Four.
He nibbled on her lower lip, kissing her softly, while his hands pulled her closer. Buffy was lost in his embrace, her senses reeling and her only thought was one that kept echoing through her head. Since the invention of the kiss, there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind. Her pulse was racing and Buffy didn’t realize she was clinging to him, her body molded to his.
“You’re so damn beautiful.” Spike held onto her, his hands slipping down her jeans to cup her ass, squeezing the handfuls gently.
She gave him a misty smile, her eyes dark in her face. Buffy was falling. She just realized it; falling for this man so very hard. It took everything she had not to blurt out the words, believing he’d run from her. Oh, God, this is it, Buffy Anne Summers. . . . you are head over heels for this man.
Her smile ignited something in Spike that had been long dead, or at least he’d thought so. Coming home to Dru and her kids had awakened emotions in him that he’d suppressed and kept hidden for years. He hadn’t wanted to want the normal things like a home and family, focusing instead on his ambitions – record sales and Grammy awards. But leaving the rat race behind, at least for a little bit, had got him thinking about home and family. Having Dru’s children around him all the time had been a bit of an alarming wake-up call. It wasn’t as hard as he’d thought.
In fact, he was beginning to think he might want all that for himself. And maybe, he thought, staring down at the dark green eyes of the woman who’d blazed into his life a scant twenty-four hours earlier, those things – home and family – might still be within his grasp. It was too soon to tell her, though the words were there, aching to be released from his mouth. Instead of speaking, Spike brushed his thumb across her cheek, his smile genuine. His lips swept over hers, feather soft and his fingers slid beneath her shirt. A low growl stole from his throat when Buffy pulled him closer, her small hands stealing down to squeeze his ass.
She answered his growl with a soft breathy moan. “You must think I’m such a slut.”
His chuckle broke the tension her words engendered, but Buffy ducked her head, blushing deeply. “No, pet, you aren’t like that a’ all.”
His hands slid up, cupping her breasts and she gasped when both thumbs brushed over her hardening nipples. “I know you, luv, can tell you’re a good girl.”
She thought it was impossible to blush even more than she had, but Buffy discovered she was wrong. He’d reduced her to a babbling mess, far worse than she’d ever been as a teenager. She kept her head low, leaning her forehead against his chest.
Spike lifted her chin, lowering his lips to meet hers, while his hands slid down to hold her against his burgeoning erection. Buffy raised her leg, curling it around his hip. He lifted her up, his tongue battling with hers. Buffy’s fingers curved around his hard cock, gripping it through the barrier of his jeans and Spike growled into her mouth.
His hands dropped, curling under her thighs, holding her tighter against him. Buffy was lost in his kisses, not even noticing when his feet started moving or when her back hit the tree. She did notice, though, when both his hands cupped her breasts, worming their way under her shirt. Cursing the fact they were both wearing jeans and tee shirts, Spike pulled Buffy’s shirt up and over her head. “Gotta see you.”
Her skin picked up every stray beam of moonlight, glowing pearl bright. He sucked in a breath as she reached behind herself to undo her bra, dropping it down on top of her discarded shirt. His calloused fingers traced the faint lines of her veins, drawing ever closer to her nipples. As they puckered and hardened under his touch, Spike’s mouth watered and he gave in to his need to taste her.
Dropping down to his knees, he licked first one nipple, before taking the second into his mouth. His hands coiled around her hips, then drifted forward to unsnap her jeans. Buffy’s fingers threaded through his curls, holding him close to her breasts. A soft mewling sigh broke from her as his fingers dipped inside her jeans, weaving through her curls. His groan of arousal sounded into her chest, causing her knees to buckle. She sagged slightly and he took immediate advantage, using both hands to push her jeans down around her knees.
Buffy shivered, only partially from the cold. Goosebumps erupted everywhere he touched her and she finally opened her eyes to see his face etched with need, his gaze focused on her.
Spike’s free hand trailed up her side, achingly gentle. His lips followed the path of his fingers, alternating between open mouthed kisses and barely felt nips. Gently he bit down where her breast formed, growling into her skin.
Mindless babbling sounded from her, a near constant litany of his name laced with pleadings for him to not stop touching her. Buffy’s hands traced constant circles over his skin, tugging on his curls. Spike’s fingers moved in counterpoint, his touch gliding over her. She arched into his touch, her body responding to his every motion. Sliding his fingers over the slick folds of her pussy, Spike finally caught the hard nub of her throbbing clit, tugging on it. She shook, nearly collapsing over his shoulder with each swipe of his fingers.
Her name broke from him like a prayer.
Two of his fingers slid inside her slick channel and her muscles contracted around them. “Need to be inside you, kitten. Are you ready for me?”
“Yes. . . . oh, hell, yes. Please stop teasing me,” she gasped, her fingers tightening, digging into the strong muscles of his shoulder. “Now, Spike.”
With a last nip at her breast, Spike pumped his fingers at a steady pace. He was fumbling with his belt when Buffy’s unsteady touch stopped him. “Let me.”
Making short work of his belt, Buffy quickly had his jeans open and her small hand closed around his erection. It was his turn to tremble under her touch. Her hand was warm, her touch sure, pumping his cock steadily in time with the thrusts of his fingers.
Spike was babbling, his voice at a low, constant growl. “Gonna take you now.”
He surged to his feet, lifting her in his arms, mouth claiming hers. His free hand tugged at her pant’s leg, pulling it free from her jeans. Ripping through the cotton of her panties, Spike brushed his cock against her pussy. “Guide me in, baby. Do it.”
Buffy hooked her legs around him, stealing her small hand between their bodies. Raising herself up, Buffy guided his cock into her depths. She gasped, raining kisses all over his face while Spike struggled to find a steady rhythm. He tried spreading his feet, to get better balance, only to find he was hampered by the jeans around his knees. Spike stepped forward, thrusting up into her, and lost his footing. Stumbling about for a minute, his mind more on the sensations of being inside Buffy than his balance, Spike careened backward, landing flat on his back.
She was still perched on his cock, only now the look on her face was one of pained ecstasy and Buffy shrieked, the sound echoing against the trees. Her vaginal walls clamped down hard as he touched her womb, triggering orgasms for both of them.
“Oh, my fucking God.” She slumped down onto his chest, her entire body trembling. “Are you okay? Spike?”
Her only answer was a deep groan and his arms curling around her, holding her still. “Fuck.”
An almost hysterical giggle broke from her and Buffy sat up again, looking down at him. “You didn’t answer me.”
“Not sure, kitten, ‘ll let ya know when I can feel my legs.”
Brushing the hair out of her eyes, Buffy stared down at him. His eyes were dark and she wished the light was better so she could see his expression. She bit her lower lip, needing to move but afraid any movement would hurt – either one of them. He’d fallen hard on his back and she’d landed heavily on him, on the one spot a man could really be hurt. Though it had hurt in all the right ways . . .
Spike groaned, shifting his shoulders and slightly dislodging her. Buffy dropped one hand down onto his chest, trying to keep her balance and he grabbed her hand, meshing their fingers together. He didn’t speak, just stared up at her and a slow grin played about his lips. His free hand trailed slowly up her side, and she belatedly realized she was stark naked. Cupping her breast, Spike eased into a sitting position, and tugged Buffy forward for a kiss.
When she pulled away for air, Buffy traced her fingers over his closed eyes, feeling the faint lines in the corners and the scar bisecting his eyebrow. His mouth closed on a nipple, and his knees rose, letting her rest back on his thighs. Trailing small kisses in the valley between her breasts, Spike whispered into her skin, “You are so damn beautiful.”
Unshed tears pooled in her eyes at his words and though she tried to speak, to say something, Buffy found the words choking in her throat. All she could do was give him a gasping moan and thread her fingers into his hair. Spike’s hand held her breast for his mouth, the rough calloused fingers sending shivers down her spine. Her moans turned to outright whimpers when his mouth left her breast, and she focused enough to find him watching her.
“Bloody nymph. . . “ His words were gruff, harsh with passion and Buffy’s whole body reacted.
“Spike . . . I . . “
“Shhhh, ‘s all right, baby. I’ve got you.” His cock moved within her and Buffy’s clit throbbed with need. “Let it go, petal, jus’ let it go.”
The shakes started internally, low and deep in her womb, rippling up through her spine, reverberating through her whole body. Buffy clenched her hands around his biceps, her nails digging into his straining muscles. “Spike. . . Oh. . . “
Spike reached between them, his thumb finding her clit with ease. Pressing down on it, he held her as her whole body seemed to convulse. “Oh, baby, tha’s it. . . jus’. . . . ‘m . . . hold on, luv.”
His orgasm took him by surprise.
Their breathing settled, running together; both chests rising and falling in rhythm. Spike laid there, Buffy’s head cradled in the spot between his neck and shoulder, her ear resting just over his heart, staring up at the stars. He’d never felt so full of peace. . . so rested and so comfortable with another human being before in his life.
Before he’d hit it big, relationships had kind of taken a back seat, his personal life sacrificed for the pursuit of fame and fortune. He’d had his bumps in the road, most notably his first real girlfriend Darla, but that too had died. Mainly because she was a domineering and demanding bitch, but she’d also had to deal with groupies throwing themselves at him constantly. And, to give her some credit, he hadn’t said no.
But he’d never really been there, in all those sexual encounters. Hadn’t really given of himself. Hadn’t connected, not really. He’d been going through the motions. Truth was, he hadn’t wanted to leave himself open, hiding his real personality behind the stage one for so long that he’d almost forgotten that his real name wasn’t Spike, that his parents had baptized him William. He found it ironic that he’d purposely introduced himself to Buffy as Will; a name he hadn’t willingly divulged to any of his bed partners in years.
And yet, within seconds of just hearing her voice, he’d gone and done it.
She shivered and Spike realized she was lying atop him without a stitch of clothing on. His hands ran down her back, and she shivered again. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to break this spell they seemed to be under, but he also didn’t want her getting sick. He had plans – plans that didn’t involve nursing her back to health after a bout of pneumonia – though playing doctor would have some benefits. . .
Spike rolled onto his side, wrapping his jacket around her back, cuddling her close. When her shivers didn’t cease, he reluctantly raised himself up on one arm, letting her head fall gently. “Kitten, we need to get you warm.”
“Mmm. . . don’t wanna move.” It was the first thing she’d said in a while. Her voice was sex-husky, and Spike fought his growing arousal.
“Don’t want you gettin’ sick, either, pet.” His fingers trailed down her back, sliding easily between the rounded cheeks of her firm buttocks. The result of their last encounter covered her inner thighs and Spike slid his finger through it, sneaking into her pussy from behind. She squeaked in surprise, her body jumping lightly in his arms. He chuckled, whispering, “Gotcha.”
In retaliation, Buffy bit down on his covered nipple, squirming when he thrust in a second finger. “Oh, God. . . . you. . . “ She nipped at him again, whispering. “You got me. . . now what’re you gonna do with me?”
His chuckle turned evil, and he growled down at her when she bit him for the third time. “Keep biting me, little girl, an’ I just might eat you up.”
She giggled then, laughter clear in her eyes. “So you’re the big bad wolf?
He stared at her for a second, not believing what she’d said or the playful tone she’d used. He sat up, slipping off his jacket and staring down at her. With a gleam in her eye, Buffy smiled up at him and without once averting her eyes, she lifted up a little and bit him again, right at the junction of his neck and shoulder. Spike gave an unmanly yelp then growled at her. “That does it! If you’re gonna bite, little girl, ‘m gonna bite right back.”
Her spluttering laughter caught him by surprise and he huffed at her. “Gonna huff and puff. . . . “
Before she could finish that sentence, he was on her, his lips attacking every available, exposed spot of flesh. His touch was everywhere, her breasts, neck, collarbone, belly. . . . thighs. He loomed over her, and though she couldn’t see his expression clearly in the dark, his tone of voice was a dead give-away. “Oh, yeah, baby, I’m gonna eat you all up.
Laying open mouthed kisses along the curve of her lower belly, Spike thrust two fingers into her soaking pussy, his intentions very clear. The kisses moved lower, brushing just over her mound and Buffy writhed under his touch, her senses on overload. She’d never been with a man this insatiable, and she didn’t . . . . couldn’t believe he was ready for her again. And going down on her after they’d both cum? That was a first. . . . and when she had a moment of coherency, Buffy thought this might just be one in a very long line of firsts for them. . .
Her mind whirled when instead of attacking her, he rolled over onto his back, bringing her with him. His barely growled order for her to ‘slip into my jacket, pet’ barely registered with her until he lifted it up over her shoulder. Fingers still inside her, pumping steadily, Spike chuckled at her dazed response.
She was sitting high up on his chest, her breasts jutting out in front of him, but his hands were trapped, one inside her, and the other curled up around her ass, pushing her forward. His need to taste her overrode his need for her breasts and Spike focused on her quim. Lifting her up, over his mouth, Spike inhaled deeply, an unconscious growl rolling through his chest. Buffy quivered, her gasping breaths barely heard over the noises emerging from his throat.
His mouth was watering with need for her and he gave in, his tongue lapping at the folds of her pussy. She dug her fingers into his arms, nails pricking his skin, indenting small half moons on his taut biceps. Spike growled again, when she bucked her hips and he increased the pressure of his hands, holding her still.
“Oh, fuck!” Her exclamation struck him as funny, coming from her, and he laughed low and throaty, which just caused another shriek from her lips. “Holy . . . oh, God! Spike!”
He did it again, just to feel her bucking and writhing, perched precariously as she was on his hands and mouth. She didn’t disappoint him, her hips wriggling as his laughter increased.
“Evil . . . man. Don’t laugh. So not. . . ” She shrieked when his teeth nipped at her clit. “Not . . . . oh! Funny, William.”
The sound of his real name on her lips shocked him, slowing his movements and almost halting his laughter. He wanted to hear her say it again, just because of the way she’d breathed it . . . almost as if it were a plea. . . . Spike licked around her clit, then sucked on it greedily.
“Will. . . . “ She drew out the sounds, keening softly into the night air. Her body was shaking now, and she jerked as he bit down gently, his fingers pumping up into her slick channel. “My. . God. . . Will. . . “
Her head fell back, her long hair reaching down toward the middle of her back, breasts upthrust, an offering to the heavens. He wished he could see her, wished he could have this moment ingrained on his brain forever, as she convulsed in orgasm. Spike moved quickly as the tremors started, tearing his mouth from her and pushing her down toward his aching erection.
With one hard thrust, he was buried inside her to the hilt, his hips lifting up, while she churned over him. Her hands fell onto his chest, holding on for balance. He grabbed her hips, his fingers gripping, digging into her tender flesh. “Oh baby, need you. . . . cum for me, kitten, all over me.”
His mouth was running, babbling about how tight she was, how he never wanted to move, always wanted her, wanted to stay inside of her forever. Something within Buffy broke, some wall or dam that had been blocking her emotions since her divorce, and tears pooled in her eyes, her heart taking in his words, bathing in them. Her body convulsed around him, her vaginal walls tightening almost painfully, and she clutched at him, holding on because she couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t stop the tremors. Nothing was real except for him, his touch, and his voice echoing what she was so afraid to say, but no longer afraid to feel.
“Holy fuck, kitten. . . . love . . . feel you. . . “ He thrust wildly, rolling her over to pound into her, seeking his own release. “Fuck. . . . fuck. . . . “ His hips swivelled, hitting the spongy bundle of nerves at her core, and his mind went blank as the movement triggered another orgasm for her. “Gotta. . . oh, baby, drown me. . . “
Buffy pulled his head down, her lips seeking his, her fingers tunneling into his curls, spasming in time with her orgasm. They breathed into each other’s mouths, gasping, incoherent, disjointed words whispered, barely spoken words hovering between them. “Will. . . . oh. . . Will. . . “
He chanted her name, interspersed with nipping kisses on her lips then he froze, his body rigid with the release his muscles, his heart – every last atom of his being needed. His seed flooded into her womb and Spike collapsed against her throat, breathing harshly, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.
Her underwear was in tatters.
Buffy stared down at the shredded bits of cotton and lace in her hand, a stunned sort of disbelief dulling her senses. He ripped through my panties to get to me. . . . The proof of his overwhelming desire for her – plain Buffy Summers, of the not model or groupie looks – nearly had her dropping to her knees. As it was, she sort of crumpled, her automatic motions stalling with the epiphany she’d just had.
Spike Giles, the sexiest man to ever grace the rock and roll stage, at least in her opinion, wanted her badly enough to rip her panties. She was having a hard time wrapping her brain around that thought, her thoughts sluggish from the multiple orgasms he’d just wrung from her body. Buffy stole a glimpse up at him as he moved around slowly, trying to find her clothes and stretch out his muscles. He looked to be as dazed as she was, because every couple of moments, he’d stop, look around, let his eyes fall on her and then he’d stay still for long minutes. It was still too dark to see his expression, but the set of his shoulders and his loose-limbed movements eased a small knot in her belly every time he paused.
Buffy balled the remains of her underwear into her fist, jumping when Spike appeared at her side, his hand outstretched. It took her a moment to realize he was holding her shirt, and she looked up at him, shyly taking it. He crouched down beside her, their faces just inches apart. She could finally see him in the low moonlight. His expression was filled with concern, and it warmed her a bit to see it. It meant he wasn’t just using her for sex, or at least that’s what she was telling herself, and she refused, at this moment, to think otherwise.
“You okay?” His hand reached out to cup her cheek and she unconsciously curled into it, allowing his warmth to seep into her. “Can you stand up?”
A breathy little giggle broke from her lips, and Buffy stared at him for a moment. He is so damn good looking. . . . Embarrassed by her thoughts, Buffy closed her eyes, hoping this wasn’t about to end badly.
“Sweetheart?” His thumb brushed over her cheek, and she couldn’t resist the plea in his voice.
“Mmm?”
“Look at me, pet.” The low husky timbre of his voice had her whole body reacting, and her bare nipples stood out, more from his tone and proximity than the cold. His hand closed over the closest breast and Buffy shivered, goosebumps reappearing all over her body. “Kitten. . . “
She leaned into his touch, reveling in the feel of his hands on her once more. He brushed a tender kiss on her forehead, then dropped another on the crest of her breast. “Baby, much as I wanna take you again, bury myself inside you an’ stay for the night. . . . “ He paused, running his thumb over her distended nipple. “An’ you’re more than tempting. . . but you have to be sore.”
Buffy blushed, starting to shy away, thinking he was brushing her off, but his next words eased the sudden apprehension she was feeling. “No, don’t. . . wanna take you again an’ again, until I’m so spent I can’t move. But sweetheart, this isn’t the time or the place. Want you in my bed, all nice an’ comfy. . . so don’t think for a second tha’ this is it for us.”
He waited for her reaction, watching her carefully and when she finally turned to look at him, the tremulous smile on her features warmed him, loosening the fleeting worry that she wouldn’t want more. “I’d like that, Will. I really would.”
“Good. So. . . can you get up?”
“I think so. Help me?” She reached for his shoulder, attempting to gain her feet. When her muscles wouldn’t obey her brains command, Buffy slumped against him, whapping him halfheartedly when his chuckles finally registered. “Meanie.”
“‘S all right, sweets. Lemme do it for you.” He pushed her jeans up, covering her as he kissed the spot just over her mound. Her shirt followed, and Spike sighed, grumbling, “Would rather you stay naked an’ wet for me.”
Buffy spoke before she realized what she was agreeing to. “Sounds nice. Could we do that soon?”
His low laugh went straight through her. “Oh, baby, I’d love to keep you like that for a week. . . . at least.”
He could feel her blush, and his laughter increased, holding her tight against him. “C’mon, baby, let’s get you back to camp.”
When her legs refused to move, Spike sighed and lifted her easily into his arms. Buffy snuggled into his hold, a smile playing about her lips. Oh, I could so get used to this. . .
So here's a little something to warm everyone up. . . . I know it took a while for this one, but aren't you glad it did? Did anyone figure out the quote?