Feel
Willow’s alarm clock wakes her from a blissfully deep sleep far too early for her liking. Her sleep-fogged head is filled with delicious images that she automatically writes off as one heck of a dream until it sinks in that she’s completely naked beneath the covers. Since she never slept in the nude, her absence of pajamas made her blush with the realization that it hadn’t been a dream.
Spike had been here. He’d done … things to her. She’d loved everything he did except for the leaving.
But he’ll be back to do them again, she remembers with a smile and warm tingling of her body.
The sound of Buffy’s alarm clock going off jerks her from the ideas that thought brings to mind and she burrows under her blankets feigning sleep so her roomie wouldn’t notice the being buck naked thing. She watches the blonde hop from bed and perkily go around the room gathering her bath supplies then leave the room before allowing herself to relax.
Left alone Willow throws back the covers and springs from the bed to grab some clothes then get ready for class herself. She sways unsteadily on her feet the second they touch the floor, though, and she finds herself flopping back down on the edge of the mattress. Her body recognizes this spot and position as the exact same one that he had had her in last night while she sits there trying to regroup. She closes her eyes and can see him kneeling between her bare legs again. Her nipples harden and her core grows heavy with heated moisture at the memories that flood her.
"Could do this forever, pet. Fuck you till you’re raw from screamin’ at the pleasure of it. Till you can’t walk, can’t bring these creamy thighs together without rememberin’ of me between them. Till this is all you can think of. All you want. Till you bloody crave me like I’ve been cravin’ you."
His words replay in her mind, the sound of his voice inside her head sending a shudder of reaction through her entire system. Her thighs clench together at the growing ache between them as she vividly remembers the feel of him there, spreading her wide for his body to slide into hers. Her muscles tremble when the memories become so strong it’s like it’s all happening again. She can feel his shaft moving inside her, rigid flesh thrusting into her soft opening and leaving it’s impression on every inch of her vaginal walls. Those walls quiver and clench over his phantom length and she craves him just like he’d spoken of last night.
The feeling of very real fingers stroking over her breasts has her eyes snapping open and she blinks in disbelief at the sight of her own hands caressing the mounds like she remembered him doing. Certain he’d put some kind of spell on her she jerks her hands away and leaps to her feet, ignoring the tired trembling of leg muscles that had gotten such a workout last night. She grabs her discarded pajamas up off the floor, telling herself that all she felt was embarrassment as she remembers him removing the garments and carelessly tossing them aside. Yanking the clothes on she determines that she will not think of him anymore and gathers her things to go shower.
Buffy passes her in the corridor and they exchange a brief smile of good morning while Willow wonders paranoidly if the Slayer has any kind of sensor that would tip her off on what had the Wiccan had done last night. The blonde continues merrily on her way without doing anything to indicate she knew that her roommate had had sex with Spike so the redhead relaxes and rushes on to the bathroom.
Three other girls from the floor were present, going through their daily rituals of applying makeup and styling their hair, when Willow enters the room. She usually scoffs at a spectacle like this, glad she never bothered with primping like that, but today she watches them and frets about her choppy haircut and the pale features she rarely applied any cosmetics to.
Did Spike like her hair this way? Would he appreciate her dulling the appearance of her freckles with a concealer? Using some eyeshadow and mascara to make her eyes look bigger and greener? Lipstick to make her lips glossy and fuller in appearance? Or did he like her just as she was?
Shaking off those thoughts and telling herself she so didn’t care what he liked she claims a shower stall, strips off and turns the water on hot. Unfortunately her mind and body seem compelled to dwell on Spike. As her hands move her soapy bath sponge over her flesh to wash away the dirt and grit of yesterday she imagines them being his. When she begins cleansing between her thighs she thinks of the juices that have dried on her thighs and in the hairs covering her femininity and has to bite her lower lip to stifle a moan.
"Wanna feel your cream all over my cock before I fill you with my cum," she shudders at the memory of him saying that. His mouth hovering over hers as he huskily grinds out each word while his cock thrusts up into her body as it knelt astride his.
She almost hates to wash the residue away even as a mortified part of her demands she scrub the skin harder. Without conscious thought her hand does begin moving harder, but the sponge falls from it as her fingers lose interest in cleaning. The digits seem to cease being hers. In her mind they’re his, parting her folds and sliding over the slick flesh beyond before thrusting up into her core.
Her cunny, she remembers him calling it and shivers wickedly as she starts thinking of it that way. Two fingers dive into her cunny, moving deep and searching around for that spot that reduced her to a mindless mass of pure sensation that his digits had found last night.
Breathing hard through her nose, teeth still biting into her lip to try silencing what she was doing, she leans back against the shower stall and moves her other hand to the apex of her thighs to stimulate her clitoris. She plucks at the nub, imagining his lips wrapped around it and sucking on the flesh while his fingers fucked her to oblivion.
A moan escapes her at that scandalous term, but she doesn’t care if anyone overhears it. As far as she was concerned she’s in her room right now, laying sprawled on her bed with one incredibly sexy and talented bleached-blonde vampire pleasuring her with his hands and mouth. He was driving her toward orgasm or insanity or both and urging her to make all the noise she wanted to let him know how good he was making her feel. He wanted her to scream till her throat was raw from it and in her mind she was. She was mentally reliving her uninhibited response, remembering the moans and whimpers and pants and screams from her lips and throat that had aroused her just as much as his words and the things he was doing to her body.
Her head presses hard into the tiles against it as she feels the tension of impending orgasm racing along her nerves. Her muscles were coiling tight within her, bracing for the deluge that was about to come, and her hands were moving frantically to bring her off. She had three fingers buried inside herself, but it still was nowhere as filling as his shaft or tongue or even one of his digits had seemed. She was pinching and rolling and pulling her clit, wishing it was in his mouth again in actuality not just memory.
"Could do this forever, pet," she remembers him saying and she thinks how he really could. He was immortal and he could pleasure her forever. Stay with her forever.
Be hers forever.
Thoughts of an eternity with him send her careening off the deep end. Her cunny spasms around the digits inside it, clamping down on them with enough force part of her mind thinks absently that they may break. Her body arches away from the shower wall, hips thrusting forward to get the most out the contact with her hands. She feels her feet slipping on the wet floor and wedges them against the other side of the cramped stall as the climax rolls over her. It causes her to convulse and bite through her lip to keep from crying out with pleasure until it ran it’s unbridled course.
When the flood of ecstasy recedes, leaves her left limp and in shock. Her body begins to slide downward until she’s slumped on the floor, gulping in pants of breath and spitting out water as it flows into her mouth with the oxygen. After a few moments her breathing and heartbeat slow back to normal and the dream world she’d ventured into fades away. She hears the chattering and giggling of females and remembers with painful clarity that she is not in her bedroom as she’d been imagining.
Blushing in mortification, she scrambles to her feet, grabs up her sponge and begins scouring her body while praying frantically that she hadn’t made any noises to tip those girls off to what she’d been doing. The sound of them exiting the bathroom coincides with her turning the water off, a fact she thanks the fates for. Cautiously she pulls back the shower curtain and peeks out into the communal bath to see if there’s anyone else there and when she sees there isn’t she slumps back against the tiles with a huge sigh of relief.
As she steps from the cubicle to dry off and put her pajamas back on she wonders what has happened to her. Yesterday she was moping about her ineffectiveness as a witch, Oz’s leaving and her friends’ lack of concern for her then she gets a surprise visit and major happy from Spike and now she’s … pleasuring herself in a public shower when she’s never before in her life touched herself like that.
Well, maybe she had gotten curious a few times and did a little bad touching, but never like that.
Shaking that train of thought off she leaves the room to go get dressed and head to class. While going through that process, though, she can’t help but wonder if he’d be back tonight.
~*~*~
Hours later Willow’s seemingly endless routine of classes and meetings was over and she gratefully returns to her dorm room. She absently tosses her books on her desk and flops down on her bed, green eyes turning to the windows through which sunlight continues to stream. Within the hour the sun will set and that light will fade away into darkness.
And the darkness was where he lived, a shiver races through her at the stray thought of Spike.
Despite ordering herself not to think about him, he’d been distracting her all day. During class she’d found herself ignoring the lectures of her Professors and remembering the events of last night, memories that had made her squirm in the hard wooden chairs all the students sat in. Rather than concentrating on what was said during her Wiccan group meeting, she’d been trying to figure out why Spike had come to her and what the things they’d done meant.
More troubling than all that, though, was her preoccupation with wondering whether he’d return tonight. With every passing moment she grew more anxious - from anticipation or apprehension she didn’t know which. Just wanting the darkness to be there now so that she’ll know if he would be true to his word and return or if he was a typical jerkface male who had just been in it for the one time.
"I’m not about to do a flit after havin’ a taste of this," her eyelids drift shut as she remembers his sincere tone when he spoke those words and the possessive way his eyes and hand had touched her while he said it.
She opens her eyes again, looks at her alarm clock, sighs at the time showing on the digital display then flicks a glaring glance toward the warm sunlight streaming into the room. With nothing else to pass the time she pushes to her feet and goes to grab her textbooks to try completing the assignments she thinks her teachers had given out in class today.
Before she can get around to making the effort to concentrate on that, though, Buffy arrives with a big smile on her face and a plastic grocery bag in her hand. Her friend’s announcement that she had cleared her date and Slaying schedule for a night of bonding over ice cream and chick flicks like Willow had wanted to try a few days ago wasn’t as welcome as it would have been just yesterday. Today all she wanted was daylight to be gone so Spike could come to again. Unfortunately the blonde is quite happily settling herself down on the redhead’s bed and pulling pints of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream out of her grocery bag and the Wiccan has to begin hoping the vampire wasn’t planning on a visit as the Slayer was showing no signs of leaving.
Stifling a disappointed sigh at that fact, she picks out some Cherry Garcia and takes the lid off to start enjoying the calorie laden treat while Buffy starts chatting about her date last night with Riley. The bitterness and jealousy she’d been feeling of late at her friend’s new ‘relationship’ was completely absent as she listens to the Slayer’s hesitant optimism about the new guy. Tonight she’s genuinely happy to see the other girl smiling and blushing faintly as she discusses the pros and cons of dating the TA. She’s also feeling pretty darn good about having played some small part in bringing the pair together.
Amazing how having orgasms can change one’s outlook, she thinks absently then almost chokes on a cherry at having had such a thought. Spending way too much time around Anya, she concludes mentally, hoping Buffy doesn’t see her blush as she refocuses on their conversation.
Before too long they polish off their first pints and are debating the merits of gorging on another when the telephone rings. The summons of that ring doesn’t bode well for either one of them, as they’d been enjoying the lazing about and talking thing they were doing. After exchanging resigned looks, though, the Slayer rises to pick up the receiver.
"He what?!" the blonde asks sharply after a moment and the redhead sighs in resignation as it becomes apparent that duty’s calling her friend away. "Why not just let him go? I mean, do we really care about - " Buffy begins then pauses as Giles, most likely, interrupts. "Ok, ok. Can it wait? I was - " she’s interrupted again, much to her vexation. "Fine," she huffs angrily. "I’ll go and bring him back. Again. If he tries anything, though, I’m dusting him no matter what info he may have on the Commandos."
Spike, Willow realizes who they’re talking about and stills, unsure of just what she’s feeling from the news.
"Sorry, Wills," Buffy says as she hangs up the phone and begins preparing to go out. "Gotta go."
"Anything major?" she asks, playing it cool.
"Hardly," the Slayer tucks a stake into the waistband of her jeans then pulls on her jacket, "Spike’s gotten away from Giles again and for some reason I’ve got to get him back straight away."
"Oh, well … good luck," she says casually while gathering up the remaining containers of ice cream and going to put them in the tiny freezer compartment the little fridge they had in their room.
"I’ll be back as soon as I get this done," the blonde promises on her way out the door. "Then we’ll watch one of those movies you were talking about the other day."
"Sounds like a plan," she smiles with feigned enthusiasm, her mind now on other things as she silently wills her roommate to just leave already.
A moment later she was alone in the room and stands staring rather blankly at the door, wondering with anticipation and a touch of apprehension if he was on his way to here. Biting the corner of her lower lip she looks down at herself and decides that the casual shirt and slacks she’s wearing simply will not do if he does pop up again. She rushes to her closet and begins rifling through the hangers looking for something better. Something a bit more seductive but not anything that would make it obvious that she had prepared for his visit and dressed up to impress him. Something she wouldn’t be completely embarrassed to be caught in by Buffy if Spike didn’t come.
She looks longingly at the green slip dress she’d allowed Buffy to talk her into buying months ago, but she’d never had the courage to wear because of how much skin it revealed with it’s spaghetti straps, low-cut front and back and super short skirt. Wearing that would definitely be too obvious.
Maybe some other time, she thinks then wonders if there’d be another time where she’d have a chance to wear the dress for him.
Shaking those thoughts off, she grabs a knee length black skirt and short sleeved light green top from the closet and tosses the garments onto her bed. Not knowing how much time she’d have she tears off the shirt she’s wearing and shoves her pants down before quickly kicking those clothes aside. Her green eyes look consideringly at the chaste cotton bra and panties with little strawberries on them that she’s left wearing. For a moment she debates removing one or both items, but ultimately can’t find the courage to forgo underwear unless she was preparing for bed and it was still a few hours before she’d be doing that.
That decided she turns to grab up the skirt and quickly pulls it on, frowning as the fabric moves over her legs and she remembers it’s been a few days since Buffy dragged her to a salon and talked her into having them waxed. After getting the garment in place she runs her hands over the limbs to make sure there’s no stubble there to embarrass her and sighs with relief when she finds the skin still silky and smooth. As she reaches for the top she takes a tentative sniff under her arms and, remembering that vampire’s have very heightened senses, goes to her dresser to put on some more deodorant just to be safe. While there she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror and pouts at her reflection.
Frowning at the reflection she applies the antiperspirant then rummages through her possessions until she finds her rarely used cosmetics to put on some foundation, eyeshadow, mascara and lipstick. Blush wasn’t necessary as her cheeks were already colored by her excitement. It helps a lot, making her eyes seem greener and her lips now have that full, glistening and pouty look Buffy’s told her guys like. She smiles briefly at that then sighs at her hair, which needs a bit of work, but there was no sense doing that only to have her efforts ruined when she put her shirt on.
Remembering, on that note, that she was standing there half-naked she rushes back to the bed and snatches the top up. Before she can don the garment, though, she freezes, sensing that she’s no longer alone. Holding the top modestly to her chest she tries in vain to calm her heartbeat and breathing as she knows who’s there and her body reacts with enthusiasm to his presence. Excitement thrums through her veins as she turns to face the door to confirm visually what her body is telling her.
Spike’s just shutting the barrier when she completes the one-eighty and settles her emerald gaze on him. He looks annoyingly calm and composed as he stands looking back at her, so cool in his black leather and denim. His fingers reach behind him and nimbly flick the lock on the doorknob and a shiver runs through her body as the metallic click of that gesture makes the moment real.
He’s back, she thinks with her heart and stomach fluttering happily at that fact.
"Told you I would be, pet," he smirks, making her realize she spoke the thought aloud.
He tilts his head to the side, gazing at her curiously, seeming to look right into her soul to see how she feels about his return. After a moment of study, which she begins to fidget under, he begins to move toward her in a sleek, almost predatory manner. The motion of his body hypnotizes her, so graceful and deliberate, leaving her frozen in place while he draws nearer. When he comes to a stop in front of her and places his hands on her bare arms she almost jumps out of her skin as the contact snaps her out of her daze.
"Relax, luv," he says softly as he pulls her toward him and he leans toward her, bringing their bodies together. "Not here to hurt you."
"I know," she whispers, tipping her head back to look into his eyes. "What are you here for?"
She sees a flicker of something in the stunning blue depths of his gaze, but he lowers his eyelashes and shuts her out before she can even begin to decipher what the gleam meant. He offers no verbal answer to her question. Instead he runs his hands down her arms until they get to her own and remove the top she’s still clutching to her chest. Her fingers easily surrender the garment and she stands a bit nervously before him as he opens his eyes to look at her again. An amused smile curves his lips as he moves his fingers to stroke over the cups of her bra, causing her nipples to grow hard beneath the cotton.
"Strawberries," he says, amusement in his tone and sparkling in his gaze. "It would be strawberries."
"What’s wrong with strawberries?" she asks with a frown, not sure how to take his reaction to her choice in underwear.
"Nothing," he assures her, still clearly amused for some reason. "You taste of strawberries," he whispers into her ear before licking the skin behind the lobe.
The drag of his tongue over her flesh stops the breath in her throat and causes her eyelids to drift shut with delight. He repeats the gesture then takes her earlobe between his flat front teeth and nips it sharply, making her gasp in surprise and shiver with arousal at the sensations caused by the contrasting gestures.
"Sweet," he continues speaking and follows the word with another swipe of his tongue over her flesh. "Ripe," he sucks on the pulse fluttering under her jawline. "Succulent," his lips claim hers, parting them to thrust his tongue deeply into the hot cavern beyond.
Her hands reach out and find the solid leather of his duster, fingers tangling in the worn garment to anchor herself to him as her tongue tangles with his and the kiss becomes harder and hungry. His arms wrap around her, hands stroking the length of her spine for a moment then latching onto the back fastening of her bra.
"We can’t," she pulls back to gasp, reality intruding upon her through the clouds of desire and the enjoyment of what she’s been thinking about all day. "Buffy’s looking for you," she reports, eyes reluctantly opening.
"Will she come back before she finds me?" he asks with his scarred eyebrow arching in amusement.
"No," she blinks at his lack of concern and the question, "but - "
"Will she look for me here?" he interrupts lightly.
"N-no," she answers, thinking that this was the last place the Slayer was likely to ever look for the escaped vampire.
"Then we’ve plenty of time, don’t we, pet?" he smiles and presses his lips back to hers.
She responds slowly, his reasoning taking a moment to sink in, but soon the corners of her mouth are curling happily upward at the realization that he was right. Without any further comment he deftly unhooks her bra then takes his mouth from hers to begin kissing, licking and biting his way down the side of her neck. His hands move up her back to her shoulders, fingers slipping under the straps of the undergarment, while his mouth continues on it’s exploration of her throat. He begins sliding the straps down her arms, palms and fingertips skimming sensually over her flesh and leaving goosebumps in their wake.
Her eyelids drift shut again with a moan when his kisses trail past her collarbone to tease her breasts as he loosens the hold she has on his duster to slip the bra completely off. She arches her spine to thrust the bared mounds to him and almost falls back onto the bed as her bones are not their most solid at the moment. He catches her to him to stop her swaying form from going to far then takes her left nipple into his mouth. She’s more sensitive from last night and a borderline painful pleasure races from the nub throughout her body like a current of electricity as he rolls it around the moist cavern with his tongue, making her quiver and go soft in his supportive arms. He releases that peak to suckle the other and she clamps her hands down on the back of his head, fingers alternately stroking and pulling at his soft platinum hair.
Every now and again she comes into contact with the leather of his duster until she grows tired of the material and begins to crave the knowledge of what his skin feels like beneath her palms and against her flesh. With that desire taking over her thoughts she moves her hands to push at the coat from his body. Sensing what she wants he pulls away to shrug out of the garment, removing his supportive hands and causing her to flop down on the bottom edge of the bed as her knees give out.
She blinks at the dizzying speed with which she sinks to the mattress then focuses on him as he lets the duster fall to the floor. He bends forward to return his attention to her chest after shedding the worn black leather, but she raises her hands with a moan to keep him back. A frown touches his mouth at the gesture and he looks at her in a way that demands explanation.
"Off," she orders with a frown of her own, fingers going down his chest to fumble with the few buttons he has fastened on the red shirt he’s wearing over a black tee.
"Patience, luv," he smiles, relaxing now that it’s clear she isn’t putting on the breaks.
His hands push hers aside and slowly slide each of the three buttoned buttons free of their holes to open the garment up. He straightens and slips the shirt off, letting it fall down on top of his duster. Willow’s eyes avidly watch his every action, recording and enjoying the slow unveiling of his body even as her core clenches in a silent plea to have him naked and in her already.
As if sensing her conflicting reactions to his unhurried motions he smirks and slows down even more. His fingers trail down his chest to the waistband of his tight jeans then languidly begin pulling the black cotton from where it’s tucked into the denim. She catches the occasional glimpse of his pale stomach as he tugs the garment free and her fingers itch to join in and tear the darn top away. Finally he’s finished pulling the tee from his pants and begins dragging it upward, gradually uncovering his torso then tugging it up over his head and letting it drop onto the growing pile on the floor.
An appreciative sigh escapes her at his sculptured upper body, pale and lean, but with an undeniable strength in the muscles under his skin. Unbidden her hands rise to touch that skin and he allows it. Her fingers skim over his washboard abs and chiseled pecs, lingering over his nipples when he hisses at the contact and she recognizes that as a sound of pleasure. Her fingertips tingle at the contact. The feel of his cool flesh making it seems like hers was burning up. The friction as the digits drag over him causing her to shiver with erotic delight.
She leans forward, wanting to copy the movement of her hands with her mouth. Wanting to taste him as she’d allowed him to taste her last night. This gesture he stops, though, his hands restraining her as hers had him just moments ago. Like him, she frowns at being held back and reluctantly moves her gaze from his chest to look questioningly up into his eyes. He smiles at her reaction and shifts his grip from her shoulders to her wrists. With a wicked gleam entering the vibrant blue orbs she’s staring into he guides her hands slowly down his torso to the front of his jeans, bringing them to a stop at the buckle of his belt.
"Open it," he bends to breathe the order against her ear.
Without hesitation her fingers obey, fumbling blindly with the metal clasp a few times before finally parting the ends of the black leather strip. That done she removes her hands and looks up expectantly, thinking perhaps she had earned a reward for her quick response. He tsks at that and quickly returns her hands to his jeans, hooking her fingers in the waistband directly above the button fastening there.
"Open them," he growls, sending a shiver through her at the passionate command.
Her digits obey once again, forefingers pulling the worn denim away from his abdomen and thumbs awkwardly pushing the first silver button through it’s hole. The black fabric parts just an inch and her eyes race down to wear her hands are working as her brain finally realizes what she’s uncovering. She unfastens the second button and uncovers a bit more of the pale skin stretched taut over his hips. That skin twitches under her knuckles as she moves to the third of five buttons. She can feel the wiry curls of his pubic hair now and lingers over this fastening as she’s getting so close to freeing the erection that’s pushing against the remaining hooks.
Her fingers shake a bit nervously as they resume their motions unfastening the next clasp and using more force to work the silver circle through it’s hole as the denim was straining so over his bulge. When she frees the next one his shaft springs out, clearly impatient with her dawdling and wanting freedom right then and there. A little startled by the jack-in-the-box effect she blinks then stares rather blankly at the organ for a moment before cautiously moving her fingers to touch the long ivory length.
It jerks under her light touch and another hiss escapes Spike’s lips at the contact. She looks up at him sharply, unsure this time of whether it was a sound of pleasure or pain, and sees that his eyes are shut and his face sharpened by an expression of pure lust. She runs her hand over his shaft and watches a spasm of definite pleasure twist his features. Emboldened by that pleasure she curls her fingers around him and strokes slowly from root to tip then back again.
"Christ," he exclaims at the caress, a guttural exclamation the fought its way from his tightly clenched jaw.
His hips pull back then jerk forward again when her hand remains unmoving on him for too long, thrusting his length through her grasp to get the friction he wants. Taking that as an unspoken order she resumes stroking, experimenting with the firmness of her grip and the tempo with which she moves. Her palm and fingertips record the feel of him, the soft velvet texture of his skin over the marble hardness of his arousal. Though his heart can’t possibly be pumping blood through the shaft like a mortal’s does, the organ pulses and throbs in her hold.
She’s torn between the desire to watch it dancing in her hand and the inability to tear her gaze from the telling expressions crossing his beautiful face. Every time she runs her fingers over his tip, unable to resist toying curiously with the foreskin there, his nostrils flare and the muscles along his jaw tic visibly from the way he clenches his teeth to keep from uttering any more noises. When she glides down and tickles her fingers against the light brown hairs surrounding the base his features relax for a split second then go taut again as she tightens her grip and moves upward again.
Just as she’s got a rhythm going that she’s sure will make him climax in just a few more moments, a shudder goes through his frame and he opens his eyes with a deep groan. The fire in his gaze as it meets hers makes her gasp, marveling at the fact that he could be that turned on by anything she did. His hands take hold of hers and slowly remove them from his body, causing her to gasp again at the loss of contact with him. She tries to take him back in her grasp, but he very firmly keeps her away.
"No more of that, pet," he growls before pressing his mouth hard against hers.
"But I want - " she begins to protest, trying to wriggle her hands free to resume touching him when he pulls back again.
"You’ll get," he interrupts, silencing her with another brief smooch.
Her lips want to cling to his, but again he thwarts her wants. He pulls back and slides his hands up her arms to push against her shoulders until she’s laying back on the bed. A shiver of anticipation runs through her as she thinks this shift in position means things are about to get orgasmic. His palms run down her sides, fingers tickling in a deliciously erotic way that kept her body quivering. When he reaches the clothing covering her hips he grabs hold of the waistband of the skirt and panties in such a way that her breath shudders to a stop as she expects him to tear the garments from her. He doesn’t, though, and the moment she realizes that she admits to herself that she’s a little disappointed even if she would have been rather upset later at having the items ruined. Instead, he very slowly works the clothes downward, lifting her hips easily to get the material past her bottom then just letting them drop from her feet to the floor.
"Scoot," he orders with a jerk of his chin toward the headboard to indicate the direction she was to move.
Frowning curiously at the command she obeys, scrambling up along the bed until her head is resting on her pillows, eager to find out what he’s up to this time. He sits down on the spot she’d vacated, with his back to her, and quickly removes his boots and unfastened jeans. Her eyes avidly record the vision of his muscles flexing and rippling with his actions and her fingers tingle in anticipation of feeling those sinews shift under her touch.
After kicking the denim off he turns his attention to her, first giving her a lascivious glance over his shoulder then shifting in her direction. He climbs onto the bed and starts toward her on his hands and knees, crawling languidly up the length of her body until his mouth was level with hers. With a moan she closes her eyes and arches upward, blindly seeking that mouth, but he doesn’t meet her halfway as she had thought he would.
Her eyes flutter open again just in time to see him swoop down to kiss her right shoulder. His tongue flicks out to play connect the dots with the freckles there before he moves to do the same on her other shoulder. Though she finds the unexpected caresses pleasurable, her body craves more. Had been craving more from the second she awoke with the memories of the responses he was capable of wringing from her flesh. Impatient to get to the good stuff she moves her hands to his shoulders then into the strands of his hair to direct his head toward her chest, which she arches up to silently encourage his lips to take her breasts.
He apparently has other ideas and ignores the push of her palms. Once again he takes hold of her wrists and pulls her hands from his body. This time, though, he carries the limbs up toward the headboard of the bed and wraps her fingers around one of the wooden rails in the bed frame.
"Don’t let go," he orders firmly, accompanying the words with a look that clearly said the matter was not open for debate.
Having been looking forward to touching his bare skin freely, she’s not about to simply obey this command. She frowns and releases the slat only to have him quickly curl her digits around the wood and hold them there tightly with his hands.
"Do not let it go," he repeats warningly, a dangerous gleam entering his eyes. "Do it again and I will bind them there and punish your disobedience, pet."
The threat of punishment from a vampire, even a chipped on like Spike, should have paralyzed her with fear, but instead she found herself intrigued by the prospect. Wondering what all he could do to her with that chip limiting his actions. Envisioning herself bound to the bed, naked as she was, and left completely vulnerable and exposed to any and everything he deemed necessary to teach her that his orders were not to be disregarded. Her eyes flutter closed and the mental images grow more vivid and erotic behind her eyelids until she forces them back, opening her eyes and refocusing on the present.
"I want to touch you," she whispers after a moment, trying to get him to rescind his command.
"I know," he smirks with satisfaction at her words as the knowledge clearly makes no difference to him.
"Please," she looks at him with imploring green eyes, feeling no shame in pleading to get what she wanted, "I want to feel you, Spike."
"You will," he promises, kissing her lips while lowering his body onto hers. "Feel me?" he asks against her mouth as he sensuously undulates his frame over hers to stimulate every inch of her flesh that was in contact with his.
"More," she moans, gripping the headboard and straining upward to increase the friction.
This wish he grants for her, spreading her legs wide with his knees then settling his hips in the cradle of her thighs and rocking against her femininity until the broad head of his erection finds her hole and begins to slide in. A hiss of air escapes her at the penetration as the muscles are surprisingly sensitive from there use in the past twenty-four hours, but she welcomes the slight burn of her walls stretching slowly to allow him inside. The sound quickly becomes a long, low moan of pleasure as he fills her, making her aware of just how empty she’d been all day without him.
Her hands ache with the need to clutch at him. To grab his shoulders and pull him down for a kiss. To rake down his back then grab on to the pale, firm globes of his butt that she’d gotten only the briefest of glimpses at to urge him even deeper into her core. Tempting as the idea was to damn the consequences for the infraction, which she was sure would not be too unpleasant, and give into that need she decides instead to obey his order and maintain her hold on the headboard to see what he’s planning for her.
It soon becomes obvious that he intends to drive her insane. He sinks into her to the hilt, making her cry out with delight at feeling every inch of him within her again, but he doesn’t move, making her squirm and whimper for him to thrust. His hands skim down her upraised arms to cup her breasts, fondling the mounds and tweaking the nipples until she arches up toward him with enough force to lift both their torsos from the mattress. Then he begins withdrawing from her with torturous languor until he slides completely from her core. She issues a loud, incoherent wail of protest at the complete withdrawal, her whole body jerking uncontrollably to try luring him back. He soothes her with soft, calming noises and his lips brushing against hers. Just as her body stops shaking he nudges his cock blindly against her wet folds again until it finds her waiting cunny and starts sliding back in, one itty bitty little centimeter at a time. She’s babbling pleas for him to hurry - to stop toying with her, to fill her now, to satisfy her – and bucking her pelvis up against his in an effort to force the issue. He stops that by moving a hand from her breast to clamp down on her hip and pin her to the bed. His mouth replaces the hand on the abandoned mound, licking the soft flesh and lightly suckling on the hard nipple. Finally his entire length settles against her womb once more and she for a split second she feels a relieved kind of fulfillment at having him there then the hunger for more overwhelms her, making her squirm and whimper again.
That starts the process all over again. He oh so slowly withdraws from her, then soothes her frantic protests with gentle touches and kisses before retaking his place inside her body. She has no idea how long he did this too her, only knew that it continued until the sensitive tissues lining her inner walls began to throb with more pain than pleasure. At that point she knows she’ll truly go mad if he doesn’t take her to climax immediately.
"Please," she sobs, openly begging with everything she had – cracking voice, eyes glistening with frustrated tears and a painfully taut body that shook with unfulfilled desire.
"Such a sweet word on your lips," he lifts his lips from her breast to remark, pride and satisfaction at what he’s reduced her to obvious in his tone. "Again," he orders after a brief kiss to her lips before moving his mouth down her neck to return to her chest.
"Please," she repeats without hesitation, more than willing to do anything he demands to find her release. "Please, Spike," she pleads, hands tightening their hold on the headboard until the wooden slats dig painfully into her palms and the soft pads of her fingers.
"Please what?" he torments her by asking with a slow flick of his tongue over her nipple.
"Let me come," she cries out, uncaring if the whole world hears the blunt words. "Please. Please, Spike, I need it," the words spill rapidly from her lips as her whole body strains up against his seeking completion. "I need you. Please. Please, Spike. Please," she repeats that supplicating word over and over again – alternately sobbing, moaning, groaning, shouting and barely whispering the entreaty until her throat felt raw and her voice grew hoarse.
"Shh," he soothes her again, stopping the mindless flow of pleas with his mouth.
He embeds himself inside her in one swift thrust and releases his hold on her hip, wriggling the hand between their groins to find her clit with his thumb. With a shriek at his touch to the over-stimulated little nub of nerves, she begins bucking wildly beneath him. He pulls back then pushes his length into her with increasing speed, giving her the friction she’d been needing. His muffling mouth catches her pleasured utterances when the tip of his cock rakes repeatedly over that magical spot along her channel that he had introduced her to the night before.
Again she has to fight the urge to let go of the headboard and clutch at his body as she can feel a climax like no other approaching. Not wanting to disobey him at such a critical moment and run the risk of him stopping to punish her, she settles for wrapping her legs tightly around his thrusting hips, feet moving frantically over the tense backs of his thighs to pull him in deeper and harder and faster.
She’s overwhelmed by the feel of his weight atop of her. His mouth on hers. His hand on her breast. His fingers stimulating the knot of nerves between her legs. His shaft pounding into her core, feeling like it would bruise her womb with its force. His presence surrounds her, making her feel like their bodies weren’t just joining but joined – melting together into a single mass of shuddering flesh. Her lips taste him. Her nose smells his rich musky odor mixed with the scent of tobacco. Over the deafening thuds of her heart, her ears can dimly hear the sounds of their bodies slapping together, the squelching noises made by his withdrawing from and thrusting back into her grasping wetness and the desperate huffs of air taken in then expelled through her nostrils. Her tightly closed eyes see nothing but wildly dancing colors fusing with mental ideas of what they must look like in this moment, nearing the animalistic culmination of this act.
Sensation upon sensation piles upon her and she tears her mouth from his, feeling she could no longer get by on the fleeting breaths through her nose. The tension is growing stronger than she’s ever known it. Growing more painfully pleasurable than she would have thought possible or endurable. She’s vaguely aware of his lips going to her ear and his husky voice, more heavily accented with his own desire, telling her to let go. To come. But it remains just beyond her reach no matter how hard her hands grip the headboard, her legs clamp around his hips or her pelvis jerks to meet his thrusts.
Then she hears clearly hears him utter the simple command of, "Now," as his thumb and index finger take hold of her clitoris to give the nub a firm squeeze and sharp pull and her world explodes. Literally, it felt, as all her control shatters and she becomes a wild thing of pure reaction.
Her mouth gapes wide open on a scream that she has no breath to release while shudders so intense they’d probably break her spine if not for the ecstasy tempering the severity of each convulsion. Those spasms wrack her frame for what feels like an eternity, the pleasure of her orgasm racing through her like a wildfire and leaving her scorched with the actuality of how good a climax could be. Just as the inner flames recede, allowing the tremors to begin calming to shuddery little aftershocks and easing the tension that had wound her every muscle so taut, she feels the cool wash of his come inside her heated cunny, knows he’s joined her in climax and feels the inferno claim her again. Coming so soon after that last one, this orgasm proves too much for her too take and, with a strangled scream of his name, she lets herself slip into unconsciousness.