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*A.N: A little bad girl Buffy. Review and the next chapter will knock your socks off!!!*

Chapter Eight: When She Was Bad

The next few days leading up to New Years Eve, were busy for Spike. He’d barely been home, and Buffy spent her days watching TV. It got lonely as time went by, but Buffy didn’t feel that there was any point in getting a job, when unknown to Spike, she was heading home in three weeks.

She hadn’t given herself a moment to discover New York’s night life, so when Spike called her and asked her to meet him at a small club near the house.

“You have to enjoy the night life, luv. I promise that you won’t be able to resist going out every night after tonight.” He vowed.

There was a bit of hesitance. The last thing that the blonde wanted was to fall in love with a city she couldn’t stay with…and the same went for a guy. “I don’t know…”

“You’re a couch potato. Do you California girls even know how to bloody dance?” It was the straw that broke the camel’s back, and he knew it.

“I’ll show you what a Sunnydale girl can do.” After writing down the address to the club, Buffy went to take a shower and get dressed.

*

It took forever, but after finding her tight black mini, and knee high black boots with a low cut dark red halter that showed off her toned stomach, and putting her hair half up in curls, she was ready.

With her thigh high leather jacket over her outfit, it looked as though she wore nothing under. Her walk to the club was problem free, until she reached the door. The line was around the block, and Buffy figured she should wait as all the others, but the temperature was intolerable.

“Can I help you?” The bouncer asked, over the beat of the music, as he stood before an open door.

“I’m supposed to meet a friend here.” She replied.

“And that gives you the okay to just get in when there are over seventy people in front of you?” He questioned sarcastically.

“Obviously not, but I thought there might be some kind of list.” She said.

“Name?” He asked.

“Buffy…” She stated.

“No Buffy on the list. Who are you looking for?” He asked.

Her toes were numb from the winter cold, and her teeth chattered. “Spike Evans.”

“Spike? You’re a friend of Spike’s?” The blue-eyed country boy asked with a wide smile.

“That I am…I’m actually his roommate. Buffy Summers.” He seemed to know who Spike was, which meant that she’d be warm in no time.

“Summers! You’re Hank Summers daughter.” He was surprised and impressed. “I’m sorry about the wait. Name’s Lindsey McDonald, by the way, and next time, don’t be so patient with me.” He lifted the velvet rope, allowing Buffy to enter, checking her out as she made her way through.

The music was slow…sensual, and after putting her coat away in the coatroom, she put her hands up, and began moving with the music rhythmically, as she walked trough the room, to the dance floor.

It wasn’t long before Spike spotted her, a smile gracing his lips, as he looked her up and down from head to toe. His lust was pulsating, and he watched her, getting closer.

Unaware of his presence, she lost herself in the hypnotizing sound of THC’s Overfire. She was startled by the feel of hands on her hips, and attempted to turn around, but he stopped her.

“It’s me, luv,” he whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

“Don’t call me that,” she responded softly, for the first time since they’d met. It had never bothered her before, but since his attraction had become evident, and the evidence was in his pants rubbing against her backside, she felt awkward. That didn’t stop her from swaying against him, enticing his love muscle. She teased, rolling her hips, pressing more firmly against him.

He held back a groan, moving with her. She was dangerously close to making him release, but with quick maneuvers she faced him, her breath tickling his throat as she breathed.

“Do you want to fuck me?” She asked bluntly, in a low, seductive voice. She didn’t understand what came over her; she just had the urge to tease him. It was time to let loose, show him what she was made of. She was tired of being looked at, as though she was nothing but sweet and innocent.

“More than anything…but not until I make love to you.” He spoke without hesitance.

“Don’t you wish I’d just give it to you?” She questioned, grinding her pelvis to his, causing his eyes to roll in back of his head.

“Oh, God, yes.” He replied, barely above a whisper.

“I could ride you at a gallop until your legs buckled and your eyes rolled up. I've got muscles you've never even dreamed of. I could squeeze you until you pop like warm champagne and you'd beg me to hurt you just a little bit more. And you know why I don't?” Her lips were dangerously close to his, his eyes never leaving them as she spoke. “Because it’s wrong.” Without another word, she turned and headed for the bar, leaving a puddle of Spike on the dance floor.

Spike watched her, as she buttered up the bartender, and he gave her a shot of tequila with little reluctance. After composing himself, once again, he took to her side. “That stuff is bloody dangerous for someone your size.”

With a shrug, Buffy licked the salt from her hand, downed the shot, and took the lime that the bartender offered. “Thanks,” she said, making a silly face.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” Spike asked.

“My honeymoon.” She replied. “Mexico…three days, two nights…until Angel had to get back to the office, and forced me to be Betty homemaker.”

“Not what you wanted, pet?”

“Do you think I like getting everything handed to me on a plate. I would rather be prepared to be on my own than living off of my ex-husband, and father…” She said, gesturing for another shot.

“Is there anything I can do to make it better?” He asked seriously.

Buffy was already on her fourth shot when she came up with an answer. “Hold my hair back when I puke later on tonight,” and she knew he would.





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