They weren't really her style, but Spike liked them, and they did feel nice. They reminded her of nights long ago, when she would set out for patrol, but find herself in his crypt instead. And that, of course, led her to think of all the things they had done there.
The warm summer breeze blew softly, causing the sheers over her window to billow in a silent dance.
A warm flush spread throughout her, centering itself in her core, as she recalled those memories. They were primal and raw. Spike had always been attuned to her arousal. She saw no reason why that would be any different now.
She stretched and reached behind her, feeling in the darkness and whispered, "Can you feel me?"
Her eyes drifted closed as she felt Spike's cool breath caress the back of her neck, causing the little hairs there to tingle in anticipation of his touch.
A soft moan escaped her lips as she felt him travel down the length of her body. The sheets fell away, leaving her exposed to his view.
Experienced hands traveled back up to slide underneath her negligee, pushing it up along with them. She held her breath as they traveled, oh so lightly, across her breasts, causing goosebumps to form and her nipples to pebble, aching for rougher contact.
But that wasn't his way. She knew he liked to make her wait; loved to watch how her body responded even as she struggled for control. He loved it when she broke. He wanted her to beg.
"Spike..."
Before she could breath another sound, those hands were sliding away. Back down, stroking her sides, crossing over her belly and further. Her breath hitched, and she raised her leg, while pushing her hips forward in an attempt to will his cool fingers closer to where he already knew she wanted them. She sighed in defeat as they crossed again, and traveled, instead down her thighs.
"Poor, little, lost girl." She heard him whisper over her shoulder, his low silken voice caressing her senses as much as the feel of his hands on her body. His fingers trailed lazy circles around her heated flesh. "Can you not tell me what you want? What you need?"
"You." Buffy gasped, "I need you."
Spike had always claimed that he had never learned to use thrall. He said that it was cheating. But, Buffy always wondered if that were true. How else could he turn her into such a puddle of want, simply with the lightest touch of his hands?
"You need me?" He asked, never stopping his feather light administrations. "Where, love? Where do you need me? Here?..." One hand slid back up to her breast, his nails grazing around one nipple before he grasped it and pinched roughly, causing Buffy to groan. "Here?" His other hand ceased its circling on her thigh to sweep across her mound, his little finger sliding further, to rub, gently,over her clit as it passed.
"Oh God... Spike!" Buffy panted, arching her back and opening herself wider to him in a physical plea for him to resume his attentions, there.
"Hmmm..." Spike seemed to ponder his choices. The hand upon her breast continued to tweak and pull, flitting from one nipple to the other, causing the fire within her to burn hotter by the second as the pleasure grew to near excruciating levels.
"Or, perhaps, here?" The other hand returned to her damp curls, two fingers sliding smoothly between her folds to bury themselves deep within her center.
Spike's name tore itself from her lips once more, as his fingers found her G-spot, and began thrusting and curling, rhythmically, inside of her. His thumb came up to strum her clit in time with each thrust of his hand.
"That's it, isn't it, kitten?" Spike cooed into her ear. I know how to make you purr."
Buffy wanted more of him; wanted to roll herself over, straddle him and feel his big cock pounding inside of her. But she knew that was impossible. That wasn't how this game was played. So she surrendered herself, instead, to the rocking motion of his hands and closed her eyes against the waves of desire that were rising within her.
Vulgarities and dark praises whispered into her ear as those levels continued their ascent. "That's it pet," he said, "I know you're there. Come for me." And all thought fled along with his words, as the waves crashed over and through her, each pulsating sensation building again and again, pulling her further into the abyss, until finally reaching its crescendo, wrenching a ragged scream from her lips before ebbing away and leaving her gasping and shaking in its wake.
Trembling, Buffy pulled her hand away and rolled over onto her back, scooting herself up to lean into the soft pillows behind her.
Tears ran slowly down her face as she ran her hand, softly, across the crisp empty space on the bed.
Looking out into the room, she whispered, her voice cracked and choked with emotion. "I can still feel you."
"Can you feel me?"