He pulled his clothes off first, while she looked at him. She should have been taking her own clothes off, she supposed, but she couldn't stop watching him. His body was so powerful, so sinuous.

Then he was in front of her, smiling, teasing her, his hands brushing hers away from the fastenings on her clothes. She stood there trembling as he removed her clothes. The way he looked at her, his eyes all heavy-lidded…it was like he was touching her. Finally she started to squirm.

"Don't," he said thickly.

"I can't help it," she protested, stroking her hands up his chest and pressing kisses to his jaw. He turned his face against hers and nuzzled her cheek, dipping his hand down between their bodies. She moaned softly and pressed closer, then realized what he was doing and jumped back.

"It's just blood," he told her, holding his red-streaked fingers up for her to see. "Would you be so shy if you'd cut yourself?"

Buffy shook her head mutely.

"I didn't think so," he smirked, raising his fingers to his mouth.

Horrified, she batted at his hand, and he let it drop. "You weren't upset when I bit your lip a few nights ago and licked up the blood," he pointed out.

"That's different," she muttered.

"How?"

"It just is," she insisted.

"You like it when I kiss you down there…don't you?" he asked silkily, threading his fingers through her hair and tracing the seal of her lips with his tongue until she moaned and parted her lips.

"You know I do," she whispered.

"I promise I won't taste you…much," he whispered, nudging her back against the mattress and pushing her legs farther apart.

Buffy thrashed around beneath him. His voice, so dark and deliberate, made her lose her train of thought, and how could she think when he was touching her? It wasn't fair…wasn't…god!

"You like that, baby?" he asked her, flexing his fingers inside her. She whimpered, and he rubbed the back of his knuckles against her stiffened clit.

"Yes," she whined, pushing against his hand as he turned it inside her.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No—ooo," she moaned, squirming.

He hid his smile against her thigh and stretched one long, clever finger far inside her, stroking the upper wall of her channel. And then he felt it, the little bundle of nerves he was searching for, and pressed it with his fingertip. Below him, she jerked and panted.

"Is that good?" he crooned.

"Yes," she gasped, thrusting against his hand as it pumped in and out of her.

He bent his head, watching greedily as his fingers disappeared inside of her. "Do you want me to use my mouth, baby?" he teased, brushing her clit with his thumb.

She keened and shook, not answering him, and he finally stilled his hand.

She raised her head and stared at him, and nodded slowly.

He smiled wickedly and began finger-fucking her again, flicking his thumb against her clit until she began to sob with need. "Please— please—" she begged, clutching at his hair desperately. He chuckled softly and lowered his head, drawing her clit into his mouth and suckling mercilessly.

She came in a rush, gasping his name, and didn't notice when he finally pulled away and wiped his mouth. She didn't notice much of anything until he drew up beside her and brushed her hair back from her face, pressing sweet kisses along her hairline. "You okay, baby?" he murmured.

She smiled sleepily. "What about you?" she yawned.

He chuckled under his breath and rose up until he was kneeling next to her. "Time for that now," he said, leaning over to lave her nipples with his tongue.

"That's—uh—so nice," Buffy moaned, eyes closing as she clutched his head to her. William smiled at her inarticulateness. God knew he wasn't exactly eloquent when they were together.

Buffy felt the mattress dip on either side of her and opened her eyes. And…there he was. William. Right in front of her. Right on top of her.

Did he want her to—

He let her know exactly what he wanted when he nudged his cock between her breasts and pushed them together to form a cradle, and slowly began thrusting.

She looked up into his eyes and watched them glaze over as he began pumping faster, then glanced down to see his shaft rocking between her tits, thumbs brushing her nipples. Watching him—watching them— was exciting, and she felt her clit began to throb anew.

Above her William began to groan, and she wanted to help him. The way he had her. She lowered her head and tentatively swiped her tongue against his thick cockhead. The pre-come was salty and full of…him, she thought possessively. And now he was in her, like he should be.

His hands tightened on her breasts, and he began thrusting faster as she licked him. Abruptly he released her breasts and pulled back, pumping himself with his hand before coming all over her tits, the pearly come drenching her and dripping down onto the bed.

She woke up later, when he was dozing, and knew she should slip on her clothes and go back to the dorm before she was missed. She washed his spendings from her body, and the traces of blood from between her legs.

When she took one last look at his slumbering form she noticed a red swath across his chest. He'd wiped his hand there, after pleasuring her, and hadn't bothered to wash the blood away. Her blood. It was like she'd marked him.

It shouldn't have made her happy. But it did.

It was a mild autumn. Thanksgiving was only a few weeks away, but the weather was crisp and only slightly cool. Looking out his office window, William appreciated the gorgeous colors of the campus's trees. And yet, every time he looked out at the foliage, all he could was Buffy's face when she had ridden him while parked at the side of the road. Since then he'd had an image in his head that he couldn't shake, of Buffy laying back in a clearing, red and gold leaves strewn about, as he lowered himself over her.

It was impractical, though. Even at the farthest reaches of the campus woods, they might be happened upon, and there was really no way to explain how you came to be shagging the life out of one of your students. And if they were interrupted, they would mean they wouldn't get to come, and that was completely unacceptable.

Buffy on the ground. Buffy surrounded by autumn leaves. He couldn't get the thought out of his mind. He didn't even want to.

He was drowning in her.

"Mr. Bloodsworth?"

William snapped around to see his perfectly nice, matronly secretary holding out a file. "Here's the final list of those students who'll be remaining with us over the Thanksgiving holidays," she told him, referring to the unfortunate students whose parents chose not to bring them home for the long holiday weekend.

Or, he thought ruefully, perhaps they were the lucky ones. No family psychodrama for them, just a big festive dinner at Brighton followed by games and pie.

"CeCe Atkins…Zoe Beale…Elise Coton…all three Drake sisters…" absently William skimmed the list, then halted his litany abruptly.

"And Buffy Summers."

She was quiet all through breakfast, and he couldn't tell what she was thinking. He wondered if possibly she was regretting the things she allowed him to do, but he knew she loved them. The way her snatch squeezed the life out of his cock told him that, and the way she held him so tightly afterward.

He wasn't sure what drove them—what made her get off when he was rough with her. What excited him about hurting her. He wanted to ask about her previous experiences, but it seemed inappropriate.

Yes, he thought dryly, because everything else we do is perfectly proper.

Had they ever just made love? Slow and sensuous and lingering, no trace of dominance or submission. No games.

He loved having her sprawled out at his mercy, but god, he wanted that.

Abruptly Buffy set down her fork and yawned. Loudly. Loudly enough that the people at the next table turned to stare at her.

"Tired, sweetheart?" he asked kindly.

Buffy nodded, rubbing her eyes with her hands and yawning again.

"Want to go up and take a nap?" he offered. His plans could wait. They had all weekend.

"No, I'm like this every morning," she answered sleepily.

William blinked in surprise. "Every morning you have this much trouble waking up? How can you concentrate on your first class?"

Buffy laughed. "Well, usually I just—" she broke off. She didn't think he'd really like to hear about how she drifted through her first couple of classes every day.

"Usually what?" he asked suspiciously.

She tilted her head down and looked up at him flirtatiously from under her eyelashes. "Usually I spend them thinking of you," she said sweetly. Which was the truth, of course.

Unrepentant flirt, he thought. "You up for a walk this morning? Get away from the swarms of people?"

She shrugged. "I'm not really a big walker."

"You might want to make an exception—I'm told the woods are very nice this time of year."

"Well, yeah, I'm sure they're great, but I was thinking maybe we could stay in our room and, umm, do a little more of what we were doing last night."

William smiled tolerantly. "You know, Buffy, what's so nice about Vermont?"

"The trees?"

"No."

"The, uh…syrup?"

"No, Miss Summers. What's nice about Vermont is that no one knows us here."

Buffy stared at him for a moment. "What do you mean?"

He smiled blandly and returned his attention to his breakfast. "Eat up. I understand hiking requires a lot of energy."

TBC...