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My Spuffy Valentine
Part 3




Spike didn't bother ringing the doorbell when he
showed up. He would have felt silly standing outside
a house he practically lived in himself, knocking for
admittance.

Besides, he loved surprising Buffy.

Flinging the door open with a flourish worthy of Don Juan
himself, he spotted the girl of his dreams standing in front
of the hall mirror, admiring the gold necklace dangling between
her breasts.

"Well, look at you," he murmured approvingly. "God...I'm
the luckiest man in Sunnydale tonight."

She favored him with her prettiest smile, spinning in front
of him to show off her dress. "You like?"

"I definitely like," he agreed. From where he had it hidden
behind his back, he produced a large, heart shaped box of
chocolates. "Almost forgot the sweets for my sweetheart."

Buffy's eyes grew huge. The box was deep red velvet, with
a border of red lace running around it, and a red satin bow
on top. It had to be at least ten pounds worth of candy!

Taking it from him, she placed it on the coffee table. "Thank
you," she said happily. "For the candy, and the flowers, and
the champagne....and for this." She lifted the gold locket,
cradling it in her fingers. "It's just beautiful. The most romantic
gift I've ever been given...and I love it. I love YOU!"

"I love you, too," he said, sliding one arm around her
waist and pulling her close. "I hate to ruin your make
up, darling, but...I can't help it."

He kissed her passionately, not waiting for an assent
or a denial.

When he finally released her lips, she looked up at him
with starry eyes. "I can always redo my make up."

"Oh, well...in that case..." Swooping in again, he kissed
her even more thoroughly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You look nice," she said, as he led her down the porch
steps to his car.

He really did, too. That suit he was wearing looked like
Armani. Black silk. Seriously expensive.

His shirt was crisply white and tailored for him. Gold
cuff links set with stones of jet black onyx held the french
cuffs together, and his tie was a heavy silk splash of deep
pewter against his shirt.

He seated her in the passenger side of his black Jaguar,
and as she sank into the plush upholstery, Buffy couldn't
help but compare it with the car he'd driven into Sunnydale
years ago.

Although he had cleaned it up considerably, Buffy had never
liked riding in his De Soto. It just reminded her too much of
Drusilla. So, when his first book hit the New York Times bestseller
list, he had taken her out and had her choose a proper car for
him.

A year later, when his publisher had paid him a fortune for the
sequel, he bought a townhouse close to the ocean. The rest of
the money was put into a high interest bearing account, and that
interest produced more than enough money to live well on.

With his third book in the series very close to completion, the
money he'd be expecting would send his account through the
ceiling.

Their massive popularity with both critics and readers made them
a mother lode of cash, far outselling anything Anne Rice had ever
even dreamed of. Actually BEING a vampire allowed him to include
details in his stories that had never been heard of before.

Literary critics applauded his "breathtaking imagination", never
having a clue that imagination had almost nothing to do with it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Where are we going?"

"Out to dinner...then, maybe some dancing..."

"And then?"

He grinned at her. "Home for champagne and chocolates."

Spike deliberately kept silent about any other possibilities. The
evening was about romance, not about sex. Although, with her
looking the way she did, that would be a hard thing to go through
with.

Pulling the car into the parking lot of the Chart House, he
gave it over to the valet and walked Buffy inside. He'd greased
his last minute reservation with the the promise of a heavy tip,
and they were seated immediately at a corner table overlooking
the harbor.

The candlelight danced in the waves of Buffy's hair, and he
mentally kicked his own arse for not doing this sooner. Just
look at what he'd been missing!

Champagne was ordered and poured, and appetizers were
chosen. After the waiter headed to the kitchen with their
dinner order, Spike re-filled the champagne flutes and handed
one to Buffy.

"You know, luv...I don't think I say it as often as I should,
but...I do love you. You're my whole world. You always will be."

Buffy tilted her head and smiled. "You may not say it
often...but you sure do say it well."

After their glasses touched lightly, they threw back the
wine in one swallow and then laughed.

"Having fun, kitten?"

"Oh, god yes! It's all so...so...."

"Romantic?" he ventured.

Buffy nodded. The champagne was making her a little
fuzzy and warm. Slipping her shoe off, she trailed her toes
up the front of Spike's leg. "Romantic....and sexy."

Spike just looked at her calmly. Buffy so rarely had
anything alcoholic to drink, that he sometimes forgot how
cute she could be when she got a little buzz going.

"Where you going with those little toes, Slayer?"

"Ohhh...just slliiiding 'em up the front of your pants. Does
it tickle?" she asked hopefully.

"Terribly," he affirmed. "Go higher."

She placed her foot on the chair between his thighs,
then inched up a little further. "My," she said, locating
the bulge behind his zipper. "Someone wants to come out
and say hello."

Thankful for the long tablecloth, Spike leaned back in
his chair and allowed the foot job she was giving him.

The waiter suddenly reappeared, carrying a tray. As he
began placing plates in front of them, Buffy started to
retract her foot.

Spike had other ideas. Grabbing hold of it, he rubbed
her sensitive instep against his erection, refusing to
release her.

Buffy yelped out a high pitched giggle, then turned
bright red when the waiter looked at her. "What?" she
asked, hoping to forestall any comments. "I'm okay."

Well accustomed to patrons being slightly intoxicated,
the young man didn't reply beyond a murmur of he "hoped
they enjoyed their meals" and to "please let him know if
they required anything else."

"We're fine," Buffy said, fanning one hand at him and
peering owlishly at his name tag, "...Scott. Oh, wait," she
added, giving Spike an appealing look. "Can we have more
champagne?"

He nodded. "Anything you want, luv. S'all for you tonight."

Right at that moment, he was finding her so completely
adorable that had she requested he go to France and harvest
the grapes himself, he'd have given it serious consideration.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


"How's your dinner, kitten?"

"Oh," Buffy nearly groaned. "So good. I haven't had lobster
in ages." She dipped a forkful into the drawn butter, then
offered it across the table. "Taste."

Spike leaned over obediently and ate the morsel, staring
straight into her eyes as he let the fork slide slowly out of
his mouth. "Hmm. You're right."

He looked down at the prime rib on his own plate, then
cut off a bite that wasn't quite as blood rare as the rest
of it.

Buffy opened her mouth and his fork slipped in. When it
came back out empty, she licked the juices off her lips and
let her eyes drift shut. "Mmmm...yummy."

"All right, you win hands down in the sexy eating portion
of the evening," Spike observed, tugging at the knot of
his tie.

Opening her eyes, she tossed him a sassy grin. "I wouldn't
say that just yet. The evening's still young."

Her comment fanned the flames of the lingering arousal
he'd been maintaining ever since her little foot had crept up
between his legs. "You almost finished?"


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


"Aren't we having dessert?" Buffy asked, trotting behind
him as he dragged her into the area of the restaurant set aside
for dancing.

Since it was the day after Valentine's day, they were nearly
alone on the dance floor.

"Sure, we are," Spike said, stopping in the middle of the floor
and pulling her close. "After I dance with you."

The music was soft and sexy, and the lights were turned
down low. The romance factor soared to a new high.

He took Buffy's hands and kissed each one, then slipped
her arms up and around his neck. His own hands traced
lingeringly down her sides before coming to rest on her hips.

This was something he absolutely loved doing; dancing with
Buffy. The first time he'd seen her had been on a dance floor,
an image that was burned indelibly into his memory.

Even then, on that long ago first night, he'd wanted her. And
not just to kill.

He remembered circling the dance floor, his eyes glued to
every movement of her supple body. The sway of her hips
had fascinated him, and every time she'd shaken back that
thick mane of honey brown hair he had wanted to plunge his
hands into it and hold her still as he devoured her tasty
looking mouth.

How a sixteen year old girl could have such natural sensuality,
he hadn't been able to comprehend. But she had it in spades
and he'd wanted it...wanted her...with a fierce craving he'd
barely been able to control, and he'd come very close to asking
her to dance with him.

Now, holding her slender body as it moved seductively against
his, he wanted her with that same urgency. They swayed to the
mellow beat of the music, hardly moving their feet at all.

She moved her arms up behind her neck, lifting her hair and
then letting it tumble down, knowing well how much he enjoyed
the sight. When she heard a soft growl issue from his throat, she
turned in his embrace and pressed her back to his front.

Purposely rubbing her bottom against him, she pulled his arms
tighter around her waist and let her head lean back against his
chest.

Spike lowered his head, nuzzling the silky column of her
throat and whispering in her ear. "You're making me hard."

"I know," she replied, cupping the side of his face with her
hand. "What are we gonna do about it?"

Despite what he wanted to do about it, he clamped down
firmly on the urge. This was supposed to be about romance,
and dragging her outside in order to screw her up against a
back alley wall didn't really qualify.

"Let's..." His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. "Let's
go and have dessert."

After a long moment, she sighed. "And then can we go home?"

"You can count on it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back at the table, they ordered chocolate cake and an
Irish coffee drink that came in glass mugs rimmed with a crust
of heated sugar.

Buffy drove Spike nuts by licking the edges of the mug
and staring right at him while she did.

Since he was rapidly reaching his own personal meltdown
point, he reached over and grabbed her hand. On their way
to the door he caught hold of their waiter and shoved three
one hundred dollar bills into his hand, and a fourth one
into his shirt pocket, not even hearing the boy's babbled
thank you.

Following up by over tipping the valet as well, he drove
back to Buffy's house in half the time it had taken to get
to the restaurant.

Romance was all well and good, but he wanted sex...and
he wanted it soon.

TBC.....





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