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Author's Chapter Notes:
Maybe not as hot as some would like it - but there's a reason for that which will become clearer as you read. I apologise in advance.
Chapter 44: A Private Party

As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Buffy locked it. Moving quickly, she placed her wineglass on the nightstand, and turned back to look at Spike still standing uncertainly by the door. What was it with the man? Now that the moment for decisive action had arrived, he hesitated.

Buffy thought it was adorable. He had wanted her forever, and now that she had consented, he wasn’t sure what he should do. No doubt he had envisioned himself as the aggressor, not the other way around. She grinned. She liked the thought of keeping Spike off-balance.

Moving in for the kill, she pressed her body close, sliding her cheek against the rough skin on his chin and pressing herself against him hard, until there was no space at all between them. She ground herself against him, feeling him harden with the contact. Letting up slightly, she smiled before she attacked again, nuzzling and licking his neck and his ear lobe, while pressing even harder against him until she heard the creak of the door behind his back, as they collided against it again. When she heard a moan escape his lips, she knew she had him at her mercy, and finally let her lips meet his in a bruising kiss.

Seeing his eyes widen in surprise before closing, she smiled into the kiss and slipped her hand in between them, cupping his manhood. Closing his eyes and enjoying the ride, Spike allowed it for a moment, before whirling them around and slamming Buffy’s back to the wall, rattling the picture that was hanging nearby. He returned her smile with a grin of his own, as he moved to kiss her lips again.

Less hurried, and somehow more sensuous, as the kiss deepened, Buffy could feel his hardness pressing into her, as his hand rose to caress her breast. It had been a long time since Buffy had been with anyone, and his obvious ardor enflamed her.

Forcing Spike to switch their positions yet again, determined to take control, Buffy pushed herself away from his embrace until she held Spike at arm’s length, once again pressed against the protesting door. Blowing him a kiss, she smiled as she let him know exactly how things were going to be between them.

“Don’t you dare move,” she whispered the order, while she sauntered past his bed towards the music player. Turning the sound up, she began swaying her hips to the music, moving her body seductively to the sounds of My Chemical Romance that drowned out the chamber music from below.

Without even looking at him, she growled over her shoulder, “I told you not to move. If you don’t want to do what I tell you, I can always go back downstairs to the party.”

Spike swallowed. The last thing he ever wanted to do was give her an excuse to stop what she had begun. He had waited for this night for far too long to take a chance on ruining it before it even got started. If Buffy wanted to be the one in charge, what did it matter? So long as she wanted this, so long as she wanted HIM, he was content. It was all he had ever really wanted, since the first night he had met her.

Turning so that she could look into his eyes, Buffy danced closer. Spike’s eyes nearly crossed as she shrugged her shoulders so that one sleeve of her dress fell free. It didn’t fall far – just enough so that he could see the crest of her bra and the swell of her breast where the fabric had fallen away. Spike forced himself to stillness but couldn’t suppress a moan as Buffy’s eyes found his. Watching him intently all the while, Buffy allowed her other sleeve to fall, catching the bodice of her dress before it could slip all the way down. Smiling so broadly he couldn’t hope to stop it, he realized that Buffy planned on making him watch while she stripped for him. The ache in his groin was unbearable, and he didn’t know how long he would be able to hold out before simply throwing her on the bed and ravishing her. But because she wanted it, he was willing to try and last her out.

Spike groaned, as with a flash of her eyes, Buffy turned again so that she was facing away from him, shimmied, and allowed the fabric to fall over her hips into a heap on the floor. Gracefully she stepped away from the garment, clad only in her underwear and high-heeled shoes. Swallowing hard again, Spike held himself still as he watched her bend over and move the silken heap onto the chair in the corner, taking in the garter belt and the stockings that ended at her thighs, as well as the scant panties that left her ass bare, and the smooth line of her bra. ‘Must clasp in the front’ was Spike’s last coherent thought as he found himself suddenly facing the half-naked woman of his dreams.

The thought didn’t last long as he allowed Buffy to slowly unfasten the buttons of his dress shirt while she finally maneuvered him away from the door. Buffy was still dancing, as he tried to steer her towards the bed, but she would have none of it. Instead, he found himself suddenly pushed down into his desk chair, his opened shirt and suit jacket pressed down over his arms and the back of the chair, effectively binding him place.

He could probably maneuver his jacket over the back of the chair, or simply rip the thing in half, or he could sit back and enjoy the show Buffy was giving him. He tried to suppress a grin. He never would have figured Buffy for the wild and forceful type. But he was willing to give it a go if it was what she wanted. Next time he promised himself, he’d be the one to give Buffy a show of his special talents.

His stupid grin didn’t last long as he began to learn that Buffy was more than a bit of a tease. Just where she had learned those moves, he really didn’t want to know, but as far as he was concerned, it was going to be a night he would remember forever.

~*~

Yawning, Buffy tried to remember getting in from the party late last night, but her mind drew a blank. She wasn’t surprised though. Early morning was not her best time of day. And somehow her bed seemed more comfortable than normal this morning. The sheets were soft and warm, calling her back to sleep, but an odd scratching kind of noise in the background was forcing her slowly back to semi-awareness.

Her next thought was that she hadn’t slept so well in years. She must have stayed out later than she had intended. She had never been an early riser, and certainly was not a fast one. She was never quite herself until after a long shower and two or three cups of coffee. But this morning her lethargy was worse than usual. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to open her eyes, but her insistent bladder and the annoying sound made it impossible to resist too long. She’d just get up for a minute and take care of those two irritations and then hopefully slip back asleep without too much trouble. It was Sunday after all, she could afford to sleep in late if she wanted. She’d get up in a minute. As soon as she could make her body move.

Her first indication that something was terribly wrong was when she tried to stretch. The feeling brought back memories of starch hospital corners, that she remembered from an extended stay in the hospital when she had been twelve. The too tight sheets constricted her movements in a way that her slowly waking mind found unpleasant. The second problem came when her outstretched fingers rapped sharply against the headboard. Her bed didn’t have a headboard.

A brief peek revealed what she had been afraid, but almost certain, that she would find. She was not in her own bedroom.

As she began to recall the details of the night before and Spike’s party, it occurred to her that she must still be at his house. The only question left to answer was whether or not she was in the guest room.

Trying to build up the courage to open her eyes and check, she tried to vainly struggled to recall what had happened after Willow and Tara had taken Dawn home, but her mind was empty. She remembered the party well enough, and talking to Spike in the kitchen. She even remembered the conversation they had had, but after that her mind was a blank. If she had actually slept with William, which with each new discovery it was becoming clearer that she had, she didn’t remember any of it.

Peeking just the tiniest bit, she could easily make out his form on the other side of the bed, still sound asleep. He looked so peaceful when he was sleeping, that she found herself just watching the rise and fall of his chest. He was beautiful, and completely nude, the sheets having been kicked aside until they just barely covered his hips.

That answered the question of what had happened last night. She wished she could remember what had happened. How they had wound up in bed together. She wanted to let him down easily, and it would be better if she had at least some memory to go by.

At least she was wearing something – probably one of his t-shirts – but with nothing underneath.

Their clothes from the evening before were scattered haphazardly all over the elegant bedroom. She fervently wished she could remember the circumstances that had made her decide to finally do the deed, as well as the actual event itself. Here she hadn’t had actual sex in ages, and when she finally did, she couldn’t even remember it! Quietly she slipped out of bed and made her way softly to the bathroom.

She needed time to think.





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