Chapter 1. Losing Control

He’d never been more thankful for his very dark sunglasses than at this precise moment. The last thing he needed was for her to realize he couldn’t take his eyes off her luscious curves while she played in the pool. It was hard enough as it was already. He was hard enough.

Spike banged his head on the back of the chair as he tried to control himself from just saying to hell with everything and seduce her. But what he really needed to do was to learn to say no… especially when it concerned little Buffy Summers. Although, she wasn’t all that little any longer, his eyes told him as much as they treacherously slid down her perfect breasts, her tiny waist and toned legs… and therein lay the problem exactly.

He should have said no when her parents begged him to take care of her for two weeks while they went on a much needed second honeymoon. To hell with them being his best friends, his only real friends. He should’ve cut himself from any ties with them after that fatidic day a little over a year ago when he found himself growing hard as he admired the gorgeous young woman his best friends’ sixteen year old daughter had grown into practically overnight. After that, he’d tried his hardest to stay as far away as possible without arising Hank and Joyce’s suspicions. Quite a feat that, considering up until that moment, he’d all but lived in their house.

But somehow he’d managed without much trouble… until now.

How the bloody hell was he going to endure two weeks of having her there, prancing around in those skimpy outfits she seemed so fond of, in those bikinis which left barely anything to imagination—to his imagination.

He had to bite the inside of his cheek to hold back his groan when she got out of the pool and started walking towards him. Like Aphrodite emerging from the ocean, she was. Only a whole lot more tempting than the Greek goddess ever dreamed of being as the water droplets slid down her golden, nubile flesh.

His tongue peeked out to wet his suddenly dry lips, his cock twitching inside his swim trunks as an image of him licking each single one of those drops from her body came unbidden to his mind.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! These were gonna be two very long weeks.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Buffy got out of the pool in the very same fashion she always did, by putting her arms on the edge then pushing herself up to her knees and straightening. The one thing that was different this time was that she did it while aiming for his viewing pleasure. Her movements smooth and deliberate as she brought her hands up to get her hair out of her face, arching her back to showcase her pert breasts and then sashayed her hips as she walked towards the other end of the pool, hoping she was giving him a tantalizing view of her ass before diving into back in once again.

She didn’t have all that much experience in seducing anyone, or for that matter, any at all. But she’d been in love with William Sinclair since she was five years old and he’d saved her from little Xander Harris when he pulled on her pigtails. At an age when most girls fell in love with their fathers, she’d fallen for him and had yet to stop falling. She didn’t care he was twenty years her senior, her parents’ best friend or that she wasn’t even eighteen yet. What difference did a few weeks—okay, so it was really two months—make anyway?

And he felt something for her. She knew he did. What was it? That was the million dollar question. He loved her, but was it the kind of love reserved for a niece or did he see her as a woman? Sometimes she’d thought she’d seen something flickering in his eyes when he looked at her, but she couldn’t be sure.

This time, though, there was no mistaking the warm caress of his azure gaze following her every movement, even if he kept it hidden behind those dark shades he wore. And that gave her the courage she needed to do what she had to do.

She neared the stairs and let herself out of the water, slowly, leisurely making her way towards him. Keeping her eyes trained on him, she reveled in the way his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as she neared him, in how his tongue came out to wet his lips, in how her own body was responding to the idea of teasing him until his control snapped.

Buffy smiled at him when she reached his side, handing him a tube of sunscreen. “Can you put some of this in my back? I don’t want to get burned.” At least not like this, she added to herself.

“I-I,” he stammered, looking from the cream to her face and back while wracking his brain trying to find a plausible excuse to say no. The temptation of discovering just how smooth her skin really felt under his fingertips was just too much and he didn’t trust himself. “W-why don’ you jus’ go inside, pet? Midday sun is not good for you, anyway.”

She sat by his side, in what little space was left on the chair he occupied and pouted, whining, “But I don’t want to. Pleeeaase?”

His eyes settled on the protruding lip he wanted to nibble on, suck into his mouth. He groaned as she innocently bit on said lip with her teeth, his knuckles turning white as he grabbed onto the sides of the chair to stop himself from touching her.

She had no bloody idea how much she affected him, of that he was sure. She was too innocent, too young, too inexperienced to know. And he was nothing but a lecherous old man who should know better than to contemplate giving free rein to his baser instincts. But bloody hell, if she wasn’t making it hard to stop himself from doing just that.

She sensed his inner turmoil, his struggle; saw it in the way his jaw ticked, in the tight set of his mouth, in the way he clenched and unclenched his hands. She wished she could see it in the blue ocean of his eyes, too. Wished she could drown in them, in him. Wished she could feel his hands on her body, teaching her to please him, how to be a woman, his woman.

“’M sorry, love, I don’ think tha’s such a good idea.” He shook his head, hating himself when he saw the way her face fell… right before a resolved glint settled in the emerald depths and he braced himself for what might be coming. Whatever he thought she would say, though, it definitely wasn’t what he heard next.

“Oh, alright,” she said in a resigned tone, “If you don’t want to help me, I’m pretty sure your next door neighbor will be more than happy to. After all, Angel said he’d be home all week in case I got bored, didn’t he?” She managed to suppress her amused smile when she noticed the way his jaw clenched at the mention of the brunet, imagining the stormy blue his eyes must have turned into behind his sunglasses, before twirling on her heel and advancing towards the small gate that separated both properties.

Spike saw red when she reminded him of the worthless piece of shit that was his neighbor. Fucking Angel Fischer, the twenty five year old who collected women as others collected stamps, the man who’d leered at Buffy when they arrived home earlier that day, promptly offering to entertain her if she got bored with the company of an old man. Old man, he’d show him who was an old man and while he was at it, he’d show her, too.

She never heard him trailing after her, all she felt was being jerked by the arm in a one eighty to face one very irate looking Spike. His nostrils flared, his mouth set in a thin line, his body tense as he invaded her personal space and God, if his reaction didn’t make her want him more.

“Don’ you dare!” he gritted between clenched teeth.

“Don’t I dare… what? Ask Angel for help? It’s not my fault you didn’t want to apply sunscreen to me. I asked you first, remember?” she asked, raising one finely sculpted eyebrow at him. “You don’t care if I get sunburned.”

“Of course I bloody care.” More than you need to know. He passed his free hand over the back of his neck and sighed heavily. “Just give me the blasted sunscreen and I’ll put it on you, alright?”

“No,” she replied.

“What do you mean no? Wasn’t that what you wanted?”

“Well, yes, but you’re only doing it to appease me, not because you care whether or not I get burned,” she answered, her bottom lip jutting out slightly. She was well aware she was acting childishly, but she just loved seeing him squirm, making him react to her taunting.

He groaned, praying for patience as he closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see the lip. Bloody hell, if she only knew how much he wanted it, her. She was playing with fire and she was going to get burned with something hotter than just the sun if she wasn't careful.

Spike knew what he was about to do was not a good idea. In fact, it was downright idiotic. But if he gave in to what she wanted he wouldn’t have to see her lovely face upturned towards his, or the deep green pools he wanted to lose himself in. He wouldn’t have to think of how perfectly he knew she would fit in his arms, how much he wanted to say to hell with everything and teach her all those things her eyes were begging him to teach her.

He exhaled a heavy sigh, opening his eyes again, resigned to his fate. “Buffy, love, give me the sunscreen? I really don’t want you to get a sunburn, alright?”

“Yeah, okay,” she said, shrugging nonchalantly, while inside she was squeeing with joy. “Thank you, William.” Buffy smiled sweetly, handing him the bottle. “Hmmm, perhaps I should lay there? Give you more room to work?” She nodded towards the other chair, already moving towards it and bent over, waiting with bated breath for the moment in which his hands would make contact with her body.

Spike swallowed hard as his eyes traveled down her body, most of his blood rushing southwards as he focused on her… ahem, assets. Her position made the luscious curve of her delectable arse stand out a little more, the black scrap of fabric that barely covered it teasing him, making him want nothing more than to tear it from her body and have his wicked way with her. He wouldn’t, though. He couldn’t.

His hands shook as he squeezed a small amount of the sunblock in his palm and gritted his teeth, angry with his inability to get a hold of himself. He was a grown man for hell sakes, not some pimply teenager who had absolutely no fucking idea how to behave around a girl. It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d found himself in this situation. It was the first time with her, though. And he’d only been coveting her for what felt like forever.

She had to bite down a moan at the first hesitant touch of his hands as they slid across her shoulders, moving her hair to the side. God, this was even better than she expected, than she ever dreamed. But she needed to up the ante if she wanted his control to shatter.

“Wait, wait.” She sat on the chair, having found the perfect way to do just that.

“What now?”

“Well, since I’m already here I’m going to sunbathe, and I don’t want ugly bikini marks in my back, now do I?” She twisted her head to look back at him from over her shoulder and batted her eyelashes coquettishly at him. “Can you undo the knots of my bikini top, please?”

It was official; she was trying to kill him. If there was a wall nearby, he would be banging his head silly on it. How the bloody hell did he end up in this predicament? He knew he couldn’t say no, not after what happened before.

And what’s worse, she knew it, too.

She had to be aware she was tormenting him, at least to some degree. She was young and innocent, yes, but she was also a woman or on the verge of becoming one. A delicious young woman. He shook his head to clear it of his traitorous thoughts. Focus on the young part and forget about the rest and you’ll be fine, mate, he thought, steeling himself to do what she asked.

Easier said than done, though, since instead of reclining back on the chair as she should have, she remained seated, presenting him with her back.

His fingers were unsteady as he tried to undo the first knot, the one holding the two pieces of fabric around her neck. It took him longer than he anticipated, his eyes straying to her front where she was giving him a magnificent view of her glorious breasts encased in the black cloth and then something inside him snapped.

This was by far the biggest mistake he’d ever made in his life. He’d known it before and damnit if he didn’t realize it now. But even with that knowledge he couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t bring himself to care. Her skin felt like silk under his fingertips and he found himself drawn to it, to her, like a moth to the flame. He wanted nothing more than to be scorched by her fire as his lips finally made contact with her golden flesh.

She shivered at the sensation of his hot breath against her neck, of his hands lightly stroking her shoulders in tiny circles, and just about came out of her skin when she felt the softest of kisses placed on her shoulder, then across her shoulder blades and yet another to the nape of her neck.

She leaned back against him, the warmth of his body seeping into hers, the solid firmness of his chest pressed against her back as his hands trailed down her arms, his lips wreaking havoc on her senses as he kissed more of her neck, his scent—that undeniably male scent of his—permeating the air around them.

She moaned his name just as his fingers gripped her hips, tilting her head backwards to give him better access to her throat. One of her arms snaked up to tangle around his neck, bringing him even closer to her. He was driving her absolutely insane with the need to feel his mouth claiming hers; with the need to feel those sinfully soft lips learning all the secrets of her body, to feel his hands caressing her all over, to feel all of him against her entire body.

He was going to hell for this, for molesting an innocent girl, practically a child. But she didn’t feel like one. She felt like a woman, a very desirable woman who made him want things he had no business wanting, things he hadn’t experienced in years.

This wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all. He had to stop it, himself, before the biggest error he’d ever made turned into a disaster of monumental proportions. But then she breathed his name and he could care less over the consequences of his actions as he twirled her around to capture her lips in a searing kiss.

tbc

Chapter 2. Foreplay

She couldn’t believe this was happening. She felt his lips moving over hers, his teeth gently scraping her bottom lip, his strong hands cradling her cheeks as his tongue plundered her mouth and she still couldn’t believe it wasn’t a dream, a figment of her overactive imagination.

But it wasn’t.

No matter how vivid or graphic, no dream could ever replicate the reality of the feelings his kisses ignited in her. Never, not in a million years could she have imagined how his mouth would feel sliding against hers or how his touch inflamed her senses to the point where everything that wasn’t them disappeared into thin air.

Nothing could have prepared her for the way her blood turned into molten lava as it rushed through her veins, for the mad gallop of her heart or the burn of her lungs as lack of oxygen became an issue. She was adrift in a sea of sensations, completely lost to the yearning, the longing, the desire his caresses ignited in her in ways she never envisioned, never experienced before. None of her dreams, none of the movies she’d watched or the books she’d read could have prepared her for this… Nothing.

Not even the awkward position she was in, her head and torso twisted towards him while the rest of her faced away, prevented her from thoroughly enjoying the moment, committing every second of it to memory.

Of course, it would be much better if she could feel his lean, firm body pressed fully against hers, if she could slide her arms around his neck, if she could find inside herself the courage to respond to his caresses. But she was too afraid to move. Too afraid to breathe, gasp, moan or react to him in any way. Scared to death that if she did any of those things, it might break the enchantment and he would stop kissing her.

Nothing was further away from Spike’s mind than stopping what he’d started. However reticent he’d been of initiating anything with the beautiful blonde, how much he’d fought it, how wrong he’d thought this was or the qualms he had beforehand. Now that he finally had her in his arms, he could think of nothing else but how right this—she—felt.

The bloody sunglasses kept sliding down his nose, hindering his movements, getting in the way of kissing Buffy as he would’ve liked to. So with an impatient huff, he tore them off, carelessly throwing them to the side before continuing to bestow his attentions on his girl. Because she was just that, his, from now on until the day he drew his last breath, just as he was hers.

Needing to feel her, all of her against him, he somehow managed to pull her into his lap, turned her around until she straddled him. One of his hands wound through her damp golden locks, tugging on them to pull her head slightly backwards, his lips descending down the slender column of her throat, nibbling, sucking, biting at the tender skin, drinking every single drop of moisture that still clung to her flesh.

She couldn’t hold back from moaning his name, a shiver running down her back as he suckled then nipped at her neck, causing a flood of moisture to coat her already pool-water soaked bikini-bottoms as she squirmed against his hard length.

Her actions earned her a growl from him before he captured her mouth with his, lowering both his hands to cup the curve of her ass, digging his fingers into her flesh before pushing her down onto his groin as he thrust against her heated core.

Stars burst behind her closed eyelids as she allowed him to guide their movements, her fears long forgotten as she raised her arms to circle his neck, opening her mouth under his in a tremulous sigh.

Bloody hell but she was going to be the death of him… what a way to go, though.

He’d been fearful at first he was going to scare her with his ardor; she was only a seventeen year old girl, after all. An innocent girl at that, of this much he was certain. However, after a tentative start, not only had she responded fervently to him, to his advances, but matched them step for step, meeting him half-way as she offered all of herself to him.

And he intended to take everything she gave him… and then some.

Right now, the only thing he cared or could think about was her. He was drowning in her scent, in her flavor, in the little moans she sighed into his mouth, in the way she pressed herself against him as if she couldn’t get close enough to him. At least he hoped she couldn’t, because after this, after he had her, he wouldn’t be able to let her go. To hell with her parents, with the rest of the world, with his conscience, with everything that wasn’t her and him and this… whatever it was they were about to embark on.

She was burning him; even through the two layers of fabric that still separated them he could feel her heat singeing his length, making him wish they’d evaporate so he could bury himself balls deep inside her body. All in good time, though. First things first and all that rot. He was going to make it so good for her, teach her just how bloody perfect they would be together.

He slowly lowered her until she had her back to the chair, hovering over her as he settled between her heavenly thighs. His fingers ghosted over her face, down her throat, over her collarbone, teasing the underside of one breast before continuing its path downwards. So bloody gorgeous, she was, a dream come true.

Her eyes gleamed like incandescent emeralds, her pupils dilated with unfulfilled desire as they focused dazedly on him. So open, so trusting. Her lovely cheeks were flushed pink with her passion, her lips bee-stung from their kisses. An angel and a temptress, all rolled into one delicious package.

The way he was looking at her made her breath catch in her throat. There were so many emotions swirling in the beautiful blue orbs, and to her immense relief not one of them was regret.

“You’re so beautiful, love,” he whispered against her lips. “Do you know what you do to me? How bloody hard you make me?” He ground his erection against her mound, smirking when she arched towards him, mewling, her arms banding around his torso to pull him even closer. “Been tryin’ so hard to resist you… this. Tried to stay away from you, I did, but I can’, not anymore. Tell me you want this, love, that you want me, that you want to be mine. Tell me, Buffy.”

She remained silent for a few seconds while her thoughts ran amuck in her brain trying to catch up to his admission. He’d stayed away, stopped visiting all of a sudden because he wanted her? He said as much, said he couldn’t do it any longer, too. Could it be that he actually reciprocated her feelings, at least in part?

Yes, he did, it was there in his eyes, clear for her to see… to take, to have, she only needed to answer to him. “Yes, oh God, yes,” she said breathily. As if there could be any doubt about that. She was his, only his. Always had been. Mind, body and soul.

And then he kissed her again, deeply, passionately, his tongue sliding into her mouth, tangling with hers, swallowing her little cries and pants while his hands possessively roamed her body; discovering, mapping and claiming every crevice, every valley, every single inch of her.

He was having trouble controlling himself. Curbing his lust for her, his desire to just take what she so sweetly offered him, but he had to. He needed to have her, but he needed her to want it, too. To crave it, to make her long for his touch, for his mouth, for what his body could do to hers.

His fingers deftly moved the small black triangle of her bikini bra aside to worry her rosy tit with his teeth and tongue, licking, nipping and suckling on it while his other hand teased its twin, both of them hardening into tiny spikes of which he couldn’t get enough of.

William’s stubble lightly scratched the sensitized skin of her breasts then her abdomen as his mouth traveled southwards, planting wet kisses and small bites on its way down, licking her navel with his tongue, making her tremble and quiver as she tried to anticipate what his next move would be.

Spike shifted his body down the chair until he was eye-level with her bikini-bottoms, and after noticing the little bows holding it together on each side of her hips, he pulled on them until they fell away. Slowly, he peeled the fabric off her pussy to reveal her neatly shaven mound to his eager eyes.

He inhaled deeply, salivating both at her scent and the first sight of her plump, pink lips glistening with her arousal. He traced her slit with his index finger, up and down, down and up, coating it with her juices, separating her folds to circle her swollen clit lightly then more firmly, all the while gauging her every reaction to his ministrations.

She had her eyes closed, her head thrown backwards as she cooed her approval at his actions… which caused him to frown. That wouldn’t do. That wouldn’t do at all. He wanted her to watch everything he did to her, to realize it was him showing her the ways of pleasure, not bloody Angel Fischer or any other sodding fop who came sniffing at her ankles. Him, and no one else. He needed to see her eyes widen with each new bolt of desire that wracked her petite frame, see them darken with lust whenever he did something she particularly enjoyed. He wanted to lose himself in her and wanted her to lose herself in him. Nothing more, nothing less.

And he knew exactly what he needed to do to achieve his goal.

She was floating in a state of pure bliss. Completely lost in the sinful things he was doing to her body, in the wondrous feelings his touch elicited. Her hands clawed at the chair, trying to find purchase as she arched against his fingers. Something pulsed deep inside her womb, coiling, tightening and clenching, bringing her closer to the edge of madness, something primal, something raw that made her ache for, for… she wasn’t sure what.

She heard him whisper her name and fought against the fog that clouded her senses to respond, to open her heavy lidded eyes and settle them on him.

“There you are,” he said, smiling at her. “Thought I’d lost you for a second there.”

Lost her? Not if she had any say in the matter.

“I want you to watch me, love.” His fingers gently grazed the inside of her thighs, his warm breath tickling her folds and she closed her eyes in rapture at how wonderful it—he—felt, only to shoot them open the next second when he pinched her lightly to gain her attention once again and demand, “No, don’ close ‘em. I want you to look at me, watch what ’m about to do to you.”

Huh? What on earth did he mean by tha— Oh God, oh God, oh GOD!

Her hands flew to his head, her intention to push him away, to keep him from doing the very… intimate thing he was about to do to her. But she couldn’t, her treacherous fingers pulling him closer instead as his tongue swirled then curled around her distended nub, a husky moan rasping her throat as her eyes locked with his.

He loved the way she tasted. Tangy and sweet blending to create an intoxicating elixir, one he couldn’t get enough of as he lapped at her essence, getting drunk on it, off it. And he loved how her hands tangled in his hair, mussing it as she pulled him closer to her center. How she lifted her hips slightly to meet his mouth. How her scent filled his nostrils. But above all, he loved the way she was looking at him now.

Those gorgeous green eyes of hers were going to be his perdition. Intense, piercing, and yet so innocent as she kept them trained on him, her eyelids fluttering but never closing as per his request.

He sucked her clit into his mouth, nursing on the hardened nub while his index finger circled her entrance, pushing it in a little ways, feeling her walls contract and pulse around it. In and out, once, twice… He added another finger, then another, stretching her, preparing her for him.

Christ but she was so tight, felt so bloody good as her muscles clenched around his digits, coating them with her honey. And then he felt it, his cock filling and hardening to unbearable proportions as the small membrane that guarded her virgin channel impeded his fingers from advancing any further inside her body.

His head jerked up to look at her questioningly. “Pet?” He’d hoped, prayed she was untouched, but hadn’t wanted to assume. But now… now that he knew she was, the need to claim her as his once and for all swelled inside him to the bursting point, though he needed to know something first.

She almost screamed her frustration when he suddenly stopped what he was doing. She was close, so close. She’d felt it coiling deep within her womb, begging to be released and then… nothing. Why the hell did he stop? Had he… Oh no, what if he decided this shouldn’t happen? What would she do then? She’d never be able to face him again if he rejected her. Never…

“Buffy, love?” he insisted, his voice finally piercing through her muddled thoughts.

She shook her head, a resigned look in her eyes. “No, please, don’t say it.” Don’t crush my hopes completely… please.

“Don’ say it? Don’t say what?” He stayed right where he was; he had no intention of leaving his girl wanting.

Buffy sighed, closing her eyes and saying in a small voice, “What you were going to say. That this is a mistake… that we can’t do this.”

He chuckled then and she opened her eyes, narrowing them at him. “What? It’s not enough to reject me, now you have to laugh at me, too?” She pouted.

“Nothing further from my mind, sweetheart.” He placed a kiss on her mound. “Bloody addicted to you already, I truly am. Not stopping, just wanna know why?”

He wasn’t going to stop? “W-why?”

“Why am I the lucky bloke that’ll have the pleasure of being your first?” Your only, if it’s up to me.

She blinked. How did he know? “I-I, well,” she started shakily, lowering her head before whispering, “I’ve been… saving myself for you.” There, she said it, and now she wanted nothing more than the earth to open and swallow her whole. She brought her hands up with the intention to cover her flaming face but William captured them in his before she did.

What? He barely heard the muffled words, let alone make out anything of what she said. So he brought her hands to his mouth to kiss her knuckles before giving her a reassuring smile. “Try again? Maybe a bit louder this time?”

She took in a deep breath and staring directly into his bluer than blue eyes, she repeated, “I’ve been saving myself… for you.”

tbc

Chapter 3. Falling Into You

She took in a deep breath and staring directly into his bluer than blue eyes, repeated, “I’ve been saving myself… for you.”

Spike stared at her unblinking with his mouth slightly agape. Of all the possibilities that ran through his head from the moment he discovered she was a virgin on—which in all honesty had ranged from the mundane to the absurd and everything in between—that one had been the only one he hadn’t contemplated. And the only one capable of bringing him down to his knees. Even more so than he was already.

Buffy’d been saving herself for him. Him, not bloody Angel Fischer or any other sodding fop who might have been panting after her for that matter. Him. The mere thought that this might be more to her than just testing her womanly wiles over men made him feel humble, powerful, ashamed and proud, all at the same time. A myriad of conflicting emotions swelled up inside of him making his head spin at the way this tiny slip of a girl had wormed herself into his life, into his heart.

He didn’t deserve her by any means, but was selfish enough not to care. Not right now at least.

She squirmed under the weight of his azure gaze. He had yet to say anything, gawking up at her with those unfathomable blue eyes of his that revealed nothing of his thoughts. Buffy held her breath as she waited, her heart hammering wildly, her blush spreading from her cheeks to stain her face, neck and the top of her chest. The longer it took him to react, the more self-conscious she became of her partial nudity. If one could really call partial having only her bikini top bunched underneath her breasts. She had absolutely no idea what he’d done with the bottom part after he untied it; the only thing she knew was that it wasn’t anywhere near her body anymore.

God, she was just going to die if he didn’t say something soon.

She wiggled again and that was enough to shake him out of his stupor, a decidedly predatory smirk drawing on his face as he prowled up her body, his mind set on making this girl fully his before she changed her mind. Before whoever deemed him worthy of a gift like the one she’d just bestowed on him realized their mistake and took it away.

“Say it again,” he demanded in a husky whisper, hovering over her, leaning down to steal a kiss from her lips, then another. “Tell me you’re mine. Tell me, love.”

Relief washed over her at his words and his actions. Fairly confident now that he wasn’t going to stop even after realizing she was a virgin—which she’d feared he’d do—she brought her hand up to caress his cheek, looking deeply into his eyes. “I’m yours.” For as long as you want me, for as long as you’ll have me, for as long as I live, she avowed to herself.

He might think she was young, naive, innocent, inexperienced, all of the above, but she knew what she wanted, needed, yearned for and it was him. It’d always been him and she was certain that wouldn’t change no matter what.

Especially not now when all she’d wished for seemed about to come to fruition.

He captured her mouth with his, swallowing her sweet declaration, plundering into her moist haven with his tongue, with his teeth, claiming every little bit of her for himself he could reach. One of his hands tangled into her silky hair, the other cupping her jaw, angling her head to the side as he stole her breath away with his kisses.

She tasted herself on his lips; her flavor blending tantalizingly with his and contrary to what she expected it just drove her wilder. Heat flared deeply inside of her as she brought her leg up and curled it around his strong thigh, her foot sliding up and down sensuously over his calf as he thrust his throbbing member against her mound.

He was dangerously close to losing every shred of self-control he still clung to when she pleadingly whispered his name while rubbing herself wantonly against him, driving him absolutely insane with need. Almost making him forget he wanted to make this the most memorable experience of her short life. He wanted this… whatever it was they had, to be something she’d never forget, something she’d look back on and never regret.

The grueling midday sun making contact with his back reminded him of something he might regret if he didn’t move them elsewhere. Getting sun burnt was not in his plans for today.

Buffy whimpered her disapproval when William untangled her legs and arms from around him, before straightening and pulling her up with him.

“Why did you stop?” she pouted. “Stopping’s bad.”

He chuckled. She was too bloody adorable for words. “Oh pouty, look at that lip, gonna get it. Gonna get it,” he murmured, sweeping down to nibble on it for only a second, forcing himself to stop before things got out of hand again.

She frowned when instead of kissing her again he neared the other chair. She had no idea what he was up to, but was unable to stop her eyes from raking down his lithe, toned body in the meantime. It wasn’t often that she had the chance to inspect him unimpeded and she reveled on the chance, on the broadness of his shoulders, the powerful glide of the muscles of his back, the firmness of his ass as the black fabric of his swimming trunks tightened against it when he bent over to grab a couple of large, fluffy towels. She brought her hand up to her mouth, certain she had to be drooling. That was so not the body of a thirty eight old.

So engrossed was she on her perusal of him that she barely noticed he’d laid the towels down under the shade of a huge oak tree or that she was standing there watching him while she was almost completely nude. In fact, it wasn’t until he cleared his throat a few times that she managed to pull herself out of her lust-induced haze, gulping when William beckoned her with a crooked finger and the devilish smirk she couldn’t get enough of, that she made a token effort to cover herself only to stop at his growl and the way his eyes flashed with a blend of annoyance and amusement that only he could pull off.

With slightly wobbly knees, she advanced towards him. Her heart was beating so hard, she was certain it would escape from her chest. It wasn’t like she could deny him anything he asked of her though, no matter how scared she might be of what was coming. Especially not when she’d been waiting for this to happen, for him to notice her and make her dreams come true.

Sure, she’d planned on… seducing him, drive him crazy. Prepared herself for it, asked all kinds of questions and sought advice from her more experienced friends, read every magazine and article on sex she could get her hands on. But this, being here with William, there was no way she could have prepared herself for it. She was scared out of her mind, of not being enough for him, of being too young, too inexperienced. She was afraid he would realize this was not what he wanted and leave her alone to pick up the shattered pieces of her heart.

Every time he stopped, every instant he wasn’t kissing her, every moment he was not within reach of her fingertips, she feared she would wake up and realize this was nothing but a fantasy.

A wonderful, magical dream, but nothing more than that.

And then he was kissing her again, his hands eagerly caressing every inch of her overheated flesh he could reach as he made quick work of her bikini top, flinging it to the side and she could care less if it were a dream, a fantasy or a figment of her overactive imagination as long as it never ended.

She was a vision, a study in perfection as she neared him. Her skin was the color of liquid gold, her face that of an angel and her body just about as tempting as the original sin, calling to him, daring him to take what she so sweetly offered. He sensed her apprehension, the trepidation coming off her in waves and hoped against hope that she wasn’t already regretting her decision of giving herself to an old man like him. Not that he would allow her to. He couldn’t, not now, not ever.

Spike groaned when instead of retreating, she relaxed against him, her mouth opening under his passionate onslaught, her tongue peeking out to play with his as he walked them backwards until he felt the terrycloth fabric underneath his feet. With the utmost care, he lowered them onto the deep blue beach towels, his upper body lying on top of hers, without stopping their kiss for even a second.

With some difficulty, she opened her heavy-lidded eyes and brought her hand up to caress his jaw, needing to touch him, to see him, to reassure herself he was truly there with her. Only to drown in an ocean of endless blue when she found he had his gaze fixed on her as well and she gasped in awe at the adoration, the desire, the need swirling amidst the cerulean orbs.

He couldn’t get enough of her, of her luscious mouth, her scent, the way she was looking at him right now. With such wonder, such amazement filling the emerald green depths that he wished he could capture this moment forever, freeze it in time so he could relive it over and over again.

His lips abandoned hers to nibble their way down her throat, licking then sucking on her pulse point until a small purple blemish marred the golden flesh, marking her, branding her as his.

Buffy arched her back as he adorned her shoulders with little nips and moist kisses, his hands coasting the underside of her breasts in small concentric circles, sweeping upwards until he had a firm, perky mound in each hand, flicking his thumb over one nipple as he took the other into his mouth, teasing them into tiny spears. She could feel every tug, every pull of his lips all the way down to her toes and back up to converge in her center, a gush of liquid need coating her womanly folds.

Her tiny hands traveled up and down the naked expanse of his back, threading into his hair, her fingers sorting through the curls on the top of his head as she pressed herself closer to him. Her fingernails left small crescent indentations which made him hiss in pained pleasure as she mapped her way down to his hips and the curve of his ass, barely dipping them beneath the elastic waistline of his trunks before starting their agonizing trek upwards all over again.

She needed to feel his weight crushing her into the soft makeshift bed, savor the way his body fit hers oh so perfectly and that gave her the strength to pull on him until he laid fully on top of her, his hips nestled between her thighs as she opened them wider to accommodate him.

He was surprised by her move, but not displeased; not in the slightest. If anything, her eagerness fueled his hunger for her to unbearable levels, his need almost overwhelming as the wet heat from her cunny scorched him through the black cloth that still separated them. It would be so easy to tear it apart and just take her, plunder into her snug channel and steal her virginity away.

So very easy.

But that was not the way he wanted to do this, it wasn’t the way she deserved her first time to be. He wanted to worship her, revere her body with his mouth and hands, show her paradise, teach her how it could be between a man and a woman who… cared deeply for one another.

He could fall for her so effortlessly. Hell, he was halfway there already if not more. He adored everything about her, had for years, even before he started noticing her as a woman. No, not a woman, he shouldn’t fool himself about that. Buffy was a girl on the verge of womanhood and he was a monster for taking advantage of her innocence. Yet even knowing this, he couldn’t stop himself from taking what he wanted, what they both so obviously needed from the other.

He took one rosy tit into his mouth, suckling on it then swirling his tongue around the hardened bud. One of his hands snaked down her belly towards her mound, his fingers itching to bury themselves in her sweet quim, to feel her tight walls quivering around them.

She cried out in surprise when he bit down on her nipple at the same time his fingers dipped between her folds, teasing her entrance then circling her clit softly before applying more pressure, making her buck against his hand, moaning and panting and gasping while trying not to close her eyes, not to miss a second of the sinful things he was doing to her.

“You’re so delicious, pet. Every little piece of you is. Can’ get enough,” he purred, kissing his way down her stomach, touching, savoring every inch of her flesh he encountered on his way.

Her arousal filled his nostrils when he was finally eyelevel with her pussy, her labia glistening with her juices and he was already salivating when he parted her nether lips with his fingers and lapped at her slit, her flavor exploding on his taste buds and making him ravenous for more.

“You’re so wet, taste so good. Is this all for me, love?” He didn’t wait for an answer, diving in to swirl his tongue around her engorged nubbin, humming his approval when her fingers knotted into his hair and she began grinding her sex against his face.

He grabbed her by the back of her thighs, flinging her legs over his shoulders and tugging her even closer to his mouth, devouring her with gusto, drinking every single drop of her intoxicating nectar. Bloody addicting, that’s what she was.

Buffy arched against him, silently begging him to give her more, to give her all he had to give. She was so on edge, every nerve in her body screaming for something she’d never experienced, but that was there coiling, twirling deep inside her womb waiting to be released.

One long finger entered her as he sucked on her clit, then another, her fluttering walls contracting against them as he moved them in and out of her, mindful of not tearing through her hymen… yet. He added a third digit, preparing her, stretching her, readying her to receive him inside her body.

Hurting her was inevitable; he knew that. Still, he would make damn sure pleasure overshadowed any pain she might suffer.

She shivered when his teeth grazed her sensitized flesh and that was all it took for her to fall, to tumble down into the unknown, completely lost to the wonderful sensations coursing through her body, stars bursting behind closed lids as she moaned out his name in pure bliss.

He didn’t give her time to recover or the chance to change her mind, pushing his swim trunks down his hips and climbing over her in one swift move. He shuddered and gritted his teeth at the first blast of her wet heat on his cock while trying to get a hold himself, to stop from shooting off like a bloody rocket.

“Are you sure this is what you want, sweetheart?” he heard himself ask right before he was about to thrust into her. Idiot. He wanted to bang his head repeatedly against the ground. He was a sodding idiot; there was no doubt about it. Why the hell had he asked? He knew why of course, it was the guilt which was eating him from the inside. He had to give her an out, the option to say no one last time before it was too late, even if it killed him.

“Y-yes,” she stuttered, her eyes wide and trusting, swallowing past the lump of fear in her throat. “Yes. There’s nothing I want more. Please, William.”

He should have stopped then. No matter how much they both wanted this, it was wrong. But how could it be wrong when it felt so… right, when she fitted him so perfectly. He was tired of fighting this, of fighting her.

“There’s no goin’ back after this, Buffy,” he declared in a grave tone, trying to make her see what she was getting herself into.

Oh God, how could he say that when he was poised at her entrance, ready to give her what she’d craved for, for years? She licked her parched lips, her hands coming up cradle his cheeks, bringing his head down to claim his lips in a kiss so soft, so tender, so… loving. A kiss through which she gave all of herself to him, through which she tried to convey all she felt for him, how much she wanted to belong to him.

“I know, I swear I do,” she said in earnest, looking deeply into his eyes. There had been no going back for her before, no one else for her but him. She wanted, needed to be his in every sense of the word. “M-make me yours, William.”

He gulped… hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, his hips moving of their own volition against her, his hard shaft gliding to and fro along her folds, coating it with her juices. Spike relished the way she wrapped her arms and legs around his torso and hips, the way she writhed against him when he led the head of his penis to her entrance, easing slowly, oh so very slowly into her vaginal passage until he reached the point of no return.

“This might sting a little, love.” He winced at the mere thought of hurting the lovely creature in his arms, but Christ, he’d waited too fucking long already. His mouth crashed down upon hers entangling her in a passionate kiss, swallowing her cry of distress when his cock finally breached through the thin membrane and claimed her virginity for himself, stopping only when he was as deep inside her as he could possibly be.

A few tears escaped from behind her closed eyelids, the pain almost too much for her to bear as she buried her fingernails into his arms, so hard they broke through his flesh. He kissed her tears away, her face, all the while whispering how beautiful she was, how long he’d wanted her and little by little, she relaxed. Gradually, her pain gave way to a sense of wonderment, of completeness, of belonging she’d never felt before.

Buffy started kissing him back, her arms banding around him, arching her back so her breasts were pressed against his chest, her skin tingling deliciously everywhere it made contact with his, pulling him closer as her hands skimmed up and down his strong back. The sensation of being one with him enough to rekindle the molten fire that had been blazing, coursing through her veins only a few minutes before and that ebbed only slightly after her orgasm.

Spike’s fingers dug into her luscious, firm arse, tilting her pelvis upwards while he leisurely slid in and out of her delectable pussy, his blood roaring in his ears as he tried to keep things nice and slow while she got used to having him inside her. And then, she began moving her hips to meet his every stroke, pushing against him as he pulled back, harder and faster, giving as good as she got, following his lead, almost making him lose his head as she squeezed the hell out of his prick.

He’d planned to savor this moment, make it last, but the way she responded to him was making it damn difficult for him to concentrate on anything else but how much he wanted to fill her with his cum.

His lips left hers to allow her to catch her breath, licking and sucking and biting down her neck, focusing on the small love bite he’d gave her before latching on her juicy tit. He relished in every shudder, every rush that went through her body, the way her passage massaged his cock with those heavenly muscles of hers.

He snaked a hand between their joined bodies, unerringly finding and rubbing her distended nubbin. He twisted his hips with each stroke, angling his cock in his search of that elusive spot inside her that would push her over the edge. He knew when he found it, her already slick channel becoming slicker and tighter, her hold on his throbbing member almost agonizing as he tried to stave off his orgasm.

“So good, love. You feel so bloody good surroundin’ me, drenchin’ me, scorchin’ me. You’re close, aren’ you, sweetheart? I can feel your li’l walls quiver and tremble all around me …”

She nodded, moaning and biting on her tongue, trying to refrain from saying anything else, fearing if she did she would end up saying more than she should and then it would be over.

Feelings, sensations bubbled inside of her, threatening to overwhelm her as wave after wave of mind-numbing pleasure encompassed her, his words, the passion he bestowed upon her, the way he made her fully his making her explode in a kaleidoscope of colors and emotions the likes of which she never imagined to experience.

He tried to hang on to the tenuous thread of his control, tried and failed as her inner walls strangled his dick, her essence burning him, making him hers, body, heart and soul as he roared his release while thrusting as deeply inside her as he could, collapsing on top of her in a tangle of limbs.

Spike rolled onto his back trying to catch his breath and pulled her into his arms until she was half-lying on top of him and it was then that he noticed the damp patch she left on his thigh. Banging his head on the ground repeatedly as he berated himself for forgetting about protection, he brought his arm up to cover his eyes as he swallowed.

Bloody hell! What the fuck was he going to tell her now?

tbc

Previously in Dare to Dance…

Spike rolled onto his back trying to catch his breath and pulled her into his arms until she was half-lying on top of him and it was then that he noticed the damp patch she left on his thigh. Banging his head on the ground repeatedly as he berated himself for forgetting about protection, he brought his arm up to cover his eyes as he swallowed.

Bloody hell! What the fuck was he going to tell her now?

Chapter 4. Rising Storm

Bloody hell! What the fuck was he going to tell her now? Sorry, pet, but I was too bleedin’ caught up in the moment to remember about protection? He had the feeling that wouldn’t go well.

He should’ve known better. Hell, he did know better. He was fucking thirty-eight, not a simpering teenager for hell’s sakes!

Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!

The whole situation had disaster written all over it. Not only did he take advantage of his best friends’ seventeen year old daughter, who they had entrusted into his care, he’d also exposed her to the probability of an unplanned pregnancy.

It didn't matter that Buffy had been a willing participant in their little tryst. Nor did it matter that every little thing she did drove him insane with lust until he couldn’t think straight anymore. Nothing else mattered but the knowledge he'd botched things up in the worst of ways.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Buffy slowly came down from her high to notice William banging his head on the ground. The muscle ticking in his jaw was the only thing she saw of his face since he had covered his eyes with his forearm and his whole body went tense under hers. His distress was obvious, even for someone as inexperienced as she. And the cause of it was quite clear, too.

He regretted what happened between them.

Biting her lower lip in an attempt to hold the tears at bay prickling the back of her eyes, she tried to scramble off his body. Tried and failed because all too soon, she found herself flat on her back with William hovering above her, his sapphire gaze, stormy and intense as it searched for God knew what in her face.

“Where do you think you're goin’?”

“I-I,” she stuttered, closing her eyes and turning her head to the side to avoid looking at him, a lone tear slipping from under her thick lashes. “Let me up, please?”

He caught the stray tear with his thumb, caressing her cheek softly, and her heart nearly broke at his tenderness. “Not until you tell me what’s wron’, love.”

“Nothing,” she replied stubbornly.

“Did I hurt you, is that why you’re cryin’?”

Yes, he did hurt her. She sighed miserably as she closed her eyes even tighter, but she had the feeling he meant physically, not emotionally. While there had been some mild discomfort at first, and though she felt slightly sore now, any physical pain had been short-lived against the wonderment of being one with William. Cliché? Probably, but she hadn’t cared because she thought they were on the same page, that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

Emotionally, however, was another matter altogether. Hurt didn’t begin to cover how she felt right now. She was crushed, devastated, mortified and above all, humiliated. And if that wasn’t enough, the only thing she wanted to do right now was the one thing he wasn’t allowing her to.

Escape. Run away. Hide in her room until it was time for her parents to pick her up. Or better yet, call one of her friends and beg them to let her stay at their house for the duration of her parents’ trip.

She wanted to be anywhere that meant not having to face William right now, or in the next fifty to sixty years for that matter. That meant not having to feel his lean, muscled body against hers and knowing this might be the last, the only time she ever did. That meant opening her eyes and dying a little inside as she read the regret that would surely be written in his azure gaze.

Those thoughts gave her the strength she needed to push him away, to stand on not so steady legs and run towards the house, uncaring of her nudity, or of William calling after her.

Blinded by the tears that were now falling freely down her cheeks, she stumbled as she went through the huge French doors and into the house, running, pushing herself to the limit when she heard his heavy footsteps coming closer.

He nearly caught up with her in the corridor that led to her room, but a rush of adrenaline came to her aid and she managed to get inside and lock the door before he could block her entrance.

She reclined against the heavy, oak wood; grateful it was holding her up as she breathed in harshly through her sobs, her lungs demanding oxygen after her sprint. Grateful it dulled William’s knocks and pleas for her to let him in. Grateful she couldn’t see him, or him her.

Buffy slid down to the floor, pulling her knees up, hugging them tightly against her chest before placing her head on them and crying her eyes out for what could’ve been. Crying until she had no more tears, mourning the loss of her dreams, of her innocence, but above all, for having lost him, even if she never really had him.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

She wasn’t certain how long she remained on the floor. Seconds, minutes, hours, days? Time had ceased to exist for her. She felt as if she were in limbo, blissfully numb and detached.

Mechanically, she rose to her feet and walked towards the bathroom, stepping into the shower and turning the hot faucet on full blast, washing the remnants of her idiocy down the drain as she scrubbed her skin until it was nearly raw.

Now she was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, after cleaning the steam from the shower with a towel, observing the image reflected there critically. Other than her eyes being puffy and red after her cry-fest, she didn’t look all that different. She felt different, though. Older, but definitely not wiser.

Trying to keep her mind from straying to William and her gloomy thoughts regarding him, she focused on combing the tangles out of her hair and blow drying it until it fell in a lustrous curtain past her shoulders and down her back. She then applied some Visine to soothe her irritated eyes, flesh-tone concealer underneath them to make them appear less puffy and covered the redness of her nose as well as the hickey on her throat, though she wasn’t completely happy with the less than stellar results. Oh well, there was only so much she could do about the haunted, dull look to her face, and it wasn’t as if she needed to impress anyone anymore.

She returned to her room, put on her underwear and sighed dejectedly as she looked in her closet for something to wear. Everything she brought with her had been with seduction in mind and now she was hard-pressed to find something that actually covered enough of her.

Finally, she decided on a pair of denim shorts and a sleeveless, form-fitting red turtleneck top that showcased her slim torso and the curve of her breasts, but at least it covered more than the rest of her outfits would have. Not like she was planning on anyone seeing her if she could help it. Her plan was to stay in her room for as long as she could and when she was certain he wasn’t around, she would sneak out of the house. A foolproof plan, or so she hoped.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Spike stayed outside her door for a good half an hour, his heart breaking as he heard the muffled sobs through the solid oak, until he finally gave up and went to his room to shower and change.

If it were up to him, he would’ve busted the door down—and probably break more than a few bones in the process—or used his key to open the blasted thing and make her listen to him, make her tell him what he could do to make it better.

Make it better, he chuckled humorlessly. Yeah, right! Make things sodding worse, was more like it.

He had the sneaking suspicion if he had given in to his impulses and done any of that, she never would have forgiven him. Not only for invading her privacy, but for not giving her the space she obviously needed after what happened.

Hadn’t he done more than enough damage for one day, anyway? Bloody hell, he’d probably done more than enough damage for a few lifetimes as it was. Not only did he steal her virginity, but mucked things up by forgetting about protection. Not to mention he still wasn’t certain what was it that had caused her earlier escape. If he’d hurt her… he would never forgive himself.

Argh, he hated this! He ran his hands through his already mussed hair as he stole another glance at the empty hallway that led to Buffy’s room. He’d been pacing the length of the living room for over an hour now, driving himself crazy with guilt while waiting for her to make an appearance.

She wouldn’t stay in her room all day just to avoid him, would she?

Bleeding Christ. He hated feeling so… impotent, knowing she was so close and yet so far away. Hated how he’d fucked things up because he couldn’t keep his bloody hands off her. Hated that he made her cry, not having a fucking clue as to what to do to solve this mess.

He needed to talk to her, she deserved to know how royally he’d screwed things up, and because of that screw up, they now had to deal with the consequences of his actions, discuss their options and decide on what to do next.

Fifteen minutes. He would give her fifteen more minutes, and if she didn’t come out by then, he would go into her room, like it or not.

He heard the doorbell chime just then and frowned. Who the hell could it be? It wasn’t like he was expecting anyone.

Spike crossed to the door and opened it, his frown deepening into a foreboding scowl when he saw tall, dark and forehead standing on the other side of the door. He rose to his full height and blocked the brunet’s view of the inside of his house.

“Hello, is Buffy home?” Angel asked, seemingly nonplussed by Spike’s posture.

“What the hell do you want with her?”

The other man chuckled, evidently amused by his jealous tone and completely uncaring of how close he was to being throttled. “Down, man. I just came to invite her to a pool party at my house.”

“She’s not going to any party at your house, or anyone else’s for that matter,” Spike growled, his hands fisting at his side.

“Actually, she can decide for herself, thank you very much, and of course, I’ll be happy to go with you, Angel,” Buffy said from behind Spike, making him turn around so quickly he nearly got whiplash.

She was there, looking just about as beautiful as she had before even with slightly puffy eyes that refused to make contact with his. “Just give me a sec to change,” she said, continuing to ignore him.

“There’s no need to, you’re perfect as you are,” the other man replied smoothly, leering at her in a way that made Spike want to punch the daylights out of him for moving in on his territory.

Only the girl wasn’t his exactly, now was she? And that was precisely why she was leaving now with his wanker of a neighbor without so much as a backward glance towards him.

That hurt… more than he refused to admit. He wanted her to at least acknowledge him. She didn’t, of course, but sodding Angel Fischer did, and there was no bloody mistaking the triumphant look he threw Spike over his shoulder as he led Buffy down the graveled path towards his house.

tbc

Chapter 5. Eye of the Storm

Spike watched Buffy… and Angel—the pompous git—until they disappeared from his sight, waiting in vain for her to turn around and look at him, acknowledge his presence in some small way. She didn't, and it stung. More so as he stood there waiting for her to come back, apologize for walking out on him, let him apologize for hurting her…

His hands fisted at his sides as he tried not to give in to old impulses.

Impulses which were currently asking him what the fuck he was doing by letting his girl leave with that sorry, pathetic excuse for a human being. Which were demanding he go crash the damn party, who cared what anyone else might think about it, and bring her back home with him, kicking and screaming if need be.

Kicking and screaming would beat her acting aloof any time of the day. At least then, he’d know how to respond.

Although, giving in to his urges was precisely how they ended up in this bleeding predicament, wasn’t it? He’d given in to his desires and now the girl wouldn’t even look at him. Not like he could blame her, really. He’d forgotten everything but the need to have her after she told him she’d been saving herself for him.

He could’ve sworn she was right there with him, too, right up until the point where he came to his senses and started berating himself for…

Oh, fuck!

He thought back to the moment when the enormity of his mistake dawned upon him, to the moment when it had all gone to hell in a hand basket. Buffy had been warm and soft against him… until he started banging his head on the ground lost in his own guilt, then she tensed up and started to fight him. Doing everything she could to get away from him as quickly as possible, locking herself inside her room and forcing him to listen to her crying from the hallway where he couldn’t do anything about it.

Could it really be that simple?

Yes. It fucking could be! Hadn’t he wanted reassurance from her just now? Hadn’t he needed her to look at him and tell him they could untangle the mess he’d made?

Bloody hell! Why couldn’t he see before it had to be the same for her as it was for him? She probably thought he regretted what happened between them when that had been the last thing on his mind. Christ, could he be any more of an insensitive prick?

And now she was with that pillock Angel Fischer, in his sodding house, because of his stupidity.

Not for long, though.

He would go there, bring her back to the house and make her bloody listen to him, even if he had to chain and gag her to get her to do it.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Buffy had been at the party for all of fifteen minutes and was already bored out of her mind. It was blatantly obvious she had little in common with any of the other attendants… or with Angel, for that matter.

And she couldn’t stop thanking her lucky stars for that.

The women were more concerned with showing off their surgically-enhanced attributes than talking with her. Not that she wanted to talk to them, anyway. Holding a conversation with those girls would only make her want her to drive a stake through her heart or better yet, through theirs. It really wouldn’t be that much of a loss, in her opinion.

The guys… they didn’t seem much more mature than the boys she went to high school with, but at least the latter had the excuse they were still teenagers to behave like they did. What excuse did these guys have?

Getting drunk and getting the dumb bimbos drunker seemed the order of the day, and not for the first time since they got here, she wondered if she wouldn’t be better off braving being in the same house as William than enduring this. Especially when Angel joined her on the small swing bench she was currently occupying and handed her a beer before throwing his arm proprietarily around her, sending his friends what he thought to be a covert smile.

She would’ve flung his arm off of her and thrown the beer in his smirking face before going back to William’s house in a huff—to hell with what she might have to deal with when she got there—if it hadn’t been for the shock of white blond hair she caught sight of out the corner of her eye.

He’d come for her! William had come for her!

Hope flared inside her that he might actually care for her, might actually want to be with her, and she was about to get up from the chair to go meet him when she felt Angel’s hold on her tighten and his lips skim down her cheek towards her mouth.

She didn’t have time to blink, let alone do something to stop the brunet’s advances, because the next thing she knew, she heard a thundering roar and then Angel wasn’t there on the bench with her anymore.

As if she were dreaming, she saw William haul the taller man off the bench almost effortlessly and with much more strength than she would’ve credited him for, throwing him to the ground where he landed with a sickening thud and a cry of pain, clutching his arm.

The platinum blond wore such a foreboding, dangerous expression on his face as he towered over Angel that she couldn’t stop the shiver of desire that ran unbidden through her. It was so not the time for this, she knew, but she couldn’t help herself. He’d come for her!

“Don’ even think of touchin’ her again, you stupid, soddin’ wanker. Matter of fact, don’ look at her, or come callin’ for her, because next time I swear I won’ be so lenient,” he growled right in the other man’s face, an ugly sneer transforming his handsome features when the brunet cowered in fear, wincing in pain when the older man closed his hand around his injured forearm, squeezing it tightly. “Understood?”

He waited for Angel to nod and then added with an evil smirk, “An’ don’ even think of pressin’ charges agains’ me, boy. You an’ I both know who’d end up with the worst part of the deal, don’ we?”

The way the dark-haired man’s eyes widened in terror would’ve been funny if William hadn’t released him in that moment to pin her with a glowering, possessive glare that made her grow weak in the knees and her pulse skyrocket to the stratosphere as he advanced towards her.

He didn’t say a word, just grabbed her by the arm and led her back to the house, Buffy almost having to run as she tried to keep up with him.

Was it sick that his caveman attitude was turning her on? Because right now, she didn’t care if it was.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They barely made it into the house before William had her pressed against the door, claiming her mouth in a bruising kiss that robbed her of what little breath she still had left. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once, tunneling inside her hair, charting down her back to haul her legs up around his waist, molding her to his body, sliding under her top and pushing it up to cup her breasts through her bra.

Buffy moaned into his mouth when his deft fingers moved the lacey fabric away to pinch and rub her nipples, electricity coursing through her body as she writhed under his touch.

She felt lightheaded, dizzy with need, with relief that he still wanted her, that he’d come for her, that he was kissing her within an inch of her life, almost as if he were marking her, branding her with every tantalizing caress.

Spike doctored her jaw with little nips and nibbles, his mouth traveling down the golden column of her throat, moving the cotton of her blouse out of the way until it wouldn’t move any further down and practically tearing it off her body so he could have access to the satiny smoothness of her flesh.

Their eyes collided as the fabric fell away, hers filled with the intense passion he knew was reflected in his, but there was something else in the emerald gaze that lent him pause… trust. The haze of lust, the overwhelming need to possess her lifted slightly as he realized they needed to talk, now… or they would end up with a repeat performance of that morning.

It wasn’t easy to rein in his desire, not when he had her half-naked, soft, warm and pliant in his arms, but he bloody had to. No, he needed to.

He couldn’t get enough of her, suspected he never would, and no matter what the future might bring, if he wanted them to have a shot at it, they needed to set things straight, now. Before things got out of hand… again.

“We need to talk, love,” he said.

tbc

Chapter 6. Questions, Answers and Consequences

“We need to talk, love,” William said, lowering her feet to the floor and taking a step back from her, even though he kept his hands around her waist for a second.

She blinked, trying to make sense of his words. He wanted to talk… now? Why? Did he regret this moment, too?

“Here, put this on,” he said, taking off his t-shirt and giving it to her, not quite meeting her eyes.

She frowned as she grabbed the black shirt and put it on. It smelled like him, but as much as she would’ve liked to, she couldn’t focus on that now, not with whatever he wanted to tell her looming on the horizon.

“First off, I want you to know I don’ regret anythin’ that’s happened between us, Buffy,” he began saying once she was ‘decent’, and she wondered for a second if he’d read her mind, but forgot about it when he cast a hand over his mussed hair and rubbed his neck in a gesture that indicated nervousness.

Why would he be nervous, though? Was what he had to say really that bad?

“Thing is that I-I… I messed up, love.” He hung his head low, refusing to meet her inquiring gaze.

He messed up? What on earth was he going on about now? She put a finger under his chin and leveled his eyes with hers. “What’s wrong? Tell me.”

He heaved a pained sigh, before grabbing both of her hands in his and leading her towards the black leather couch in the center of the living room. “Maybe we should sit for this.”

“For what? Now you’re scaring me, William.” And she truly was, the somber expression in his face sent a shiver of foreboding down her spine.

“I just want you to realize… if anyone is guilty `f anythin’ `ere is me, alright?”

Buffy frowned again, not understanding where he was going with this. He said he didn’t regret what happened, then that he’d messed up and she couldn’t for the life of her think of any way he could’ve done just that. Unless…

Could it be that he was involved with someone else? She felt her blood freeze inside her veins as she realized it could be all too possible.

William had stopped visiting them all of the sudden about a year ago, and even if neither her parents nor he had mentioned he had a girlfriend, nor had she found any signs of anyone else living in his house, she couldn’t be completely sure that he didn’t. Hell bent as she’d been on seducing him, they’d hadn’t had much chance to talk since that morning when her parents dropped her off on their way to the airport.

Until now, that is.

Now there was all the time in the world for him to either give wings to this illusion of hers, or crush it once and for all.

*~*~*~*~*

Buffy was tense, nervous, on edge as she waited for him to explain himself. And he really couldn’t blame her, since that’s exactly how he felt right now as well. He had no bloody idea how to approach the subject. No bleeding clue as to how to tell her what he had to tell her, or how she would respond to what he had to say.

He had to, though, no two ways about it. The more time he wasted, the worse it would be. He squeezed her hand so she would raise her eyes from her lap and sighed heavily as their eyes locked.

“I jus’ want you to know, it wasn’ on purpose, pet. And while that might sound too soddin’ close to an excuse, well, it isn’. I was so bloody wrapped up in the moment, in you, that I forgot all ‘bout it `til it was too late.”

She scrunched her nose adorably, confusion swirling in the green depths, and he decided to just get it over with before she got the wrong idea… again.

“Forgotaboutthebloodycondom,” he muttered in a rushed whisper, so low and the words so jumbled together he wasn’t certain if she understood him. Not like he was willing to say it all over again even if she didn’t. Once was hard enough.

“What?”

“Argh, you’re goin’ to make me spit it out, aren’ you? Forgot to wear a bloody condom, that’s what!”

She remained quiet for a few moments, unblinking, her expression completely blank as she gaped at him.

He wasn’t sure how he expected her to react, but it hadn’t been her being nearly catatonic one second and laughing her head off the next. She was nearly doubled in half as tears of mirth dribbled down her cheeks, making him briefly consider if she might have lost her marbles.

“Y-you… Oh God,” she said, panting and clutching at her abdomen, before exploding in a new fit of giggles.

“I don’ find it amusin’,” he countered wryly, pouting slightly. After all, it was no small issue for her to be so… flippant about it.

“Oh, but it is… it so is. Out of everything I thought…” She didn’t complete the sentence, instead wiping the errant tears from her flushed skin and grinning at him brightly before saying five words that had him both sagging with relief and feeling mildly disappointed. “I’m on the pill, William.”

“You are?” He wasn’t certain how he felt about this… it didn’t matter, though, that was one less thing to worry about. “Why didn’ you tell me before?”

“You didn’t ask.” She shrugged nonchalantly, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Actually, you would’ve saved us lots of heartache and time if only you had done just that instead of being so busy banging your head on the ground and giving me the wrong impression.”

“Cheeky bint,” he grumbled good-naturedly, frowning when he recalled her earlier words. “What did you think I wanted to say to you, pet?”

Her mirth disappeared altogether as she looked everywhere but at him, wringing her hands on her lap. “Ah, err, I…” she stammered. “N-nothing.”

“Nothin’ wouldn’ have sent you to your room in a flurry earlier today or made you so nervous just now, love. Tell me. I wanna know.”

“You’ll find it childish and immature,” she groused, her lips pursing slightly. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling at how adorable she looked doing that.

She was so young, innocent and inexperienced, and he was a bad, rude man for still wanting her. But he couldn’t stop now that he’d had her. She was his for as long as he possibly could hold on to her.

It was an uphill battle, he knew.

A battle against age, moral conventions and society. Against her parents after they realize he’d broken their trust by despoiling their only daughter. Against her when she came to her senses and decided he was too bloody old for her. Against himself when he fell from heaven into a bottomless pit of despair.

He didn’t care about any of that, though… not right now, at least. Didn’t care about anything other than being buried as deeply inside of her as he could possibly be… both physically and emotionally. He was drowning in her, damn near literally.

Petty as it might be, he almost wished she hadn’t been on the pill, that he’d gotten her pregnant… despite what it entailed or whatever problems might arise because of it. He almost wished there was a baby growing inside her, something he could hold on to when she finally moved on. An unbreakable bond between them.

If only that could be… just without the bloody complications it’d bring to both of their lives.

He shook his head, focusing his attention on her once again. It was of no use to mull over things that wouldn’t happen anyway. “We won’ know `til you tell me, now will we?

“I-I thought…” She paused, biting on her bottom lip, her eyes darting away from his as she lowered her head, taking in a deep breath and bugger all, if her reticence to talk didn’t make him even more curious of what might have been going on in that gorgeous head of hers. “I thought you regretted w-what we d-did,” she began quietly. “And you didn’t know how to tell me. I thought maybe there was someone else you’d rather be with t-than—” she closed her eyes for a second and when she opened them again, they were brimming with unshed tears, their brilliant jade hue nearly overshadowed by the evidence of her obvious pain, “—than with me.”

She looked so crushed, so lost, and he fell just a little bit more for her then.

He was doomed, hopelessly falling under her spell, and he couldn’t care less about it as he pulled her onto his lap, embracing her tightly before making her face him. “Told you I didn’ regret it, love, an’ I meant it.

“I wouldn’ have made love to you if I were involved with someone else, no matter how bloody temptin’ you are, or how crazy you drive me. `m not like that, pet. Never have been. Never will be.”

“Really?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking, her heart filling with hope at the way he was looking at her.

“Really, pet.” He sighed, raising his left hand to caress her cheek softly. “I don’ know where this is goin’, but I’d like to find out… if you want to, that is.”

If she wanted to? She’d never wanted anything else more in her life. Him talking to her like this, looking at her like this… not as if she were a little girl or the daughter of his best friends, but as a woman, a woman he actually wished to be with… it was more than she ever expected. It was a dream come true, and she wasn’t about to let it escape from her grasp. Not if she could help it.

She nodded, a watery smile forming on her lips as she moved in a little bit closer. “I want to, William. I want to see where it goes.”

He grinned, lifting his other hand to frame her cheeks, holding her face captive as he leaned in to brush his lips with hers. “`m glad you feel that way, love. Wasn’ ready to be lettin’ you go jus’ yet.”

Just yet? She squashed the pang of disappointment his words brought forth, deciding to let it slide for the time being. Maybe it was just a figure of speech? “I’m not going anywhere.”

“No, you aren’ goin’ anywhere, that’s true,” he said, hope blossoming in her chest at his words. “You aren’ allowed out of the house if it’s not with me for the next two weeks.”

She blinked, pulling away from his slightly. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“That’s not fair. I didn’t do anything,” she whined.

“Didn’ do anythin’?” He raised a scarred eyebrow at her. “Makin’ me so bloody jealous I couldn’ think straight is more `n `nough in my opinion.”

“But that wasn’t my fault,” she pouted, looking at him through lowered lashes, her index finger making abstract patterns over his bare chest. “And you looked so hot acting all cavemanly.”

“Yeah? You liked that then, kitten?” He tilted his head to the side in that way that made her pulse quicken.

“U-huh, possessive, growly William is a very good thing,” she purred, leaning forward until her mouth was just a hairsbreadth away from his. “Actually, if those are the results, maybe I should make you jealous more often?” she asked teasingly, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

She didn’t even see him move. One moment he was looking at her with shock written all over his face, the next she was pinned under him, with her back over the leather couch and a dangerous looking William hovering over her.

“You. Are. Mine. Do you hear me? Mine,” he growled; his dark blue gaze boring into hers with an intensity that sent shivers racing down her back. His nostrils flared and his lips tightened in a fine line as he pressed her knees apart with one of his to settle his hips between her legs while she stared breathlessly up at him, her body tingling everywhere it made contact with his.

Was there any doubt she was when he could make her feel as if she were coming apart at the seams with just a few words, a look, and a touch? She moaned, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as he ground his erection against her, hitting her in all the right places.

“Mine,” he punctuated again with a hard thrust of his hips before crashing her lips with his.

tbc