The table rattled back and forth. A plate fell to the floor, followed by a beer can and some spoons.


“Uhhhhh…….uhhhh………uhhhh……..” the gorgeous blonde mewled, throwing back her shiny golden locks. Strong, rough hands held her by the waist. The same hands that had maneuvered them to the table. The same hands that had bent her over the table, unzipped her skirt, tossing it aside and had pulled down her lacey pink panties until they were at her ankles. The same hands that had surveyed and grasped her perfectly pink arse before unzipping himself and thrusting into her.


The platinum haired man growled, his hips thrusting, sweat pooling under his t-shirt. “So sexy luv,” he muttered, kissing her on the shoulder. “So bleeding tight.”

His eyes were fixed on her locks. It was, still, somehow, perfect. Not a hair out of place as he bent her over his living room table, taking her doggy style. Just like he’d said he would. Fuck he loved watching that perfectly done hair bounce. It was a challenge. He wanted to mess it up, without ever having touched it.


“Shut up,” the woman said, gritting her teeth. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. With him. She’d only known him for a short while. She already knew he was the most infuriating human being alive. He chuckled through the thrusts, filling his hands with her still covered breasts, making her squeal.


Gonna come off soon, he promised himself, tweaking her nipples. He needed to survey her breasts in all their glory before worshipping them. with his hands and mouth. After this one, he thought.

“Been saving yourself for a real man kitten?” he whispered in her ear,with his silver forked tongue. Buffy scoffed. Well, that’s what she was aiming for. But really, all she did was moan softly. Smug bastard, she thought to herself.

“Don’t worry baby,” he cooed into her ear, giving it a kiss. Daddy’s here. Gonna give you what you want. Gonna make you scream.”

Spike knew he shouldn’t but he couldn’t resist. Something about her made him want to stick it to her. Even while he was sticking it to her. He smirked at his own pun, before he came back to earth. Her heat was driving him crazy. She was sopping wet and virgin tight. She hadn’t been had in ages. The why was something he’d consider later. Right now he was too busy enjoying himself.


Son of a bitch, she thought, her eyes widening. Who the hell does he think he is?


“I’m……older….than you” she sneered, looking back at him. “Ten……..years.”
He’s at least twenty five, she had judged. A fucking kid. Prick.

“Fifteen,” he smirked evilly, his hand slapping her perfectly pink arse, making her howl with both outrage and pleasure.

Oh god. Twenty one. Too young. 21. Too fucking you…..Oh…..so good……fuck……..good.


“Old enough to know you’d absolutely love a good shag,” he chuckled. “Knew it from the moment I saw you.”


Spike didn’t know why he was trying to provoke her. But the angrier she got the more he wanted her. Buffy was outraged. At any other time she would have slapped him and told him he was a pig. But right now all she could do was close her eyes and moan as he took her with short hard jabs. His hands dug into her hips, so tight she was sure he was leaving marks. Not that she could bring herself to care right now.


"Gah," she whimpered, when he hit a particularly deep spot that hadn't been touched in years.


“Gonna cum soon kitten,” he growled. “You close?” he added, almost as an afterthought.
“Too…….uhhhhhhh………soon,” she squealed.


He grit his teeth. She wasn’t there yet. Normally Spike would think nothing of taking his pleasure and letting her have hers next. But not tonight. This was a matter of pride. Of honour. He’d made a promise to a lady. He’d just have to wait. With great effort, he began slowing down his thrusts.


“Don’t stop,” Buffy whined. Somehow she’d realized what he was doing through her fog of lust. Spike ignored her, slowing down ever more until he’d completely stopped, then with great effort pulled out of her.


“You…..” she gasped, even as he turned her around, making her look at him. “Bastard,” she ground out, her eyes blazing bolts of fury. Oh she wanted to scream at him and stomp her foot like a child. She wanted to kill him. She wanted to…..Spike interrupted her little internal monologue by engulfing her mouth with a fiery kiss.


Their mouths swallowed each other again and again, fighting for dominance even as his hands ran under her top, caressing her breasts. Suddenly, the searing passion, the kiss took a different turn. It became soft and sweet. They opened their mouths for each other, until their tongues were dancing. When Spike felt her relax against him, he pulled back. She tasted sweeter than anything he’d tasted, more than anything he could have ever imagined.


“Take it off,” Spike he said, fingering her top. It was half an order, but half a plea. So Buffy obeyed, but gave him a little glare to let him know he wasn’t calling the shots. She was letting him. Big difference. When she took it off, he bit his lip to keep from grinning like an idiot, blatantly checking out her cleavage. Buffy decided that it was time to make her move, trying to regain the power, by throwing him off balance.

“Like what you see?” she asked coyly, her hands fingering her bra strap. “Wanna see you,” he said, his eyes almost shy. “All of you.”

This time it wasn’t a command. It was a prayer. It took her breath away. Who was this man? And what was he doing to her?


Earlier this evening……….

Buffy Summers strode into the bronze, determined to have some a good time. God, everything looked so different. She hadn’t been here in……eight, ten years? She searched for her friends, spotted them in a corner and hurried over, her heels clicking annoyingly against the floor.

Stupid uncomfortable stylish shoes


“You made it!!!!!!!!” Willow Rosenberg exclaimed happily. Buffy grinned, hugging the redhead. “Honey, you’re squeezing her to death,” said Tara, Willow’s life-partner, seeing the grimace on the blonde’s face. Willow eased up, and Buffy exhaled loudly.


“That’s okay,” she wheezed, “I can always buy new lungs.” “Har har har,” Willow muttered, rubbing her friend’s shoulder. “Buffy,” Tara exclaimed, her eyebrows raised as if to emphasize her point, “you look…..great.”


And she did. Thirty seven year old Buffy Summers had spent the last few days, treating herself to a complete makeover. She’d didn’t look a day over thirty.


“Should I be worried?” Willow asked slyly, teasing her lover. Tara blushed, “Shush you,” she said, waggling her finger. “Maybe you should,” Buffy said to her best friend, sidling up to the brunette, putting her arm around her, resting her head on Tara’s shoulder. “I’m gonna steal your girlfriend,” she sing-songed, swaying Tara gently.


Willow gasped. “Bitch.”
“Freak,” Buffy muttered.
Slut,” Willow replied, slapping her on the arm, which made Buffy wince.
“Witch,” Buffy said, punching back, and Willow howled in outrage.


Tara giggled, then tried to stifle it. No dice. She looked at Willow who grinned and Buffy bit her lip. Suddenly all three women burst out laughing. “You guys are so weird,” Tara said, shaking her head as Buffy and Willow hugged yet again. “Quiet you,” Buffy said, “or I might steal your girlfriend.”

Willow and Buffy looked at each other solemnly before laughing yet again. “So freakin weird,” Tara said, grinning all the while.

"So…..where is everybody????” Buffy asked, looking around.
"Oh, I forgot.” Willow said, slapping her head with her hand.
“We were supposed to give the signal when you got here.”
“Not so hard honey,” Tara chided. “Yes dear,” Willow said which made Buffy giggle.
“That’s not what you said last night.”
Tara pursed her lips trying really hard not to smile, but failed.
“Shut up…..” she muttered, combing her hair from her red face with a hand.
"Women eh?” Willow said to Buffy cheekily.
“Gods Will…..you are so evil…..” Buffy mumbled, “I think I’m proud of you.”

“Don’t I know it,” Tara sighed ignoring the second half of the sentence,
“it’s like living with a teenager.”


“She means we’re messy and we do it a lot,” Willow explained to Buffy, who mock nodded her approval.
“The signal,” Tara said, folding her arms, looking extremely put upon.
Willow put her finger in her mouth then let out a wolf whistle.


"Buffy!!!!!!!!” Anya, Faith and Cordelia exclaimed, all together at a volume that made Buffy blanch. They had all appeared together, seemingly from nowhere.
“The first wives club is now in session,” Willow
intoned solemnly, waving a pretend gavel.


The first wives club is what Willow jokingly called the quartet. Cordelia, and Anya were
twice divorced and currently wrapping up their third. Faith and Buffy on the other hand,
had had first marriages bad enough to completely give up on the institution. The trio ignored the quip, surrounding the blonde.


"Whoa,” Cordelia said admiring the blonde’s outfit “this isn’t J.C penny.”
“Damn B,” Faith grinned. “Who knew there was such a hottie under those clothes.”
“I knew,” Anya said matter of factly. “I’ve said so many times.”
“Thanks Anya,” Buffy said, surprised at the compliment.

“Welcome to the club,” Anya beamed.
“The club?” Buffy asked, confused
“The Cougar club,” Anya said.
"The what club?” Buffy goggled.
“The Cougar club.”
"I’m……a……..Cougar??????” Buffy spat out with distaste. “Says who?”


“Society,” Cordelia said haughtily, tossing her hair. “We’re single, smoking hot and above 35. We're in the prime of our sex lives. The hot young guys love it.”
“And we love them,” Faith grinned. “Right ladies?”
"As often as we can,” Anya said, shooting Cordelia a conspiratorial look.
Buffy opened her mouth to react, but was interrupted.
“Oh my,” Faith said, pointing across the room, smiling like a Cheshire cat. “I think I found a keeper.”

Buffy followed Faith’s finger when all the way across the room, straining to see. When the
crowd parted she let out a little gasp when she got a good view of him. Shocking blonde hair that was gelled up. Gorgeous blue eyes and killer cheekbones. A sharp nose and soft looking lips that were curled up in a smirk. He was wearing a black tee that highlighted his sculpted chest and arms and low cut jeans. He couldn't be more older than 25. Oh I wanna, Buffy thought. I wanna bad.


“Mmmm….yummy…..” Cordelia purred.
“Come to mommy,” Anya added, sounding naughty.
“He is kinda cute,” Tara said, smiling wryly.

“You wanna?” Willow asked. Tara giggled, wrapping her arms around her lover.
“Could be fun?” she suggested.
“Could be,” Willow added, a bit hesitantly.
They’d talked about it, but she wasn’t quite sure.


“Oh come on,” Buffy protested, ignoring the heat building up in her body. “This was supposed to be our night. No guys. Am I right?”

That raised five collective brows.

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Faith said winking at Cordelia who smiled back.
"Methinks the lady is a slut,” Buffy retorted.
Oh god. Is it that obvious? Can they tell?
“Oh how you wound me,” Faith said, blowing Buffy a kiss.


“Clive,” Cordelia said, leaning over the bar, gesturing to the male bartender. “What’s the deal with honey honey over there?”
Clive, the big, obese, 45 year old, pony-tailed bartender gave her an appraising look. Cordelia huffed, then slipped him a twenty.

“Mr blonde’s new. He’s british.”
He paused, waiting for the Tarantino reference to sink in.
Nothing. Damn kids. No wonder the country’s going to hell.

Cordelia raised a brow.
“Blonde. Brunette. Red head. Makes no diff. Never the same girl twice,” Clive muttered.

“Thank you Clive,” Cordelia said, giving him a sickly sweet smile, turning to her friends. “Shall we draw straws ladies?”
No one objected. Which means he passed ‘the test.’

“Count me out,” Buffy said, rolling her eyes, all the while trying to keep calm. “There are laws against cradle robbing.”


Faith picked a few straws from the table, pooled them together and bent one of them. She pooled them behind her back, mixed them up and offered it to the women. Cordelia came first, picking her straw. Then Anya, smiling. When Willow and Tara came forward to picking two together, Buffy’s eyes widened.

“You’re gay!!!!!!!!” she exclaimed accusingly.
“We reject that societal label,” Tara said, faux haughtily.
"We prefer the term open minded,” Willow added.


Faith turned to Buffy. She had two straws in hand.
"Come on B,” Faith said. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
Buffy tried to appear disinterested, but found that her heart was pounding. She looked at Faith, who's smile seemed to egg her on.

When all the women focused their eyes on her, she wilted.
“Okay fine,” she said, throwing her hands up, snatching up a straw.
Oh please be me. Please, please. Pretty please.


“Okay, let’s compare now,” Cordelia said excitedly. All the girls held up their straws, measuring them until all eyes went to the shortest one, held up by a blonde.



“Thank you, sweet baby jesus,” Anya whooped, tossing the straw over her shoulder.
“Hey, don’t bring the Lord into this,” Cordelia chided, fingering the crucifix that dangled between her bosom.
Buffy felt a weight grow in the pit of her stomach.
Great. Anya. Just great. She tossed away the straw, cursing the fates.

Faith sighed. Cordelia’s new found devotion to the lord was getting on her nerves. Religion is what happens when your second husband diddles the maid, she thought. And the babysitter, the nasty part of her mind added. And the secretary.


“This is more like Satan’s work,” Tara said darkly, giving Cordelia the stink eye.
“Oh poor baby,” Willow cooed, kissing her neck, feeling a bit relieved.


But none of the other girls protested. Anya would have first dibs. If turned down the rest of them were free to try their luck. In no particular order. The method had spoken. The method had been the same since high school. No arguments, no recriminations, no bitching. They had all sworn to abide by it. The method was law. The method worked.


“Well,” Anya said, adjusting her hair, “Once more and into the breach.”
“Unto,” Buffy said, sighing. “You mean unto the breach.”
"No,” Tara giggled. “She means into his breeches.”

The rest of the gang frowned, nonplussed.
"Because he’s british,” Tara added. “Breeches are like pants in Britain,” she further clarified.
“Well, that was…” Faith said, her voice trailing off.


“There’s ten seconds of my life I’ll never get back,” Cordelia bitched, opening up a compact. “Is that a new line on my face?” she said frowning.
“That was there yesterday,” Faith said, leaning against the bar, grinning when Cordelia gave a murderous look.


"You guys suck,” Tara scowled.
“Only if asked nicely,” Faith grinned.
“Whore,” Cordelia said, laughing heartily.


Buffy noted that Anya was already making her way over to him. Part of her felt relieved. She hadn’t even had a date in, what five years? But she wasn’t sure she was ready. But a much bigger part of her felt let down. Deep down, she was ready to break out. Ready to have fun. Ready to try something new.

Oh well, she thought. Another quiet night. Just me and the kitty.

Am I crazy cat lady now? she asked herself frowning. Nah, probably have a few more years, she thought, fingering the glass in her hand. Maybe I should get a dog?

“Hello,” Spike heard a pleasant voice say.
He looked up to find a pretty blonde in the stool next to him, smiling
at him, a bit nervously.

“Lo’ ” he said, working his tongue to roughen up his accent, giving her a
roguish smile.

“Buy me a drink?” she said, a little too eagerly.
“Sure,” he said, trying not to chuckle.
Real subtle.
“But only if you promise you won’t feel indebted to sleep with me.”

She blushed, just a little. She was a pretty little thing, that’s for sure. A bit older than him, but he really didn’t care about that. All in all a solid 8, he thought, giving her the once over.

“That obvious huh?” she said, surprising Spike with her candour.
“I like it,” he said, reassuringly, “Get’s the B.S outta the way. It’s refreshing.”
“Name’s Anya,” she said, holding out her hand.
“Spike,” he said, taking her hand in his, holding on to it for a moment too long.

“So Anya,” Spike said, “out looking for some fun eh?”
“Something like that,” she said, smiling winningly.
“We’re here to celebrate.”

“We?” Spike asked frowning.
“Me and my friends,” Anya said, swinging around to gesture at the five women who’d now taken up a booth at the far end of the bar.
“Celebrating?” Spike asked quizzically, glancing over at them. Too far
to get a good look.

“Buffy’s freedom,” Anya said. “She’s one of us.”
“Buffy?” Spike smirked. “That a real name?”
“I’m still not sure,” Anya confided. “She refuses to let us see the birth
certificate. I doubt it.”

“Plus she’s probably Kenyan or something,” Spike added. “Like your president.”
“Oh don’t get me started,” Anya said, clearly irritated, “those loonies. Makes the rest of us look bad.”

“You a Tory pet?” Spike said.
“I……?” she stumbled, her eyes reflecting confusion.
Torah? Does he mean Jewish or something. Is that a problem? Where did that come from? Oh, is he like one of those Neo-Nazis or something? That would totally be a turn off. I wonder what gammy would say if she knew I boned a nazi? She would not be a happy camper.

“Conservative pet,” he explained. As usual, his british words went over
their heads. “Like a republican.”
Speak American mate, he told himself. Speak Yank.
Anya sighed with relief.
Thank god. She wasn’t going to be desecrating her grandfather’s sacrifice to keep America safe. Not tonight anyway.

“Only fiscally,” she said finally, a tad defensively.
“I have gay friends. I believe in marriage equality. I support the troops. I’m socially liberal.”

“That’s a relief,” Spike said, mock wiping invisible sweat from his brow. “Not that it’s a problem. There’s something sexy about a lady that’s wound up a bit too tight. That Sarah Palin sure is a hottie.”

They shared a laugh.
“What about sexually?” Spike teased.
“Now you’re getting too personal,” Anya said, her eyes letting him know that he wasn’t.
“Am I?” Spike asked.

Anya let it hang for a moment. “Sexually?” she whispered, looking around. conspiratorally.
“Awesome,” she confided her pretty brown eyes shining.
Spike considered it.
“Oh and I’m just supposed to take your word for it?” he asked, his lips twitching.
“You’ll see.” Anya said coyly, touching his arm.
“Will I?” he asked, grinning.
“Maybe,” she added, then drawing her hand back into her lap.
Spike chuckled, "It's not nice to tease a fellow."

Anya thought about it, biting her lip.
Charming. Sexy. Funny. Bingo.
Let’s get outta here, she thought. It was on the tip of her tongue.
But then, out of nowhere, she felt this childish urge to show off to her friends.

Show them the prize before I take it home and unwrap it, she thought gleefully. She knew why she found the idea absolutely irresistable. Her life had been miserable lately. What with the divorce. Again. She wanted to boost herself, get back her self esteem. On some level, she knew she was still competing with her friends. Pathetic? Sure. But the one thing Anya wasn’t was a liar. Not to anyone, and definitely not to herself.

“Wanna meet my gals?” she asked, taking him by surprise.
He had been sure she was about to suggest they go someplace more intimate.
Hell, he had been about to suggest it himself.
“Sure,” Spike added.
Why not? Waiting makes it so much better.

“Come on,” she said, standing up, giving him her hand.
Spike took it, letting her lead him to their table.

“Here they come,” Cordelia said, to the rest of the group.
She hadn’t been able to take her eyes off him, Buffy noted.
Not that I blame her. Skank, her brain added, and Buffy frowned.
Where did that come from?

“Is my dress slutty enough?” she asked, adjusting the body hugging
outfit.
“Always,” Tara muttered, resting her head on Willow’s shoulders.
Faith’s shoulders shook with laughter and she shook her head, looking away so that Cordelia wouldn’t notice.

Willow chided Tara gently by squeezing her thigh.
Baby. Don’t start.
Tara could almost hear Willow’s voice in her head.
Willow knew Tara wasn’t too fond of Cordelia. Or vice versa. But Willow was determined, now more than ever, to hold the group together.


“Looks like they’re getting ready to seal the deal,” Faith said smirking, looking over her shoulder.
“Don’t say that,” Cordelia protested.
“He can change his mind. He’s a free agent.”

“There are plenty of guys around,” Buffy said.
“Look there’s one over there. And there. And there,” she pointed, sardonically.
“Well yeah,” Cordelia conceded. “But I think he’s the hottest one here tonight. Plus pinching him from Anya’s arm would make it way way hotter.”

“Bitch!!!!!!!” Buffy said, unable to suppress a wry smile.
“Hey they’re not married or anything,” Cordelia said defensively.
“He can change his mind. Moving up is all part of the American dream. No offence to Anya, but I used to be a model. No contest, really.”

“You’re a real piece of work lady,” Buffy said, shaking her head.
Still the mean girl in high school. Good old Cordy.

“Faith?” Cordelia asked.
“I hate to say this,” Faith said, “But Cordy’s right. He can change his mind.”
Cordelia gave Buffy a self satisfied look.
“Or not,” Buffy said, trying to deflate the brunette’s balloon.
She loved Cordy, but sometimes she really couldn’t stand her.
“We’ll see,” Cordelia huffed.
“We will,” Buffy said guilessly.

She couldn’t wait to see the look on Cordelia’s face when Anya took him home.

Lucky Anya, she thought, suppressing a sigh.

Chapter 3

“Like what you see?” Buffy asked coyly, her hands fingering her bra strap.

Time to take back the power.

“Wanna see you,” he said, his eyes almost shy. “All of you.”


This time it wasn’t a command. It was a prayer. It took her unawares.

Who was this man and what was he doing to her?

Buffy found her hands going to his own, which were lingering at her sides, all of her own volition. She took his hands, then guided them behind her.

“You do it,” she ordered.

Buffy had expected him to fumble around a bit, but when he unsnapped her bra in record time, her eyes narrowed.

“You know what they say,” he smirked, suddenly back in control, as he rolled down the left strap and right strap languidly, enjoying the sight of more and more of her tanned cleavage being bared to his eyes.

“Practice makes….”

He tossed her bra over his shoulder, taking a long moment to stare at her. Buffy felt her face burn. It had been so long since anyone had seen her this intimately. And Spike was staring at her as if he wanted to devour her.

“Bloody perfect” he whispered, quickly looking up at her, back at her breasts, then at her again, almost disbelievingly.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Spike was going to write a hossanah to her breasts. They were a perfect handful, sun kissed golden with dark rose coloured nipples that were just begging to be plucked. And more.

“Shut up,” Buffy hissed, her vehemence surprising Spike. She could deal with him being mean and being a jerk. But this? He was looking at her as if he she was a goddess, a treasure, something to be worshipped.

No. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. This is just sex. Just sex.

Buffy quickly searched her mind for a way to bring things back to ‘casual,’ then did the only thing that came to mind. Spike winced when she grabbed him by the hair roughly, squeezing it as if making some vague threat, then pulled him down between her breasts.

That oughta distract him for a while, Buffy thought.
Spike’s mind was taken aback, but his body rejoiced. He nuzzled her breasts, enjoying the feel of them against his face, his eyes drinking them in, memorizing every inch for ‘future use.’

Buffy shivered when she felt Spike’s tongue lap her breasts, then looked down to see him tease her left nipple with his tongue.

Big baby, she thought nonsensically, when he looked up at her and winked, then latched onto the nipple as if she was nursing him. Big horny baby, she whimpered when she felt his cock straining against her thigh. She bit her lip, fighting the urge to tell him to hurry. She wanted, no needed him back inside her. Not that she’d ever admit it.
“Such sweet titties,” he sighed, chuckling somehow, even through his mouthful of Buffy breasts. Spike took them in his hands, bringing them together and eyeing them.

“Be a lucky baby that gets to play with these,” Spike slurred, his overly jaunty voice reminding her of one of those ridiculous british movies that involved pickpockets and chimneysweeps at the turn of the century.

Buffy gasped in shock.

Oh crap. I said that out loud.

“Yeah,” Spike said, reading her mind, letting his face stroke, nuzzle, kiss and suckle her cleavage to his heart’s content. And Buffy just let him. She stroked his hair, gasping softly as Spike had his wicked way with her.

“Love being a baby,” Spike said, making her face flush red.

“Shut uhhhhh……”

Spike interrupted her, lifting her up with one arm as he stood and placed her onto the edge of the table. He bent down, stroking her legs with his hands all the way until he reached her feet. He then gently removed her panties and slyly tossed them under the table, where she wouldn’t think to look for it later.

Another one for the collection book, he grinned wolfishly.

He made a mental note to ask her later to pose nude for him. He loved him a little keep sake, but a photo to go with it was just the icing on the cake.

Later you sod, Spike swore under his breath. Later.
He only sprung the question at the end of the night, when the woman in question was utterly sated. It still surprised him how many women were actually into it. He examined her heels for a minute, then decided to leave them on. Spike worked his way back up, stroking her long smooth legs with his hands and planting kisses everywhere. He looked up at her to see that she’d put her hands over her breasts and crossed her legs.

“Stand up,” she declared. He raised a brow, but did as he was told.

“Take it off,” she ordered, looking him squarely in the eyes.

“What off?” Spike said, the hint of a smile on his lips.

“Everything,” she said firmly, but her voice broke just a little.

Spike grinned, bending down to step out of his pants, and Buffy resolved to stare straight ahead.

All at once, she decided. I’ll look at him all at once.

When Spike tossed off his shirt, Buffy almost swooned. She had to steady herself on the table with one hand, the other still covering her breasts. Her legs squirmed as she let her traitorous eyes run over his absolutely perfect upper body. Spike looked as if he’d been carved out of marble. His chest was ridiculously well developed, his arms muscular, his abs looked sharp enough to cut her teeth on.

He’s like a fucking statue, Buffy said, in the huskiest voice she’d ever imagined in her head. It almost made her want to cry.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair. Of all the men in the world. The biggest jerk ever. No. Not him. It’s not…..

Spike just stood there, letting her enjoy the view. He put some damn hard work into his bod, and he loved an appreciative audience.

Wait for it. Wait. For. It.

He saw her eyes widen like saucers when they finally made their way down to ‘not so little Spike,’ and saw her mouth open ever so slightly and swallow.

Like that cute crazy chick on the telly. Zooey something. Bloody adorable. Focus William.

“Like what you see kitten?” Spike asked.

Oh this so fair. So fair. Fair, Fair, Fair. Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the biggest of them all?

“Spike,” Buffy moaned, answering her own question. She let her hand go behind her, steadying herself, bit her lip, then spread her legs letting him gaze upon her as she did upon him.

As Spike’s eyes feasted on all of her, including her perfectly pink quim for the first time, he realized he now knew what it felt like to be a starving man at a buffet.
He wanted to sample everything. All at once.

A Buffy buffet. A buffet of Buffy.

He came forward and Buffy rose up to meet him, their lips came together in a steaming kiss, mouths and lips and tongues becoming one. Buffy possessively wound her legs around his waist, the heels digging into his thigh and buttocks. They kissed again and again and again until they needed to breathe as their bodies tangled, her breasts smushed against his chest, his cock lying flat against her stomach. Buffy’s hand reached between them, trailing down his flat stomach, using her nails to scratch at his skin playfully until she reached his hardness.

Spike hissed when he felt Buffy’s thumb and forefinger swiping over his cockhead. Buffy began stroking him tenderly with her palm, her hands going up and down, as Spike swore a string of impressive curses under his breath. Buffy’s gaze fell upon his upper body and found that her mouth was watering for a taste. So began pressing kisses to his arms, her tongue peeking out to lick his chest, then began nipping everywhere with her teeth, leaving little love bites. Spike stroked her neck and shoulders, urging her to go lower and lower as her mouth bit into a delicious looking with relish, then let her tongue out to lick the bruise she’d left.

“Buffy,” Spike said, through gritted teeth.

Bloody woman’s a cocktease. Literally.

“Uh-huh,” she replied, as innocently as she could, staring up at Spike, enjoying the power she had over him.

“Go on,” Spike growled, making her titter.

“Go where?” she asked, her eyes now dancing with laughter.

“Do you want me to say it?” Spike asked, running a hand through his hair in desperation. “Do you want me to beg?”

“Nope,” Buffy said suddenly. “Yes,” she said a moment later, changing her mind.

“Yes or no woman?” Spike almost growled.

“Maybe,” she said, making Spike almost scream with frustration.

Gonna kill her. Gonna make her cum and then I’m gonna kill her. OJ style.

“Need a better look,” she clarified, going to her knees, shaking her long tresses.

“Mmmmmmmmm,” Buffy purred, her eyes greedily examining his magnificently swollen cockhead.

Tasty, she thought, her tongue flickering out against her lips. She looked up at Spike who was now smirking, then decided to make him wait a little longer.

Pride goeth before the blowjob, she remembered the slutty girls saying at her Catholic school so many years ago.

She lowered her eyes, studying the silken smooth skin, then found that ‘the beast’ was even larger than she had first thought.

Oh. Mommy like.

Congrats B, she heard Faith’s amused voice in her head. You got a fully sized one. Make the most of it.

“I don’t do blowjobs,” she heard herself say on impulse, enjoying the dazed look in Spike’s eyes. He looked ready to explode. Literally.

“You…….don’t……do…..blowjobs” Spike said, as if she were speaking some foreign language.

She better be fucking kidding. She better be.

“I don’t,” she said with a tone that indicated that the subject was closed

“Unless.........” she added, with an impish smile.
“You convince me otherwise.”

Spike looked at her, sitting between his legs, her golden hair still unfathomably perfect, her breasts shining with sweat, her glossy mouth inches away from his cock, eyes bright with laughter. And Spike did the only thing that came to mind. He pulled her up, making her eeep, crushed his mouth to hers and kissed her until she was limp and pliant. Then he picked her up in his arms, quickly making his way to the bedroom.

Let the convincing begin.