Chapter 22
The woman looking back at her in the mirror would have been a stranger only a few months ago, but now Buffy was becoming more comfortable with her. She turned sideways to see how she looked in the velvet Armani dress from the back. The black halter dress clutched tight at her waist, lent her bottom the illusion of being curvier, or maybe she was gaining weight. Her hand went to her stomach as she gazed at that part of her anatomy. No longer the hard abdomen of her cheerleading days, it was now a soft pooch and she pulled her stomach in self-consciously.
“You’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” Will said from where he was lounging against the doorframe of her bathroom. “Don’t be thinking you’re anything else.”
Buffy smiled at her husband, grateful for his words as she returned to peering at this new woman. The expensive haircut, makeup and dress had changed her on the outside, but she knew that she was changing on the inside just as much. How could she not when there was no longer any worries about paying the rent, or even if she would have a place to live in a month? The small inheritance from her mother was something Will and she could drop in one afternoon of shopping. Leaning forward, she checked her eye makeup before looking back at William.
“I was just thinking how easy my life has become since marrying you,” she said honestly.
Will straightened up, his eyes narrowing as he stared at her with suspicion. “Is that why you stay?”
“What kind of silly question is that?” Buffy asked, going to him. She slipped her arms around him, hugging him as she tilted her head back so she could watch the expressions on his face. “I love you, Will. I just don’t want to become a stranger because you have money. You know the old Buffy was a little ditzy, but she had her good points. After all she won your heart.”
He seemed to relax a bit. Finally, he put his arms around her, and lowered his lips to hers in a kiss that was almost desperately needy. It was sad that even months after their wedding, he still questioned her affection for him. It was also maddening because shouldn’t he trust her enough not to wonder about her feelings? Maybe she should call him on it, but somehow she couldn’t.
Instead, Buffy tightened her arms around him, squeezing him, rising on her tiptoes so she could deepen the kiss. Taking control, she slipped her tongue into the wet, warmth of his mouth, tasting the cigarettes and the beer he’d finished earlier. It was her William. Her hand shifted to the back of his head, and into the soft curls that he hadn’t put gel in yet, pulling him down to her as she explored his mouth.
His body was tightening with the depth of her caresses. His cock hardened against her stomach, pressing to find the friction it desired. Making a decision that he was more important than anything else in her life, Buffy kicked off one shoe, hooking her leg over his hip. It was all the encouragement Will needed, reaching down; he pulled the hem of her dress upwards so it bunched around her waist. She moaned when his hands cupped her bottom, picking her up so that he could carry her to the bathroom counter. He set her down on the cool marble, never breaking apart from her lips.
Heat was racing through her body, screaming for Will to make love to her until nothing else mattered. Tugging at her panties, Buffy wiggled around so he could drag them down her thighs. She kicked them off, not caring where they landed because Spike was already pushing her legs apart.
Will entered her with a forgetful disregard for her body’s preparedness. Like a man possessed, he pushed her back so that she was leaning against the mirrored wall behind her, and pulled her bottom closer to him. Buffy wrapped her legs high around his waist, letting him take her with a roughness he rarely showed. All she could do was hang on as he thrust relentlessly into her body, thankful for its own self-preservation, as her body grew wet to make the fucking a little easier. Somehow, she understood that he wanted to brand her as his woman. Sometimes he tried so hard to push her away, testing her, and Buffy refused to waver in her love for him. The wounded look in his eyes kept her there. He needed her, unlike anyone else in the world.
Spike nuzzled her neck, suddenly gentle, and she whispered to him. “I love you, William. I always will. No matter what.”
“I know, pet.” He cradled her against him, changing his level of thrusting so she was receiving more pleasure. “You scare me with how much you love me.”
Buffy wanted to tell him that he was worthy of that love, but she kept silent. Sometimes it wasn’t how worthy he was; rather it was her need to love that was more predominant. A sad situation that left them like two strangers on a deserted island forced to depend on each other so they could survive. So, she just whispered. “Don’t be scared. I’m here.”
~~~~~~~
The party was tedious. Buffy didn’t like these events. She was accustomed to them though, like the woman she’d gazed at in the mirror earlier. Keep smiling, a little small talk, and don’t go against the norm for the people they were with at the time. She sipped her champagne, making a beeline for the sliding glass doors at the back of the living room. A little fresh air and a second of privacy was a necessity before she started screaming.
“Oh, Buffy.”
It was the soft voice of Chrissie, David Rollin’s trophy wife, signaling Buffy to join her and a man, Buffy had yet to meet. Plastering on the smile, she changed directions.
“Jon, this is Buffy,” Chrissie introduced them with flawless social skills. “Buffy, Jonathan Burke. He’s a senior partner in the law firm of Kellerman, Weiss, and Burke.”
“Hello, Jon.” Buffy took his proffered hand, shaking it with diffidence. She stepped back, studying him, and wondering if she should know him. As far as she knew, she didn’t. “Do you work with David?”
Jon laughed, shaking his head as he took another sip of his drink. “Not since his divorce.”
Jon and Chrissie shared a conspiratorial glance, before Chrissie laughed. A tinkling sound that resonated with a cruelty even Buffy could sense. “Oh, yes,” Chrissie laid a light hand on Jon’s arm. “He made sure the bitch was put in her place.”
The two laughed, and Buffy chuckled out of sheer politeness, but she wondered if the bitch deserved to be put in her place. Chrissie seemed to be the typical second wife who didn’t care about the woman she’d displaced, or the children affected by their father marrying a woman close to their age. Well, maybe she could give Chrissie reasonable doubt because from what Buffy learned from Spike, David’s children, were all still young. Which made the whole situation even more tragic. She wondered if William wanted children.
The hand once on Jon’s arm was now resting on Buffy’s, forcing her to return her attention to the pair in front of her. She crossed one arm over her middle as she took a sip of her champagne to give herself a second to regroup.
“You’re so lucky, Buffy,” Chrissie said. “You don’t have to deal with the first wife. Dru’s death was so tragic.” The blonde rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to worry when she’s going to call Spike with all of her little problems moving on with her life.”
“Oh, really Chris. It’s not like Spike would have been the one to leave…it was Drusilla who was getting the itchy feet.”
“It wasn’t her feet that were itchy.”
They did that conspiratorial thing again, but this time Buffy straightened her back, ready to defend William. Chrissie’s hand was still on her arm, it tightened as they noticed the change in her mood.
“Buffy, Spike is a wonderful man, and Dru wasn’t the best thing for him. These days he’s happier then I’ve ever seen him.”
It was a side to Chrissie that Buffy never suspected. There was almost a kindness to her word, and the gaze cast her way. Everyone in this town seemed to have an opinion about her husband and Drusilla. Yet, no one knew the truth, and if they did, they were keeping quiet about it. Maybe she should drop her questioning into what had happened to the first Mrs. Nagle, and then it would remain this tragic event. However, intense drama touched everything in this town. Where would that leave Spike? Still blissfully blind, and always a bit insecure about Buffy’s intentions? Or would the truth free him to be a confident man that could allow her to love him without the constant reassurance? She wanted that. She wanted Spike free.
“Thank you.” Buffy smiled gratefully at Chrissie, while squeezing the hand still on her forearm. “I love him, and I hope that I’m making him happy.”
“Well, then I guess you won’t be making the trek to Santa Monica,” Jon commented. He placed his empty glass on a tray carried by one of the waiters constantly circulating around the room. He nodded at Buffy’s glass. “Ready for another?”
“Oh.” Buffy hadn’t realized that her glass was empty. She placed it on tray, accepting a full one from Jon. Her mind was elsewhere as she went through these automatic movements. Earlier she knew that Jon’s name was familiar, but she assumed he was one of the numerous players, William had mentioned. He always came back from a strategy meeting in full hyper-mode giving her a running monologue about everything he’d done that day. Now, she realized she knew Jon from somewhere else, and thoughts raced through her mind while she tried to figure out where she’d seen his name. “I know,” she said, snapping her fingers so suddenly that her companions jumped. She laughed. “I’m sorry. I was trying to remember where I knew your name from.”
“I was wondering when you were going to make the connection,” Jon said, looking over her head. “I hope that you won’t let that color your opinion of me. I’m not my partner.”
“Your partner?” Buffy questioned. “I don’t understand. I found your business card in the penthouse.”
“My partner was the one murdered in bed with Drusilla.”
~~~~~~~
The conversation was boring. All business, and Spike’s body was still humming from the loving he’d shared with Buffy earlier. He scanned the room to find his beauty, and stiffened when he saw she was speaking with Jonathan Burke. A man he considered partially guilty for Dru’s death. Hurriedly excusing himself, Spike made a beeline toward his wife. Logically, there was no way he could keep Buffy from finding out all of the truth, but still he wanted to keep her from learning it.
They were silent when he stopped behind Buffy. His hand slid around her waist, pulling her back against him. “Hello, Luv,” he whispered, kissing the curve of her neck. He loved it when she wore her hair up, leaving her throat exposed for him to nuzzle. She melted when he nibbled on a certain spot. Spike looked up to look at the other two. “Hello Chrissie…Jon.” His fingers were busy skimming over the silk of her dress. Unmindful of the public situation as he reminded himself that Buffy wasn’t wearing panties. It was his request.
“Hi, Spike.” Jon clapped him on the shoulder, reaching around Buffy to give him the secret handshake to the fake club of their peers. “I’ve been hearing nothing but good things about this movie. It sounds like a blockbuster.”
“I hope so.” Buffy subtly pressed her bottom against his front, waking his soft cock from its boredom-induced slumber. He wondered if there was a place where they could play. “It will be David’s enthusiasm that will bring my characters to life on the big screen.”
“Who do you want to play Lucy?” A mischievous smile darted across Chrissie’s face as she noticed the play of Spike’s fingers across Buffy’s hips. “Maybe Brad Pitt? Or Nicholas Cage?”
“Too well known.” Spike slipped his hand to cover Buffy’s abdomen. She released the breath she’d been holding, causing her to lean back on his chest. He wished she were naked. “And too action oriented. Lucy’s got soul…despite his bad ass nature; he’s got a soft side.”
“You want to bank on an unknown to carry the movie?” It was Jon, smiling jovially at him, as if they were long lost friends or something. It irritated Spike. The memories of the day he’d identified Drusilla’s body filtered through his mind, along with seeing Kellerman’s wife there in the morgue hallway with Jon supporting her as she flailed out her grief for everyone to see. He wondered where she was these days, or if Jon was consoling the widow.
“Not an unknown. Just someone who can fully portray Lucifer’s personality.” Buffy’s hand covered his on her belly, squeezing it reassuringly as his body tensed. “Not someone with a one dimension ability to act.” Spike tilted his head. His cheek touched the twisted hair on top of Buffy’s head, the connection making him tilt his hips forward. “Maybe that guy on CSI. The one who plays Warrick.”
“Might work,” Jon commented. He shuffled his feet a bit, sipping the drink in his hand. “Well, I wish you luck in this new venture.”
“Thank you,” Spike replied, holding his hand out. The two men shook hands. The encounter was over with, and Jon was walking away from them. Maybe later he’d have to find out what Jon had revealed to Buffy. It irked him that his past was open fodder to everyone. Too bad that the murder hadn’t been made to look like an accident. It would have made his life simpler.
to be continued…
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