was it?

  As the metal approached her skin, she toyed with the idea of fighting back, but wasn’t too crazy about the prospect of having her hands and arms slashed into tiny ribbons. Besides, all those bloodied bits of flesh would really mess up her ivory eyelet bedspread.

  Instead, she whimpered, “I’m sorry I’m fat. Please don’t kill me, Lugal.” She sucked in a breath and held it as the cold blade touched her back, praying that he’d be quick and merciful. And that he wouldn’t make too much of a mess. As she squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for her life to flash before her eyes, her bra fell from her shoulders.

  Her eyes popped open to see Lugal replacing his saber.

  “You cut off my bra,” she said, dazed, amazed and happy to still be breathing.

  “I need to see you naked. Now.” Lugal peeled her underwear from her body so fast she felt like an ear of corn, badly in need of immediate shucking.

  “Ahhhhh…”

  That one, elongated, accented expression of approval, combined with that killer smile of his, elicited a sigh of relief from Samantha.

  “I do not understand all this absurd talk about you being fat and wondering if you are good enough, Samantha.” He cupped her breasts in his palms, curving his fingers over the spheres as if he were measuring the weight. “You are a well-built woman with the luxuriant arcs and slopes of a goddess.”

  As she opened her mouth to reply, Lugal flipped her over as if she weighed no more than one of the pillows.

  “Let me see your ass,” he said while she bounced, face-down on the mattress. “Yes…just as I had imagined. Big, plump and curvy.” He gave one cheek a smack and Samantha yelped at the sudden pain. Then Lugal swatted the other cheek.

  She wanted to protest the sheer audacity of his shocking actions. She wanted to object to his abuse of her butt. She wanted to balk at the unexpected sting from his spanking.

  Instead, to her surprise, Samantha became even wetter, moaning as she was filled with pleasure so fresh and raw it made her pussy ache and her clit throb. His spanks weren’t hard enough to cause the pain of punishment, but, rather, the brisk tingle of arousal.

  “Such a rosy flush against the alabaster white of your flesh,” Lugal said, smoothing his hand over her hot ass cheeks. Samantha could imagine the large, pink handprint marks he’d made there. “I have never seen skin as soft, smooth and pale as that of your pretty bottom.” His fingers squeezed her cheeks hard, kneading and stroking. She gave a surprised gasp when his thumbs slipped into the crack, smoothing up and down.

  Before Samantha could blink, Lugal had flipped her over again, pushing her shoulders until she fell back against the bank of pillows again. Almost dizzy from all the motion, she felt like a rag doll. But she didn’t really mind. Not when he looked at her with that famished, appreciative look in his eyes.

  “Your body is magnificent.” His calloused fingers dug into her flesh, trailing a path over her breasts, down her belly, across her mons and down both legs. “Lush and extravagant, exactly the way a woman’s body should be. My cock stands erect and hungry for you, Samantha, eager for hot, hard, lusty sex.”

  Lugal’s deep penetrating voice sent a thrill to her clit as an urgent emptiness tingled deep in Samantha’s pussy.

  “If I ask you a question do you promise to tell me the truth?” she said.

  “I am bound to do so,” he assured her, cupping her breasts and pinching the rigid nipples.

  Aroused to the bone and barely able to speak, Samantha did her best to finish her thought. “All those beautiful things you just said about me. You know, about looking like a goddess and all. Are they…I mean, are you…did you…”

  “What is it, little one? Did I not make myself clear? Was there something you did not understand?” She sighed at the tender look he gave her. “According to the incantation, I am to have a basic understanding of the language of my possessors,” he explained. “But I find that this does not necessarily extend to recently created words or fashionable phrases of the moment.”

  “You mean like slang or colloquialisms,” Samantha offered, fully aware of his big, warm hands exploring her body.

  “Yes.” Lugal nodded. “I believe those are the terms. This usage of slang, as you call it, often makes it difficult for me to understand, or to explain myself clearly.”

  Lugal’s precious words tiptoed through her memory. The luxuriant arcs and slopes of a goddess… “Oh, I think you did a fine job of making yourself understood, Lugal.” Samantha’s eyes lowered and she fingered the bedspread, absently drawing patterns on the fabric.

  “I just want to know if you meant what you said. Or was it just the sort of stuff you’re supposed to say to your possessors because of that spell they put on you?” Looking up at him through her lashes, she dragged her bottom lip through her teeth.

  Cupping her chin, Lugal lifted Samantha’s head, gifting her with a dazzling smile. His head lowered
and he gave her a deep, scorching kiss that left her breathless.

  “I spoke to you purely as a man, little one. Every word I uttered of my own accord.”

  Her heart started tap dancing. “So you didn’t just tell me those things as part of your duty to pleasure me? You’re telling me you…you actually meant them?” She could hardly believe it. Talk about being too good to be true!

  “Exactly.” His thick fingers raked down her thighs, over her knees and all the way to her ankles before he massaged her feet. “Although, I am glad my words gave you pleasure.”

  Pleasure? She was damn near ready to expire from an overdose of happiness. “Oh, they did.” She felt a delicious stab of heat as his gaze traveled to her pussy, lingering there.

  “See how wet you are for me already?” Lugal’s hands left her feet, skimming up along the inside of her upper thighs. “Your juices slide down from your cunt, preparing for my entry.” His deft fingers surveyed her wet slit. “So juicy and warm.”

  Sheer, fiery bliss overwhelmed Samantha when Lugal bent over her, replacing his fingers with his tongue and swooping a lavish lick. Her mind was infused with a splash of colors, hot, deep, pulsating in time to the insistent throb, deep in her core.

  “Sweet and delicious,” he told her after leisurely lapping his way up and down her slit until Samantha was so hot and turned on she practically ignited. “I have always enjoyed the smell and taste of cunt, Samantha, but supping from you is like drinking nectar from a goddess. Like dipping my tongue into a pot of the finest honey.”

  Whew! So much for wondering whether or not she’d like oral sex.

  “I have to see you,” she said, bunching the voluminous fabric of his balloon pants in her fist. “Take off your pants, Lugal.”

  Unfastening the saber from his side, Lugal placed the scabbard upright, leaning against one of the nightstands. Samantha licked her lips in anticipation as his fingers unwound the long band of fabric at his waist and, finally, removed his genie pants.

  Standing tall and proud before her, Lugal’s large, thick cock jutted from a bush of curly dark hair. It was just as bold and magnificent as he was.

  “I see you are not displeased. I knew it would be so.” He came to the edge of the bed. “Touch me, Samantha.”