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Cousin Arabella by Lilachigh


Chapter 17 Mine not Hers


Spike stepped over the broken remains of Buffy’s breakfast and stood surveying the naked Slayer, still crouched on the bed,

“What the hell’s going on?” he said, his bewilderment showing in his face. “Why on earth were you fighting with Arabella?”

Buffy swirled a sheet round her body and glared at the blond vampire. “Excuse me, your cousin tried to add Slayer to her kill list.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be her first,” Spike snapped unhappily.

“What!”

“I - er - sort of forgot to tell you yesterday. Arabella killed a Slayer in France a few years back. Just before the 2nd World War, I think it was. There’ll be a record of it in one of the Watcher diaries. I expect Giles would know.”

Buffy shut her eyes and counted slowly to ten as her mother had taught her to do before loosing her temper.

“Spike, you brought me here to meet a vampire who’s killed a Slayer?”

The sapphire gaze gleamed in the light from the bedside lamps. “Hey, killed a couple myself, pet. You know that.”

“That - that’s different.”

“How?”

Buffy stared at him in despair. Of course it was different. He was chipped, couldn’t hurt humans any more. Besides, he was her lover - no, take that back, he was the man she had sex with. And she - the words fell into her brain like ice splinters - she trusted him.

She trusted him with Dawn, with her friends, she’d even trusted him to guard her mother all those years ago.

She didn’t trust him not to break her heart, but that was her problem, not one she could share with him.

But at least she owed him this much. “I trust you,” she whispered. “I know you would never physically hurt me. But Arabella would. That’s the difference.”

Silently Spike handed her the shorts and T-shirt he’d stolen from a laundry basket somewhere in the mansion.

Buffy squeezed into them, wondering wryly if all men, dead or alive, liked their women in skin tight micro shorts and Ts that were so thin, every time she moved, her nipples showed.

Spike leant against the dressing-table, hands stuck in his pockets and watched as she swept her hair off her face and tied it back with a strip of the mauve material from the dress he’d torn off her the night before.

She looked up as she did so and felt herself blushing as she remembered exactly what they’d been doing all that hot long day behind the heavy curtains that shut out the killer sun.

“I need to go home,” she said. “It’s dark enough for you to travel, isn’t it?”

Spike nodded, then stood, silently studying his boots. “What about Arabella?” he said at last. “I’ve got to say something to her before we go. Bloody hell, she’s family. And to Div’vid. He’s a mate.”

“Just don’t let her near me,” Buffy replied shortly. “I stopped myself killing her once, I don’t think I can promise not to do it if she attacks me again.”

“Perhaps it was just a misunderstanding,” Spike proffered hopefully. “Something you said that she took the wrong way. She is English, you know, even if she is nearly as old as me. We do have trouble understanding you Yanks, sometimes, you know. I mean, I still don’t see how the bonnet of the sodding car can be called a hood? And how come you put things in the trunk and not in the boot?”

Buffy turned away wearily. All the Slayer adrenalin was flooding out of her blood stream now and she just felt tired. She realised she would never win against the Arabellas of this world. Vampire or human, the woman had that knack of handling men that you were born with, you could never learn it, no matter how hard you tried.

“Spike, she was trying to kill me.”

He reached out and pulled her unyielding body into his arms. “No she wasn’t, pet,” he said cheerfully with the sort of male belief in the truth of what he was saying that made Buffy want to hit him where it hurt. “It was just a fight. God, sweetheart, I used to have real knock down scraps with Peaches all the time. It’s what vampire families do.”

He bent his head to nuzzle at the tender skin under her ear, running his hands over the shape of her body, outlined by the tight white shorts and skimpy red top.
Buffy tried to wriggle free from his grasp as his clever fingers slid up under her top and found her breasts.

“But I’m not a vampire,” she gasped. “I’m not part of your family.”

She needed to go home, they had to leave - now - except that, she found her breath coming in little gasps as the tender pink flesh around her nipples was stroked with feather light touches.

No, she mustn’t give in, but oh, god, that felt so good. Why wouldn’t he stroke the tips, they ached so much?

“We are family!” Spike hissed fiercely and plundered her mouth with his own. “I’d kill anyone who took you away from me!”

She realised her hands were tangled in his hair and somehow she had automatically raised one of her legs to rest on the vampire’s hip, fighting against the shorts that were restricting her movements.

Buffy reached down and uzipped them, mewing slightly as he tugged them of her bottom and growled deep in his chest as his hands cupped her cheeks. She kicked them off and moaned in ecstasy at the relief of being naked to his touch once more.

She needed the feel of his flesh on hers. She didn’t understand why, but she craved the sensation. The chill smoothness of his body made her burn and she couldn’t get enough of the sensation.

There was no time to reach the bed - he was spreading her wide with his fingers, groaning as her hands released his prick and began to work on it.

Oh god, he was driving her insane, taking her right to the very edge and then drawing back. She had to come.

‘Pleeese, Spike. Pleeese.”

“What do you want, Slayer? Tell me again.”

“You know...aahhhh...oh yes, please, again, harder, harder, oh god, please, I need to come.”

The tension was building in her legs and stomach, she felt herself rising on tiptoe to change the angle of his fingertips and that was all it took, great red waves of feeling crashed and thundered over her as his cock slid in at the very moment of orgasm, and drove her on to the next one.

‘Love you, love you, love you,’ he was muttering wildly as his hips jerked forward and she tightened every internal muscle and milked his cock as hard as she could. The bright blue eyes opened wide in glazed glee as his orgasm shook him .

For a long minute they stood, gazing at each other. Buffy could hear her breath coming in little gasps. She was trying to forget Spike’s words. He often said he loved her. But he was a vampire. What did he know of true love? This wasn’t love. This was sex.

And, oh god, she wanted him again. Her head began to swim and her eyes widened in something close to despair as the knowledge shook her. She saw the hunger echoed in Spike’s eyes and realised, at long last, that this was something deeper than sex.

What was it Spike had said only a little while ago? Sex could be fun, and passionate and exciting or boring and mundane and anything you want it to be in between. Well, this was - primeval, instinctive, not loving, but mating.

They fell to the floor in a flurry of arms and legs, tearing off the clothes they still wore.
She was too strong for him, then he was too strong for her. Buffy wouldn’t have believed it possible that she could want to come again so quickly, or that he could.

All she knew was that he was hers, not Arabella’s. She knew somewhere in the darker recesses of her brain that in the cold light of day she would freak at what she was doing. How could she possibly be jealous of a vampire? It was insane.

But her heart told her othewise. Arabella might want him, might lust after him, but it was she, Buffy Summers, who was naked on the floor with him, it was her nipple he was sucking, her pussy he was about to invade. Not his stinking bitch cousin’s!

Buffy wrapped her legs around his waist and he grabbed her bottom and pulled her upwards as he thrust - deep, deeper and deeper, pulling her harder and harder towards him until he was buried inside her, reaching that spot only he had ever found.

Then he started to work on her, pounding with every ounce of his strength, glorying in the fact that not only could she take it, but she answered with all her Slayer power, raking great bloody trails down his back with her nails, her head flailing from side to side.

She was beginning to make those noises he loved, little moans and cries at first, then more guttural in her throat.

‘Open your eyes, look at me!’ he demanded

Her green gaze found his, and he watched entranced as one of his fingers pushed in next to his cock and he saw the realisation dawn in her face that he was going to give her a double orgasm.

For a second she almost panicked. She could feel the deep internal one coming every time his prick hit the spot and now he was teasing her clit over and over again and surely she couldn’t stand this much sensation......

When they hit together, she knew she was screaming and didn’t care who heard. This wasn’t the usual waves of pleasure, this was harder, sharper, she burnt inside and nothing would ever put out the fire he was lighting between them.

Buffy’s screams of passion and Spike’s growls of sated satisfaction echoed through the room. It wasn’t difficult to hear them in the next room - especially when you were looking through a spy hole cut specially in the wall panelling.

Cousin Arabella watched the writhing couple without any expression on her beautiful face. A casual observer would have said she was bored by what she saw.

Except that the wood panels on either side of the spy hole now had great gouges dug out of them by fingernails that needed desperately to be sunk into a Slayer’s eyes.

to be continued.


OK, I know I said it might be the last episode, but I’m still trying to get them into the car and I can’t get them out of the bedroom! Rather a lot of Spuffyness.





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