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Authors Chapter Notes:
Since my first fic was not so well received, it has been deleted and replaced by this. I hope this satisfies and makes you review (positive ones this time!)


Prologue


Buffy sat up on her sun lounger and reached for the tall glass which she’d placed on a nearby table.

Taking a long sip of ice cold water, she sighed, slipping off the sunglasses that hid her gold-flecked green eyes. The backdrop of the beautiful north Californian landscape was the perfect complement to the grounds which made up a large part of the estate – a botanical paradise with a wide stone patio and private pool at the centre.

She missed her husband. As usual, prominent lawyer, Angel O’Connor was down in Los Angeles, defending his clients, and earning an extensive amount of money for doing so. Money that paid for the lavish surroundings she was currently enjoying.

The nights when Angel was gone were always the worst. Buffy missed the warmth of his arms as he held her and when she was alone, listening to the whisper of the trees outside her window, she couldn’t help but feel a little homesick.

Although born in L.A., she’d grown up in the small suburban town of Sunnydale, where she and her mother had moved to after her father walked out them when Buffy was only four. After graduating high school, she’d moved to New York to study art at college, but after a relationship with a fellow artist went sour, she’d returned to L.A., where her career had suddenly taken off after a wealthy art collector bought some of her paintings.

Less than six months after her arrival, she’d met Angel at a party and it had been akin to being hit with a thunderbolt. He was handsome and charming and seemingly perfect in every way. They’d become lovers that same night and the next day, they’d flown north to his oceanfront home, where four short weeks later, in the presence of a handful of family and close friends, she’d become Mrs Angel O’Connor.

She was startled suddenly from her memories by the unmistakeable sound of the wrought iron gates to the property being opened. Angel! He was home! Jumping up, Buffy slipped on her sandals and hurried round to the front of the house where Angel’s Porsche had stopped in a shower of gravel.

“Buffy!” he cried, as he leapt from the vehicle, pulling her into his arms and kissing her soundly. “Oh, baby, I’ve missed you so much.”

Joy swept through her as she looked into Angel’s beautiful brown eyes. “Oh, Angel, I love you,” she whispered, settling in his arms. “And I’m so glad your home.”


Buffy delved her toes into the soft white sand of their private beach and looked out to sea. About a hundred yards offshore, Angel sliced through the white crested waves of the Pacific on a Jet Ski.

She sighed. Although she was given to worrying about her husband’s ‘need for speed’, it was a part of him and she loved him regardless. And in spite of his adventurous side, he knew how to look after himself and she just had to find a way to stop worrying and trust him.

She loved him so much that sometimes she felt she’d burst if she couldn’t be with him. She knew he needed to work off the stress from his trip and after that he would all hers.

She looked out across the water again. Angel was nearer to the shore now, except there appeared to be a narrow line of blue flame flickering along the edge of the Jet Ski. No. She must be seeing things...

Buffy fell to the ground, as the explosion shook the heavens. Then only tiny waves interrupted the mirror-like surface and the water was serene and quiet again.

The Jet Ski was gone.

Angel was gone.


Chapter 1


Five years later

Buffy O’Connor beat her fingers against the steering wheel in an anxious tattoo as she sat in her black Lexus convertible, waiting for the lights ahead to change. Crawling through traffic at any time was irritating enough, but when she was only a few blocks from her apartment, it was really infuriating.

When her car phone rang, she leaned across the console and activated the speaker button.

“Hi Spike.”

“Hello, luv,” a British accented male voice on the other end of the line replied in daunting softness.

“What’s up?”

“We’re currently circling Van Nuys so we should be landing in a few minutes. Where are you, pet?”

“In my car. I’ve been doing some shopping.”

“Oh, really?” The tone of his voice dropped to a sexy murmur. “Buy anything nice?”

“Oh, something very, very skimpy.”

She heard him curse under his breath. “Don’t tempt me.”

“How long are you here for this time?” she asked.

“I’m not quite sure – three or four days max. I have an important business dinner scheduled for tomorrow night – any idea where I might find an insanely beautiful woman to accompany me?”

“I’m sure we can find someone to satisfy your requirements.”

He chuckled. “Listen, I have to go now, but we can talk about it when I get there.”

“Really?” she said as she took the left turn onto her street. “Talking is the last thing I had in mind.”

This time his cursing was more colourful. “How bloody long does it take to land a plane?”

“Is something wrong, Spike?” she asked, her smile widening.

“Pet, you have no idea,” he replied, with a slight groan. “Goodbye, Buffy.”

“Goodbye, Spike.”

She disconnected the call and turned her car into the underground parking lot beneath her building. Manoeuvring the vehicle into her private parking space, she killed the engine, got out and lifted her shopping bags out of the trunk, before locking the doors, pocketing the auto-sensor and heading for the elevator which would take her up to the sixth and top floor of the exclusive residence. The elevator opened out onto a small private vestibule, where she unlocked the studded oak door and gained entry to the stylishly furnished apartment beyond it.

The floors were solid oak graced with Italian rugs, which offset the matching oak furniture. Soft Italian leather sofas and scatter cushions dominated the lounge which flowed into a traditional dining room and kitchen, the walls dotted with framed paintings of Renaissance art.

The master bedroom and two en suite guest bedrooms displayed matching drapes and bedcovers, the former boasting glass doors that opened out onto two balconies, with beautiful views of the city and a queen-size bed in the centre of the room with Egyptian cotton sheets and a silk comforter. The ivory marble master en suite was fitted with a spa bath and double shower.

Dropping her bags into a nearby armchair, Buffy headed through to the kitchen for a drink. She filled a glass with chilled mineral water from the refrigerator and after draining the contents, she put the glass in the dishwasher and took her new purchases through to her bedroom, where she removed her jewellery and her clothes en route to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, she re-entered the bedroom, a towel anchored around her slim body in the style of a sarong and her towel-dried hair falling around her shoulders, Settling herself in front of the mirror, Buffy blow-dried her hair until it once more resembled spun gold. With a year-round California tan, cosmetic enhancement was limited to coat of mascara to her eyelashes and a touch of gloss to her lips. Removing her purchases from their bags, she slipped them on and moved to stand in front of the full length mirror, assessing the image it portrayed with a smile. The black lace baby-doll chemise and Brazilian-cut panties from Agent Provocateur made the most of her slender and toned figure and were guaranteed to drive Spike crazy.

Just as she was dabbing a few drops of her favourite Nina Ricci fragrance to her pulse points, Buffy heard the sound of a key turning in the lock and giving herself a final once-over in the mirror, she went to greet her visitor. Stopping in her bedroom doorway, she watched as he set down his luggage and then straightened and she steeled herself for full ‘Spike’ impact.

Five-feet-ten inches of devastating sensuality, William ‘Spike’ Giles was the epitome of male beauty with razor sharp cheekbones and eyes so blue that you could get lost in them. His crown of bleach blond hair warned of wickedness beneath the surface and dressed head to toe in black Armani, he could turn any woman on with nary a look, and Buffy was no exception.

“Bloody hell,” Spike groaned when he saw her, his eyes roving over the scraps of lace covering her trim body.

“I take it you approve?” she asked, her mouth curving into a smile.

His answer was a single curse.

Buffy lifted an eyebrow. “That bad, huh?” she asked with a hand on her hip as she leaned against the doorframe. “Well, maybe, I can be of assistance.”

She saw the desire flare in his eyes as she moved closer. When there was only an inch separating them, he curled a hand around her waist and brought her body flush against his. Both of her hands landed on his hard muscular chest and she could feel his heart beating as rapidly as her own, in counterpart to the hard jut of his erection. She curled her fingers around the lapels of his jacket and pulling him to her, she pressed her mouth to his.

The moment their lips touched, it was as if someone had covered them with gasoline and struck a match. Spike’s hands splayed across her lace-covered back and his tongue invaded her mouth, giving no quarter as he propelled her back through the door to her bedroom. Shedding his jacket, she began to work on the buttons of his shirt, while his hands took hold of the hem of her chemise and lifted it up over her head, dropping it to the floor in a pool of lace.

When they reached the bed, Spike propelled her gently backwards until she was lying down and then stood up to take off the remainder of his clothes. Buffy’s eyes locked onto him, her mouth running dry and her pulses racing, as he unveiled his marble-like torso. He was like a statue of a Greek god, a work of masculine art.

Removing his trousers, he joined her between the sheets. He wore no underwear, so when he covered her body with his, she felt the hard heat of his cock pressing against her. His mouth sought hers again and their tongues mated as he started stroking her breasts with his fingertips and cupping them in his hot palms. Buffy moaned and her breath caught as he expertly caressed the hardened peaks with the pads of his thumbs, before he bent his head and, with lazy calculation, ran his tongue over one aching tip.

She gasped, her whole body jerking at the contact. Her moans increased as he drew her nipple into his mouth and alternatively plagued her with his tongue and the playful bite of his teeth. He continued to torture her and Buffy’s temperature reached fever pitch as the pleasure built up inside her. As he persisted in his attempt to drive her out of her mind, his hand slipped between her thighs, pushing against the lace that was veiling her hot wet pussy from his touch.

Taking hold of the lace, he ripped it from her body, giving a mildly apologetic shrug when their eyes met. It didn’t matter to her that he’d ruined the garment; she loved bringing out the animal in him. She grew even more aroused as he touched her intimately, softly stroking her and she cried out when he slipped two of his fingers inside her, making her body tremble.

“You’re so wet for me, luv,” Spike murmured, his accent thicker than usual.

Buffy moaned, her hips bucking to meet his thrusting fingers. “Yes, just for you.”

“Oh…uh…Spike…” she whimpered, as his thumb located her clit and drew the tension higher. “So good…uh…oh…oh…”

Her breathing quickened and the pressure built in the pit of her stomach like a freight train moving at a hundred miles an hour.

“Oh…oh, my…Spike!”

Crying out his name, she came hard, her whole body shaking.

She watched him with heavy-lidded eyes as he sucked his fingers into his mouth before leaning in to kiss her and she tasted herself on his tongue. Her body still quivering with aftershocks, she moved her hand between them and curled it around his hard cock.

Spike’s eyes were shut tight and his breathing laboured as she touched him, her thumb rubbing against the head on each upward stroke and making him gasp. He endured her ministrations for little more than a minute, before pulling her hand away and kissing her again, heated, fervent kisses, his tongue moving against hers. Buffy gave a frustrated moan when he abandoned her mouth, but he didn’t move far, settling in the hollow of her neck, as he ground his erection in maddening motions against her.

He ran his hands down her body, briefly brushing her nipples with his thumbs, then curling them over her thighs and locking her legs around his waist, he entered her in one smooth thrust.

She clenched her inner muscles and Spike sucked in a breath as acute awareness assaulted him. He chanted her name in a litany as he moved within her, his thrusts becoming harder and faster.

“Spike...” Buffy gasped, arching her back as they found the perfect tempo.

They rocked together as they both neared climax. Intense sensations gathered deep inside her and tremors ripped through her as she came for a second time screaming his name, her body shattering around him as his own orgasm shook him to the core. Feeling his cock spasm inside her drew out Buffy’s pleasure and the whole world caved in around her.




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