Chapter 13

"Where did you guys COME from?" Buffy asked around her laughter, Willow's flustered face at being the topper in a man sundae not helping her calm down.

"The basement," the redhead answered, finally disentangling herself and getting up. "There's a secret passage."

"There's always a secret passage," Spike said rolling his eyes, and shoving Johnny hard to get him off of him.

"Hey! I'll move as soon as Mark gets his ass up. Damn, go on a diet!" the drummer exclaimed, finally pushing to his feet. Spike and Mark were right behind him, the brunette glaring at the youngest for the weight comment.

"Well, isn't that interesting," Buffy said, taking a deep breath to calm herself. Tara wasn't doing much better. She had her lips pressed together to keep from laughing outright, but her shoulders were shaking with her struggle to do so.

"Yeah, and Mark had people talking in his head," Willow told them, as they moved over to the opening in the wall.

"Voices? Like go towards the light voices, or GET OUT voices?" Buffy asked, her nose wrinkling at the sight of the dark, dank smelling basement.

"Neither. It was like pieces of conversations," Mark answered, while he searched for his cigarettes. He scowled when he realized they must have fallen out in the passage, and he didn't relish going back in there to look for them. Luckily, Spike noticed his plight and handed him one of his. "Thanks man," he said gratefully, dipping his head to light it against the flame the blonde held.

"No worries, mate. You look a little green," Spike observed. Mark shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"You have no idea."

"Looks like we weren't the only ones that had a little ghostly interaction." Spike looked over at Buffy, who blushed, her nod sending her golden hair into a flurry around her shoulders. Johnny arched a brow, a grin spreading when he realized what the other man had meant.

"You mean, your little porn show was the act of ghostly possession?" He barely contained his laugh at the thought. Willow's eyes sharpened and she turned to take a really good look at Buffy. Her friend pushed a hand through her thoroughly messed up hair, and smiled.

"S'not funny, John. Got you off, didn't it?" Spike snarled, his eyes narrowing into slits.

"Not me. Not yet." He turned and glanced at Tara then, softening his smirk to a smile at her flaming face. However, the heat in his eyes did nothing to ease her blush. If anything, it made it worse, as she contemplated the promise in his gaze. Meanwhile, Willow and Mark's eyes were darting between the four, trying to figure out just what was going on

"What are you guys talking about?" Mark finally asked, getting fed up. He took a long drag of his cigarette, and waited. He finally noticed Spike and Buffy's tousled clothes and hair, and Tara's face that was blushing fifteen shades of red at the same time. There was also Johnny's grin that was starting to give him a clue as to what was going on. It was Willow that actually voiced it.

"You mean to tell me, that while Mark and I were in the basement, dealing with ghosts talking in his head, you four were up here having some type of orgy?"

"NO!" the four answered in unison, the redhead's angry words causing vivid images to pop up in their brains.

"We were in the attic," Johnny supplied helpfully, his grin growing larger. Tara's eyes widened comically at that, and she dropped her gaze to the floor.

"Shut up, Johnny," Spike growled, turning to Mark and Willow. "It wasn't planned. We came in here to search the room. Not five minutes after we're in here, Buffy turns to me and starts asking questions that make so sense. Like, 'What are you doing here?'"

"Yeah, and he replies, like he knows what I'm talking about," Buffy interrupted. "Then we just start this whole conversation, but it's not US talking. And then, one thing leads to the other..."

"And they're doing the horizontal mamba." Johnny just couldn't help sliding that in.

"Wait, wait. You're saying that you were possessed by spirits?" Willow clarified, her voice incredulous.

"Yeah. Faith and Angel. It was so freaky, because his face would shift into someone else's." Buffy gave a little shudder at that.

"And you couldn't stop it?" Mark added, his mind scrambling to catch up. He was also wishing that he and Willow had searched this room. Least they would have had some fun, instead of Mark feeling like he was losing it.

"No," Buffy and Spike agreed.

"And where were you two?" Willow reared on Johnny, making his eyes widen at the fire in her eyes.

"Attic."

"Doing what?" she demanded with a roll of her eyes.

"Searching."

"W-we found a hole in the ceiling that looks directly over Faith's bed," Tara cut in, before Willow did something violent to Johnny.

"And you two saw them?" Willow waved a hand towards Spike and Buffy, her eyes wide and curious. For some reason, Johnny didn't trust that look.

"Yeah," he answered slowly, prepared to duck when she lunged. Spike had edged a bit away from her, not liking the vibes he was feeling himself. Buffy and Tara just waited for the explosion.

"So, basically what you're telling me is," a contemplative look had fallen over her pixyish features, and a nail tapped lightly on her lip. "That you two were fucking in here, while they were fucking in the attic, and WE were downstairs dealing with rats, and the dark, and voices that didn't tell us shit, and secret passages. Did I mention the dark? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

"Me and Tara were NOT fucking," Johnny interjected, taking a step back when she leveled her icy gaze on him.

"Were you being a boy scout up there?" Her voice was quiet, her words sharp.

"W-well. No," he admitted, wondering how fast he could get out the door before she attacked.

"That's IT. I'm done with all this nonsense tonight. Everybody in this room has gotten action except us. Even the GHOSTS!" They watched in awe as the redhead advanced on Mark, gripping him tight around the wrist and dragging him towards the door. "We'll talk about all this in the morning, before I go to work," she shot over her shoulder as she stormed out. The four just stood, staring after them.

"Right, then," Spike started, turning towards the others, and shoving his hands in his pockets. "Should we go downstairs and see what's on the telly?"

"Ugh, I need a shower," Buffy groaned, starting towards the door.

"I'm hungry," Tara said, following.

"I vote for pizza," Johnny offered, hurrying after them. Spike just shook his head and followed them out, turning off the lights and closing the door behind him.

~*~*~

The door to Mark's room was barely closed before Willow was in his arms, her mouth crashing over his. Anger, fear and desire vibrated through her, making her shake. Mark held her tight, his lips and tongue responding to the urgency of her kiss. He picked her up off her feet, her legs banding around his waist, their kiss never breaking, and stumbled over to the bed, luckily not tripping over anything on the way.

"Willow," he rasped, pulling away from her, and laying her gently back on the mattress. Her hands were flying over his torso, seeking the skin underneath the t-shirt. "Willow," he said again, a little more clear this time. She looked up at him with cloudy green eyes, their color almost opaque with desire.

"What?" she gasped, hissing in pleasure when her fingers finally managed to get under the cotton. Muscle rippled under smooth skin as she slid her hands over his stomach.

"Are you sure about this?" She looked at him like maybe she thought he had people talking in his head again.

"Hello, sweaty, panting woman here. I'd say that's a big yes." Her nails raked lightly over his flesh, making him shiver with need.

"Just checking," he told her, claiming her mouth once more. Moans filled the air as hands flew under clothing, claiming, possessing. Mark's fingers went to work on her top, desperate for the soft curves beneath. She pulled away from him to gasp in desperate gulps of air when one, rough textured hand worked under her bra, and closed around her breast. He watched her face intently, while his fingers experimented with the hard nub at the tip.

"Oh, God," she breathed, arousal threatening to burn her from the inside out. She had never felt this before, this all consuming passion that was exploding through her system. She forgot about ghosts, and voices, and rats, her mind centered fully on the man above her, his black eyes claiming her soul.

Mark found himself in a similar quandary. He'd barely touched her yet, and he was ready to erupt. Fire breezed along his skin, singeing his nerve endings and making him weak. He had to concentrate on what he was doing, to keep himself from just ripping her clothes off and sinking as deep inside her as he could. He had a bit more finesse than a teenage boy, and he intended to use it, until she was practically begging for him.

He pushed her shirt out of the way, and dipped his head to capture her nipple between his lips, his teeth and tongue teasing her flesh. Her fingers dove into his hair, lacing through the dark length, and pressing him closer to her. She arched her back, seeking more, incoherent words slipping from her throat.

As he tasted the sweet flesh of her breasts, his hands were not idle. They smoothed down the expanse of her tiny waist, to the clasp of her jeans, and made quick work of the button.

"Oh, Mark," she gasped, her hips surging up to meet the probing fingers that had slipped inside the denim. He switched his attention to her other breast, just as his fingers brushed the soft down covering her sex. Whimpers filled the air, and her head thrashed wildly on the bed, sweat starting to bead her skin at his touch. Her breath caught in her throat when one long finger slipped down her wet cleft, lightly circling the sensitive flesh at the top. She groaned, long and loud when that same finger pushed into her depths. She nearly came when a second joined the first, his palm resting against her clit. He started to pump those fingers within her, stroking her inner walls, and rubbing his palm to stimulate her pleasure.

She ground her hips against his hand, her own fingers pulling painfully at his hair. He never broke rhythm, his mouth devouring her flesh, and his hand driving her insane. He pulled away from her breasts as he felt her start to flutter around him, signaling her orgasm. He watched with rapt attention while her face twisted in sweet agony, and her eyes glazed with pleasure. She tensed for a brief instant, a high keen exploding from her, then she collapsed, her muscles quivering.

When she looked at him again, bliss still swirling in the emerald of her eyes, he placed a kiss on the tip of her nose, making her giggle. He grinned in return and pulled his hand away, chuckling when she whimpered in displeasure at the loss. That whimper turned into a groan of lust renewed when he pulled the denim free from her legs and stood over her, drinking in the sight of her. Her skin was flushed to a rosy pink, her breasts heaving as she tried to gulp in air. Her slim stomach gave way to tiny hips, which led to smooth legs. A russet triangle of curls covered her center at the apex of her thighs. She was beautiful.

And impatient. After a moment of letting him get his fill of looking at her, Willow sat up, taking her shirt and bra off as she rose. Then, tossing them to the side, she reached out her slender fingers to tug at his belt, needing to see him. He yanked his shirt over his head as she worked on his belt, and toed his boots off. She gave a frustrated growl when her fingers wouldn't cooperate, and happily turned the task over to him. Her eyes roamed over the already exposed flesh, delighting in the sleek lines of his tall form.

Broad shoulders led to a chiseled chest, which gave way to a flat stomach. Lean hips whittled down to long, muscular legs. Hell, even his feet were sexy. She gasped when her eyes traveled back up, and saw the evidence of his arousal. Nestled in a thatch of dark curls, the long length angled proudly against his stomach. She reached out to slide the tips of her fingers over it, smiling at how soft the skin was in contrast to his hardness. He groaned when she fisted a tiny hand around it, slowly drawing him through the circle of her fingers.

His head fell back when she brushed her lips across the weeping tip, her tongue darting out to gather the moisture she found. She peppered kisses along the underside, then licked the entire length on her way back up.

"Shit," he gasped, burying one hand in her silky hair to stop her. When she looked up at him, confusion swirled with desire in her eyes. "You keep that up and this'll be over before it starts," he managed, giving her a grin. A very feline smile spread across her lips, and she gave his shaft another wet kiss, before pulling back.

"Wouldn't want that, now would we?" she purred, loving this sense of freedom she was feeling with him.

"I sure the hell don't," he growled, crashing his mouth on her again, his tongue battling with hers. She tried to pull him back on top of her, but he pulled away once more, smiling at her indignant huff when he stepped over to the nightstand. Pulling open a drawer, he pulled out a foil wrapped insurance policy, and made quick work of putting it on. When he was done, he turned back to her, and nearly exploded at the look of lust on her face. He prowled the short distance over to her, his mouth claiming hers once more, and his shaft sinking into her tight, wet center.

She sobbed into his mouth, the feeling of him stretching her, filling her nearly sending her toppling over the edge. Nobody had ever made her feel like they were completing her with this action. Nobody ever seemed to fit so perfectly inside of her.

Mark was thinking along the same lines. No woman he had ever been with had held his full attention. He'd always been able to hold something back, keep a part of himself out of this act. But not Willow. His every sense was filled with the taste of her, the feel of her, the smell of her. She was intoxicating.

Willow's legs rose to wrap around his waist, and his hand slid under her butt to angle her up further. Dual groans filled each other as they began to move, slowly at first, then faster as the intensity inside of them grew. Soon, they were a frenzied mass of limbs, their hips coming together with a crashing force that sped them to climax.

Mark felt himself fast approaching, just as her muscles started to flutter around him. Pulling the hand out form under her, he slid it between their bodies, to lightly pinch her clit. She ripped her mouth away from his to scream his name her inner walls clenching tight. He buried his lips in her throat, her name becoming an almost guttural sound as he pumped a final few times within her, burying himself to the hilt as his seed filled the condom protecting them.

They lay together, a trembling mass of limbs, for a few moments. When he had calmed some, he pulled away, disposing of the rubber, before rejoining her on the bed. She turned on her side and snuggled against his chest, pulling his arm across her stomach. She then sighed in contentment, and drifted into sleep. Mark grabbed the edge of the spread they were laying on, and tossed it over them, then brushed a kiss across her hair, before resting his head on his free arm, and following her into slumber.

Chapter 14

Buffy sighed and snuggled closer to the hard warmth spooned against her back. Her fingers traced idle patterns on the arm draped around her waist, and she stifled a chuckle at the soft breath tickling the hairs on her neck.

*This is nice,* she thought. After they left Faith's room, each studiously ignoring what Mark and Willow were doing just down the hall, Spike directed Buffy to his room so she could take a shower. She hadn't brought any extra clothes with her, so he had given her a pair of cotton shorts with a drawstring, and one of his black t-shirts. He'd then kissed the tip of her nose, and brushed a gentle hand over her hair, before picking up his own change of clothes and heading to Johnny's room to take his own shower. She didn't question why he didn't stay and take one with her. They were both still a little uncomfortable after their spirit induced love-making session.

She'd spent a long time under the warm spray, just letting the water run leisurely over her body. Her mind drifted lazily over the events of the last couple of hours, paying special attention the minute when she started speaking as Faith. She had gone to the jewelry chest, her fingers seemingly drawn to the necklace compartment. She couldn't believe that all those jewels had been shut in the room, to be forgotten about. All that finery, just shut up, like a bad memory.

Well, she supposed it was, with the murder happening in there.

Now that she thought about it, it felt almost as if she were looking for something while she sifted through the diamonds, sapphires and emeralds. Even after all these years, they still gleamed. She'd felt a surge of heat up her arm when her fingers brushed across the blood red stone. It practically vibrated when she picked it up. She couldn't say why she put it on, but once she did, a wave of love, excitement, and lust hit her. When she turned to Spike, those feelings only intensified, even though she somehow knew they weren't fully hers.

And when she started to speak, she didn't know which one of them had been more surprised. Then Spike had answered, and it all seemed to click. They were playing out some scene from Faith's life, and there was nothing they could do to stop it. The tension that had been simmering between them had ignited and flamed with the assistance of the spirits, making it impossible for them to resist.

Her body had started to tingle under the spray, as images flooded her brain. It was strangely erotic, being the conduit for the two. It made her wonder if there was more than one ghost trapped in the house. And when Mark and Willow came in saying he had heard voices, it seemed to confirm it. It just made it all seem even more mysterious.

She also came to the conclusion, while she and Spike were playing out the scene, that there was no way Angel killed Faith. The love she felt coming from the pair, was palpable. The feelings between them were intense, and passionate. The stuff of romance novels. It made Buffy sad that it had to end in such a tragic, Shakespearian way. It also made her want to find out even more about them, and help Faith find her killer, so she could finally rest and spend eternity with her lover.

Even with that decision, she was happy to have a night free of ghost talk. By unspoken agreement, when the four reconverged in the living room to watch tv and eat pizza, any references to the haunting were left out. They found some inane movie on tv, one that didn't require thought, and had snuggled up on the couch, she and Spike on one end, and Johnny and Tara on the other.

Johnny had kept to his word, and had not made one degrading remark about Buffy. That didn't leave Spike off the hook, however. He'd told the blond that he might want to sunbathe without his suit one day, since his butt was nearly the same color as his hair. Spike had asked him why the drummer paid so much attention to his ass, his tone suggestive and his scarred brow mocking him. Johnny had grinned and shrugged, saying it wasn't his fault Spike's ass filled out the circumference of the hole he and Tara were looking through.

Buffy had laughed through it all, not feeling embarrassed that they had seen. Tara was one of her best friends, and it wasn't like they hadn't seen each other naked before. Granted, not like that, but it wasn't a big deal. And Johnny seeing her didn't even bother her. Especially under the circumstances. Her mother had always taught her that sex was a beautiful thing, and your body was nothing to be ashamed of. Spike was gorgeous, and she didn't think she was too bad looking either, so it was only natural to be drawn into watching. And from what Tara had told her in the kitchen, they hadn't spent too much time playing voyeur.

Buffy had spent the night studying the couple on the other side of the couch. Tara, with her golden, earthy looks, and Johnny, with is dark skin, hard lines, and bright hair, were a striking couple. And he was so gentle with her, something Buffy hadn't expected from the rumors she had read about him. His arm had rested protectively around her shoulders all night, his fingers playing through the ends of her hair. His chin rested on the top of her head, and every so often, he would brush his lips across it.

Tara looked completely content and happy, something Buffy hadn't seen in too long. She was so shy and introverted, it was good to see her like this. Even though she was worried about the effect Johnny's leaving would have on her friend, Buffy had a feeling they would both be better people for experiencing each other.

After the movie ended, and the last piece of pizza had been eaten, the four decided to call it a night. They didn't even discuss the girls going home, especially since it was so obvious Willow was not. So, they just cleaned up the living room and went upstairs, each couple disappearing into a different room with barely a word goodnight.

That's when a little awkwardness had snuck in on Buffy and Spike. They'd stood on either side of the bed, eyeing it and each other with trepidation. The memories of what they had been doing only hours before flooding through them and making them burn.

"What's say we chat this out a bit, luv?" Spike said, giving her a grin. She'd swallowed hard and nodded, sliding under the covers when he pulled them back. He'd moved in after her, and pulled her against him, spooning her back and draping his arm around her waist. Now, here they were, lying together in the dark, warm and comfortable. It was nice.

"About what happened earlier," Buffy started, feeling her heart pound in her chest, and her face flame. His fingers smoothed soothing circles over her cotton clad stomach, and he brushed a kiss across her temple.

"S'alright, pet. Don't be scared." She gave a nervous laugh at that.

"Right, guess it's kind of silly. Wasn't exactly how I imagined our first time," she said, her voice taking on a shy quality that charmed him.

"Me either. The second time, with us in control, was fabulous," he whispered, the deep timber of his voice making her shiver. "Although, Angel was a. . .virile bastard, wasn't he?" She giggled and nodded.

"And Faith was quite, responsive." He snorted, and pulled her closer, happy to just be holding her. The smell of his soap and shampoo on her skin and hair struck him as extremely intimate, as well as her tucked into his clothes. He spread his hand out on her stomach, splaying his fingers across the taut surface, and nuzzled his lips across her ear. He smiled when he felt her shudder.

"Spike?"

"Yeah, luv," he purred, tracing his tongue on the sensitive flesh behind her ear.

"Do you think...," Her voice was breathless, and she was having trouble forming words.

"What?"

"Do you think, we could wait to do it again?" she said in a rush, fearing she wouldn't be able to get it out if she didn't. He raised his head and looked down at her profile in surprise.

"How's that?" he asked, wanting clarification. She shifted a bit, until she could look up at him, her eyes wide and unsure.

"I just think, since today was kind of forced on us, that we should wait before doing it again. I mean, it was a little unnerving, and I. . .don't know. I just think we should wait," she finished quietly. She dropped her eyes, and her brows pulled together in a frown. She couldn't really explain why she felt the need to ask this of him. She wanted something real, and she wanted to be sure it was before they spent too much time rolling in the sheets. She wanted to know him first, REALLY know him, and they wouldn't get that acting on their bodies' urges.

He looked down at her, a smile playing on his mouth at how innocent she looked right then.

"Whatever you want, Buffy. There's no rush," he told her, placing a finger under her chin and raising it so she would look at him. "Kind of enjoying having you here, in my bed, just holding you." A smile bloomed across her face, and it took his breath away.

"Me too," she admitted, raising her head for the gentle kiss he gave her.

"Right, then. Close your eyes, time for sleep, I think."

"Okay." She sighed, and nestled back down next to him, her eyes drifting closed. He stared down at her for minute, memorizing the soft lines of her face, then laid his head back on the pillow, wondering just how he was supposed to control his raging hormones, which only seemed to be worse now that he knew just what it was like to be with her. Resigning himself to a long night, he forced his mind to go over piano scales, and not the girl next to him.

~*~*~

Tara wandered nervously around Johnny's room, absently touching the various items on the dresser and tables. Johnny was in the shower, washing the lingering dust from the attic away. She had already taken one, and was now dressed in a pair of his sweats and a t-shirt. None of the girls had expected to stay the night, so they hadn't brought any clothes with them.

She didn't think about what would happen when he came out, mainly because she was scared to. Despite her words to Willow, and later to Buffy, she was terrified. What if he found her inadequate? What if she made a fool of herself. What if the sight of her completely naked had him rolling on the floor with laughter? Okay, she highly doubted that last one, but the others were possible. All the bravado she felt earlier, had drained out of her, the second the bedroom door closed behind them. He hadn't said anything to her, just went about searching in drawers, and taking out clothes. He then turned to her and told her to go take a shower, handing her the clothes as she passed. When she had come out, he'd kissed her cheek, then went to take his own, never giving away what he expected from her. Or if he expected anything at all. Instead of easing her, it just made her more edgy.

She whirled around when she heard the door to the bathroom open. When Johnny emerged from steam filled room, she couldn't stop the gasp that escaped her lips. His purple hair was slicked back from his face, and curled lightly around his shoulders. A day's worth of stubble lined his jaw, giving him an raw, edgy look. Trails of water from his hair slid down his bare chest and over his tight abdomen, to the band of his jeans. He gave her a smile as he walked over to her, and it was the smile of a man who knew his own power, but wasn't full of himself.

Her heart stuttered in her chest, and her eyes roamed over every line of exposed flesh. He was beautiful, like a sculpture. Hard and chiseled.

He stopped in front of her and raised a hand to her face, gently cupping her cheek.

"Tara," he started, his voice making her name sound like a caress. She had never heard her name said in that particular way before, and it made her tremble.

"Y-yes," she breathed, blinking her wide eyes at him. He smiled down at her and traced his thumb along her cheekbone.

"Anything can happen in that bed, or nothing can happen. It's up to you," he told her, the heat in his eyes making it difficult for her to process the words. She blushed at the bluntness of them, but was glad he was leaving it up to her. She gave him a nod and a shy smile, and dropped her eyes to his chest, feeling flustered by the way he was looking at her. She was still having a hard time believing he was interested in her. Despite everything he had done that proved otherwise.

"O-okay," she managed, looking back up with his urging.

"I don't know who made you feel like you're not beautiful, or that you aren't deserving of attention, but let me tell you. They are wrong," he told her firmly. The image of her father sprang to her mind before she had a chance to stop it, and tears sprang to her eyes. "Hey, none of that."

"It's not you. I just. . ." She stumbled over her words, not sure what to say.

"What?" he prompted quietly.

"It's just. . .my father. He always told me I wasn't what guys looked for. I was plain and simple, and not exciting enough. And that I should just expect to stay alone," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. Anger shot through Johnny at the thought of a parent who would do that to a child. He vowed that if he ever had the pleasure of meeting dear old dad, he would personally make sure the bastard never did that again.

"And what did your mother say?" he asked, barely restrained violence coating his words. Pain filled her eyes, and he knew before she opened her mouth to answer.

"She died when I was nine."

"Oh, baby," he said, his anger draining out of him. He wrapped her in his arms and let her cry softly against his chest. His hands slid comfortingly over her back, soothing her. He rested his chin against the top of her head, distant pictures of his own parents flashing through his mind. He had been just two when his and Mark's parents had been killed in a train wreck, coming back from New York, and he didn't have much memory of them. Only things Wanda, his grandmother, told him and the photos she had shown both boys. She had taken them both in without thought and raised them like the sons she lost. He'd been lucky. Wanda was a hell of a woman, as was their grandfather, George. Apparently, Tara hadn't been as fortunate.

Johnny's eyes drifted closed while he thought, but they snapped open again at the feel of her rough, wet tongue against his chest. Desire slammed into him, hard and fast, his body reacting instantly. He pulled back to look at her, and saw sadness, insecurity, and lust burning in her blue eyed gaze.

"Tara?" he managed to get out, his voice rough with his want. She laid a finger against his lips, and slightly shook her head.

"I know you won't stay. I'm not deluding myself into thinking this will be more than what it is. But, I'm okay with that. You're a kind, sweet man. You make me feel special, and beautiful, a-and I want you to be my first." It came out in a rush, and was almost a whisper, but something about the way she said it, made him want to deny it. A first for him. He suddenly felt like he COULD stay, and that terrified him. He opened his mouth, to say what, he didn't know, but she shushed him again. This time with her lips.

He groaned and his eyes closed at the first hesitant pressing of her mouth against his. He managed to hold himself in check, and let her set the pace and pressure. But just barely. He'd never tasted anything as sweet as her, never felt this aching need in his chest with anyone else. Sex was just a game to him, and to the women he usually picked. This was different. He knew it, but couldn't seem to do anything to stop it.

Tara brought up a hand to trace her fingers over his face, memorizing him for when he did walk away. It never occurred to her that he might not, only felt with a surety that he would. Men like him didn't stay with girls like her. But he was here, and he wanted her, and she was going to take it.

Tentatively, her tongue swept across his bottom lip. He gasped, the rush of air against her mouth making pleasant tingles shoot straight to the very center of her. Using the slight opening of his lips, she pushed the tip through, gasping herself when his hand clasped around the back of her neck. When his tongue slid inside of her lips, she met him eagerly, letting go of her shyness and just feeling. Electricity seemed to race under her skin, making her blood run hot, and her heart gallop.

He crushed her against him, pressing her as close as he could with the barrier of clothes between them. The feel of her full breasts pressed tight against him snapped whatever control he had left and he leaned down to pick her up, never breaking his assault on her mouth. He carried her quickly to the bed, and placed her gently across the comforter. He broke the kiss, and laid down next to her, his eyes burning into hers. His fingers danced around the hem of her shirt, impatient to get underneath and discover the soft flesh hidden there.

"Don't be afraid to tell me to stop," he told her, finally pushing his hand underneath the cotton, and skimming it up the sleek skin of her stomach. She was even softer than he had imagined, and the knowledge nearly did him in.

*Stop?* Tara's mind screamed, when his fingers found the treasure they sought.. *Is he insane?* There was NO way she would tell him to stop if the feelings he was eliciting just by running a thumb over her quickly hardening nipple kept up. Hard throbs spread from her breast to her stomach and further still, until she was whimpering. He watched her face as he teased her, his hard on getting more unbearable by the second. She looked so wantonly innocent, there on his bed, wearing his clothes and gasping his name. He needed to be inside her, taking her, letting her take him. Soon.

He pulled his hand away and chuckled when she practically growled. That growl turned to a sigh when he pushed the shirt up, and replaced his fingers with his mouth.

"Oh, god!" she gasped, her back arching to him, and her fingers diving into his bright hair. She opened her eyes and looked down at him. Lust slammed into her when she saw him watching her face while his tongue worked its magic on her breast. His gaze never left hers when he switched to the other, this time grazing his teeth against the hardened nub. She groaned at the gentle pain, and pressed her fingers against the back of his head, urging him on.

Her hips thrust up when it registered just where his hand had gone. The first brush of his fingers against the down at the apex of her thighs made her shiver, anticipation of what they could do to her making her moan. Her knees spread wide to afford him better access, the heat in her blood becoming near unbearable.

Johnny leaned up on his elbow to watch her as he pushed one finger into her slick folds. Her eyes were wild and unfocused, her entire body as taut as a bow.

"Relax," he whispered, lazily circling her clit. She was so wet for him, so ready, he nearly burst right then. Her responses to his touch were so free, and so innocent he knew he wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. The only thing holding him in check was the knowledge that she was just as innocent as she looked. Losing her virginity was going to hurt enough, no matter how much pleasure he gave her beforehand.

Several times, he brought her close, only to stop and let her calm. Sweat was beading her skin from the lack of release, and her breathing was coming in rapid gasps. She kissed him hungrily, each time he leaned down to claim her mouth, her mewls and gasps making him burn.

Finally, he just couldn't take it anymore. He had to have her, now. She grabbed for him when he rose off the bed, tears clinging to her lashes. He tenderly brushed them away, and pushed her back onto the bed, his hands sliding to the band of her pants. Her eyes widened a fraction when she realized what was happening, and fear lanced through them. However, she eagerly lifted her hips to help him, desperate to get this aching throb to stop.

Johnny stood back and stared at her for a long minute, drinking in the soft fullness of her body. Her skin was flushed and damp, her eyes glazed. She was stunning, and it was a shame she didn't realize it.

Tara started to feel self conscious under his scrutiny, and tried to cover herself with her hands. He shook his head, and reached down to pull them away.

"You. Are. Beautiful." He enunciated each word, saying them with such a firmness she actually felt herself starting to believe him. Once he was sure she wouldn't try to cover herself again, he pulled back, and started to undo his jeans. He went slowly, giving her plenty of time to tell him to stop. But all she did was watch in rapt attention, her eyes riveted to his hard stomach. She blushed crimson when she saw the first hint of his dark curls, and the glimpse of the tip of his shaft. Embarrassment warred with desire when he started to slide them down his lean hips, his erection springing free. She felt a moment's panic when she saw how large he was, her mind telling her it would never fit. But then, he was crawling over her, his mouth trailing hot kisses across her skin and fitting so neatly between her thighs, thought seemed to fly out the window.

She opened her eyes in confusion when she heard him curse softly. He looked at her with a sheepish grin, before climbing back off.

"Can't forget this," he said, picking up his jeans and pulling out a little foil packet. Her face flamed and she averted her eyes while he put it on, not looking at him again until she felt the bed shift with his weight. As soon as she did, his lips covered hers, his tongue sliding into her mouth and claiming hers once more. Her hands flew to his shoulders, kneading the tight muscle there. When the tip of his shaft tapped against the opening to her core, she surged her hips up, inviting him in. She needed this fire put out, before it consumed her.

Johnny balanced himself on one arm, and reached between them with his other to position himself at her entrance. He made sure to check that she was still ready, his lips never leaving hers. She moaned into his mouth when he pushed the tip in, impatience causing her to try to thrust when he stopped. He placed his hand on her hip, and held it in place, continuing to kiss her. Then, with a quick twist of his hips, he slid inside, and past the barrier that marked her virginity. Her moan had turned to a scream of pain when he did this, tears leaking from her tightly closed eyes.

Johnny stilled as soon as he was fully in, his eyes rolling behind his lids at how tight she was. His entire body trembled with the control he was forcing, and he pulled away from her to look down at her.

"Sh," he murmured, raining soft kisses across her face and eyes, trying to soothe her. "The worst is over. Relax." His whispered words and gentle kisses seemed to get through the haze of pain that already seemed to be fading. She took a deep, shaky breath, and smiled up at him, reassuring him she was alright. She took a minute to concentrate on how he felt inside of her. She couldn't say it was bad. In fact, the longer he stayed still, the better it felt. His kisses and touches were reigniting the heat that had dimmed when the pain hit, and that ache in her belly was starting again, this time with more urgency.

"Please," she gasped, thrusting her hips up ever so slightly, her mouth seeking his. At her soft plea, he began to move, keeping his strokes shallow. It didn't take long for her to find his rhythm, and she was soon urging him faster. He happily obliged, the feel of her surrounding him making him crazy. He lengthened his thrusts, and angled her bottom so his pelvic bone made contact with her clit on each stoke. Her fingers clawed desperately across his back and shoulders, and through his hair, her lips attacking his with urgency. Suddenly, she tore her mouth away from his, when a wave of the most exquisite pleasure she had ever felt exploded inside of her. Her inner walls clamped hard around him, making him gasp. Twice more he plunged deep inside of her, his own climax overtaking him.

He shuddered when he exploded inside of her, his breathing ragged, and he buried his face in the side of her throat. She clutched him tight to her, as they rode the waves of their release, blind pleasure seizing them both.