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Under his spell

Buffy swallowed hard, her eyes captured—mesmerised—by the long oh-so-talented pale fingers of one hand running teasingly along the length of the finely-crafted cane riding crop held casually in the vampire’s other hand. Slow, light caresses with his fingers as his warm molten-honey voice poured over her promising delights; easily enveloping both her mind and body in his spell—a spell requiring nothing more than his presence; sensual, seductive, alluring and oh-so-dangerous.

“What d’you say, kitten? You game?” He watched her eyes widen, pretty pink tongue flicking out automatically to moisten suddenly-dry lips as she nodded, wary, but entranced.