The voices faded away as William kissed her hungrily. When he took her lower lip between his and began to suckle she became lightheaded, only returning to herself when she felt his hands dragging her pristine white shirt out from her plaid skirt and sliding his hands beneath, rubbing against her as he pulled back for a minute to murmur against her ear. “Are you on the pill?” he growled.
It took her a moment to register what he’d said. “No,” she said dazedly. Her parents had kept her on such a short leash the last few months she hadn’t been able to get her prescription refilled. She felt him tense as he cursed against her hair. She looked at him curiously. “Don’t you have…you know, protection?” she asked worriedly. She thought, wildly, that if she had to wait for him any longer she’d go insane.
As it happened, he had a vague memory of pulling out his last condom at Jenny’s and tossing it on the night table. Goddammit.
He looked at the worry on her face and wanted to drag off her clothes right there in front of his house, in the broad daylight. “Actually, I’m out,” he admitted reluctantly.
Her face fell, and he laughed softly. He really shouldn’t laugh at her, but her transparent eagerness was delicious. “Don’t worry, kitten. There are other things we can do.”
She looked up at him, her eyes glittering with anticipation. “Show me,” she breathed.
~*~*~*~
As they stumbled through the door he managed to remember to lock it. A good thing, considering they were both risking expulsion.
He pushed her onto the closest piece of furniture, a sofa, holding her down as he straddled her. She turned her face up, angling for a kiss, but he chuckled softly and straightened up out of reach. “Now, now, we really have to get to know each other better, don’t we?” he taunted softly. Beneath him she whimpered, pushing her hips up to grind against his erection. He closed his eyes briefly, savoring the contact, before pushing down so that she couldn’t move her hips.
“Come on, sweetness, I’m in charge here,” he reminded her.
She whimpered in response, licking her lips.
His eyes sparked and he reached down to trace her lips with his tongue. She moaned under the torture, opening her mouth to urge him inside, reaching out with her own tongue to draw him in. He allowed her to stroke his tongue, but ignored the blatant invitation.
“Now tell me, Miss Summers, about your sexual history,” he purred, grinding his hardness into her and sucking briefly on the tip of her tongue as another moan escaped her.
“I—I—” she gasped, unable to form a coherent sentence.
“Are you a virgin?” he drawled. He knew she wasn’t.
“Ah—ahhh—”
“Here?” he whispered, slipping a hand beneath her skirt and pressing it against her pussy, stroking the sodden material with his nimble fingers.
Her face was now a study in ecstasy, her eyes closed, her head thrown back.
He squeezed a little, making her eyes fly open. “Pay attention, Miss Summers,” he reprimanded her.
She began to pant now. “No,” she groaned.
“No, what?”
“No, I’m not a virgin,” she whimpered. He rewarded her obedience with a brief kiss, chuckling again as she tried desperately to hold his mouth to hers.
“And what about here? Are you a virgin here?” he queried, sliding his hand beneath her and insinuating one clever finger against her other hole.
She gasped and bucked against his hand, unable to believe the things he was saying, where he was touching her. He wasn’t really going to—wasn’t going to—“Yes,” she moaned. “I mean no. I mean, I haven’t.”
“Well, that’s fine,” he praised her, pressing kisses against her damp forehead, before sliding down and pushing his tongue into her mouth, teasing hers as it curled around his wildly. He drew back a little, finally putting his hands on her shoulders to hold her back as she hungrily tried to prolong the contact. “And what about there?” he whispered.
“There?” Buffy repeated stupidly. If he wanted her to think, he shouldn’t touch her, because that interfered with the whole thinking thing.
“Your mouth, Miss Summers. Has anyone ever fucked your mouth?”
Considering he had his hands all over her and she would have given her trust fund to have him fucking her right then, Buffy was surprised by the way she blushed at the question. “I’ve given, you know, blow jobs,” she said awkwardly.
“That’s not quite the same thing, baby,” he told her, bending forward to nuzzle against her throat. “Do you like getting them?” he asked, his voice muffled against her.
“I’ve never gotten one,” she admitted, squirming closer.
He clucked his tongue sympathetically. “And why is that?”
“Lousy selfish boyfriends?” Buffy suggested.
He trailed kisses up her throat and pushed her eager lips apart, taking what she offered so eagerly. For several moments only the wet sounds of their kissing and the low moans that escaped them were all that broke that silence of the room. Finally he pulled back, sliding off the couch to kneel on the floor. “Looks as if your education’s been sorely lacking. I think it’s time to remedy that, don’t you?” he asked, skimming his hands up her legs and under the waistband of her panties, just like he had in her dream.
For a moment her heart thumped so loudly she thought he must have heard it. She couldn’t say anything, couldn’t speak. She nodded, and hoped it was enough.
She couldn’t bear it if he stopped.
He fondled her knees for a moment before pushing them apart, bracing her feet against the seat of the couch and spreading her open for his viewing. He stroked his hands up her thighs, pushing the little pleated skirt up to her waist and leaving her revealed before him, all fresh and pink and voluptuous, her arousal perfuming the air and forming darling little droplets in her dark blonde curls.
He gently placed the heels of his hands against her thighs and studied at her for several moments, staring at her until she began to squirm and whimper.
Then, without warning, he stroked his thumbs up her slit, parting her as he ran his tongue up against her inner lips. She bucked ferociously against his mouth. Jesus, why hadn’t any of her boyfriends done that to her before? Bastards!
Abruptly he sat back on his heels, watching her struggle in vain to continue the contact. “More!” she gasped.
“More, what?” he asked her in amusement.
“More, please?”
He laughed. “Good enough for now,” he said, lowering his face and tonguing her. Her loud shriek told him exactly what she much she liked it. Up, down, against her inner lips, occasionally darting inside but avoiding her clit.
Capturing his head between her hands, she thrust shamelessly against his face, and felt him smile against her.
It made her even hotter.
“Now, now,” she cried frantically, rubbing against him insistently.
She let go of him for a moment and reached to finger her clit but he batted her hand away. “Did I tell you that you could do that?” he growled against her, and she shuddered.
“No-oo-o,” she moaned.
“That’s right,” he muttered, burying his head against her again as she pushed toward his face pleadingly. He was rock-hard and aching, and it was time to give them both what they needed.
He latched on to her clit and began to suckle. He hadn’t had the succulent little morsel between his lips for more than a few seconds before she came, her juices flooding his chin. He took his time cleaning her, drawing out her pleasure with long slow licks as she shuddered and sighed, the last remnants of her climax shivering through her.
Finally he stood up and surveyed her, sprawled on the couch, her skirts rucked up around her waist and her knees splayed wide, head lolling back, drunk with pleasure. Gorgeous.
He took her hand to pull her up, only to find it limp. He patted it a few times. “Buffy,” he called softly.
Finally her eyes opened sleepily. “That was amazing,” she said, dazed.
He smiled indulgently. “I’m glad, kitten,” he told her.
After a moment or two her eyes widened and she gasped comically. “What about you?” she blurted out.
He responded by reached down and scooping her up. “I’ve waited about as long as I can,” he admitted, striding through the house until they reached his bedroom. He tossed her on the bed, then stood watching her as he pulled off his clothes.
Her eyes grew large as she stared at his lean body. His hips were as narrow as they’d felt when he’d pressed her against the door in his office, but his arms were surprisingly muscular and his six-pack was clearly delineated. And below—below—
God.
“Fezuh,” said Buffy.
“What was that?” asked William in surprise.
“Nothing,” muttered Buffy.
He walked over to the bed and knelt on it, grasping the neckline of her shirt and pulling her closer to him. “You,” he told her firmly, “have on entirely too many clothes.”
“Maybe you should do something about it,” she breathed.
“You know, I think I will,” he drawled, pulling off her clothes in short order. He wanted to draw things out, but couldn’t wait another moment.
Then she was naked before him. He stared at her without shame, and after a moment she stopped her embarrassed squirming. He looked at her like she was a goddess, and that was how she felt when his eyes were on her.
“Wh—what are we going to do?” she asked, uncertain.
He smiled, and pulled her closer to him, until they were facing each other, knee to knee, almost touching. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against the curve of her throat and she sighed, wrapping her arm around his neck.
Then she felt his fingers probing at her still-wet center, stroking. She followed his lead and moved her free hand to his long, sleek shaft. She wanted to study him, to memorize him, but first she wanted to give him pleasure like he’d given her. She began pumping him slowly, increasing the speed as she felt his breathing quicken.
She felt full and soft herself, replete. She almost giggled to herself as she thought that he was doing this in the wrong order; if he’d wanted her to come twice, he should have fingered her the first time and gone down on her the second. She didn’t think she could come again for a week, she was so satiated.
But his fingers were clever, and arousal began to creep through her again. But still she didn’t think she could come—not after—
Crack! Without warning his free hand smacked down on her ass.
She gasped, startled. “What are you—”
Crack!
Shocked, she felt her nipples tighten almost painfully, and her clit rose insistently against his fingers.
Crack!
She came against him again, shivering and screaming. Her arm on his neck tightened as if she was holding on for dear life.
Perhaps she was.
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