Chapter 2
Buffy couldn’t stop thinking about him. Ever since that night at what’s-her-name’s party, her thoughts were plagued with images of him. She thought about his mouth and how sensual it was, what it would feel like to kiss him. Would he taste like tobacco or would it be a flavor solely appointed to him, a flavor she’d probably never get to savor? She thought about his muscular, veined hands and how they’d caressed that lucky brunette on the dance floor. She wondered what his cock looked like. Would it be as corded and taut as his arms? But mostly, she thought about his eyes. Once she’d gotten over her initial fear and panic, she found herself challenging him the entire evening with her own gaze. He’d surprised her by never looking away. Not once. Not even when that guy slid his hand beneath her skirt. It was the most intense experience of her life knowing that they were getting off on each other getting off with perfect strangers. He was so hauntingly beautiful and dangerous. Buffy wondered if his chipped black nail polish was a result of anxious fidgeting or strenuous work with his hands.
This was ridiculous, she decided. She didn’t even know this guy’s name and the possibility that she’d see him again was slim to none. And why would she want to, anyway? He was just a guy like all the others. He’d had his cheap thrill on the dance floor, teased her with a promise of what he could be doing to her, grew hard as he watched her gyrate against some random guy and then he’d found satisfaction in commanding her to come. She was almost pissed that she did. No one had ever had such a thrall over her before, had ever made her come simply by telling her to. She was the one in control, always. She shuddered to think of what it would feel like to fuck him.
And didn’t she decide that this was ridiculous?
She had to get out of her apartment. All this thinking about the mystery man was driving her insane. The heat was killing her and the cheap building she lived in had no AC unit, which was typical in New York. The unusual heat wave was only supposed to last for a week but it was now three weeks and going strong. Making up her mind, she grabbed a few twenties from her wallet and headed out the door to buy a fan. Anything was better than the stagnant, heavy air that clung to your skin and smelled like, well, like New York City.
Deciding to take the subway instead of a cab, Buffy turned the corner and walked down the stairwell that led to the station underground. She quickly hopped on a train taking it as near to 23rd and Broadway as she could, knowing there was a hardware store around there. The car was pretty full and she had to stand up, grabbing the support bar that hung from the ceiling. And then her breath caught in her throat when she saw him sitting plain as day on the opposite side of the car and he was standing up.
She gasped and turned away from him and closed her eyes. This wasn’t possible. She lived in New York, with millions of people in it for crying out loud and she ran into him on the subway of all places. She chewed her lip as she felt him come nearer, heard his hand slide down the metal bar as he steadied himself in the shaky cab and finally, stand directly behind her. What could she say to him? “Hey, remember when we stared at each other while we both got hand jobs? Hi, I’m Buffy.”
God, he smelled good. It was a mixture of Black Jack licorice gum, tobacco, leather, cloves and pure musk. Her eyelids fluttered when she felt his breath on her shoulder. He inhaled slowly and exhaled a breathy moan in her ear. She heard him whisper, “Lavender,” and she smiled. He stood silently behind her, his hand inches from hers on the support bar, their bodies a hairsbreadth away from touching though the heat from his chest surrounded her. As the train came to her stop, she glanced over her shoulder at him with one corner of her mouth upturned in a coy smile, and got off the car. She knew he was following, so she turned to look at him briefly and then picked up her pace. She wanted to see how far he’d go. Would he follow her the full six blocks down 23rd street? Would he give up and turn around? And what if he caught up to her, what then? Did it matter?
She came to the conclusion that it did. And if he’d make the journey, she’d make it worth his while. He never walked any faster, never broke a sweat. He simply sauntered behind her, smoking. Every time she turned to look at him she couldn’t hide her smile and neither could he, even though it often times was covered by a hard drag of his cigarette. She entered the store and saw him lean against the wall, waiting for her, so she took her time inside going up each and every aisle long after she’d selected the fan she wanted. Deciding that twenty minutes was more than enough time, she paid for her purchase and quickly walked outside, frowning when her mystery man was nowhere in sight. She kicked herself inwardly for caring and kicked herself for taking too damn long. He obviously wasn’t interested in her games and maybe that was a good thing. He’d already worked his way too deep into her system for her liking. Clumsily tucking the packaged fan beneath her arms, Buffy headed back down 23rd.
She made it three blocks and he walked out of a 7-11 directly in front of her, smirking as he packed his brand new pack of smokes on the heel of his hand. She stopped and smiled slightly, shaking her head. He tore the cellophane off the top of his cigarette pack, pulled out a smoke and lit it with a Zippo. As he took the first drag, his eyes moved from her flip flops to her messy pony tail and licked his lips after a long exhale. She couldn’t let him get away again and there was a very large part of her that wanted him to want her, wanted him to think about her as much as she had about him as a sort of revenge. Then maybe these weird thoughts would finally go away. She turned her head to the side and spotted an alley just a few short steps away. She looked back at him and he cocked his eyebrow, falling into step behind her when she walked towards the alley. As she turned the corner and made her way further in, she looked over her shoulder at him, tilting her head. He stood still on the street, puffing away on his cigarette. After making an internal decision with a nod of his head, he leaned back and looked both ways on the street before he finally came after her. She walked backwards, further into the shadows, keeping her green eyes trained on him.
There was an alarm going off in her head somewhere that going into an alley with a strange man was probably not the smartest idea she’d ever had but she couldn’t think about that. Her mind was too busy zeroing in on the platinum blond man that slowly followed her, his piercing blue eyes burning into her. She backed up against a wall and set the fan on the ground, waiting for him to be close enough. He stopped a few feet away in front of her and folded his arms as if waiting for her to do something. She started panting, her focus on his eyes becoming more difficult to obtain as she reached behind her neck and untied the straps of her halter, letting them fall off her breasts and dangle about her waist.
He remained perfectly still, his eyes darting to her breasts for just a moment before they moved to her lips and then her eyes again. Buffy bit her bottom lip and tilted her head back as her hands went to the hem of her skirt and started tugging upwards, slowly exposing more of her thighs and finally her panties. Frustrated that he’d yet to do anything she wet her lips and slipped one hand down the front of her panties and bit back a moan when she slid a finger between her folds. He took a drag of his cigarette and watched.
Once he was finished, he tossed the spent smoke on the ground and snuffed it out with his boot and walked towards her as she continued to finger herself. She gasped when his hands finally touched her, the tips of his fingers tracing her collar bone and sweeping downward to her breasts. She arched her back, waiting for his touch to land on her nipples, but he grazed past them, down her stomach, until he’d found the straps to her halter. Her hand stopped its movement as he slowly tied her shirt back together and her chest tightened when he stepped away from her. He looked at her for a moment and Buffy felt uncomfortable, adjusting her clothing and looking anywhere but at him.
Then he leaned down, picked up her fan and slung it over his shoulders and walked down the alley. She smiled and followed after him.
~*~*~*~*~
They walked in silence for several blocks, looking at one another occasionally, but nothing more. They finally reached what she assumed was his loft and after he punched in a code on the wall, a brash buzzing sound rang out and he yanked on a rusty metal cage door and held it open for her as she walked through. She jumped slightly when it slammed shut behind her and he smirked at her as he turned down a cement floored hallway. There was an accordion style metal cage door that he struggled to push open and then a wooden garage type door that he hoisted up towards the ceiling. Once it was opened, it revealed a large lift and they stood on it, taking it up a few floors, both of them anxiously anticipating what was about to happen.
She wasn’t expecting the sight before her when he opened the door to his impressively large loft. It was incredibly clean, industrial in design with chrome appliances and cement counter tops, yet the vibrant colors on the brick walls gave it a sense of warmth. Before she could catalog every bit of furniture and decorating choice in the room, he’d gently grabbed her by the arms and turned her to face him. His dark rimmed eyes lowered to her mouth and she started panting as one hand traced her cheek and slowly slid back into her hair, loosening the hold on her pony tail until the rubber band fell to the floor. Buffy placed her palms on his chest and closed her eyes as he tilted her head and dragged the tip of his nose along her neck.
He held her against him gently, running his fingers through her hair and rubbing the small of her back as he pressed his forehead against hers. She pulled his black t-shirt off and walked him towards a couch in the center of the room, smiling at him as she pushed him down and straddled his hips. He didn’t return the smile and simply closed his eyes and turned his head away from her as she unbuckled his belt. She could hear him breathing rapidly and felt that familiar sense of power as she unzipped his jeans and tugged them down his legs. She didn’t know why she wanted him to look at her. Something about his body language reminded her too much of herself. But when she wrapped one hand around his hard cock and licked the tip, he inhaled sharply and opened his eyes. She smiled and took him in her mouth, moaning as she slid down as far as she could. His hands were tangled in her hair and he moaned desperately, watching her every move.
Buffy focused on her task, trying to ward off her thoughts and simply giving in, something she’d done a million times before. But something kept nagging at her, kept pushing her to look up, look into his eyes, look. She couldn’t. So she sucked him harder, faster, sliding her hand up and down, trying to get him off quickly so it would all be over. His eyes burned through her skull, his moans made her quiver and his hands were clutching at her soul, slowly pulling her to the surface. She couldn’t take it. But suddenly his hands were under her arms and lifting her into his lap. Staring up at her, he reached beneath her skirt and pulled off her panties, settling her legs on either side of his once they were off.
Buffy still hadn’t opened her eyes and she tried to distract him by burying her face in his neck, kissing and biting him there as she reached for his cock again. She heard him sigh abruptly and then his hands were on either side of her face, turning her to face him. When she opened her eyes he smiled up at her and closed the distance, pressing his lips against hers. She felt a surge of electricity travel from her lips to her toes as he languidly caressed her mouth with his soft lips. He was kissing her as if it might be the last time he’d ever get the chance to do it again, as if the world was going to end at any moment. It was almost dizzying and then his tongue slid into her mouth and it was all over. Buffy’s arms wrapped around his neck as she deepened the kiss, squeezing her eyes shut tight and gasping into his mouth as she felt his large hand exploring her between her legs.
She was quickly uprooted from the couch and they both stumbled as he brought them to the floor, settling himself between her thighs and his touch grew more deliberate; yanking her top off and pinching both nipples as they both grunted and panted, rubbing against one another. As he sucked one nipple into his mouth, he reached across the floor to the coffee table, opened a drawer and pulled out a condom. She took it from his hand and opened it for him as he moaned and sucked his way across her tits, up her neck and back to her mouth again. She slid the condom on him and spread herself open for him, crying out when he thrust inside in one solid movement. Their hands clawed at one another as they both adjusted to the sensation and then he moved his hips as his mouth hovered over hers, heating it up with his warm breath and staring right into her. He fit her perfectly, both cock and body and her legs wrapped around his waist, urging him forward though he kept his pace slow. She didn’t want this. She wanted him to use her like she was using him. She wanted to fuck. But she couldn’t deny the euphoric feelings that washed over her as his thick cock moved expertly inside her, his lean muscles rippling beneath her hands and the feel of his ass beneath her calves as he surged into her.
She placed her hands on his chest and tried to push him up. He was too close, too intense and she moaned desperately when he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head, twisting his hips hard as he rubbed against her g-spot. She was paralyzed, completely submitting to him as he took her…and god, he was taking more than her body with each thrust of his cock. Buffy couldn’t stop looking into his eyes now, awed by the intensity of this moment, an intensity she’d never thought to feel. He must have sensed it too, and must have been equally guarded by it because in the next instant, he pushed the coffee table away and it squeaked as it slid across the cement floor and he rolled them over, letting her take over.
Buffy was slightly jarred from the switch but also grateful that it seemed to go back to the comfort level she was accustomed to. However, as she braced herself by her hands on his chest and she started to ride him, his hands bunched up her skirt around her waist so he could see where they were connected. He was licking his lip and swallowing hard, breathing heavily as he looked up at her again and she collapsed onto his chest, kissing his neck, moving her hands all over him, wanting to be closer, wanting him deeper inside. One arm wrapped around her waist while the other caressed her ass and he thrust upwards, bending his knees to drive into her deeper and when his lips made contact with hers, she came.
He urged her on, murmuring against her lips as her body jerked above his and soon he was gripping her ass and thrusting hard up into her, coming just as powerfully, moaning incoherent phrases as his body tightened. She lay on top of him, her breathing ragged and her body limp, sighing as his hands softly stroked the back of her head and her shoulders. She couldn’t look at him, not right that moment, so she kept her face buried in his throat. He didn’t protest and kissed her forehead, wrapping his arms around her. That small gesture is what brought her back to reality and she sat up, smiling shyly as she reached for her top and slid it on. He helped her adjust the bottom of her shirt as he laid on his back, staring up at her. When she finally slid off of him and stood, he pulled off the condom and jerked his jeans up and over his hips standing as she walked to the door.
He followed her and leaned against the door in front of her, blocking her path. Her cheeks were red both from the sex and embarrassment. She was used to leaving abruptly without a care, but even though she knew she should leave, she couldn’t resist the pull that was evident between them. And then he spoke.
“Probably should’ve done this earlier, but…I’m Spike.”
Fuck. He had a British accent.
She tucked her disheveled hair behind her ears and touched her fingers to her lips to hide her smile and looked up at him through her long dark lashes. “Buffy.”
He ran a hand through his hair and grinned, looking at the wall behind her and then at her eyes. “Um…hang on a sec.” He turned and ran to the kitchen and grabbed something before he ran back to her. She giggled as he grabbed her hand and wrote his phone number down on her palm with a black sharpie. “They say it’s permanent…but it does wash off. Bloody false advertisin’ if you ask me.”
“I know.” They stood awkwardly for a moment, slowly getting closer and glancing at one another. He was about to kiss her and she quickly looked into her purse for a distraction and pulled out a business card and handed it to him. “That’s me. My cell is on there.”
He inspected the card and cocked an eyebrow. It was the first time she’d noticed he had a jagged scar there. “You’re a photographer?”
“Yeah, um…that’s my exciting career. Freelance, of course.”
“Of course,” he smiled and shoved his hands in his pockets. “So I guess you—”
“Yeah, I should…I should go.”
He nodded and Buffy turned to open the door latch. He placed his hand atop hers and turned her back around. Those eyes of his were going to be the death of her, if she ever saw him again, that is. They locked onto hers, hypnotizing her with their intensity and he cupped her cheeks and kissed her sweetly, never deepening it but lingering just long enough to make her weak in the knees. He pulled away and smiled. “Good bye, Buffy.”
“Bye, Spike.” She grabbed her fan and looked at him once more before she turned and walked out the door. Spike closed it behind her, keeping his hand flat against it for a moment as he smiled, finally registering what had just happened. He fixed his coffee table and picked up his t-shirt on the floor and sat down on his couch in a state of bewilderment. He flipped her business card over and over in his hands, as if pondering whether or not he’d ever give her a call. Figuring it wasn’t a good idea to make rash decisions while floating in the after glow of one hell of a shag, he tossed it onto his coffee table and sighed, flexing his legs and toes as he stared up at the ceiling.
One thing he knew for certain was that something had happened, something big. He just didn’t know if he was ready to figure out what it was.