One whole wall was lined with shelves full of all of Buffy’s favorite books and on the opposite side of the room, where many would place a television, was a painting. It wasn’t just any painting; it was the one possession in the home that was all hers. Her mother had painted it many years ago. Buffy could look at it for hours, dreaming of a time when life was simpler, happier. Yes, this was her sanctuary where she could fantasize about what might have been.
Buffy smiled, picking up Spike’s outline. No matter what had transpired, she couldn’t bring herself to regret that she would be a part of his next book. His writing was brilliant, full of intense emotions she thought no man could possess. However, he wasn’t just any man. He was a poet. Closing her eyes, she could still feel the sensation of his breath on her neck. She could still hear the words he whispered. Words she could easily lose herself in, but only in this room, because in here she was not Elizabeth Angelus, she was just Buffy Summers.
Glancing over the outline, she noticed the case detective Drake Rogers was investigating was a murder. A rich executive accused of killing a prostitute. A cold chill ran down Buffy’s spine as she read the graphic description of the woman’s brutal death.
She scoffed reading the description of the leggy brunette, Kathleen, who apparently was to be Drake’s love interest. Leggy Brunette, how cliché, she scribbled in the margin. Buffy was a bit surprised to read that Drake Rogers, confirmed bachelor, falls in love with Kathleen. She wondered how that would play out, especially since he had signed on to write two, Drake Rogers books. Her questions were soon answered when she read the ending. The jealous husband finds out about their affair and tries to shoot Drake. Kathleen, unable to stand losing the man she loves, jumps in front of the bullet and dies in her lover’s arms. Buffy was mesmerized, staring at the page. She couldn’t help but feel an eerie sense of foreboding as hot, bitter tears burned her eyes.
Buffy sat bored, fidgeting with the hem of her dress. She had chosen a simple, black silk dress, with a bodice style top showing just a hint of cleavage. It was fitted to her hips, where the skirt flowed freely, falling just past her knees. Her hair was swept up in a French twist with a few loose curls framing her face.
She smiled to herself, wondering if Spike would like her dress.
Dinner was long and boring, regardless of what Liam claimed, they were never meant to be social. It was all about networking and talking about what you have. Looking around the table, Buffy chuckled. All the usual suspects, she thought to herself.
Directly to Liam’s right, were Darla and Riley Finn. Riley’s company owned a bunch of meat packing plants in Iowa. He had only moved to L.A. last year where he had met his soon-to-be-trophy-wife, Darla. Darla was pushy and irritating. She had recently opened a chain of day-spas. Buffy yawned as Darla went on and on about the importance of getting enough fiber in your diet.
On the other side of the Finns were Cordelia and Warren Chase. Cordelia was an ex-model who was now trying to get into the fashion world with the help of her husband, techno geek, Warren. Buffy giggled, as Cordelia seemed to roll her eyes at everything her husband said.
Finally, next to Buffy, was Lindsey McDonald, her husband’s long time business associate and his flavor of the month, Harmony.
“So, Elizabeth, how is the publishing business going?” Lindsey smiled, desperately trying to break his date’s endless prattle.
Buffy looked at Lindsey, suddenly uncomfortable. Her face reddened as she felt all eyes move to her. “Um…its fine, I…”
“Oh my God! Is it true that you signed William Radcliffe?” Harmony interrupted.
Buffy took a huge gulp of her wine, smiling as the waiter placed a full glass in front of her. “Yes, it’s true,” Buffy mumbled.
Luckily, the conversation quickly shifted to other topics, but the tension didn’t leave Buffy. Her stomach was twisted in knots, as if her infidelity was written all over her face. She excused herself to the restroom only to have Harmony follow close behind her.
“Oh my God, you have to tell me all about William. Is he just as handsome in person? Does he have a girlfriend?” Harmony screeched, grabbing Buffy’s arm.
Buffy saw red. She wanted nothing more than to grab the bleached blond by the back of the head and slam her face against the wall. “Aren’t you forgetting about your boyfriend?”
Harmony snorted. “Please, Lindsey? That is so not serious. Besides landing a man like William Radcliffe…”
“Spike…his name is Spike.”
“I’ll bet it is,” Harmony cooed.
Buffy knew she had to get out of the restroom before she said or did something she would regret. Pushing past Harmony, she entered the dining room. Glancing at the table, she turned and headed toward the bar.
Sitting at the bar sipping her cosmopolitan, Buffy tried to gather her thoughts. She knew Liam would come looking for her, he always did. She could only hope that if she drank enough, she could somehow numb the whirlwind of emotions threatening to consume her.
Buffy smiled at the bartender picking up her drink and turned to head back to the table not noticing the man approaching. Buffy felt the impact as cold liquid splashed down her bare legs.
“Oh my, I’m so sorry,” the man said, grabbing Buffy’s arms to steady her.
“No, I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” Buffy smiled, seeing the sincere concern in the man’s eyes.
The man smiled in relief. “At least let me replace your drink?”
“No, I have to get back to join my husband,” Buffy answered, grabbing some napkins from the bar and attempting to dry off her sticky calves.
“Is there a problem here?”
Buffy cringed at the sound of Liam’s voice. She didn’t need to look up to know he was angry. “No, honey, I just spilled my drink.”
“Actually, it was my fault,” the man argued, “and I really wish you would allow me to buy you another drink.”
“My wife doesn’t need you to buy her a drink,” Liam snapped. The man looked at Liam and quickly walked away.
“Liam, he was just being polite.”
Liam grasped Buffy by the arm, pulling her close. A slow, sardonic smile twisted his thin lips, “When will you ever learn that acting like a whore is only going to cause you pain. Is that what you want?”
Buffy tried to pull away but knew better than to cause a scene. Bile rose in her throat as she allowed her husband to escort her back to the table. The rest of the night was a blur as Buffy finished glass after glass of wine, ignoring Liam’s obvious disapproval.
As soon as the front door was unlocked, Buffy pushed past her husband and raced up the stairs, barely able to make it to the bathroom before being overtaken by her nausea. She groaned as she sat on the cold tile floor feeling both physically and emotionally drained. She heard heavy footsteps signaling the arrival of her husband, but kept her head down trying to postpone the inevitable confrontation. When another wave of nausea hit her, she heard him sigh in disgust and leave the room.
Buffy sat on the floor for a long time, somehow it seemed a perfect ending to the evening. When she slowly stood up and faced the mirror, hot tears fell down her cheeks. Her makeup was smeared, her eyes red and swollen. She felt much older than her twenty-seven years. In many ways she had already lived a lifetime.
As she cleaned herself up and brushed her teeth, her stomach knotted once again. She wasn’t looking forward to facing her husband. Liam was bound to be upset by her drunken behavior and with the alcohol still swimming through her system, she wasn’t sure she would be able to stay silent.
Letting out a nervous sigh, she made her way into the bedroom. A triumphant smile graced her face as she heard his loud snores echoing through the darkened room. Buffy made her way to the bed and lay down still fully clothed. Closing her eyes, the room began to spin. Turning her head, she saw Spike’s book notes over her night table.
With an evil glint in her eyes, Buffy carefully got out of bed and made her way back into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth once again and rinsed out her mouth with Listerine. Applying some lipstick, she smiled into the mirror. She carefully tiptoed to the bedside and grabbed the papers before heading out the door.
At first Spike wasn’t sure if the pounding was a result of the enormous amount of alcohol he had consumed or if he’d actually heard it. As his eyes fluttered open, he realized someone was at the door.
Making his way off the couch, Spike once again caught his shin on the corner of the small metal torture device that doubled as a table. “Fucking bloody piece of…” he grumbled, swinging open the door with more force than he intended. His jaw dropped when he saw Buffy standing in his doorway.
He blinked his eyes, making sure he was truly awake. Many nights she’d come to him. Many nights she’d appeared in his bed writhing underneath him, hovering above him, surrounding him. However those were simply dreams, tonight she was here, in person and as beautiful as ever. He inwardly groaned, even though a part of him reveled at the mere sight of her, he was in no mood for more of their verbal sparring. Sparring that always seemed to leave him both angry and aroused.
“You lost, goldilocks?”
A wicked smile graced her lips. “Not at all. I just took a chance that you would still be awake.”
“I wasn’t,” Spike said, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, you are now,” Buffy countered, breezing past him. “Besides I’m here on business.”
“Business…in the middle of the night, dressed like that?” Spike drawled.
Buffy blushed, quickly avoiding his eyes. “See?” she said, holding up his outline. “I finished looking it over.”
Spike stalked towards her, taking the papers. “What the bloody hell did you do?”
Buffy’s eyes widened. “What?”
“What the hell is all this?” Spike said, pointing to the bright red marks and notations Buffy had added.
“Just…just a few suggestions.”
“A few? Are you daft? The whole page is nothin’ but red!”
Buffy narrowed her eyes, suddenly feeling the need to defend her actions. “Well, what can I say, it needed some work.”
“Oh and suddenly you’re a writer?”
“No, I’m your boss,” Buffy tried to sound confident but couldn’t control the shudder as Spike took a menacing step forward. She felt the hard wall against her back as he came closer with fire burning in his eyes.
“No, you did this to push my buttons. Just like you’ve been doin’ ever since I first laid eyes on you. ‘M tired of the games, pet.”
“Me? I’m playing games? What about you accidentally leaving poetry in your notes?”
“You think I wanted you to see that? You think I like looking like a bloody ponce?” Spike roared, slamming his hands on the wall on either side of her head.
Buffy jumped and even though her heartbeat pounded in her ears, it wasn’t from fear. He was close. She could feel his breath on her face. His eyes were dark and stormy, though she wasn’t sure if was from anger or desire or maybe a mixture of both. She could feel her nipples brush against his hard chest with every ragged breath.
For a long moment, time seemed to halt as they locked eyes, each seemingly waiting for the other to make the next move. His hoarse voice finally broke the silence, “Buffy…”
Her small hands suddenly wrapped around his neck, pulling him down and crashing his lips to hers. Spike growled in response, grasping her hips and lifting her against the wall. Buffy broke the kiss, panting for breath as she twisted her legs around his middle.
Bracing her against the wall, Spike shoved her dress up to bunch at her hips. He squeezed the soft round curves of her ass as he ground his erection against the thin lace of her drenched thong. Buffy whimpered, bucking her hips as her nails dug trenches along his back.
Snaking a hand between them, he roughly shoved aside her thong, running his fingers over her wetness. Buffy cried out, bucking into his hand. “Fuck, kitten…you’re so wet.” Spike moaned.
Suddenly his talented fingers were gone, causing Buffy to groan in protest. Spike pressed her body against his as he made his way through the cottage to the bedroom.
Setting her down on the bed, he growled, shoving the mountain of pillows to the floor. Buffy giggled, pulling him down on top of her. Spike smiled, ghosting his fingers down her cheek, staring at her with a look of awe. Uncomfortable with his sudden affection, Buffy flipped them off, straddling his waist.
Unzipping her dress, she pulled it over her head and tossed it to the floor. Spike’s gaze coasted wantonly over her bare breasts. Pulling her down, he latched onto a pink nipple and suckled, gently biting down as it grew hard in his mouth. Buffy tugged at his sweatpants, freeing his erection and began sliding herself along its length, frantically seeking friction.
In a flash, she was on her back with Spike hovering over her. His eyes looked wild and predatory. Her body instantly responded, her legs falling open as every nerve anticipated his touch. Raising her hips from the bed, her body shuddered with desire. He leaned in for a searing kiss as his hands quickly tore away her sodden thong. A hoarse cry ripped from her throat as he slammed his cock home. Pulling out, he drove in again, harder and deeper with each unrelenting stroke. Buffy grasped his shoulders, bracing herself, meeting his every thrust as unintelligible grunts fell from her lips.
Their bodies came together in frenzied desire. Every fight, every look, every touch brought them one step closer to the inevitable. Eager hands and greedy mouths explored, grasped and pulled at every inch of each others’ bodies. Spike felt her pussy clamp down as he continued pumping his pulsating cock into her. Her body jerked and spasmedas she screamed out his name.
Spike reached his hands beneath her, grabbing her ass and slamming into to her as she thrashed beneath him. Burying his face in her neck, he exploded within her, biting down on the soft flesh of her neck as if to mark her. Buffy cried out in pain as a second orgasm ripped through her.
For a long while, they both lay trembling from completion. Spike rolled off of Buffy, his stomach in knots. His tension disappeared as he felt her warm body suddenly curled around him. He pulled the thick red comforter over them as they drifted off to sleep.
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