Title: Blue Eyed Devil
Author: Pattyanne
snapkik@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: None of the BtVS
characters belong to me.
Feedback: Love some, thanks!
Rating: Up to NC-17
Summary: AU. Spike Devlin is the
lead singer for the band 'Blue Eyed
Devil'. Buffy Summers is the local
preschool teacher he falls in love with
shortly before leaving for a nationwide
tour.
Part thirty-eight...
Parking Buffy once again in the small, private room
where they'd had their earlier tryst, Devlin planted a
hard kiss on her mouth and left to take a quick shower
in the executive suite set aside for the band to use
during breaks in their performance.
The rest of 'Blue Eyed Devil' were making their
presence known at a backstage party, the noise of
which she could hear clear on the other side of the
building.
Spike had offered to take her there to wait, but Buffy
had no desire to get involved in any kind of social
situation that involved anyone but the two of them.
Still it was difficult to stay in that room, remembering
what they had done there, and not turn a thousand
different shades of red.
She was thumbing through a two year old copy of
Architectural Digest when he came back.
Smiling, she looked up and the magazine hit the floor
with a loud 'thwack'.
"Ready to go, love?"
Buffy felt herself staring like a star struck teenage girl.
Sexy was Spike Devlin's middle name, but he had some-
how managed to push that particular bar to an all new level.
His damp hair was slicked back neatly, his skin freshly
washed of the perspiration he had worked up performing.
As he always did directly after coming offstage, he still
retained a lot of the kinetic energy and driving force that
came to him so effortlessly in front of an audience. In
fact, he was practically humming with it.
He stood before her now in a clean pair of black denim
trousers, a black button down shirt...half unbuttoned...the
scuffed and well worn boots that he was so attached to,
and an ankle length coat fashioned of soft, black leather.
Although his entire appearance radiated a sexual aura
that could cut through the fog over San Francisco Bay,
it was the coat that was really doing things to Buffy's
central nervous system.
If there'd ever been an article of clothing more made for
a certain person to wear, more perfectly suited for just
him, she couldn't begin to imagine what it could be.
"What are you staring at?" he asked, amusement laced
through his voice.
Once upon a time, that question would have made her
blush and stammer. Being caught blatantly gaping at a
man wasn't something she was accustomed to.
However, that was the 'old' Buffy, the virginal, 'prim and
proper' Miss Summers. The one who HADN'T been
romanced right off her feet by a rock singing sex god
who touched every part of her in a different way; body,
heart, and soul.
The 'new' Buffy, no longer a virgin in any sense of the
word, was beginning to take over the wheel for a bit.
"Was I staring?" she asked, widening her eyes. "I
didn't mean to. It's just that...I was sitting waiting here
for my boyfriend to come back. You may have passed
him in the corridor...about your height, holes in the knees
of his jeans, sweaty t-shirt with a soccer team logo half
scratched off?"
Devlin's grin widened. "That git? Yeah, I saw him. What's
he doing leaving a juicy little thing like you all on her own
here, the stupid prat."
"That's a very good question," Buffy said, sighing deeply.
"He lured me to San Francisco, made me all sorts of
seductive promises to get me here, and it's been nothing
but ho-hum ever since. Well," she added, "except for
intermission. That was...very nice."
"Very nice?" Devlin arched his brow. "That the best that
tosser can do for you? Very nice?"
"He's usually....what? What's a tosser?"
Devlin walked toward her in measured paces. "A tosser is
what your boyfriend is going to be tonight. Because YOU
are coming with ME."
"And just why would I do something like that, handsome
stranger?"
"Because I can do much better for you than 'very nice'." He
reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips. "I can show
you this town in style. Treat you like the princess you are."
Buffy's heart sped up as he pressed a heated kiss to
the palm of her hand, without once breaking eye contact.
"That...that sounds like fun," she managed to say.
Devlin took her other hand and gave it the same treat-
ment. "It will be."
**************************************************
Still hanging onto his hand, Buffy followed Spike through
the twist and turns of the hallways and out through a rear
exit door, cleverly avoiding the crowd clamoring for his
attention.
Parked at the curb was a low slung, hideously expen-
sive looking sports car, the kind manufactured in Italy.
Much to Buffy's surprise, Devlin produced a key and
unlocked it. After making sure her seat belt was fastened,
he came around the front and climbed into the passenger
seat.
Buffy was marveling over the plush interior and the
dashboard that looked like something you'd see launching
space shuttles at Cape Kennedy.
"This is a really nice car."
Devlin started the engine and grinned at her. "Well, it's
cold outside at night. I couldn't drag you all over San
Francisco on the back of my motorcycle," he said, pulling
out into traffic.
"And you bought a car just for me? That's sweet."
"No, I borrowed a car just for you."
"Who from?"
"I'm not sure. Our manager arranged it."
Settling back into plush leather, Buffy ran her fingers
over the walnut paneled dash. "I'm sure having my share
of 'first times' with you."
"Yeah?"
"First time on an airplane. First time in a....a..."
"Maserati," he supplied helpfully.
"Thank you. First trip to San Francisco. First time
backstage at a rock concert. First time riding on a
motorcycle.."
"Aren't you forgetting something?" He gave her a
sidelong look. "Your biggest 'first time' with me?"
Against her will, her cheeks turned pink. "So how
much do cars like this go for?" she asked, neatly
changing the subject.
"Close to a quarter of a million."
Buffy's jaw sagged. She'd been thinking maybe sixty or
seventy thousand, tops.
"A quarter of a million dollars?"
"That's right."
"And....and someone just let you take it?"
"I'm very responsible."
Yes, he WAS a good driver. She remembered that from
the time he drove her car. He was actually a better driver
than she was, since she tended to creep over the speed
limit and never missed an opportunity to hit a speed bump
or pothole while going too fast.
"Be careful," she mumbled under her breath when another
car got a little too close.
"Don't worry, love. This isn't a 'you break it-you buy it' sort
of deal. It's heavily insured."
"Still....be careful."
**************************************************
He took her to the Beach Chalet Restaurant in Golden
Gate Park for a late dinner. The crowd was light and they
were given a table with a spectacular view of the bay and
the ocean.
Sitting close together in a booth, he hand fed her Butter-
milk Fried Calamari, and chunks of warm sourdough bread
spread with a sweet butter. For the main course, he ordered
a grilled New York Steak with a red wine sauce and the
most enormous baked potato Buffy had ever seen.
She opted for the Dungeness Crab Stuffed Rainbow Trout,
served in white wine butter sauce on a bed of wild rice. They
shared bites of each others dinners as Spike kept her
amused by telling her stories about Andy and Xander's
constant bickering on the trip north.
Dessert consisted of a house specialty...The Beach Chalet
Chocolate Sandcastle...an intense chocolate torte, with
chocolate shortbread cookies, peanuts, and warm chocolate
and caramel sauces, cut into shapes and assembled into a
replica of a sandcastle.
After dinner, he gave her a quick tour of the city, promising
to take her out for a longer one the following afternoon before
the concert. He drove her back and forth across the Golden
Gate Bridge, showed her the view of the Coit Tower from
Washington Square, and pointed out Alcatraz Island. They
drove slowly through Chinatown and passed by Ghiradelli
Square, where the air was heavily scented with the aroma
of warm chocolate.
When he noticed that she was starting to look sleepy,
he turned the car around and headed for the hotel.
**************************************************
"Are you tired, love? Want to go to sleep?"
Buffy leaned against him, watching the floor numbers
flash. "I can sleep at home," she said. "How often do I
get a chance to be with you in a luxury hotel suite in
San Francisco?"
He slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled
her closer. "We'll come back sometime, I promise. Spend
a lot of time and really do it up right. That sound good?"
It sounded like the promise of a future. It sounded very
good to her.
Dropping her handbag on the sofa, she toed her shoes
off. "Hey, how come you got this suite all to yourself?" she
asked. "Are you that big a star already?"
He chuckled, emptying his pockets out onto the bar. "Not
hardly. Two suites came with the deal. I got this one and
the guys are sharing the other."
"Why? No, don't tell me...because it's your band."
"Smart-arse," he said softly. "No, it's because I dropped
several cast iron hints about wanting to be alone in this
one with you."
"And they just went along with that idea?"
"Yeah, of course they did. It's..."
"...my band," they finished in unison.
"All right, saucy," Devlin laughed. "You want to go
bed, or should we enjoy the amenities first?"
"Is that a new name for it?" she asked.
"Oh, you are really in top form tonight, Miss Buffy."
**************************************************
"This feels nice."
"Glad you like it, love."
"It's so relaxing. They have them at my gym, but
I've never used them. I don't....what was that?"
"Doorbell."
"Hotel rooms have doorbells?"
Spike climbed out of the hot tub and wrapped a towel
around his lean hips. "This one does."
"So who's at the door at this time of night?" Buffy asked,
slipping down further into the roiling waters of the spa.
"Room service, I expect." He smiled and winked. "I
called down for a bottle of champagne while you were
in the bathroom."
Just when she thought it couldn't possibly get any more
romantic.
**************************************************
Not only did he pour champagne, but he brought out
a box of chocolate covered cherries he'd purchased
on his first swing through town that afternoon.
She was instantly rocketed back to their first date,
when she'd asked him what he wanted from her and
he'd made that breath stealing speech about waking
up with her hair spread across his pillow and holding
her on his lap to feed her chocolate covered cherries.
The heat from the spa softened the candies, making
their hands and lips sticky. He diligently licked every
trace of the dark chocolate smears from her fingers,
and kissed them from her mouth.
Sitting on the small built in seat, he arranged her so
that she was straddling his lap, facing him, then tilted
his champagne glass and let the sparkling wine trickle
over her parted lips. Drops of it ran down her chin and
splashed her throat, pooling in the shallow hollow at its
base.
She could feel him beneath her, his hardness nudging
insistently against her softness. Placing her own glass
on the side of the tub, she tangled her fingers in his hair,
panting as his mouth moved lower to lap the champagne
droplets from her breasts.
"Drink some," he whispered. Bringing his wine glass up
and touching the rim to her lower lip, he bent his head
and pressed his lips against her throat to feel the ripples
as she swallowed.
A gentle touch beneath her chin tilted her head back,
and his mouth captured hers. He drank the wine from
her lips, then dipped his finger in the glass and painted
them again, trailing a lazy path just along their inner
surface, following it with the tip of his tongue.
Her eyes drifted shut, her lips moist and parted, and
just a little swollen from hard kisses, her breathing
deliciously ragged.
She abandoned herself to him, letting him move her
to and fro, anywhere he chose, like a rag doll marionette.
When his hands moved down to lift and caress her
breasts, she heard a softly murmured plea escape her
throat, whispering his name.
His quiet laughter tickled her sensitive skin. "Shall I take
you to bed, darling?"
"Yes. Take me to bed, Spike. Take me....."
TBC....
Feedback? I want, I want....
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