Chapter 20 On the Sly

Buffy’s heart was pounding as she got off the elevator at the seventeenth floor of Wolfram and Hart.

She knew she shouldn’t be here.  It was too much of a risk.  But he needed to be in the office most of the day, even though it was Friday, and she found she was lonely at the thought of not seeing him for so long.

So she dared coming down here during the noon hour, hoping that most of the staff of Intellectual Properties would be out for lunch.

Fortunately, her gamble seemed to pay off.  The staff section of William’s unit was empty.  Even Harmony was conspicuously absent.

She was just about to turn the knob on his office door when a voice just over her shoulder said, “I don’t think you want to go in there, luv.”

She spun around to look into William’s smirking face.

“Why not?” she asked breathlessly, a smile on her own face.

“Well, your husband is in there with a handful of stodgy German types arguing about the best methods of diversification.”

“In your office?”

He shrugged.  “I was in on it for a while, but I had to go make another call.”  He studied her up and down.  “Not that I’m not thrilled to see you, but what are you doin’ here, sneaking into my office?”

She blushed but stepped closer to him, running her tongue across her teeth.  “Looking for a quickie?”

His eyes darkened in that oh so familiar way.  “I think we can accommodate that,” he said, his voice gone low and sultry.  “Let’s just find someplace a little more private.”

His hand rested possessively on the small of her back as he guided her down the hall, through the reception area and into Angel’s office.

He threw the deadbolt and leaned against the door.  “Come here,” he growled, desire thickening his voice.

Her heart and groin tightened at his command, but it also called up something a bit wicked.  She backed up slowly, her eyes bright, her mouth slightly open, as she moved her hands under her skirt and up to draw down her panties.  She stepped out of them and leaned against the front of the desk, holding the plaid cotton thong up on one finger like bait.  “You come here.”

He growled again and advanced on her slowly, stopping a few feet away to reach out and take the scrap of fabric from her, rubbing the damp lining thoughtfully between his fingers.  “You’ve been naughty.”

She started unbuttoning her blouse.  “It was a long cab ride down.”

He tucked the panties in his suit coat pocket and undid his tie.  “You give the cabbie an eyeful?”

“Thought about it.”  She opened the front of the blouse and slid her hands up over her stomach to unhook the front catch of her bra, spreading it open to show him her bare breasts.  “But I wanted to save it for you.”

His eyes were locked on her mouth as he finished unbuttoning his own shirt, his hand dropping to the button on his trousers.  “That’s my good girl.”

She pulled herself up on the edge of the desk, spreading her legs as she began inching the skirt up over her thighs.  “You can’t have it both ways.  I can’t be naughty and good.”

He released his already solid shaft from his fly and stepped between her thighs.  “No, but you can be good and naughty.”

“Mmm, I like . . .”  she was silenced by his mouth crashing down on hers and surrendered instantly, groaning in pleasure as the softness of her bare chest ground against the warm hardness of his.  His hands seemed to be everywhere, in her hair, on her back, around her breasts.  Hers were equally mobile, sliding under his shirt to sculpt his back, dipping below the waistband of his pants to cup his muscled ass.

He bucked against her, and she could feel the velvet hardness of his cock pressing into her.  He pulled back to look into her eyes hungrily.  “You did say a quickie, didn’t you?”

“Oh god, William, give it to me!  Please!”

“You only had to ask.”  He gripped himself firmly to guide his head to her dripping center.  She gasped as he thrust shallowly, pushing past the tight muscles to seat himself squarely within her.  Then he wrapped his hands around her hips and thrust deep.

She wailed into his shoulder in relief, jerking hard to push him even deeper.

“I’ve got you, beauty,” he crooned into her ear as he stroked his hips hard and fast against her.  “Don’t fret, I’ll give you what you need.  See to your every.  Want.  And.  Desire.”  He punctuated the last with deep, choking thrusts that made her cry out.  “Shh, pet.”  He grinned but didn’t slow his assault.  “Don’t want to tip off the wage slaves.”

“Just . . . oh god . . . please don’t stop.”

“Only one good way to shut you up.”  And his mouth descended on hers once again, his hand slipping between them to thumb over her clit hard.

Red fire exploded across her brain and she howled into his mouth, clutching at him as she convulsed against him.  A moment later, she felt him spasm deep inside her, setting off small aftershocks to her own orgasm.

They were still for long moments, wrapped around each other as their bodies settled.  She felt him lightly stroking her hair, placing delicate kisses along her temple, and she felt protected and deeply cherished, as well as truly and thoroughly ravished.

But finally they had to separate.  She contentedly began buttoning his shirt as he tucked himself away and closed his slacks before turning his attention to her.  He caught up the two halves of her bra, settling her into the cups and refastening the catch.  “You know, pet,” he said, pulling her blouse shut, “I like the way you think.”

She smiled, reaching up to knot his tie.  “It’s a perspective I’m coming to embrace myself.”

He draped her skirt back modestly over her knees, then reached into his pocket.  “Want these back?” he asked, holding up the tiny panties.

“Hmm,” she thought for a moment.  Then she held her legs out, shoe tips pointed.  “Put them on me?”

He looked at her in absolute wonder.  “When did you become such a vamp?”  But he dropped to his knees and began fitting her feet through the narrow bands.

“You’ve been an inspiration,” she murmured, enjoying the satiny feel of his hands on her bare legs, sliding over the curve of her behind as he slipped the strap in place between her cheeks.  She closed her eyes and just reveled in his touch for a moment, then reluctantly stepped away.  “Keep that up and we’ll be spending the evening explaining to my husband what we’re doing in his office.”

“No problem at this end.  Bring him on.  I can take him.”

“I can think of better ways to spend the evening.”  She kissed him gently.

“Well, if you’re going to put it that way.”  His voice was thick with emotion.  He adjusted his tie and slicked back his hair with his fingers, settling his jacket on his shoulders.  “And since you mentioned it, what is the plan for the evening?”

“I’m going down to the studio for a couple of hours.  You could meet me there if you’d like.”

“Frankly, as comfy as those rugs on the floor were, I think I’d rather spend the evening making love to you in a nice, soft bed.”

Her heart caught at his sentiment, more gently expressed than he ever had before.  “So,” her voice hitched softly, but she hurried on, “your room it is.  Want me to bring dinner?  There’s a great rib place not far from the studio.”

His gaze turned lascivious.  “Do I get to lick barbeque sauce off your wonderful breasts for dessert?”

She shivered.  “Sounds . . . messy.”

“Yeah.”  He grinned.  “Clean up is half the fun.”

“Come on.  You have clients waiting for you.”  She unlocked the door and opened it.

To run straight into Angel.

“Buffy!”  He was surprised to see her.  “What are you doing here?”

“Oh!  Well,” quickly she called up the lie she had created.  “I was on my way down to the studio, and I thought I’d stop in to see if you wanted to join me for lunch.”

“I can’t,” he spread his hands in apology.  “Spike and I have to go to lunch with some clients.”

“So Will . . . Mr. Fitzwilliam here was explaining.  He saw me looking around for you and was kind enough to fill me in.”

“It’s Spike, pet.  Everyone calls me that.”  She could hear a tense edge in his voice.

Not everyone called him that.  He was her William, dammit.

“Well, thanks, Spike,” Angel said magnanimously.  “I appreciate you looking out for my wife until I got back.”  And he leaned down and kissed her.

She almost jumped out of her skin.  He never expressed physical affection in public, but here he was, kissing her on lips still soft and swollen from William’s feverish attentions.  Surely he would notice?

But he didn’t seem to.  Instead he was smiling when he lifted his head.

William’s face, however, was a fury.

To stave off any possible scene, she quickly spoke, as much to William as Angel.  “I probably won’t be home until late tonight.  Cordelia is taking me to a new gallery opening down in Tribeca, so it will just be easier to go there from the studio.  And I’m sure she’ll want to go out afterwards, so I doubt I’ll be back before one or two.”

“Why is she dragging you to all these things?”

“Because she’s developed an interest in art and needs a translator.”  She dared a glance at William.  The color had gone down in his face, but his eyes still blazed murderously.

“Well, just make sure you get your beauty sleep.  Masters’ reception is tomorrow night, and we don’t want you baggy-eyed, now, do we?”

“No, of course not.”

“Come on,” he put his arm around her waist.  “I’ll walk you to the elevator.”

“Alright.”  She screamed mentally in frustration, but had to accede to his offer.  “Thank you for your time, Mr. Fitzwilliam.” She looked William in the eye, trying to convey volumes with a look and a few words.  “It was a real pleasure.”

His expression was stoic, closed for the first time since she’d met him.  “Not at all, Miss Summers.  The pleasure was all mine.”

“Let’s get you on your way, Buffy.”  Angel directed her out of the room.  “Don’t want Spike and I to be late for our appointment.”

“No, of course not.”  And with one last glance back, she left.

From behind her, she heard the sound of a door slamming hard enough to shatter glass.

Chapter 21 Primal

He spun around as the door opened and she entered, white bags of take out food in either hand.  “Honey, I’m . . .”

He slammed her hard against the door, the violence of his assault knocking the bags from her hands.  All the rage, the impotence, the frustration he had carried all afternoon boiled over as he ground his mouth against hers, attempting to wipe away all trace of Angel from her mouth.  Her cry of pain and surprise was muffled in his throat as her fingers dug sharply into his biceps.  The pain drove him on and he smashed her against the door again, tasting blood in his mouth as he drove his pelvis into hers.

He had left human behind, become some sort of primal animal capturing, claiming its mate.  She was his, and he was going to show her what that meant.

He brought a hand up to the throat of her blouse and wrenched it down without finesse, tearing the shoulder seams before the buttons gave way.  She whimpered, a combination of fear, pain and desire that went straight to his manhood.  His hand slid under the torn silk to roughly squeeze and fondle each full breast.

She finally tore her head away from his grip to stare into his eyes.  He didn’t hide from her, let her see the mania burning there.

In her eyes he saw confusion, and a touch of fear.  But something else flared there, something dark and restrained.  He knew it reflected the look in his own eyes, knew she understood what he was.  A creature of rage and pain and desire.

She shoved him away and punched him.

The left jab hit him squarely in the chest.  The right cross he caught deftly.  The knee to the groin he trapped as he slammed her back against the door once more.  He chuckled wickedly at her fury, his eyes locked on her mouth.

This time she attacked him, her lips violent on his, biting and grinding, her fingers locked in his hair and pulling painfully to keep her in place.  He finished shredding her blouse, then made short work of his own shirt, desperate to feel her hot skin against his.  She lashed out, sharp nails slicing over his pectoral, making him shout out in pain and lust.  He bent his head to run his tongue over the soft curve of her breast before sinking his blunt teeth into her in revenge.  Her own squeal of pain was accompanied by renewed thrusts of her pelvis.

He jerked her to him and tripped her, collapsing with her onto the coarse wool pile of the carpet.  He hitched her skirt up as she yanked at his hair, exposing his neck to her mouth where she sucked and bit down along his shoulder and back as he worked her skirt up around her hips.  He reached up and tore the delicate panties off her, making her cry out before grinding her bare center against his trousered thigh.  Her hand descended to work the fastenings on his slacks, colliding with his as he drove his fingers into her wet folds.  She bucked and cursed, and the sound was heaven to him. He echoed her a moment later as her hand twisted around his bare cock, no longer gentle or tentative but pulling and twisting against the dry skin almost painfully.  “Beautiful little bitch,” he growled into her throat and felt her arch against him.  “You want it?” he ground out.  “You want what only I can give you?”

She answered him with a feral, alto growl that vibrated along the length of his cock.

He was between her legs in an instant, positioning himself at her slick opening as she moved against him.  “You.  Are.  Mine.”  And he thrust home.

She wailed at his invasion, and he could feel how tight she was as she squeezed down around him.  He pulled back and drove home again, and they both cried out in animal lust as they pounded against each other.

But suddenly she struck out, knocking him over and out of her with the force of the blow.  She quickly straddled him, sliding her swollen cunt along his shaft as she centered herself.  “No,” she denied his words. “I am mine.  I don’t belong to anyone.  I say.  I decide.  I choose.”  And she impaled herself on him once again.

This wasn’t lovemaking.  It was too primitive even to be called fucking.  They rutted, like a pair of wild dogs, all gentler emotions and sensations lost in the demands of their bodies.  She rode him hard, and he growled in frustration at being denied the view of their joining as her skirt tumbled down to cover their hips.  She bent her head to run a wet tongue up along the oozing scratches she had left on his chest, and the pain and pleasure of it sang through his veins.

He flipped her over again onto her back, this time not losing the connection, and began pounding into her, bending his neck to wrap his lips around one tight nipple to suck hard, pulsing it in time to his thrusts.  She keened, losing her grip on him as the approach of orgasm rendered her incapable of thought.  She was his mate, regardless of what she said.  Her pleasure was his, her needs his needs.  And he would hurt her and please her and love her as his mate deserved.

The gasping keen of her chant changed, accelerating, rising, and he felt her tighten around him as her hips slammed into his.  He allowed his own restraint to fall away, and the ecstasy of friction and heat and emotion overwhelmed him as he exploded with a roar, planting his seeds deep within her quivering womb.  She continued moving as the last of her orgasm released her, twisting and rubbing to gather up each last sensation.  Finally she collapsed, sated, and he rolled off of her to slump on the rug next to her, his breath coming in huge moaning gasps.

They didn’t look at each other, didn’t touch or speak for long moments.  Finally she rolled up on her side, tracing between the scratches on his chest with one light finger.  “Are you okay?” she asked softly.

He glanced down at the wound.  “Hardly feel it.  What about you?”  He caressed the two half moon marks on her breast.

“It’s tender,” she admitted.

He leaned forward to kiss it gently.  “I’m sorry.  I don’t know. .  .”  But he stopped himself.  He did know.  He knew exactly what had come over him. 

“Don’t.”  She refused to let him continue.  “We both lost ourselves for a while there.  And it was violent, and scary,” he pulled her down to comfort her against his chest, “but we’re back now.  It was something necessary.  Catharsis.”

He kissed the top of her head gingerly.  “Still doesn’t give me the right to hurt you, love.”

“I hurt you, too.  I was just . . . so angry all of a sudden.  And there you were for me to take it all out on.”  She looked up at him.  “I’m really sorry.  For hurting you.  I didn’t mean to go that far. . .” 

“Stop apologizing,” he ground out.  “You were only responding to what I initiated.  You should have stopped me.  Shouldn’t let me take my crap out on you.”

She shook her head in denial.  “You needed it.  We needed it.  Besides,” she confessed with a blush, “it was exciting.” 

He pulled her up and gently devoured her mouth, pouring all his love and devotion into the soft gesture.  When he pulled his head away, it was all he could do to keep words of adoration from spilling out of his mouth.  Instead, he said hoarsely, “I understand if you want to go home now.”

“Now, we’re just going to lay here and rest.”  She wrapped an arm around his waist, weaving one leg over and through his as she nestled against his shoulder.  “In a few minutes, you’re going to pick me up and carry me into your comfortable bed and make love to me like you promised.  After that, we’ll have something to eat.”  She peered up at him impishly.  “I got extra barbecue sauce.”

He kissed her again, communicating with her in the best way he was able.

Chapter 22    Appetizers

Henry Masters’ Harvest reception was one of the premiere events in the life of the New York branch of Wolfram and Hart.  All the partners and their spouses attended, as well as significant and prestigious clients and the shining lights of the firm who were on a fast track to partnership.  To be invited was a mark of honor and recognition.  To refuse was career suicide.

Masters lived in a penthouse apartment on Fifth Avenue looking out across the park.  This wasn’t a run of the mill penthouse, with four apartments to the floor for the top four floors of the building.  Masters’ home was rivaled only by the likes of the now deceased Kennedys for size, opulence and exclusivity.  He actually had room to host a sit-down dinner for a hundred people and have dancing afterwards.

The night air was brisk as Angel handed Buffy out of the cab at the private entrance Masters commanded for his use.  She pulled the velvet beaded wrap closer around her shoulders to ward off the chill while Angel guided her inside, glancing around to see who was arriving with them.  His hand was once again possessively resting at the small of her back, but she ignored it.

She knew she was dressed to please another eye tonight.  The silk and velvet dress William was already familiar with.  She wore her hair down like he liked it, carefully curled and pinned back at the nape of her neck with an antique looking silver and marcasite hair clip.  A delicate lace necklace lay across her throat, the diamonds glowing like soft fire as she moved.  Her mouth matched the crimson of her dress.

They were joined in the elevator on the way up by several other couples.  The lawyers in the group quickly fell to talking shop, leaving their spouses to wait patiently for the elevator doors to open and disgorge them into the heart of the party.

In the private lobby, they handed coats and wraps to the waiting attendants before being ushered through the large carved doors and into the apartment.

The place was filled with people elegantly dressed, milling about sharing hors d’ouevres and drinks and good conversation.  Despite the formal dress and the status of their host, everyone seemed to be enjoying an almost holiday-like atmosphere.  The lights were soft without making the room dark, and quiet string music wove its way through the conversation from a chamber quartet set up near the verandah windows.  Servers moved among the guests with trays of food and drink glasses.  Everything was elegant and sophisticated.

Both Buffy and Angel scanned the room, he looking for targets, she for a familiar white blond head.  He’d been invited as recognition for his work on the Robartsmaan diversification as well as a courtesy extended to all the foreign employees working in the local office.  Masters considered it a benevolence to those who gave up time with their families to come to New York and work for his office.

Buffy had knots in her stomach about the first encounter between the three of them.  After the last meeting of her husband, herself and her lover, and the subsequent backlash, she felt she had a right to be nervous.  But that had been a surprise.  This time, both she and William were braced for it, prepared to play casual acquaintances.

And not dripping in each other’s sweat.

“Stevens!”  A warm, rattly voice hailed them, and they both turned to see Henry Masters approaching them, hand extended in welcome.  He was a tall man, probably older than his apparent late fifties.  The wrinkles of age had settled in his forehead between his eyes, giving him a sense of scowling even when he was smiling broadly.  His bald head was smooth and only slightly peppered with age spots.  He had his arm around a comely young brunette in a black Vera Wang.  She looked to be Buffy’s age, meaning she was at least half Masters’ years.  “I was wondering if you were going to show,” the senior attorney said, gripping Angel’s hand firmly.  “Rumor had it you were trying to find a way to escape my devilish clutches.  Hello, Buffy.  It’s a delight to see you, my dear.”  He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

“We had planned to be on our anniversary trip this week,” Angel explained.  “But things with the diversification didn’t go as well as we might have hoped.”

“Oh, piffle.  You and Fitzwilliam have done a marvelous job.  I’ve heard nothing but good reports from all quarters.”

“Well, thank you, sir.  I appreciate it.”

“Let me introduce my wife, Sophia.”  Masters presented the young woman.  “Sophia, this is Angel and Buffy Stevens.  Angel, as you can tell, is one of my best litigators.  And Buffy is . . . an artist, isn’t it, my dear?”

“Yes, sir.”  Buffy was actually surprised that he remembered.  But the man didn’t get where he was by ignoring the small details.

“Art, huh?”  Sophia looked intrigued.  “That must be an exciting life.”

“I actually haven’t done much with it for a while.  But I’m starting to get back into it.  It’s very satisfying.”

“Good for you, my dear!  A woman needs her hobbies, eh, Stevens?”  The two men laughed, while the young women met eyes in a moment of exasperated solidarity.

“Ah!”  Masters looked over their shoulders to the door.  “Here’s the other half of the dynamic duo!  Fitzwilliam!  Come and say hello!”

Buffy held her breath as she turned to look on him for the first time.  She could hear Sophia draw in an appreciative gasp as well.

The man looked good.

He wore his hair loosely slicked back, teasing her eye with a hint of the curls she loved to tangle her fingers through.  He was dressed entirely in black, a black silk shirt under the box-cut jacket of the tuxedo she had seen him in before.  Even the tie he wore was black.  On his feet he wore high polish dress shoes.  A wicked part of Buffy’s mind wondered if he could see up her skirt with those..

Masters introduced him to the ladies.

“Miss Summers and I met yesterday actually, Henry.  I’ve been looking forward to renewing the acquaintance.”

“I’m not surprised,” Masters smirked.  “She’s a delightful young woman!”

Angel put his around her.  “I’ve always thought so.”

She saw William’s eyes narrow, but before he could respond, Masters was going on.  “Where’s your young lady, though, Fitzwilliam?  Surely you didn’t come stag.”

“I’m afraid I did.”  He pulled his eyes away from Buffy.  “I don’t know may women willing to endure an evening with a large group of lawyers, no mater what my charms may be.”

“Well, that I can believe.  God, we’re a dreary lot!”  Masters chuckled.  “Sophia, take Spike and introduce him to some of the single ladies.  We can’t have such a handsome prize going unclaimed.  I think Travers brought his daughter Lydia tonight.”

Sophia released her husband’s arm to claim William’s, leading him off into the room without a glance back.  Buffy felt a twinge of envy as he dropped his head to whisper something into the brunette’s ear that made her laugh and lay a second hand on his arm.

“And you two!”  Masters went on.  “Come in and mingle!  Have a good time.  You’ve earned it.”  And he moved off to greet more arrivals.

Buffy meekly allowed Angel to escort her into the party.

They mingled in the worst sense of the word.  Angel singled out co-workers from whom he wanted something or might need something in the future.  Buffy was forced to make painful small talk with their wives while Angel worked his own brand of intimidation and ingratiation on his peers.  But Buffy’s eyes kept roaming the room, lighting on William’s fair head as a touchstone to get through the evening.

Angel had stopped to talk with a knot of people at the bar, allowing Buffy to drift back a bit.  Her eyes had just begun to do another circuit of the room when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

She turned to look into the chocolate brown eyes of Cordelia Chase.

“Cordy!”  Buffy threw her arms around the brunette in joyous greeting.  “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight!  How do you always manage to show up at these parties just when I need a distraction most?”

“It’s a gift.”  Her eyes twinkled as brightly as the garnets at her throat.  Her dress was a close fitting sheath in iridescent copper sheer over a burgundy underlayer.  The hem hung in a ragged handkerchief cut, making her look for all the world like a colorful fall leaf.  More garnets, the match to the ones around her neck, crossed her foot to hold the delicate sole of her shoe in place.  “Actually,” she went on, “I’ve been seeing Gavin Park in Contracts off and on for the last year, and when he invited me to a Masters party . . .”  Cordelia’s words broke off when she realized Buffy was looking everywhere in the room except at her.  “What are you looking at?”

“What?  No one!”  Buffy brought her attention back to Cordelia.  “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“Honey, Angel’s standing not twenty feet behind you.”

“I wasn’t . . .” she blushed furiously.

Cordelia’s jaw dropped in open mouthed, and highly staged, shock.  “Oh.  My.  God!  He’s here, isn’t he?”  Her voice dropped to a hush.  “Your indiscretion?”

Buffy nodded slightly, looking around defensively.

“Buffy Anne Summers.  You little trollop!”  She linked arms with her and began scanning the crowd as well.  “Which one is he?”

Together they searched the room.  Buffy finally found him, standing near the quartet with a group of people he seemed to know, discussing something with great animation.  He seemed to feel her eyes on him and looked in her direction.  She smiled softly, and she saw him excuse himself from the group and come towards them.  Cordelia just watched him, sizing him up.  And not finding him wanting.  She squeezed Buffy’s arm.  “I take back everything I’ve ever said about your taste in men.”

He stopped almost too close to Buffy for propriety’s sake, but she couldn’t bring herself to complain and didn’t step away.

“Cordelia,” Buffy performed the introductions, “I’d like you to meet Spike Fitzwilliam.  I’ve told Cordelia a lot about you,” she directed the last to William.

“Not anywhere near enough,” Cordy denied, presenting her hand.

“William,” Buffy went on, “may I present my very good friend Cordelia Chase.  Cordy is the one I went to the gallery opening with last night.”  She hoped the hint was strong enough for him to realize that this was their benefactor.

She could tell by the look in his eye that he did as he took Cordy’s hand.  But Cordy obviously didn’t.  “Gallery opening?  What . . .”

“Buffy’s told me about your sudden obsession with art,” he explained smoothly turning on the charm that melted Buffy’s knees when he directed it at her.  “I know Buffy has appreciated all the opportunities you have provided her over the last couple of weeks.  She’s told me she finds it . . . deeply satisfying.”

“Can I keep him?”  Cordelia whimpered.

He chuckled richly.  “Sounds nice, pet, but I’m already spoken for.  And speaking of which,” he turned to Buffy, “could I have a word with you in private?”

Buffy’s skin trembled at the tenor of his voice.  “Of course.  Excuse me,” she said to Cordelia as she allowed him to guide her from the main room into a nearby hallway, dimly lit to discourage guests.

His mouth was heavy and warm as it settled over hers, and she sighed in relief at the contact, her hands resting on his solid shoulders.  There was a soft decadence to the kiss, as though they had all the time in the world to enjoy it.  He curled his arms around her waist and shoulders, drawing her against his body as he leaned back against the wall.  She rubbed her torso firmly but undemandingly against his and was rewarded with a contented purr.  As their mouths continued their unhurried play, his hand drifted up to toy with her curls, and she knew he was fighting the same instinct she had to bury fingers in hair and hold on for dear life.  But it was too early in the evening to be disheveled, so they both fought for restraint.

After what seemed like a blissful eternity, they finally separated.  He looked down into her eyes, his own dark pools of liquid cobalt that reflected the contentment she knew he saw in her.  “Hey,” he said quietly.

For some reason, that made her blush.  “Hey yourself.”

“You look amazing tonight.”  His  hands coasted over the back of her dress, following her curves with his palms.

“You look very yummy yourself.”  She rested her head on his chest with a smile.  “I think Cordelia is still hyperventilating.”

He chuckled.  “Am I right in thinking she’s our guardian angel?”  Buffy nodded.  “I’ll have to be sure to thank her.”

“Just be careful.”  She lifted her head to smile wickedly at him.  “She might expect it in kind.”

“I’ll try to resist.  I have good incentive.”  He dropped a kiss on her forehead.

Reluctantly, she shifted back to her own support.  “We should probably get back.  I don’t want to be missed.”

He slipped his hands into his pocket.  “Yeah.”

She saw the tension that suddenly filled him and laid a hand on his arm.  “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, pet.  No worries.”  He took her arm and drew her back.  “Just bring me down every once in a while, yeah?”  and he dropped a soul searing kiss on her lips.

When he lifted his head, she smiled.  “Bring you down, huh?  That usually gets you up.”

“You are a vixen, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.”                    

He gave her a gentle shove.  “Go on.  But I’ll be watching you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Good.  Then you won’t be watching all the women Masters and his child bride try to set you up with.”

He smirked.  “Jealous?”

She stuck her tongue out at him and turned back into the party, his throaty laugh following her as she went.

Chapter 23    Dinner and Dancing

Cordelia was waiting for Buffy when the blonde came back into the reception.  “Are you insane?” she hissed, taking Buffy by the arm and leading her quickly into another part of the party.  “That is so not the way to be discreet!”

“Was Angel looking for me?”  She looked to where she had left her husband.  He was still there, deeply engrossed in conversation.

“That doesn’t mean someone else isn’t going to notice you,” Cordy chided her.  “God, Buffy, do you want to get caught?” 

“Of course not!” Buffy protested.  “We weren’t doing anything.” 

Cordelia studied her critically.  Finally she said, “You’ve changed a lot in a week.”

“Do you approve?”

“I’m not sure,” she replied honestly.  “I think I’ll have to talk to the catalyst first.”

Buffy was about to protest when the chime of metal against crystal rang out.  Everyone in the room turned to see Henry Masters standing in the doorway to the dining room.  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he pronounced, “dinner is served.”

The milling crowd now had direction, and the couples all paired up to be escorted in.  Gavin claimed Cordy with a smile, but Cordelia’s expression was stern.  “We aren’t done with this.”

Buffy kissed her cheek and turned to take Angel’s arm.

Masters was nothing if not a conscientious host.  He wanted to be sure everyone had someone at their table they could talk to.  Which meant that he sat William at the same table as his closest co-worker here in the States.  Angel. 

Buffy’s heart started pounding as Angel held her chair for her.  The place cards told the tale.  She would be spending the next two hours sitting between husband and lover.  How was she going to be able to keep from giving anything away?

William arrived in the company of a statuesque young blonde and a portly older gentleman.  His eyes widened slightly as he took in the seating arrangement, but he said nothing.  Instead, he offered introductions.  “Quentin, Lydia, may I introduce Angel Stevens and his wife, Buffy Summers.  Angel works for Henry in Intellectual Property.  This is Quentin Travers and his daughter Lydia.  Quentin is in security, while Lydia is a professor at CUNY.”

Angel reached out a hand to the older gentleman.  “So, you’re in investment?”

“Not securities,” Travers corrected, “elite security.  Alarm and surveillance, security guards and discrete body protection.  It’s a dangerous world out there.  I help make it a little safer.” 

“For the right price,” William poked.

“But of course.”  Travers didn’t look ashamed.

William held the chair next to him for Lydia and then sat himself.  Buffy felt his fingers barely brush her arm, but when she glanced at him, he was paying her no attention.  While she understood it, she found she didn’t like it very much. 

As the others seated themselves, Buffy took the opportunity to take in the décor.  The lighting in the room was muted, the bulk of it coming from the plethora of candles adorning each table.  The tables were spread in cloths of burgundy, orange and red with elaborate centerpieces emphasizing gourds, pumpkins, pomegranates, apples and chrysanthemums, all to emphasize the party’s theme.

Once everyone was seated, a cadre of servers came out to deliver the first course to each guest, which consisted of three toasted rounds topped with warm goat cheese, rosemary, walnuts and honey as well as three small clams on the half shell, grilled and redolent of ginger.

Buffy was just lifting the first warm shell to her mouth when she heard Lydia ask, “So what kind of a name is Spike?”

“A nickname, actually,” he replied in all seriousness.  “I like to pound railroad spikes into people.”

Buffy quickly set the clam down and covered her mouth with her napkin to hide her amusement.  She dared a peek at him out of the corner of her eye, but he seemed to be paying her no attention.

Until she felt the tip of his shoe caress up and down the back of her ankle.

She picked up the small appetizer again and slipped her foot out of her pump to return his gesture as he continued his conversation with the other woman.”

“At least that’s what my opponents in court say it feels like,” he went on, pushing back lightly against Buffy’s tiny foot.  “I tend to be relentless.” 

Buffy shifted her attention back to her plate and to Angel and his conversation on the other side of the table.  But her body stayed very aware of William.  The scent of him reached her even over the rich aroma of the food, his warmth reaching out to her over the space between them. 

Their feet danced a slow, intricate pattern beneath the veil of the tablecloth.  Through the appetizers, the crab bisque, and the pomegranate, beet and blood orange salad, her bare toes toyed with the hem of his trousers, stroking up along his ankle as far as she could without being obvious.  Whenever she would stop, within moments she would feel the hard leather of his shoe hook around her ankle to draw her back.  The part of her mind he had been nurturing over the past two weeks was disappointed that their seating arrangement didn’t allow her to do more.  She could think of another part of his anatomy she’d rather be rubbing . . . She blushed and applied herself to the sweet salad.

Finally during the vegetable course, he turned to speak to her directly.  “When we met yesterday, you were on your way to your studio.  Did you have a productive afternoon?”

“I did, thank you.”  She swallowed a morsel of food before continuing.  “I started with a new model this week and was anxious to start working on some preliminary sketches.  I ended up with the beginnings of three new paintings.”

“Are they any good?” he asked in all seriousness.

“I think he’ll be satisfied with them.”

He smiled knowingly, then turned his attention back to his plate.

This was a bit surreal, talking to William about himself as though he were a third person, as if this man sitting next to her hadn’t laid naked and vulnerable on her rugs and let her see into his heart.

The servers were clearing away plates in preparation for the next course before he spoke to her again.

“Do you spend a lot of time in your studio?”

She lost track of his words as his fingers trailed daringly along the outside of her thigh, hidden from view between their bodies and the table.

She drew a deep breath and forced herself to speak.  “More so lately.  I’ve had a lot of inspiration recently.”

“You’ve found your muse?”  His face remained neutral, but she was very familiar with the playfulness of his tone.

“Oh yes.  My muse has been very attentive.”

His voice dropped to a low rumble.  “It’s not attention.  It’s obsession.”

Her body responded instantly, and she had to fight down a moan of encouragement.  But he knew how to read her and quirked a wicked grin at her.

She was rescued by the arrival of the next course and a shift in conversation around the table.  She threw him a look that she hoped offered threat of retaliation and not of surrender.

But his words had awoken the brazen side of her, and she began looking for ways to tease and arouse him without giving them away.  She dropped her napkin on the floor and brushed his thigh with her breast.  She started up a conversation with Lydia so she could lean over closer to him.  She saw his nostrils flare in reaction to her proximity, and was sorely tempted to lay her hand in his lap.  But she refrained.

He didn’t hesitate to play back.  He grazed his knuckles against her arm when he gestured as he talked, and then laid his warm hand on hers to apologize.  Another time he asked Angel a question, leaning back to see him behind Buffy’s head while resting his hand on the back of her chair.  When the men finished talking and Angel turned away, William stroked the roughened pad of his thumb along the sensitive place between her shoulder blades where he enjoyed kissing her during sex.  She shivered and pulled away, making him chuckle.

This was when she felt the most vulnerable, when she was the attention of both men.  She was sure she was going to say or do something or make William do something that would give them away.  So at those times, she focused on the meal in front of her to the exclusion of all else.

When dessert arrived, she stared in wonder at the offerings, her fork poised over the plate.  There, between the cherry and pear tartlet and the apple almond cheesecake was a long, narrow slice of moist, dark chocolate cake drizzled in thick ganache.  It looked like sin.  Their original sin.  Her heart started hammering just looking at it.

She was about to cut into it when she felt William’s arm rest along the back of her chair.  “I swear to god,” he murmured matter of factly near her ear, “If you start sucking off that fork, I will drag you out of here by the hair to fuck you raw in the elevator, and I don’t give a bloody god damn who sees us.  Do you understand

She nodded imperceptibly.

“Good girl.”

She left the cake untouched on her plate.

As the coffee and brandies were distributed, Henry Masters rose from his place at the head table and began to speak.

“Friends, I am so glad you could all be here tonight to reap the rewards of the past year.  We’ve all worked hard, and the seeds we have planted have grown to fruition, making our firm and our clients stronger and more secure than ever before.”

Buffy zoned out the speech, allowing her gaze to drift around the room.  She noticed Cordelia several tables away, could see the brunette was watching her with a critical eye.  She looked more thoughtful than judgmental, though.  Buffy was sure she would find out what that meant later.

“But enough about business.  Tonight is for celebrating!  And what is a celebration without music and dancing!  Marcus, some music if you please!”  And from the adjoining ballroom a big band ensemble began playing.

As always, Angel escorted her to the floor for the first dance.  It was one of the few times all evening she would enjoy the bulk of his attention, so she made the most of it.  “I’m glad we came tonight.  Henry is a sweet man.  I think it makes him happy to see everyone together like this.”

Angel snorted.  “To make sure he has everyone securely under his thumb, you mean.”

“Do you think so?”

“I know so.  He may come off as harmless and beneficent, but the man’s a demon, in the courtroom and in the boardroom.  I don’t trust him any more than I have to.” 

“That’s kind of sad.  To always be worrying about someone’s hidden motives.”

“It’s the way of the world, Buffy.  You have to know what drives other people so you don’t end up getting screwed.” 

She had no answer to that, so simply rested her head on his chest as they moved across the floor.

When the music ended, he led her back through the wall of French doors into the dining room and their table.  There were many couples still sitting, moving from table to table in conversation.  The arrangement of the rooms was such that Buffy could watch the dancers from her vantage point, so she sipped at a flute of champagne and observed the company with an artist’s eye while Angel networked.

Her gaze caught on a flash of pale, and she refocused her eyes to see William dance past slowly, his arms around Cordelia.  Buffy’s heart jumped in trepidation.  Cordy seemed to be doing most of the talking, although William was given the occasional opportunity to reply.  He looked serious, but not angry, and so Buffy relaxed a bit.  Angel drew her attention away to introduce her to several people, and when she looked back, the couple was gone.

The song came to a close, and Buffy looked up to see William crossing the floor towards them determinedly.  Oh god, what had Cordelia done?  William held her eyes, his own revealing nothing as he stopped next to her chair.  “Stevens,” he interrupted Angel’s discussion.  “Mind if I steal your wife?” 

Angel turned, annoyed at the interruption.  He directed his irritated look first at Buffy before moving on to William.  “Sure,” he replied finally, “as long as you bring her back when you’re done with her.” 

“I’ll think about it,” William replied dispassionately.  “Depends on how good a dancer she is.”

“I’ve always found her serviceable.” 

“Hello,” Buffy interjected into the testosterone attack, “I’m sitting right here.”

Angel jerked back in surprise.  His eyes narrowed.  “She can dance with who she likes.”  And he turned back to his conversation.

“Madam?”  William offered Buffy his hand.

She took it and rose gracefully to her feet, allowing him to tuck her arm through his.  “About time you got around to actually asking me.”

His sure step hesitated.  “You’re absolutely right, pet, and I’m sorry.”  He backed up a step and bent over her hand in overblown chivalry.  “My lady Buffy, will you do me the honor, the very great privilege of gracing me with a dance?”

She laughed and curtsied melodramatically.  “Why, my lord William, the honor would indeed be mine.”

He pulled her arm back into his.  “There, all the proprieties observed?”

“You are totally insane.”

He waggled his eyebrows at her as he swung her into his arms.  “’S part of my charm.”

His arm fit comfortably along the small of her back, his fingers curved around her waist.  She rested one hand high on his shoulder, in tempting reach of the nape of his neck, as he held the other easily in his own, close to their body.  If he held her a little too closely, it was hidden by the fullness of her skirt.

He coasted her effortlessly into the steps of the dance.  She allowed herself to be guided, enjoying his strength and confidence as they flowed over the floor to the sound of an old Fred Astaire classic.  William’s dancing was much more stylistic, more dramatic than Angel’s.  He spun her lightly, turned her under his arm with a natural grace before catching her back close to him with a smile.

She couldn’t help but smile back.  “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Can’t help it.  ‘ve got a marvelous partner.  So graceful and supple and accommodating. .  .”  She looked into his heavy eyes and knew he wasn’t talking about dancing.

“And how did you like your last partner?” she asked to deflect him from something she knew she wouldn’t be able to resist.

He chuckled.  “That one is a piece of work.  I like her.”  He studied her for a moment.  “Wouldn’t have figured her for your confidant, though.  Your red headed friend maybe, but not the beauty queen.  She seems too hard around the edges for you.”

“Cordy’s got a good heart,” Buffy defended, her feet still moving lightly through the dance.  “And she’s more worldly than Willow.  She understands in a way Will couldn’t.  I . . .”  She ducked her head for a moment, then bravely met his eyes.  “I don’t think Willow would approve.”

He smirked.  “She just doesn’t know me well enough.”  But he squeezed her comfortingly.

“So, what did Cordelia think of you?”

“Don’t rightly know, actually,” he confessed.  “And truth be told, I’m rather afraid to ask.  I get the sense she can see right through me.”

“Most people underestimate her because of her looks and her bluntness, but she’s really very shrewd.”

“Well, you could do worse than standing her friend.  She’s certainly protective of you.”

“Are you going to tell me what you talked about?”

He shook his head.  “Ask her.”

“She’s my friend!  You don’t get to keep secrets with her!”

“If she’s your friend, then she’ll tell you.”

“You’re just doing this to jerk my chain, aren’t you?”

He grinned at her.  “Consider it retaliation for your shameless behavior over dinner.”  He drew her marginally closer, but enough to generate pleasurable friction for both of them.  “I think you enjoyed your little games.”

She tipped her chin up stubbornly.  “I wasn’t the only one playing, as I recall.  Besides, I thought you liked it when I explored my power.”

His eyes darkened dangerously.  “Oh, I do.”  And he bent her back into a low dip, sliding her pelvis against his burgeoning erection as he brought her back up.  She could feel the tension in his arms, and she realized that she had moved him even more than she thought.  Laced among the guilt she suddenly felt was a silver strand of womanly pride.

The music ended, and the dancers stopped to applaud.  But William didn’t let her go.  “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you all night.”

“Yes?”

He bent his head low over her shoulder.  “Which of the pretty knickers did you decide to wear tonight?”  His voice rumbled with desire.

She caught her breath and looked impishly into his face.  “Why, none of them,” she answered innocently.

He pulled his head back in surprise.  “None?”

She poked his chest lightly with one finger, emphasizing her words.  “Not.  A single.  Thing.”  She grinned and winked at him, but her heart was pounding.  “Thanks for the dance.”  And she sauntered off the dance floor, leaving him stunned. 

Chapter 24 Dessert

Spike tried not to fidget as Masters’ speech went on and on.  He just wanted this meal to be over so the dancing could start and he would have an excuse to hold Buffy in his arms again.

Finally their host cued the music, and chairs were pushed back as couples moved to the dance floor.  His eyes narrowed as Angel led Buffy possessively ahead of him, but there was nothing Spike could do to intercede.  He’d have to wait his turn.

So instead, he turned to Lydia Travers.  “Care to dance, pet?”

She smiled graciously and turned to her father.  “Daddy, do you mind if I abandon you for a little while?”

“Not at all, my dear.  There are several people I would like to have words with.  Have a good time.”

Spike held her chair as she rose and kissed the older man on the head before allowing Spike to take her arm.

He danced with Lydia mostly as a courtesy, although he was certain she wouldn’t be spending the evening as a wallflower.  She had a sharp mind and a figure that would stop traffic.  But he had been her dinner companion, and as his preferred partner was otherwise spoken for, he felt it only proper for him to escort her this first time on the floor.  Besides, it put him closer to Buffy.

As soon as it was over, he excused himself and started off in search of his lover.

He had barely taken three steps across the room when Cordelia Chase blocked him, halting his progress.  “Why yes, I’d love to dance, thank you so much for asking,” she said dryly, taking his hand and resting her other on his shoulder. 

He was so startled by her aggressive tactics that he reacted automatically, resting his free hand between her shoulders as he turned her out onto the floor.  “Here to check me out, pet?”

“And warn you off if I don’t like what I see.”  Her voice was determined.

He had to give her credit.  She certainly hadn’t hesitated to step up and take him on.  “Don’t see as how it’s any of your business.  She’s a big girl, she can look out for herself.”

“Yeah, see, Buffy?  Sweet girl, not too bright.  So I’m making it my business.  I don’t want to see her get hurt.” 

He couldn’t help but smile at her description.  She was right.  Not that Buffy was dumb in any way, but she led with her heart, and it was a sure way to get it broken.  “Not to fret, princess.  Hurting her’s the furthest thing from my mind.”

“Doesn’t mean it won’t happen.”

“I know that.”

“So what are your intentions?”

He barked a laugh.  “You make me sound like a suitor, luv!  I’m just here to show the lady a good time.”

“And what’s in it for you?”

He cocked an eyebrow at her.  “You look at her and you have to ask that?”

“Nice try, Romeo.  If it was just about the sex, you’ve gotten what you’re after.  But you still stick around.  Why is that?”

“Because she’s worth it,” he replied simply.

Cordelia watched him thoughtfully as they danced.  Finally she said, “She is worth it.  And she deserves a little happiness.  Lord knows she gets little enough of it from Angel.”

“Not a fan of the poof, eh?”

Her face became hard.  “Let’s just say he’s not the man she thinks he is.  But much as I’d like to see her trade up on the food chain, you aren’t long haul guy.  You’re going to be gone in a few weeks and she’s still going to be Mrs. Angel Stevens.”

“So what are you saying?”

“Don’t make her expect too much.  Give her as many happy memories as you can for her to hold on to.  She’s going to need them.  And then get out gracefully

“I’ll do what I can.”

“If you don’t, believe me, we’ll be revisiting this conversation.” 

“Counting on it.”

The music ended, and all the dancers stopped and applauded.  But Miss Cordelia Chase, Esquire never took her eyes off of him.  Finally, she winked at him.  “Yeah, she could definitely do worse.”  And the woman sashayed off in search of a new partner.

He watched her, amused and a little intimidated.  The sobriquet of “esquire” wasn’t gender appropriate, but seemed to suit her anyway.  She was the sort to rule supreme over any domain she found herself in.  It was comforting to know she was looking out for Buffy, and that she had some inkling that Angel was not to be trusted.

The brunette’s words still echoing in his head, he went to claim Buffy.

Bearding Angel was a challenge which Spike enjoyed immensely.  The innuendo that was beyond Angel’s comprehension made Spike feel all smug and knowing.  And he got his girl in the end.

It was a relief to have her back in his arms.  He was coming to need her presence for his own peace of mind almost too much.  He felt like a better man around her, and it was a feeling he valued.  He moved her about the floor expertly, showing her off to her best advantage to all who noticed them.  And he was pleased to see several people were noticing.  Her eyes brightened as he teased her about his conversation with Cordelia, and widened as he called her on her little games during dinner.  He reveled in the friction of her round curves against him and of her playfulness against his heart.

The music ended, but he didn’t let her go.  “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you all night.”  He stood far too close to her, his mouth almost on her ear.

“Yes?”

 “Which of the pretty knickers did you decide to wear tonight?” 

Her innocent look belied her words.  “Why, none of them.”

 “None?”  She couldn’t mean that the way it sounded.

 “Not.  A single.  Thing. Thanks for the dance.”  And she was gone.

By the time Spike could move, Buffy had returned to Angel’s side.  But he saw her glance back in his direction, gauging his reaction.  Minx.

She was right to run.  If he still had his hands on her after a confession like that, nothing would keep him from finding the nearest dark corner to investigate her assertion.

He moved off the floor and out of the way of the next dance, struggling to get control of himself back, blocking out images of her beautiful quim and soft, round ass hidden in the folds of her full skirt.  Or how that same skirt would look flipped up over her back as he indulged himself in the riches of her body.

She may have escaped him for now, but she definitely hadn’t heard the last from him on the subject.

That song ended, and Spike’s eyes narrowed as he watched Angel bestow Buffy’s hand on another worthy.  Worthy by Angel’s standards.  How it must have killed him to have to let Spike dance with her.  But he couldn’t have refused without looking bad in the eyes of his companions.  It had been worth crawling to him to watch him twist.

He snagged a glass of champagne off a passing tray and leaned back to watch her dance with another man.  She caught sight of him watching her and winked.

She was a wonder.  An enticing, arousing, inspiring wonder of a woman.  And when he got his hands on her . . .

But she seemed to know he was stalking her.  As soon as a dance ended, she made straight back for the relative safety of Angel, if she wasn’t immediately taken over by another dance partner.  If she was dancing and saw him move towards her to cut in, she would make her excuses and disappear, leaving Spike with a Cheshire smile and nothing more.  Once he saw her talking conspiratorially with Cordelia.  He didn’t have to be subtle with the brunette, but Cordy had turned the tables on him, trapping him to introduce him to her date while Buffy stole away.

Her avoidance was frustrating him more than his lust for her was.  She kept slipping through his fingers like an endless nightmare of pursuit where you never caught your quarry.  And she was laughing about it.

His opportunity finally came when he saw her disappear down the hall to the restroom.  He followed, stopping around the corner from the line that invariably formed.  He hid there, waiting for her.  When his hand locked around her forearm, she yelped and struggled, but he refused to let her go.  “Play time is over, pet,” he growled at her. 

He led her further down the hall away from the party to randomly open a door and cast her inside.  He followed her, closing and locking the door behind him.

“Show me,” he said flatly.

“Show you what?”  Her flushed face and rapid breathing told him she knew exactly what.

“Show me what you have on under your dress.”

“I told you, nothing.”

He stepped closer to her, but not too close.  “Which is precisely why I want to see it.”

Her chin went up.  “It’s nothing you haven’t seen every day for the last two weeks.”

“Buffy,” his voice became menacing, “if you want to have a dress left to go home in, you will show me right now before I go looking for myself.” 

Her eyes brightened at his words.  “Oh, all right,” she capitulated, but he could hear the anticipation behind her sullen words.  She bent one hand up behind her back, and he heard the teeth of the zipper give way ahead of the slide.  She kept her eyes on him the whole time.  With an indrawn breath, she shrugged her shoulders and shimmied her torso, allowing the creation of velvet and silk to plunge to the floor, leaving her bare to his eyes except for the diamond necklace, a red lace garter belt, the red silk keyhole stockings she had purchased at the boutique, and a pair of black velvet pumps.  She stood there, proud but with a soft blush covering her skin.  “Well?”

He studied her critically for long moments, watching her blush intensify.  She was shameless about coming to him anytime, anywhere, driven by her need or his.  But somehow she still was embarrassed by her own nudity.  At least until the first orgasm or two.  It was at once endearing and alluring, the very essence of her attraction.

“You are the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.  Ever held, ever touched.”  He reached up to drag his knuckles down the slope of her breast.  “And it was very wrong of you to tease me so.”

“I know,” she admitted, her breath catching at his touch.  “I couldn’t help it.  It was just too tempting.”  She loosened the knot on his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt studs.

“Just like you.”  He cupped her face and leaned down to kiss her, her mouth rich with champagne and desire.

 “May I make it up to you?” she asked, her gentle fingers working the button on his pants.

“Absolutely.”

She leaned forward, kissing him sweetly before sliding her bare body down along his as she dropped to her knees at his feet.

Her breath preceded the warm, wet slide of her tongue, and he was hard pressed not to knot his fingers in her hair.  Instead, he rested one hand on her head and one on her shoulder, balancing himself as she licked and kissed and nipped her way up and down his shaft.  “God, Buffy,” he groaned, “you have the most sinful mouth.”

She looked up at him with a smile in her eyes as she slid the flat of her tongue up along the underside of his cock.  Then, her eyes never leaving his, she circled the brilliant red of her perfect mouth and engulfed him.

“Buffy!”  This time his fingers did close, gripping her head tightly as she sucked him deep into the recesses of her mouth and released him to repeat the motion, her tongue still working him eagerly as she rose and fell.

He felt like a god being worshiped by his high priestess, a priest being distinguished by his goddess.  Every time she touched him was a gift, and he was honored and humbled and grateful.  He so wanted to be worthy of her.

He felt the familiar hot tightening in his belly and regretfully pulled back, drawing her back to her feet to plunder her mouth as he backed her up against the bed.  He pushed her gently and she fell onto the mattress, her legs still dangling.  She started to pull herself further back, but he rested a hand on her pelvis, stopping her.  “My turn.”

He knelt between her silk covered thighs and breathed deeply of her arousal.  He kicked off his shoes and pants as he bent his head to nip lightly at the bare skin above her stockings on the inside of her thighs, making her gasp.  The sound drove him on to place open-mouthed kisses around her mound as he draped her legs over his shoulders.

“William, please!”

The sound of his name on her lips, so high and desperate, was almost more than he could bear.  He plunged into her, his tongue mobile and quick against her quivering flesh.

She screamed into the crook of her arm, her hips pulsing against his face as her legs locked him in place.  He worshipped her with his mouth to the chorus of her ecstasy, every gasp, every whimper, every sob a reward.

Finally the taste, the smell, the sound of her became too overwhelming, and he forced her legs down to allow him to stand.  She wrapped them instantly around his waist, drawing him closer.

“Need you, pet,” he begged, his voice harsh and deep.  “Need to be inside you.  Need to be a part of you.”

She moved back on the bed, making room for him, and held out her arms to him.  He knelt before her, and she tangled her ankles behind his ass, guiding him as he lead his thick cock to her tender opening.

He moaned as her pillowy warmth enfolded him, and she echoed with a whimpering, needy mewl that made his eyes water.  “Don’t you worry, love, I’ve got what you need.  Take good care of you, I will.”

“Oh god, William, yes.  I need you so much.”  Her whole body arched against him as he began moving in her.

“’m right here.  Gonna make everything right by you.”

The smooth roundness of her heels massaged up and down along the backs of his thighs as he rose and fell over her, their speed quickening, strengthening.  The friction of her pliant walls on the taut skin of his cock as he pushed and pulled was almost unbearable.

“That’s it, my sweet girl.  You can take it.  Strong, beautiful, amazing Buffy.”

“More,” she demanded.  “Oh god, William, please more!”

His hands slipped under her to lift her ass, changing his angle and transposing her demands into wordless wails that he captured in his mouth as the knot in his belly tightened.  She began trembling and then heaving beneath him, her radiant eyes wide and unseeing as release took her.  His own climax surged over him, and he snarled as he sank into her one last time.

    They supported each other as they came back down, their erratic breath heavy on each other’s face.  Finally he moved off her to flop onto the bed beside her, pulling her into his arms.

She rested comfortably on his shoulder, her hand in the middle of his chest.  “You know,” she said after long moments, “we might want to rethink public sex.”

“Yeah?  Thought you liked it.”  He dropped a kiss on her tangled curls.

“I do.”  She looked up at him.  “But I like getting to cuddle afterwards better.”

He pulled her back down.  “We’ve been gone this long, a few more minutes won’t hurt.”

She nestled back down, and for a few minutes he could pretend that she was truly his, that in a few minutes he wouldn’t have to return her to someone he despised.  He could just love her and be at peace.

But eventually she moved away, slipping out of the bed to look at herself in the mirror.  “Eek!”  She tried to rearrange her hair without success.  “And me without my purse.”  He watched her pad into the connecting bathroom, studying the chain of openings running up the back of each leg and imagining spending an hour sucking small bruises into the center of each one.

She came back a moment later with a hairbrush and a concerned look.

“What is it, pet?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbows.

“I think we just had sex in your boss’s bed.”

“Yeah?”  He looked around, for the first time taking in the details of the room.  While tidy, it definitely contained the clutter of daily living.  “Huh.”

“You don’t sound too concerned.”  She began fixing her hair.

He took the brush from her and carefully dressed her hair.  “He’s not my boss,” he said casually, closing the silver clip back into her now neat curls.

She chuckled, then turned to button his shirt.  “He is right now.  You don’t think he’d have something to say, catching you in here like this?  And with another man’s wife?”

“Let him.”  He pulled her close and kissed her hard.  “You’re worth the risk.”

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