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Chapter 2

Spike

I think you might be surprised, slayer. Hell, I am. Yeah you’ve given me jean-busting hard-ons before but that was purely in the interest of vampire, slayer, vampire kill slayer.

Well maybe vampire shag slayer, vampire kill slayer. Did cross my mind more than once.

Hell, then suddenly it’s vampire have truce with slayer, vampire falls in love with slayer, vampire goes off his bird.

Then vampire goes to Las Vegas, makes a pot of money (not all of it by courtesy of lady luck) and in one of those never – in – your - wildest - dreams scenarios, ends up sitting in a leather chair, desperate for a wank, with nose shoved between said slayers tits.

How much do I want this? I know what she’s talking about, but I always was an irritating sod. So I open my mouth and snake out my tongue. God I love nipples. Especially when they’re all tight and aching. When you can feel the need in them. Dead giveaway, she can’t hide it no matter how innocently she bats those eyelashes of hers. ‘Course, I don’t need hard nipples to tell me how much she wants me. Could smell it a mile off, but the nipples are nice.

She only jumps a little. Token protest. Makes me crane my neck and reach out.

“No touching,” she says in a voice that’s as weak as a kitten’s.

She’s still got my hands trapped. Could move them if I wanted, but hell, would you?

“Hundred bucks,” I manage in between licks and sucks. There’s something about eating a woman through her clothes. The rasp of lace on the tongue, the slide of satin and silk, picturing what’s underneath. And she knows. Arches up just enough so I’m begging for it.

“Each,” she says in that bedroom voice I didn’t know she had.

“Hell, yes,” I say straining for the other one.

I can’t decide if she’s acting or not. Seems into it with the writhing and those little breathy moans that tell me she’s losing control. The slayer losing control? Never seen that before.

And I’m so hard, I’m gonna pop so I do my party trick. Tongue and teeth, quick flick and the clasp falls open. She looks down at me, lips parted, eyes smoky and dares me to carry on.

I never could resist a dare. And hell, I’m good at this. Been told more than once. And I bet no one’s ever taken her bra off with their teeth before. I can tell that by the startled look in her eyes. Bloody turn on, that. She’ll never know how much. That mixture of slutty innocence she gives off. That come - fuck - me -if -you -dare look that she does so well.

I’m careful just to scrape the skin as I take it in my mouth and pull it aside. And let me die right here, ‘cos the taste and warmth of soft, smooth slayer nearly makes me go off there and then.

But I know just how hard to suck, just when to pull back, just how much attention to give each one and to still leave her wanting. There’s only one place better than this and she’s rubbing it against me now, riding my thigh as she softens and dips towards me. I push up my leg and she throws back her head as I find her sweet spot.

There’s more than one way of going for the kill.

A bloody slayer, baring her neck to a vampire? Yeah, so the chip would stop me biting her, killing her. Probably make my head explode, but what a way to go.

She opens her eyes now and brings her finger to my mouth as if she was chastising a naughty boy. There’s a wet streak on my pants as she slithers away and shimmies out of the shirt, slides the bra down her arms. She leaves it hooked there over her elbows and clasps her hands behind her head.

Hips sway, breasts bounce. She makes her mouth into a perfect circle, kisses the air then blows it to me.

“Just imagine, Spike,” she says. “My mouth on you. My tongue moving up and down the length of you. Swirling around the tip. I close my lips and suck you in, so hard because you can take it. And I pull you in and out, right back into my throat until you’re begging for mercy. Begging me to finish it. Shall I take my skirt off now?”

I blink, mesmerised by the words, the imagery that sets my mind on fire, not to mention another part of my anatomy. Devil girl, you make a cold-blooded vampire hot. My cock so hard it’s fit to burst, but all I can do is nod dumbly as your hand goes to your zipper and you begin the slow slide down. My eyes follow your fingers as you reveal the treasure beneath, encased in a wisp of nothing, and the skirt falls to the floor in a whisper.

“Do you like it, Spike?” you ask, in the understatement of the year. Standing there clad in almost nothing.

And do you know what? It’s that small thread of reserve, that tiny hint of shyness, that part of you that still isn’t sure, that gets me the hottest. The hint of a blush stealing over your cheeks tells me that no one’s ever told you how gorgeous you look. That you’ve no idea that you could kill a man at fifty paces just by standing like that.

“What’s not to like?” I say it as casually as I can, but you’ve caught it. Can’t disguise it. I’m not that clever. Always was love’s bitch.

A smile spreads across your face and you know that you have me. As your hands move down your body, trailing over your breasts, fingers splaying against your flushed skin to hook into the waistband of your barely there panties, you whisper one word.

“Come.”

And I do. The culmination of all my forbidden fantasies centred on that one sweet rush. So intense that I bite my lip and the blood flows freely from my mouth as I cry out your name.

For a moment you fade from view as it overtakes me, but as I spiral back to earth and settle into the hazy, lusty aftermath you come back into focus. You look a little shocked at what you’ve done to me. Don’t you realise how much power you have? It’s not just for killing love. Don’t you know that?

“A thousand dollars,” I manage to croak and hell, my cock is already getting ready for the next round. I give you one of those lopsided grins you ladies seem to find so sexy and your eyes get wider. Not sure if it’s me or the money.

“How much?” She’s frozen in mid tease. That’s no good.

“A thousand dollars,” I repeat opening the top button of my pants.

“So you’re really giving me the job?”

“I told you didn’t I?” Down goes my zipper. “But the job spec’s changed. You okay with that?”

“I guess,” she says, nibbling on her bottom lip all innocent like. “To what exactly?”

“Well,” I say, nodding towards her hands, still hovering near the promised land.

“I was thinking private dancer?”

“Two, thousand,” she replies, her fingers twitching ever so slightly.

“Cheap at the price,” I reply. “Do continue.”

I don’t take my eyes off her as I lean across to my desk and punch the intercom button.

The scrap of lace hits the floor as my secretary answers.

“Yeah,” I say, in as normal a voice as I can manage. “Interviewing for the next couple of hours. Hold my calls will you?”





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