It was late, the outside world quiet for once, giving him no respite from his own thoughts. A cigarette dangled from his fingers over the ashtray, but he’d stopped smoking it, letting it burn to ash instead.
This had to go off without a hitch. Buffy was depending on him – needed him – and nothing terrified him more than the idea of letting her down. He had to save her, had to be the hero she’d one thought she’d been getting in his father.
Spike jumped when he heard a knock at his door, and he frowned, wondering who in the world would be here at this hour. He snuffed out his cigarette and made his way to answer, not bothering to put on a shirt as he sauntered over in nothing but his jeans.
A quick look through the peephole had Spike throwing the door open, his puzzlement turning to concern. “Buffy? Why are you here? Are you okay? Did something…”
Buffy launched herself into Spike’s arms, silencing his barrage of questions with a kiss. “Everything’s fine, honey,” she said, sliding inside the apartment and kicking the door shut behind her. “Liam’s asleep. I snuck out.”
William looked at her, wide-eyed. “Buffy, are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“I don’t care,” Buffy replied as she ran her hands down his chest. “I needed to see you.” She pulled back, gave him a wink. “Besides, I wanted to give you an early Valentine’s Day present.”
“Pet, having you really be mine is already going to be the best Valentine’s Day present possible,” Spike replied, his knuckles brushing softly against his cheek.
She gave him the grin he used to see before, during the summer, when he’d just been William – the one that always told him she was up to no good. “Trust me, baby, you’re gonna love this one, too.”
With that, she dropped the coat she’d been wearing, letting it slide off her arms and to the ground. Spike gaped, all the blood in his body seeming to rush south. She was wearing a black leather bra that tied in the middle and a matching skirt that barely covered the tops of her thighs, allowing him to see a hint of the lace underneath. His eyes ran down the length of her black thigh-highs to end at the fuck-me pumps on her feet.
Bloody fucking hell.
He tried to ask her what she was doing, though all he could manage to do was make a very un-masculine squeak. She seemed to understand, however, and held up a CD he hadn’t realized until that moment was in her hand.
“I’m going to dance for you.”
He blinked, her words serving to pull him out of his stupor. The idea had definite merit, but he knew how she’d felt about dancing in the past. It had made her feel bad, dirty, and he didn’t want to put her through that again. “Buffy, pet, you don’t have to do this. I never expected you to.”
She smiled at him again, but it was different this time. It was soft, warm, and it made him feel loved. “I know, Will. That’s why I’m doing it. I want to do this for someone I care about for once. I want to do this when it’s not about pleasing some stranger, but about sharing something with the man I love. So can I do that? Can I share this with you?”
Well, she had him well and convinced. He nodded dumbly, and let her lead him by the hand to the couch. “Stay put.” She started to go, then turned back and wagged her finger at him. “And no touching.”
Again, he nodded, willing to go along, even as his cock screamed at him that no touching was very, very bad.
She walked over to his CD player, her leather-encased ass shaking, making his mouth water. She popped in the CD, and as the first notes of Def Leopard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me” sounded in the living room, Spike couldn’t help but smirk at her song choice.
Buffy looked over her shoulder and winked.
Yet his mood quickly shifted when she began to move, and Spike saw how damn good she’d been at her job. He reflected for a moment that it was no wonder his father had been drawn to her, though he pushed that thought away as quickly as it came, not wanting to dwell on the notion that this was how Liam had first seen Buffy. He didn’t like to think about his father looking or touching the woman he considered his own. Liam didn’t deserve her, and even if Spike knew he didn’t either, at least he treasured the gift she was.
So he focused on the here and now, on the way she moved. Her every step, every shake was full of sex. Her eyes stayed trained on him, dark with lust, and he was surprised with his own restraint. He stayed on the couch even as his dick strained in his jeans and his hands ached to touch her.
Her body glistened and her hair was fucking glorious. Bouncing and shimmering, like something from a shampoo commercial. An X-rated shampoo commercial anyway…
She moved closer, her tongue darting out to trace her blood-red lips, and Spike gripped the edge of the couch, white knuckled. He wanted to touch her, taste her, but he fought the urge, forced himself to do what she’d told him to do. If he got up, if he tackled her down to the floor like he wanted to, this would be over, and this was too good to be over so soon.
Buffy bent over at the waist, her legs spread, then came up slowly, giving him a perfect view of the tops of her breasts, pushed up high by the brilliant piece of leather engineering she was wearing.
But not wearing for long… She met his eyes, winked, and then brought her fingers to the ribbon in between her breasts, never breaking eye contact as she untied it, bearing her breasts to his hungry gaze. Spike gripped the edge of the couch even harder as she begin to shake her tits, taunting him, making him want her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.
His jeans were painfully tight, the zipper biting into his cock, but he still didn’t move. This was torture, but it was the best damn torture he’d ever experienced.
She strode over to him, her expression predatory, and Spike swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. She turned, sat in his lap, rubbed her leather-covered ass against his straining erection as she reached behind her to run her fingers through his hair.
Spike couldn’t help himself as his hand slid to her thigh, stroking her hot skin. He started to creep his fingers towards her thong, but then Buffy’s hand came down, slapping him hard on the back of his hand.
She leaned back, spoke against his ear. “No touching.”
He didn’t mean to whimper, but dammit, he did anyway, and Buffy smirked. God, she was an evil, evil bint, and Spike fully planned to get some of his own back later.
But now, she was turning around, straddling him with her hands on his shoulders as she shook her breasts in his face, making his mouth water.
Right before his control snapped and he took a tit in his mouth, Buffy was up again, writhing in front of him, but out of the reach of his hands.
She bent down, her firm ass towards him as she spread her legs again and touched the ground, her skirt and her thong both riding high. Then, she pulled herself up slowly, shaking that glorious hair of hers as she did, and threw a wink over her shoulder before sliding the skirt down her stocking-covered legs and tossing it to the side.
It was at that moment, Spike lost his control.
He leapt off the couch with a growl and tackled her, pulling his cock out of his jeans and her thong away from her body before Buffy could even register what was happening.
Not that she’d even think of complaining…
Spike wrapped his hands around her waist, her knees rubbing against the floor as he slammed her into him over and over again, low, steady growls sounding deep in his chest. He was like an animal, wildly passionate and without control, and it thrilled her to know she could make him this way.
She’d known. From the first time she’d met him, she’d known this was in him, known he was capable of this. She’d seen glimpses of it, seen him lose control with her, but this, this was a new level.
He was lost completely, unaware of anything but the warmth of her body, the tightness of her pussy, and she panted his name over and over again, loving every second of what he was doing to her. This is what she’d always wanted from him. Total abandon, total surrender to the sensual. She’d wanted all of him, wanted to see who he really was, experience what he tried to suppress.
His hands were tight on her hips, and she knew they’d leave bruises, but she didn’t care. Liam wouldn’t see them. She’d vowed when they’d made the decision to run that her husband would never touch her again. Her body was for Spike and Spike alone, and as he moved over her, inside her, she felt as if he were claiming her as such, marking her inside and out.
The orgasm that shook her wasn’t a slow build. It hit her hard and fast, ripping a scream from her, the sound of it nearly primal. She spasmed around him, her arms slipping, and Spike hauled her up, her back to his chest, before clamping his teeth around her shoulder and biting down. He growled into her skin as he came, holding her down.
For long moments afterwards, he held her, his lips against her shoulder as he breathed heavily into her skin.
Finally, he spoke, his voice shaky, but sending a shiver down her spine just the same.
“By the way, pet, love the shoes.”
All day, Buffy was nervous. She’d managed to get home before Liam got up for work, and she didn’t think he’d ever noticed she was gone. The man could sleep through an earthquake, which had come in handy.
But it wasn’t thoughts of Liam that formed the tight ball of nerves in her stomach. He’d already called to say he’d be working late, and she hoped she wouldn’t see much of him at all when he finally did come home. If anything, her husband had been fairly calm the past couple weeks, barely speaking to her, never mind hitting her. And soon, it would all be over.
No, Liam wasn’t worrying her. It was Spike. He’d gone to Mexico that morning, and she couldn’t help but think of all the things that could go wrong. She didn’t know what she’d do if something happened and he never came back. That would be it for her, the thing that finally broke her past the point of any return.
She’d lost everything. She couldn’t lose William.
It was late in the evening when she heard the door open, heard Liam trudge up the stairs. She was sitting in the bed, already in her nightgown, trying to read a book to help her sleep, though she knew that wasn’t going to be a possibility. Not with William gone, not when she couldn’t know he was all right.
The door to Liam’s office shut, and Buffy let out a breath, her eyes going back to her book. The words made no sense to her as she stared at them, her mind running scenario after scenario, none of them good.
The door opened again, and she heard Liam’s voice boom in the hallway.
“Buffy! Get your ass in here now!”
She sat up straight, startled. Liam never wanted to talk to her, not this late. Any business he had with her at this time of night tended to remain in the bedroom.
“I said now, Buffy!”
Buffy got out of bed, her legs shaking as she got her robe and put it around her. This was bad. She knew it was bad, could feel the dread she’d been battling all day rising, becoming nearly overwhelming.
All she could do was hope whatever it was, it would be over quickly, and Spike would come back and take her away. She could endure one more time if it were truly only one more time.
Buffy padded down to his office, opening the door slowly and taking in the sight of Liam looming over his desk, the expression on his face darker than any one she’d ever seen him wear before.
“Come here.”
His words were cold and they made her shiver. Still, she approached his desk, wanting – needing – to be strong. One more time…
Then, he began to throw pictures onto the desk, grainy black and white photos that made her world crash down around her. Her heart beat faster and her breath caught.
She looked up, unable to hide her fear, and Liam’s dark eyes bore into her as he spoke.
“Mind telling me what you think you’re doing fucking my son?”
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