~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Part twenty-eight...
After a solid fifteen minute cry, Buffy managed to plug up the waterworks
and think straight. Her throat and her head were both aching savagely, and
she climbed the stairs to head for the bathroom and her giant economy sized
bottle of aspirin.
She shook three of the tablets into the cupped palm of her hand, rinsed out
a plastic cup sitting on the counter, and swallowed the medication. Then,
taking a deep breath, she looked at herself in the mirror.
It was just as bad as she'd feared. Her eyes were swollen and shot through
with red, and her skin was pasty and sick looking. Running a sink full of
cold water, she washed her face, then reached for a towel and patted it dry.
She still looked like hell. It wasn't the crying...it was the misery that
went along with it.
Spike was gone. And who knew if he'd EVER come back now?
The fact that he'd been behaving like an ass didn't make his loss any easier
to bear. Buffy didn't care about being right...she cared about being with
him.
And she'd only had a few precious days left. Now, even that small amount of
happiness had been brutally jerked out of her hands by her own capriciousness.
The whole thing had been so stupidly unnecessary in the first place. And over
Riley, of all people! She liked him well enough, as a friend, but she wouldn't
have cried for him if he suddenly up and left town. She wouldn't have spent
a lick of time wondering if he was coming back...or when...or what he was
doing while he was gone.
She loved Spike Devlin. She would cry a river on the day he would be leaving
and every day after that, she was sure.
And she would miss him. Painfully. Horribly.
Yet, if she'd been given the choice again, she wouldn't have done anything
different. The heart ache would be worth all the joy that came before it.
How had something so wonderful gone so terribly wrong?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wandering her house aimlessly again brought her back downstairs to the living
room. She straightened up the mess they'd left it in last night, replacing
the cushions on the sofa and tossing out the remaining donuts from Krispy
Kreme. She never wanted to see another one of those things again.
The rain was still coming down in sheets, and when she looked out the side
window she cold see small rivers running down the sides of the street towards
the storm drains, filling and clogging them with dead leaves and other debris.
She cranked up the fireplace to dispel some of the gloomy chill, then flicked
on the stereo.
His voice filled the small room.
"Sunday morning rain is falling
Steal some covers, share some skin
Clouds are shrouding us in moments unforgettable
You twist to fit the mold that I am in..."
Although she wanted badly to turn it off, she couldn't make herself hit the
button.
He'd surprised her with the CD last night, pulling it out of his jacket pocket
and slipping it into the player behind her back. It was Blue Eyed Devil's
first CD, and only three or four of the songs on it were well known at this
point.
Not including the one she heard now....
"But things just get so crazy,
Living life is hard to do
And I would gladly hit the road, get up and go
If I knew....that someday it would lead me back to you
That someday it would lead me back to you..."
The lyrics were hauntingly perfect for her current situation, and his voice
was entrancing.
The longer she listened, the harder it was getting to swallow the pain that
threatened to strangle her by massing in her throat.
"That may be all I need
In darkness she is all I see
Come and rest your bones with me
Driving slow on Sunday morning
And I never want to leave..."
Sadly prophetic words. He would be leaving. Regardless of whether or not he
wanted to...he would be leaving.
In four days.
Buffy shut her eyes tightly to stave off another crying jag. All this weeping
wasn't helping matters. But then again, nothing else was helping, either.
"Fingers trace your every outline
Paint a picture with my hands
Back and forth we sway, like branches in a storm
Change the weather Still together when it ends..."
But they weren't together. And this was the time above all others that they
SHOULD be. The end was closing in on them rapidly enough as it was. Now, the
process had been cruelly accelerated.
"But things just get so crazy, living life gets hard to do
Sunday morning rain is falling and I'm calling out to you
Singing someday, it'll bring me back to you
Find a way to bring myself home to you.."
A moment of clarity made itself known to her when she heard the last few lines
of the song he was seemingly singing to her.
"Of course he'll come back," she said out loud, drying her newly moistened
cheeks on the back of her hand. "He loves me."
God...how faithless she had been. How completely and utterly faithless to
think for a moment that he would simply walk away from her forever come Thursday
morning.
Spike would come back to her...or at least he would have if she had not started
that stupid 'thing' that she had started.
So what if he was jealous and possessive. Was SHE any less so? Didn't the
thought of him with another woman bother her?
Although she was not the worldliest woman in town by any means, she was perfectly
aware of the sorts of things that happened when popular bands went on tour...the
drunken and reckless behavior...the parties that lasted until sun up....the
girls that followed them from town to town, wait- ing for a chance to get
into bed with a rock star.
Andy had made the comment about the girls in the audience throwing their underpants
onto the stage. Spike had instantly denied it, but Buffy suspected it wasn't
an altogether unknown phenomena.
Spike would be out in the world, experiencing all the temptations his music
and male beauty would throw into his path, while she would remain behind.
How he would react was....
"Oh, god..."
Laying one hand across her mouth, Buffy sank down on the sofa.
Was THAT the devil that had prodded her into starting their altercation? Had
she been subconsciously testing him?
Maybe. But for what purpose? What in the world had she hoped to accomplish
with such a thing? Trying to find out if he loved her as much as he claimed...or
trying to gather ammunition to protect her heart and salve her pride by saying
"I knew I could never really trust him" when it all blew up in her face?
"And you may not know
That may be all I need
In darkness, she is all I see
Come and rest your bones with me
Driving slow on Sunday morning And I never want to leave..."
She had to fix this! Before it snowballed into something neither of them could
control.
First, she would need to find him.
No...first she would have to make herself look a little less like warmed over
death. Then...she would go looking for him and bring him back.
She didn't care anymore about who had done right and who had done wrong. Pride
meant less than nothing when your heart was so totally on the line.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Buffy showered and applied a little make up in record time. She pulled on
a heavy sweater and a pair of faded jeans, then zipped her feet up into her
boots.
Barely pausing to skim a brush through her hair, she grabbed a jacket and
ran downstairs. After a frantic five minute delay to search for her car keys,
she located them and shoved them into her jacket pocket.
She flung open the front door, then stopped dead in her tracks when she saw
who was standing on the bottom step of the porch.
"Spike...!!?"
"I'm sorry."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Never had Buffy seen anyone so thoroughly drenched. He seemed to be bleeding
water from every pore on his body. How had he gotten so wet walking from his
car to the front porch?
"How long...how long have you been standing out here in the rain?"
"Well, actually...I never left," he admitted. "I got as far as my car and
then...Buffy, I'm sorry." He looked at her with his heart in his eyes. "I'm
so sorry."
Her heart thudded against her ribs as she reached out one hand and took his,
pulling him out of the downpour.
Unable to articulate any response to his apology, she became practical instead.
"Take these wet things off," she ordered him, yanking at his jacket, "before
you get sick and can't sing a note."
"Buffy...please..."
She dropped the jacket on the entry way floor, then began tugging on his t-shirt.
"I can put all this stuff in the dryer. Except for the jacket, I mean." The
t-shirt joined the jacket on the floor, and she moved to unbuckle his belt.
"I can get you some towels...or...or maybe you should go and take a hot shower.
I could make you some...."
"Buffy!" He caught her trembling hands and held them in his grasp. "Please...look
at me, baby."
She bit her lower lip and slowly allowed her eyes to travel upwards from their
fixed position in the middle of his chest.
"Please...tell me that you still love me," he begged. "Tell me I haven't fucked
everything up beyond hope."
She shook her head, "Spike..."
"I'll do anything," he inserted quickly, obviously fearing that she was about
to shut him down for good. "Anything."
Looking up at him, she could only think of one thing that she wanted.
"Kiss me," she whispered. "That's all you need to do right now."
The worry began to fade from his expressive eyes as a slow smile tugged at
one corner of his mouth. Once again, the world...their world...enveloped them
in warmth and love, all it's sharp edges softened.
Even the rain began to fall more gently when they came together.
Part twenty-nine.....
"You've been a very bad boy, you know."
"I have."
"I should punish you."
"You should."
A fresh fire was blazing on the hearth. After tossing every pillow in the
house on the floor in front of it, they stretched out side by side, facing
each other.
"If you were one of my students," Buffy added, arching one eyebrow, "you'd
be sitting in the time out chair."
"Yes, ma'am." Devlin gave her the most innocently sincere look he could summon
up.
A look she tried to disregard in order to maintain her upper hand.
"Good thing for you you're too big for it."
"I'm numb with relief," he assured her.
The charm had been turned up full blast, but she was learning how to sneak
around it. "Do YOU have any suggestions?"
"What, you mean about punishment?" He moved closer, placing one arm around
her waist and pretending to think. "One thing comes to mind."
"Do tell."
He leered playfully. "You could make me take all your clothes off and kiss
every inch of your body...you know how much I hate that," he added when she
snorted in an unladylike manner.
But when he moved to kiss her, she placed her hand in the middle of his chest.
The light moment suddenly changed. "About Riley," she began. "He..."
Spike cut her off. "I know. He's a friend, and I'm an insecure moron. I get
it now."
"Actually, you really don't," she said, shaking her head. "So let me tell
you; Riley is...he's a guy I've known for a couple of years. He's the bank
officer who arranged for Willow's small business loan. That's how I met him."
Spike stayed silent, preparing himself for what was coming.
He wanted to be able to take whatever she was getting ready to tell him about
this other man in an adult frame of mind. The guy was her friend and she'd
every right to have as many friends as she chose without worrying about setting
him off.
But the LESS adult part of him, the spoiled and jealous child part, wanted
to punch that clown dead in the face.
"We've gone out maybe...I don't know...ten or eleven times. It was fun..."
His jaw was beginning to ache with the effort of keeping it clamped tight.
"...but I wouldn't care if he up and left town."
**If only,** he replied silently. **If only...**
The feelings that he was experiencing were very new for him. He'd never felt
so possessive and territorially inclined with any other woman, at any time
in his life.
Buffy brought out all the primal instinct that he'd not given any thought
to, or even known was there.
"You believe me...don't you?" she asked, worried at the closed down expression
that had frozen on his features. "Spike, you have to trust me. Because, if
you don't..."
That caught his attention. "It's not that I don't trust you, Buffy," he said,
turning away from her and sitting up. "That's not the problem."
"Then what is it?"
Shit....he didn't KNOW what it was! If HE couldn't understand it, how the
hell was he going to explain it to her?
Staring into the fire, he spoke haltingly. "I don't...even know this guy...and
I hate him. I hate everything about him. Because he knew you first, because
you went out with him, because he's kissed you...and touched you."
That was a stab in the dark, but she didn't jump in and deny it.
He held his peace for a moment, then looked at her. "But I hate him most of
all because he'll BE here...and I won't." His eyes were stormy as he regarded
her. "I'll be on the other side of the fucking country."
She really wished he'd quit reminding her of that.
"But not for good, right?" she asked faintly.
He looked perplexed. "I...what?"
"I mean..." She swallowed hard. "You're coming back, aren't you?"
Devlin stared at her in disbelief as her meaning became clear.
"Is...is THAT what you've been thinking?" He frowned. "That I'm never coming
back?" When she didn't answer right away, he jumped to his feet, towering
over her and running one hand through his hair. "Jesus Christ, Buffy! How
can you even think a thing like that?"
Buffy's eyes darted away guiltily. Hadn't she just been wondering that very
same thing?
She opened her mouth to make whatever measly apology she could, but he leaned
over and grabbed her hands, hauling her to her feet.
"Buffy," he said, staring intently into her eyes and willing his words to
convince her. "I'm coming back. The minute this tour ends, I'll be on the
first plane out of whatever city I happen to be in."
Buffy felt the tightening in her chest begin to give way. It was a feeling
she'd been living with for the past three days, the axe poised to drop on
her come Thursday morning. All his whispered words of love, his gentle touches,
his abandoned lovemaking, hadn't been able to make it go completely away.
It had been hovering on the edge of her happiness like a snake looking for
a vulnerable spot to bite, and she'd been so worried about it that she hadn't
been able to work up the nerve to raise the subject.
But now, it was out in the open between them, ready to be dealt with...and
three simple words from him was making everything better; "I'm coming back."
Then, in a ridiculous coincidence that would have been too much in the corniest
and most cliche laden old Hollywood musical, the room brightened as the sun
finally edged it's way out from behind the rain clouds.
They both glanced around the room at the sudden splash of sunlight, then looked
back at each other.
"Well," he said, smiling, "that pretty much speaks for itself, doesn't it?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Not that you don't look very appealing in my old sweat pants, but I think
your clothes are probably dry."
They were lying on the sofa, watching the last of the rain pattering off the
roof of the porch, snuggling together beneath an afghan that her mom had knitted
for her during her 'earth mother' phase, the one she had taken on immediately
after Buffy had moved out on her own. For almost three months, she had been
on the receiving end of more easy to reheat casseroles, home baked loaves
of bread and gallons of soup than one person could possibly manage to eat.
"I have absolutely no interest in putting any more clothes on right now,"
Devlin replied, tightening his arms around her.
A sudden urge to cause a little mischief came over her. "Why don't we go for
a walk?"
"No, thanks."
She wriggled around to look at him. "Didn't you say something in one of your
songs about that being romantic?"
"No, I said walking IN the rain was romantic," he denied. "Slogging through
puddles and slipping on muddy leaves is just annoying."
"Uh-huh."
"Besides," he added. "I've got your romance right here." Burying his face
in her hair, his hands crept up under her sweater.
Underneath her was a very prominent erection pressing against her bottom.
Shifting her hips made it even harder. She could feel the heat radiating from
him, and she leaned back into him, soaking in his warmth.
"Buffy?" he murmured into the side of her neck. "Do you forgive me for being
such a bastard?"
She smiled with her eyes closed. "Well...that grabbing your crotch thing was
pretty rude," she said. "But you were right about one thing..."
"Yeah? That's a relief. What was it?"
Buffy could feel her cheeks reddening. She couldn't believe what she was about
to say, even as she was saying it. "I...I have kind of developed a taste for
this," she said softly, pushing down into his lap.
Her movement elicited a choked gasp from him. "Me, too."
He turned her over in his arms, slipping his hands back up under her sweater
and unhooking her bra. She pushed up on her hands and allowed him to lift
the front of her top and move her undergarment out of the way, then settled
back down against his bare chest.
Their eyes locked. Without a word, he took her hand and placed it on the swelling
in the front of the borrowed sweat pants.
Forcing herself not to blush or turn away, she tightened her fingers around
his erection.
Spike's head dropped back and thumped against the arm of the sofa. "Oh, Christ,"
he muttered. "Have a little pity, Miss Buffy," he begged.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning....stop." She blinked with surprise when he pushed her hand away.
"I have some making up to do," he explained briefly, sliding out from under
her. "And if you touch me like that...I won't be in any condition to attend
to your needs first."
This sounded promising, so she allowed him to pull her to her feet. He made
quick work of removing her jeans and underpants, but he instructed her to
leave her top the way it was, telling her that he liked the way it looked
having her upper garments mussed up and askew while she was naked from the
waist down.
Dropping to knees in front of her, he pushed her legs apart and lowered his
head to kiss her inner thighs. Buffy instinctively moved her hips forward,
making him pause in his ministrations.
"Settle down, princess," he scolded her. "I'm making amends here."
Taking her hips in his hands, he lowered his head between her legs and breathed
in the scent of her arousal. She was already wet, he could see and smell it,
and it only made him hungrier.
Pressing his face to her delicious sex, he began lapping and sucking at it,
wallowing in the taste and moisture. He went at her with a tender fierceness,
licking up all the wetness her body was producing, using his tongue to encourage
more of it to flow by rubbing it firmly against her clit.
As he ate her out, he took her feet in his hands and bent her legs, resting
her feet on the sofa. Ordinarily, this wanton position might have caused her
embarrassment, but she was too overwhelmed by the sensations that were uncoiling
in her lower regions to care.
Unable to get enough of the salty-sweet taste of her, his mouth moved from
her clit, traveling down the folds of her labia. Reaching his goal, he darted
his tongue inside and pushed it as deep as he could make it go.
Buffy dragged air into her lungs, then released it on a soft cry of pleasure.
Her hips writhed in his grasp as she sought the satisfaction he was teasing
out of her.
"More?" he whispered, licking her from top to bottom. "Shall I make you come
this way, princess? The first time?"
Not waiting for an answer, he dove back into his task. Going at her with even
more vigor, he licked her hard and then slid his tongue in and out of her
drenched passage as one hand moved up beneath her disarranged sweater to caress
her nipples.
Her climax slammed into her with little warning. One moment she was lying
there enjoying the slow thrusting of his tongue, and the next she was straining
forward when he slid one finger up into her at the same time he sucked hard
on her clitoris.
She cried out as the explosion sent shock waves of pleasure up and down her
spine.
Devlin brought her down from it gently, carefully, knowing full well that
over stimulation at this point could border on pain. As her body calmed, his
tongue slipped slowly away from her and he pillowed his head on her thigh.
Looking up at her, he caught the satisfied smile she couldn't suppress.
"How am I doing so far?" he asked pleasantly. "As far as making up goes?"
Part thirty...
"That's some of the best making up I've ever experienced," she told him, blushing
profusely.
"And I'm just getting started," Devlin stated grandly. "I think I have a long
way to go yet before I'm completely forgiven."
Buffy stretched, arching her back. "I may not survive."
"Yeah, you will. I'll make sure of it."
***************************************
The brief break in the storm didn't last. By the time they ended up in the
bedroom, it was raining again.
Not that either of them cared.
Spike straddled Buffy's hips, pressing her down into the soft bed- clothes.
His hands held her wrists down on the mattress as his mouth began exploring
the silky skin of her throat.
She closed her eyes, wanting to experience this by feel alone.
His lips traveled down, lingering in the hollow at the base of her throat.
He dipped his tongue into it briefly, laughing softly when he felt her shiver
and heard her gasp.
He quieted her with a kiss, hot and demanding, all pretense of gentility temporarily
put aside. This kiss was meant to consume them both, he wanted to ravish and
plunder her mouth, to lick her trembling lips and suck on her tongue until
it was buried inside his own mouth.
Buffy gave herself over to it. She wanted this dominating side of him to show
itself, wanted him to control her...just a bit...until she was ready to shatter
that control. Her tongue moved over the edges of his teeth and lapped at the
soft inside of his cheek, fanning the flames that burned between them.
Devlin ended the kiss, but didn't turn her loose from his grasp. He released
one of her hands so he could gather up a fistful of her hair, then used it
to tilt her head back on the pillow. Before she could even think to question
his actions, he'd lowered his head and was kissing and licking at her breasts.
Buffy felt her senses reeling. His tongue was performing the sweetest torture
ever inflicted on an unsuspecting woman. He used it to paint delicate patterns
on the upper curves of her breasts, then circled it around and around her
nipples until she thought she actually was going to scream this time.
At which point, he closed his mouth around one hard nipple and then the other,
sucking them fiercely, hard and strong.
When he had her whimpering and twisting in his hold, he let go of her hair
and her wrist, moving further down her body. He paused at her navel, depositing
wetness from his tongue in the small cup, then slid down even more.
"Spread your legs," he rasped. She did, and he spent a moment just staring
at what she revealed to him. Slowly, he leaned down and ran his tongue along
the neatly trimmed line where her pubic curls began. Back and forth he went,
wetting her thoroughly, then sliding his tongue right down the center and
licking her clitoris.
Buffy's hips lunged forward with no thought from her. He captured them in
his hands and grunted out an order to "hold still" before he sucked on her
long and sweetly.
She had no time to prepare herself for the orgasm that crashed into her. He
continued to hold her down as her hips jerked beneath his ravaging mouth.
And when she finally...finally...began to recover, he quickly slid back up
her body and sank his erection all the way inside of her.
With his forearms bracketing her head on the pillow, he buried his face in
her hair and groaned out her name.
Buffy brought her arms up and wrapped them around him, keeping him lying flat
on top of her. She didn't want so much as an air molecule to come between
their bodies.
Spike was plunging into her with all of his strength, there was nothing slow
and tender about his deep, driving thrusts.
He seemed unable to slow down, and she had no trouble discerning why he was
being so dominant, so demanding....he was staking his claim.
She wasn't sure whether she SHOULD be disturbed by his behavior, but she wasn't.
She'd made a decision at some point, an unconscious one, that she was giving
herself to him in every way. She wanted to belong to him, to be his.
Just as she wanted him to belong to her.
Devlin kept thrusting, harder and deeper, grunting against the damp skin of
her throat with each forward lunge.
The rain came down harder, as if it knew that something needed to be done
to mark the occasion. It hit the window in violent bursts, then trickled down
the pane, making crazy patterns.
The two on the bed took no notice of it. Their bodies writhed against each
other's in wild, earth shaking rhythm.
Buffy lifted her legs and clasped them around Spike's waist, letting him sink
in even deeper. She held on to him, nails digging into his back, as she strained
upwards against him, meeting that erotic rhythm he had set, thrust for thrust.
Then, when she couldn't wait another moment, she deliberately tightened her
internal muscles around his invading erection, clamping down on it as orgasm
swept over her once again.
"Buffy...Buffy...oh, CHRIST!" he shouted, muffled against her neck. "Ah....ah....ah....yessss!"
With a deep throated growl, Devlin surrendered to his own climax. He pounded
his hips into hers, relishing every soft gasp he elicited from her lips.
Pushing her down harder into the bed, then harder still, he emptied himself.
Thick spurts of semen shot into her, filling her until it overflowed and leaked
back out, trickling down her inner thighs and dampening the sheet.
When she came to her senses...when the wild rushing in her ears faded...she
could concentrate on him again, on how he was holding on to her tightly, and
whispering in her ear over and over..."I love you...I love you...God, I love
you so much."
*************************************
"Are you hungry?"
"Are you joking? Of course I am."
"Well, let's go downstairs and I'll fix some dinner."
"But that would mean getting out of bed," Spike complained.
Buffy shrugged. "Sorry. You can't have it both ways."
He was silent for a moment, then said, "Why not?" with a truly adorable pout.
***********************************
It took her a few minutes, but she was finally able to talk him out of bed
and into his freshly dry jeans and t-shirt. She threw on a pair of over sized
pajamas and prodded, pulled and pushed him downstairs to the kitchen.
He grumbled about it good naturedly, but sat quietly on the counter and watched
her cook.
Buffy disappeared into the pantry and reemerged with her arms full. She dropped
the items on the counter, and located some ground beef in the refrigerator.
"What are you making?" Spike asked with interest.
"This," she informed him, grabbing her iron skillet and setting it on the
stove, "is a really easy chili. It's nice for a cold, wet night like this...but
it doesn't take as long to make as regular chili."
"How come?"
She shrugged. "Because I cheat. Open these cans for me," she directed, handing
him the can opener.
While he was working on the cans, she crumbled the meat up in the pan and
started browning it. When it was nearly finished, she added garlic salt and
a pinch of chili powder and let it settle into the ground meat to flavor it.
"All cans opened," Spike reported, tossing the can opener into a drawer.
Buffy drained the meat, then dumped it into a large kettle. "Now, we add the
canned beans." She added a large can of pinto beans, then drained the liquid
from a can of kidney beans and tossed them into the kettle. Two large cans
of crushed tomatoes went into the pot. After stirring the mixture together,
she added diced green chilies and sliced some onion into it. A few shakes
of chili powder finished the preparations, and she covered the kettle and
set the flame under it to simmer.
"Give it about a half hour and it's ready to eat."
Her words drew his attention. "What are we going to do while we're waiting?"
he asked politely.
Buffy glanced at him, then at the pot on the stove, then back at him.
"I could use a shower," she said, heading for the stairs.
"Hey! Wait for me!"
****************************************
Buffy placed a stack of towels on the hamper in the bathroom, then lit three
fragrant candles and placed them in strategic locations.
Closing the bathroom door behind them to keep the room warm, she fiddled with
the shower knobs until she had the temperature right.
When she straightened up, she turned and ran right into Devlin.
He smiled and started unbuttoning her pajama top, then shoved the bottoms
down until they puddled around her feet. Ridding himself of his clothing,
he opened the shower door and climbed in, pulling her after him.
She was a little surprised when he didn't reach for her, but instead picked
up a bottle of bath gel and a fat, pink sponge. He squeezed a goodly amount
of the peach scented gel on the sponge, then began working it up into a lather
which he applied lavishly all over her body.
He was thorough, and left no part of her unwashed. Directing her under the
warm spray, he carefully rinsed her clean of soap residue.
She could feel his erection prodding her, but she took the sponge and soap
and treated him to the same diligent cleansing. He stood it for as long as
he could, then yanked the sponge away and spun her around until she was facing
the tile on the back wall of the shower en- closure.
He placed her hands on the wall, then nudged her feet apart.
Buffy waited....
After considering his options, Devlin put his hands on her waist and squeezed
gently. He stepped closer and bent his knees a little, then straightened,
bringing himself up between her legs. His erection rubbed firmly against her
as he slid in and out of the trap she'd snared him in.
"D'ya feel that, luv?" he asked in her ear, rubbing himself against her more
aggressively. "Feel how hard I am? How much I want to be in you?"
Buffy kept her hands on the wall, certain that if she were to let go, she'd
end up on the floor.
"Feel me sliding back and forth over your pretty wet pussy?" he went on, breathing
hotly against her skin. "In and out of your thighs? Do you like it?"
"Yes," she said softly, nodding. Oh, god...did she like it!
Her own hips bucked back slightly, seeking a firmer contact.
"No, you don't," he said instantly, pulling away. "You be still. I'll give
you what you want, babe. When I'm ready." Returning to his original position,
he rocked his hips against her soft bottom, grinding his erection against
it. "You have the prettiest ass," he murmured in her ear. "It's so soft and
rounded. I love feeling it rubbing against me."
The hot water continued to shower down on them, making their contact slick
and slippery. He leaned down and licked droplets of it from her shoulders
as his hands slid from her waist to her breasts.
"Want me to play with them?" he asked, teasingly.
Buffy didn't know what she wanted more at the moment, so she kept quiet and
let him run the show.
Devlin slid his wet hands up under her breasts, lifting them just a little
and pushing them together. His thumbs swept over the hard peaks, rubbing them
firmly.
"You like that?" he hissed, biting her ear lobe gently. "Or...this?" His fingers
tugged firmly on her nipples.
"Oh...oh, god," she moaned raggedly. "Spike...please."
His own control was beginning to slip, and that husky begging she was doing
wasn't helping at all. He pulled back slightly, afraid that if he didn't he'd
surely embarrass himself all over her pretty, little bottom.
He put his hands back on her waist, fighting for the control that was slowly
deserting him, standing behind her and struggling to calm his breathing.
"Spike," Buffy whispered. "Please....now. I need you..."
"Bloody, fucking hell," he muttered, and yanked her back onto him. With a
harsh grunt, he slid all the way inside of her, burying his rigid cock in
her sweet softness. The hard length slid in and out of her, steadily building
up a pressure that would soon need to be eased.
Buffy lost it. She pushed her hips back, demanding that he pound into her
as hard as he could. One hand left the wall and reached behind her, sliding
around the back of his neck. "Harder," she begged.
Desperate to give her what she asked for, he redoubled his efforts until he
was slamming her up against the cold tile, pumping into her in an orgy of
unrestrained lust. Harder and faster, he rammed in and pulled back out. One
arm slid around her waist to hold her up when he felt her legs giving out.
Shaking the water off his face, he tried to apply a little finesse to the
situation. Before he could really think it through, he pulled out of her and
spun her around, then pushed down on her shoulders until she was sitting on
the little shelf that carried her assortment of soaps and shampoos. He dropped
to his knees and shoved her legs apart, then drove his tongue up into her,
fucking her with it until she was moaning and gripping his hair in her hands.
She came, screaming his name.
Spike waited until she was all the way through it, then he pulled her to her
feet and pushed her up against the wall. Sliding his hands beneath her ass,
he lifted her, and when she had her legs secured around his waist, he impaled
her on his steel hard cock.
Buffy could feel the delicious stretching and tugging as her body accepted
his length and thickness. Every thrust in made the base of his shaft grind
against her clit, driving her pleasure even higher.
Devlin held onto her bottom, his fingers digging in so hard that they'd leave
bruises he wouldn't discover until much later.
"Ah...fuck! Buffy!" He was nearly unable to speak, only managing little half
moaned words and animalistic whines of need. "Want...you. Oh, fuck...you...do
it...do it...move your ass, baby...that's...it! Ah! Jesus...fucking....hell."
Buffy was spiraling towards another wonderful orgasm, but this time he had
to come with her. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she burrowed closer and
began talking to him...encouraging him...driving him on.
"Mmmm....Spike. That's so good....so perfect....I want you...want only you....harder....I'm..."
She blushed and almost stopped her verbal commands, but forced herself not
to. "I'm going to come," she whispered right into his ear. "Do it with me...please...oh,
now...now!"
Between her spoken pleas and the demands her body was imposing on him, Devlin
finally reached his breaking point. With a mindless howl of lust and pleasure,
he pumped hard five more times and then shoved her up against the wall as
hard as he could, ejaculating inside of her clutching sex, reeling with ecstasy
when he felt it tighten around him and milk his cock for every drop of fluid
he could produce for her.
When it was over, his knees buckled and they both slid to the floor of the
shower....where they noticed that the hot water was beginning to give out.
Giggling like children, they tumbled out of the shower and dried each other
off.
Spike pulled his jeans on, while Buffy contented herself with just the top
of her pajamas.
The chili was ready when they returned to the kitchen. Buffy dished up two
bowls, then grated a layer of sharp cheddar over them as Spike popped the
tops off two bottles of Tecate.
Sitting at the kitchen table, they ate ravenously, sating their more prosaic
appetite and gaining strength for whatever else the night would bring.
*************************************
"You know what?"
"What's that, luv?"
"You're totally forgiven."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Cause I can go on apologizing all night."
"Oh. Well, in THAT case...."
Part thirty-one....
Sometime during the night, the rain had stopped for good. Fat, black clouds
began to dissipate, leaving behind a bright, full moon.
They slept spooned together at first, but at some point Buffy had rolled onto
her back. The resultant jostling of the mattress woke Spike up for a moment.
When she settled back into a deeper sleep, he moved down a little in the bed
and placed his head on her breast to listen to the strong beat of her heart.
He passed several moments this way, utterly at peace with the world, lulled
by her soft, steady breathing. But at the instant he was about to slip back
into his own sleep, dark thoughts began to prey on his mind, the sort of thoughts
that always seem to make themselves known when a person woke up in the small
hours of the morning.
Despite the evidence to contrary that was beating steadily in his ear, he
began to feel terribly afraid that he was going to lose this girl. Not lose
her love, but lose HER.
In three days he had to pack his bags and leave. What if something happened
to her while he was gone? The world was fast becoming a dangerous place, and
no one seemed to be immune to it. He'd be unable to protect her.
Anything could happen to her. She could have a car accident...or she could
be mugged in front of the ATM. California seemed to have a regular problem
with earthquakes, which were usually followed up by raging brush fires.
Without him realizing it, his arms tightened around her.
Or she could get sick. Oh, god...what if she got sick? Yes, her heartbeat
sounded strong and healthy, but he was no doctor. What if there was something
there...some little genetic flaw never de- tected? It happened all the time,
perfectly fit people just dropping dead suddenly for no apparent reason.
A veritable laundry list of horrible possibilities began to run through his
mind, giving him no peace. All he could think to do was hold her tighter and
make silent pleas to whatever God might be listening. He begged and promised
and offered deals, willing to do anything...ANY- THING...to keep her safe
and well and with him.
The next thing he knew, Buffy was gently shaking him awake.
******************************
"Boy, you weren't kidding when you said you were hard to get up in the morning,"
she said, smiling down at him.
"You misunderstood," he replied, his voice slurred with sleep. "I said I'm
hard AND up in the morning. Want to feel?"
She retrieved her hand before he could lead it under the sheets. "Love to.
Can't. Got to go to work."
Spike pried his eyelids open. Grey morning sunlight filtered in through the
window. "What time is it?"
"Nearly 7:30," Buffy said, leaning over to slip her shoes on. "You don't have
to get up yet. I put clean towels in the bathroom and I set up the coffee
maker. There's cereal and eggs. Help yourself to anything you want."
"I want YOU," he muttered, trying to make a grab for her. "You smell good."
"Showers will do that for a person." She stood in front of her vanity mirror
and slipped her small gold hoops into the tiny holes in her earlobes. Her
hair was neatly braided, and she took one last look in the mirror to check
her appearance.
"I have to go now," she said, leaning over to kiss him goodbye. "Much as I'd
love nothing better than to spend the day here in bed with you."
His expression had a definite element of 'pout' to it, but she steeled herself
against it and slipped away before he could tighten his hold on her.
"Hey!" he complained. Sitting up in bed, the covers pooled around his waist,
he looked at her plaintively. "Aren't you forgetting something?"
She thought it over for a moment. "I don't think so."
"Well!" he grumbled, folding his arms across his chest. "That's just fine.
Go ahead and leave without telling me you love me. See if I care."
Buffy leaned against the door jamb. "Spike?" she said softly, blowing him
a kiss when he glanced at her. "I love you. And later tonight....I'll show
you how much."
"You promise?" he asked. Laying back down on the bed, he stretched his arms
over his head and arched his back, briefly tensing his muscles, putting on
a little show for her benefit. "Okay, honey-baby. I'll see you later."
Although she badly wanted to jump back into the bed and show him just what
she thought of such teasing, her mother-ingrained sense of responsibility
forbade it.
She would, however, make him pay for it...later.
******************************
The door to her classroom squeaked open slowly during quiet time. Buffy looked
up, hoping to see Spike, and was disappointed when Willow walked in.
She perched on the side of Buffy's desk, her back towards the sleeping children.
"All right, you," she said, a giddy twinkle in her eye. "Talk! I want to know
everything. Don't leave out one single detail."
"About what?" Buffy asked innocently.
Willow placed her hands flat on the desk and leaned closer. "Don't play games
with me, young lady. I'm not your mother. Now, spill your guts."
After making a point of neatening up a desk that didn't need it, Buffy sighed.
"After you left the club that night...."
A few minutes later, having told the story as concisely as she could without
being too evasive or giving away too many personal details, Buffy sat back
in her chair, her chin propped on her hand.
Willow's eyes were as round as silver dollars. "That's just...that's an amazing
story. God, I wish he didn't have to leave. I hate that he has to go!" she
said, upset on Buffy's behalf.
"So do I," Buffy replied. She could feel a wave of unhappiness approaching.
To avoid being swamped by it, she forced herself to smile. "But, he'll be
back. He promised."
"And you believe him?" Willow's question wasn't mean spirited in any way.
It was simply her way of ascertaining the depth of Buffy's commitment and
trust towards a man she hadn't really known for very long.
"I have faith," Buffy said firmly. "He'll come back to me."
"And then what?"
That was a very good question, and one that Buffy had no ready answer for.
Spike had promised to return, and she knew he would keep that promise, but
she had no idea as to what might happen after that, or what kind of long range
plans he had.
It was the one worry that just wouldn't stop nibbling at the edges of her
subconscious mind, the thing that she'd been fretting about from the moment
she'd acknowledged her attraction to him; the differences in their lifestyles
and their long term goals in life.
Spike was destined for success...for stardom. It was obvious to anyone who
watched him perform and heard his music. He was going to soar high, and he
wouldn't be one of those shooting stars that flared for a brief moment in
time and then burned out. He was just too damn good for that.
And what did that mean for her? What exactly did he want from her, from this
love affair that they'd entered into rather recklessly?
Would he stay here with her? Would he ask her to go away with him, and if
he did, what would her role in his life be? A girlfriend? A lover?
A wife?
They'd never talked about their future together, so Buffy had no idea how
he felt about the subject of marriage. Suppose he wasn't interested in that
sort of commitment? What would she do then? Could she compromise her own values,
pretending that it didn't matter, even though it did?
All these tough questions were causing her to work up the beginnings of a
really juicy headache. "I don't know," she finally answered her friend's question.
"I'll think about it when I absolutely have to."
It was clear that Buffy wanted to end the conversation, and Willow prudently
let the matter drop.
******************************
"I want all of you to look through your stack of letters and find the ones
that spell your name," Buffy said, handing each of the children a sheet of
construction paper. "When you think you've found them, let me know and I'll
give you a glue stick and some glitter."
As the kids rooted through the paper letters, Willow popped her head in through
the open door. "Phone call in the office," she informed Buffy.
No one ever called her at work, and Buffy's heart flip-flopped in her chest.
It had to be Spike.
She turned her class over to Willow's supervision and almost ran to answer
the phone. Stepping into Willow's private office, she closed the door.
"Hello?"
"I just called...to say...I love you," a husky voice sang in her ear.
"Oh, brother." Buffy rolled her eyes and dropped down into the desk chair.
"Whhaat?" Spike asked. "Too cute?"
She laughed. "No. Just cute enough. Don't move or you'll spoil it."
"How's school? Is my favorite audience behaving themselves and minding Miss
Buffy?"
"I haven't had to put anyone in time out, so yeah, I guess they are." She
glanced at her watch. Almost two o'clock. "Are you still at my house?"
"No. Matter of fact, that's why I'm calling. I have to drive to Los Angeles
and take care of some business."
"Oh." She tried not to sound too crestfallen. "Tour business?" she went on,
hating to ask about the unpleasant subject.
"'Fraid so, love."
"Will I see you later?"
He hesitated. "Um...I don't know. I mean, I'm not sure how long it'll take.
If it gets real late then I'll probably spend the night in a hotel, come back
in the morning."
It was the last thing she wanted to hear, but she didn't want him driving
back if he was tired, so she made an agreeable response.
They exchanged "I love yous" and went their separate way.
********************
The phone rang as Buffy finished loading the dishwasher.
"Hello?"
"Hi, sweetheart."
"Hi. Where are you?"
"Too far away from you. I'm at the Marriott. Room 506."
"Is it nice?"
"Oh, yeah, it's quite posh. All the amenities."
"That's nice."
"How was your day, love?"
"Pretty good."
"Do you miss me?"
"You know I do."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"So....what are you wearing?"
Part thirty-two...
"What am I...huh?" Buffy gripped the phone tightly in her hands.
Spike chuckled in an evil way. "I asked you what you're wearing."
"I know what you asked me," she said. "Why do you want to know what I'm wearing?"
She heard him sigh, then he said, "I keep forgetting what a little innocent
you are. Let's start over. Do you want to play a game?"
The tone of his voice made her skin tingle. "What kind of game?"
Instead of answering her, he asked another question. "Where are you in the
house?"
"The living room."
"Which phone are you using?"
"The cordless."
"Good. Scamper upstairs to your bedroom, there's a good girl."
Suitably intrigued, Buffy obeyed.
"Okay, now what?"
"Now...tell me what you're wearing."
"Sweat pants and a t-shirt."
Spike laughed. "No, you're not."
"Yes, I am."
"Buffy...the only pair of sweat pants you own are the ones you let me wear
last night...and I know you're not wearing them."
Buffy was surprised. "How do you know that?"
"Because I have them with me," he informed her. "Now, if you want to play
this game the right way, put the phone down and slip into something sexy."
Muttering under her breath, she held her hand over the receiver for a minute.
"Okay, I'm back."
"Good. Now, tell me...what are you wearing?"
"A black patent leather cat suit...tail included."
"Buffy!"
"French maid outfit?"
"Stop that."
"Does a Snow White costume do it for ya?"
"Yes, and we'll definitely explore that option when I get back, but for right
now...be my serious girl, okay?"
"Okay."
"Good. I'll call you back in five minutes. Be ready for me."
******************************
"Hello?"
"What are you wearing?"
Buffy had figured out how this game was properly played and had suited up
in the appropriate attire. "My blue skirt and cream silk blouse."
"Oh, I like you in that blouse," Devlin said softly. "It's practically see
through."
"I know."
"Do you have on sexy underwear...never mind, I just remembered that all your
underwear is sexy. Tell me what you have on."
"Pale...pink...lace."
"Good girl. Now...unzip your skirt and let if fall around your feet."
Holding the phone between her shoulder and ear, she did.
"Now," he went on, "I want you to do that trick girls do...the one where they
can get out of their bra without taking off their blouse."
"I'll have to put the phone down," she warned him.
"All right. Hurry..."
She withdrew her arms from the sleeves of her shirt and wriggled around until
she had her bra unhooked. Slipping the straps down, she whisked it out from
under the hem of her blouse and dropped it on the floor. "I'm back."
"Mmm...that blouse is VERY see through, isn't it? Is it cold in your room?"
"No."
"Then your nipples are hard because you're thinking about me?"
Buffy felt her entire body blush. "Maybe," she choked out.
"No 'maybe' about it, darling. Touch them. Through your blouse."
By now she knew that this wasn't just a playful 'obscene' phone call. He required
participation on her part, other than just listening and talking, and she
felt her heart rate increase noticeably.
She brought her right hand up and gingerly cupped it beneath her breast.
"Come on, baby. Do what I said."
How did he know?!
Sighing, she let her index finger skate lightly over the taut peak of her
left breast. She was surprised at how pleasurable the sensation was, although
it was nothing compared to the way Spike touched her.
"Does it feel good?" he whispered.
"Yes," she said, nodding, even though she knew he couldn't see her.
"Do you want to know what I'd do...if I were there with you?"
Buffy felt the familiar wetness between her legs. "Okay."
"I'd drop to my knees in front of you."
That mental picture made her gasp.
"Then...I'd start with the bottom button on your blouse. I'd undo it slowly....then
move up to the next one...and the next one. And I'd kiss every inch of your
soft skin on my way up. I'd slip your blouse off over your shoulders and let
it slide down your arms."
She quickly worked the buttons open herself.
"I want you to keep it on. It's draped around you...held on by the cuffs at
your wrists."
Buffy closed her eyes and moistened her lips. "Now...now what are you doing?"
she asked.
He was silent for a moment, obviously surprised that she had spoken. "Now...I'm
standing next to you and taking down your hair. Is it braided?"
It wasn't, but she told him it was.
"I'm sliding the hairpins out, and loosening the braid. God, it looks beautiful...the
way it flows down over your shoulders in ripples....they way it frames your
face...it's so soft, baby. Smells so damn good."
His tone was deeper and huskier, alerting her as to just how aroused he was.
"Your panties...do they have the little ribbons on the side to hold them up?"
"Yes."
"All right then....I'm tugging them open. Slowly. Now, I'm pulling them forward...between
your legs. Then...."
Then what? THEN WHAT??
"They smell good. Like you. Purely female."
A slow shudder moved over her body. This was the best phone call she'd ever
gotten!
"You look so sexy, standing there with only your shirt on...half- way on...your
hair all mussed from me playing with it."
"What's next?" she breathed.
"Now, I put my hands on your shoulders and push you back gently, until you
can feel the bed behind you. I make you lie back on it, with your legs hanging
over the side. I spread them apart and stand between them."
Buffy was thankful for the opportunity to lie down, certain that her knees
were about to give out and she'd end up on the floor in a panting heap.
"For a long time, I just look at you. You're like a gift, just for me. Bare
breasts...slender waist...all that perfect skin. And between your legs...mmm...so
pink and wet...open, like a flower."
His voice flowed seductively into her ear, stirring up a reaction that she
felt all the way down to the soles of her feet.
"Finally...I can't wait one more moment. I'm getting drunk on your scent and
I fall to my knees. I want to worship you, baby. You're my goddess...my princess."
Buffy drew in a shaky breath. "And...who are you?"
She heard another wicked laugh. "I'm the man your mother warned you about."
Well, THAT was certainly true.
"I put my hands on your thighs, stroking them. Soft and warm, but strong.
I love the way they feel wrapped around me."
A tiny moan escaped from her throat.
"I lean down and kiss them, first one, and then the other. When you're writhing
beneath me, I move up your body to your breasts."
Buffy swallowed hard. "Oh...good."
"I'm above you now, kissing and licking your breasts. You want more...and
I give it to you...taking your nipples into my mouth. Sucking on them. Over
and over again. You like that, don't you baby? When I suck your tits?"
Breathlessly, she whispered, "Yes..."
"I move back between your thighs. You're even wetter now, and I want a taste
of it. So, I go down on you. I slide my tongue into your pussy...as far as
I can make it go. I wait for a moment, moving it around inside you, then I
start fucking you with it."
A light sheen of perspiration broke out on her body.
"Listen close." There was the metallic sound of a zipper being opened. "Did
you hear it?"
"Yes."
"Do you know what I did?"
"Uh-huh."
"Tell me."
Her voice was nearly inaudible. "You unzipped your...your pants."
"Yes. I did. I climb up on the bed, straddling your thighs, and I push them
down a bit. Then I reach inside and..."
Her eyes closed as she tensed, waiting for it.
"...I take out my cock," he whispered hotly. "I play with it a little...slide
my hand up and down while you watch. It gets slick from the cum that's dripping
out of it. I keep jacking it, still looking at you. The look on your face
steals my breath. You want it, don't you? You want my cock."
Buffy whimpered an affirmative.
"I take your hand and wrap your little fingers around my dick. That sweet,
soft hand is pumping my cock, hard and fast."
Yes. Yes, he liked that. He had taught her how.
"Buffy...?"
"Yes?"
"Reach down and touch yourself. Play with your pussy."
Without a moment of hesitation, she cupped her hand over her sex and massaged
it gently.
"Now, rub your clit."
It took her a second, then her fingers found the seat of her greatest pleasure.
Frantically aroused, she fingered herself in search of...something....
"Keep doing that," Spike instructed, "while I slide my cock up in that tight
pussy. Oh, yeah..."
Buffy was quickly losing the ability to pay attention. She rubbed and tugged
at her clit, squeezing it firmly, holding on to the image in her mind as best
she could.
"I push you further up the bed so I can lay on top of you. I'm pounding my
cock in, faster and faster. Can you feel it? Feel me just...ramming it in...ah,
fuck...your arms are around me...I can feel your nails digging into my back.
Your hands slip down and you grab my ass while I'm fucking you."
"Spike..."
"I'm fucking you so hard, baby. You're...you're taking my cock all the way.
Clamping down on it...squeezing it...milk- ing it."
Buffy murmured something unintelligible.
"You want it harder? I'll give it you...give it to you as hard as you can
take it. I slide one hand under your right knee and lift it, opening you even
more."
She could hear the faint, wet sounds of his masturbating, and it drove her
own passion even higher. "Don't stop," she moaned.
"Never gonna stop, baby. Gonna fuck you forever."
The friction she created for herself was white hot. She was so close...so
close...
"Ahhh...Buffy! Yeah...yeah...fuck me back...suck me with your pussy."
Beneath her closed eyelids suns exploded, stars went super nova. She arched
her back when she felt the contractions of orgasm begin.
"Come on, love," he muttered harshly. "I'm gonna come...want you...with me...I...oh...do
it, baby! Do it now...now...ahhh...yeah, that's..."
Mutual cries of satisfaction traveled the phone lines, then turned to soft
gasps and panted moans.
"Buffy? Honey?"
There was a voice coming from...somewhere.
"Sweetheart...you okay?"
"Define okay," she mumbled, wiping her sticky hand on the sheet.
Spike chuckled knowingly. "I take it you liked that?"
"That's...that's a fair statement." Buffy sighed deeply and turned onto her
side.
"Well, don't get too used to it. I'll be back tomorrow and then it's my job
again."
Yes, and then two days later...he would be gone again.
She almost said it, biting down on her lip to keep the un- happy words from
being uttered. Like Scarlett O' Hara, she would think about that tomorrow.
"Spike?"
"What, baby?"
"What are YOU wearing?"
Part thirty-four...
Buffy barely made it through the day.
She drove back to her house after seeing Spike off, showered, then tried to
repair the damage crying had caused in her appearance.
Breakfast held no appeal for her, but she drank three cups of coffee, over
sweetening them nearly to the point of un-drinkability, for no other reason
than it was how Spike liked it.
Her class, bless their little hearts, seemed once again to sense that she
was unhappy and we're oddly well behaved all day. She appreciated it, but
it only made her feel more than ever that something was out of place in her
life.
Spike hadn't called.
She had watched the clock closely, estimating just about what time he would
reach San Francisco. Giving him an extra hour to get settled at the hotel,
she waited, keeping a sharp ear out for the ring of the office phone.
********************************************
When school was out, she drove home faster than she should have, almost blowing
through a red light in her distracted hurry.
There were no messages on her answering machine, its little red light holding
steady no matter how hard she stared at it, or what sort of dire punishment
she mentally threatened it with.
At six thirty, she made herself a sandwich and flipped on the television to
watch the evening news.
Predictably, the minute her mouth was full, the phone rang.
She dove for it, painfully swallowing food that she hadn't finished chewing.
"Hello?"
"Sandra? It's Todd."
Disappointment stabbed her sharply in the heart.
"You have the wrong number," she snapped, aware of how rude she sounded, and
slamming the phone back into its cradle.
Less than thirty seconds later, it rang again.
"Hello?"
"Sandra?"
This time, her disappointment was tempered by irritation.
"No. There's no one here named Sandra."
"Shit!" the caller muttered, hanging up without a word of apology.
She didn't even have a chance to sit down before the next call.
"Is Sandra there?"
Buffy sighed. The last thing she needed was this idiot tying up her line.
"You just missed her, Todd. I'll tell her to call you."
Collapsing on the couch, she tried to concentrate on some news blurb telling
her that a common household item might be slowly killing her, without revealing
just what the devil it was. She might have been concerned, but she knew her
mother would fill her in on the gruesome details.
While she was mulling over the countless possibilities, the phone rang. Frustration
drove her anger level sky high as she grabbed the phone.
"Are you brain damaged or something?" she almost screamed, wishing she had
a whistle handy to puncture 'Todd's' ear drums. "Sandra's not here!"
"Oh. Well, in that case, can I speak to Buffy?" an amused voice replied.
Her heart began beating double time. "Spike?"
"Yeah. Who's Sandra?"
She gave him a brief run down of the 'Todd and Sandra' situation."
"So...other than that, how was your day?"
"Don't ask. I take it you made it to San Francisco?"
"This afternoon, yeah. I'd have called earlier but I wanted to wait until
you got home so I could whisper dirty things in your ear."
Remembering the last phone conversation they'd had, she grinned. "Should I
go upstairs and change into something slutty?"
Devlin chuckled, a low sexy growl that curled her toes.
"Maybe next time," he teased.
"How's the hotel. Is it nice?"
"Oh, yeah. Got a suite on the top floor that's quite posh.
"Sounds great."
"There's a huge bathroom, and its got one of those bathtubs that looks like
a pool."
"Really?" Buffy murmured. "Wow."
"Separate shower stall, too. Its got...six faucets!"
She continued to make all the right responses as he rhapsodized over the luxurious
accommodations.
"I can see almost the whole city from the terrace. Hey! There's a hot tub
out there!"
Buffy was beginning to tire of hearing what a sensational time he was having
without her, and wondering why he felt the need to go on and on about it.
It was salt in a wound that hadn't even begun to heal.
"Did you know that there's a whole section of this city devoted to chocolate?
It's bloody marvelous!"
It figured that he'd find out about THAT five minutes after hitting town.
When he started describing the offerings on the room service menu, she decided
that enough was enough.
"Spike...can't we talk about something else?" she asked, trying not to sound
as irritated as she felt. "Why do you keep going on about the hotel. I mean,
I'm glad it's so nice, but...."
"Because..." he interrupted, then hesitated.
"Because what?"
"Because I'm trying to tempt you into coming up here for the weekend."
**************************************
She forgot her irritability in an adrenalin rush of excitement. "You..."
Obviously assuming that she was about to automatically turn him down, he rushed
ahead of her.
"Buffy...please, honey. It wouldn't take you long to get here. You could leave
after work tomorrow."
"I...."
"I know I'd be busy in the evenings, but after the concert, I'm all yours.
And during the day we'd have some time."
"If I...."
"It's really a beautiful city, luv. I want to show it to you."
"Spike!" Exasperated at her inability to get a word in, she raised her voice.
"You don't have to talk me into it!"
There was another long silence on the line.
"Are you sure this is Buffy?" he finally asked in that smart ass tone of voice
she loved.
"Very funny."
"So...does that mean you'll come?"
Would she ever!
She smiled. "Mind you...I wouldn't do this for just anybody."
"Just for me, right?"
"Yes. Just for you."
"Because you love me."
"That's right."
He released a deep breath. "God, I can't wait to see you," he whispered. "Kiss
you, and touch you."
Pushing away the worry that being with him for the weekend would only make
it harder when he had to leave again, Buffy took on her practical, school
teacher persona.
"Okay...if I pack a bag and take it with me in the morning, I can leave right
after work. I just had my car tuned up, so all I need to do is stop for gas.
How long do you think..."
"Buffy..."
"What?"
"I wasn't suggesting that you drive, sweetheart."
She braced herself, knowing what was coming.
"It's only an hour flight."
Yep. She'd been right.
"On a plane?" she asked softly.
"Well, yeah. Of course on a plane. Unless you can fly without one."
"Ha-ha."
"Is flying another first for you, Miss Buffy? Baby, there's nothing to be
afraid of."
"I'm not exactly...afraid."
Scared to death was a far more accurate description.
"And please," she added, "don't quote the statistics on how much safer I am
in an airplane than in a car."
"But that's true."
"Maybe, but I've never fallen six thousand feet out of my car."
She already knew she wasn't going to win this one. Spike had the perfect argument,
and he used it.
"Baby...the sooner you get here, the more time we'll have together. All those
hours you'll spend driving are hours I can be making love to you," he said,
his voice deepening.
Checkmate!
"Oh, all right," she gave in. "But that's an unfair way to get me to do what
you want."
"As long as it works. Listen, baby...I want to make this as easy as I can
for you. Can you leave your car at the school for the weekend?"
"I guess so."
"Right, then. I'll have a service pick you up from there and take you to the
airport."
"What about a ticket?" she asked faintly.
"I'll take care of all that for you, luv," he replied in soothing tones. "I'll
call you later this evening with the information."
"Okay." Her voice sounded weak in her own ears, so she cleared her throat
and tried again. "Okay!"
"Buffy?"
"I'm still here."
"I love you."
Her taut nerves relaxed under the influence of his seductive voice.
"I love you, too."
"See you tomorrow night?"
Frightened or not, her fanny was going to be on that plane!
"Yes. Tomorrow night."
She hoped they served some sort of alcohol on the flight. She had a feeling
she was going to be needing it.
TBC...