IX
The silence which ensued would have suffocated her had Spike looked at her with anything short of wonder. There was nothing for long seconds. Nothing but the awed stare of his azure eyes and the trembling breaths that needlessly rolled off his sinful lips. He was perched between her naked thighs, his hard denim-confined cock pressed against her pussy, and staring at her like she had been kissed by sunlight. “You…” he said after a few thick seconds, choked with emotion. “You want…”
She nodded, certain her thundering heart would break through her chest at any second. “I…I need—”
“I din’t…” Spike held her eyes a minute longer before ducking his head, every inch of him shaking. “Christ, love, I din’t think…you know I meant it, right? Everythin’ I said. I meant every blessed word. I din’t say it so you’d let me…’m not gonna turn back into a heartless prat if you don’ let me into your quim. I’m—”
“I know.” The words were braver than the sentiment behind them. In all honesty, Buffy didn’t know what she believed. Too much of what he’d said sounded like her every fantasy come to life. She was half convinced her lack-of-dreams had sent her into some sort of dream-overload—into a world where the dreams she entertained mirrored reality so closely she could fool herself into believing everything actually would be all right. But then again, she knew such fears were ridiculous. Spike believed every word that crossed his lips—the honesty in his eyes couldn’t be fabricated.
He’d taken her before without caring how she felt. He’d forced his cock between her lips back when she thought she hated him. If he wanted her pussy so badly, he could have it without whispering promises across her skin. Evil or not, soulless or not, Spike wasn’t the sort of man—or vampire—to lie about things like this. He was brutally honest in everything he did, as her healing heart could attest.
Even if he never loved her, she knew she could give him her body without regret. She belonged to him completely—trying to be with Angel had only proven as much. She couldn’t give any other man her virginity when she knew it belonged to Spike. And right now, under the tender caresses of his fingertips, the moment felt right. Perhaps it was rushed, perhaps she was thriving on hope, but her mind had shoved her over the final threshold and any lingering strands of uncertainty were banished completely.
Buffy exhaled slowly and shivered, forcing a smile to her lips and hoping her quaking nerves weren’t as fully displayed as she felt they were. She cupped his cheek and nodded. “Spike—”
Apparently, though, he saw whatever he needed in her eyes, for he didn’t let the words escape her lips. With a growl, the indecision in his gaze faded completely and he smashed his mouth to hers, his teeth scratching her lips and his tongue attacking hers with fervor which had every cell in her body wracking with foreign tension. She barely had time to kiss him back before he deprived her of his mouth again. “I won’ let you regret this,” he growled, nipping at her throat as he made his way down her body without ceremony. He bit her breast with a fevered moan, sliding a hand between them to free his cock. “I promise, baby, I won’—”
She tried to answer; she really did. What came out, though, sounded suspiciously like, “Inooougghh.”
Spike grinned up at her, and the mischief his eyes only made the ache between her legs more pronounced, though she wasn’t sure if it was for the look he gave her or the way his lips massaged her nipples—sucking one breast tender before turning to the other. “Sorry, sweet. Din’t catch that.”
The playfulness in his tone had the weight on her heart lightening by the second. “Jackass,” she retorted, her voice cracking as his hand found her pussy again, his fingertips gently caressing her wet folds as the rest of him fought to get his jeans down his legs. How he managed to manipulate her breasts, finger her pussy, and get himself mostly naked all at the same time was beyond her, but she wasn’t about to question it. She was just grateful for vampiric ingenuity.
“I jus’ love makin’ you incoherent,” he replied unrepentantly, flashing a quick grin. “I’ve missed that look. The way your eyes get all wide. The li’l sounds you make.” He released her completely without warning, his hands finding her wrists and encouraging her to sit up as he rose off the bed. “Lemme look at you, baby,” he murmured. “I’ve missed looking at you.”
Buffy licked her lips, her eyes following the eager bob of his erect cock as he pulled his jeans off completely. Yeah, she’d missed looking at him, too. She’d missed everything. She’d missed the way he smirked when she moaned. She’d missed the arrogant glow of his eyes and the matching words that rolled off his oh-so-talented lips. Most of all, she’d missed the way she could make all of the above vanish in a blink just by wrapping her hand around his erection.
“Oh fuck,” Spike gasped, tossing his head back and thrusting his hips forward. “Please…”
“You’ve missed this, too?” Buffy asked tentatively, her eyes fluttering to his face, heat reddening her cheeks. She didn’t know where her boldness was coming from, but she wasn’t about to shut it out. She needed to know he’d missed what she could do to him on top of everything else. Just as he missed her body and, hopefully, the brain that came with it. With as non-feminine as she’d felt since his rejection, she needed to know, as a female, that she could make him as crazy as he made her. “Have you missed—”
Spike’s eyes widened. “Buffy, please!”
She smiled and licked his silken head before her mind could interject, and the answering whimper which ripped through the air made her blood rush with heat. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she replied, wrapping her lips around him completely. She didn’t draw him all the way into her mouth—she too much enjoyed the tortured bliss on his face just from her suckling at his very tip. Knowing she could have him moaning for her by this alone…
But she didn’t stop him when he fisted a handful of hair and thrust his cock deeper into her mouth. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” he moaned, sliding his length between her lips until only his belled head remained locked within her wet cavern. “So…God, Buffy…”
She didn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t to be released. It wasn’t for his cock to escape her mouth entirely. The next thing she knew, he had her back against the mattress again and Spike was on his knees, his hands slipping under her hips and lifting her pussy to his hungry mouth once more. “Missed this quim,” he growled, sliding his tongue up and down her slit before his lips wrapped around her inflamed pearl again. “Missed your clit. Missed how you moan for me.”
“Oh my God!”
Spike grinned and spread her lips. “You’re so perfect here,” he whispered, running his index finger up and down her exposed, slippery flesh. “So wet. So pink.” He eased his finger inside her, shuddering when she whimpered. “You’re really gonna let me in? Gonna drench my cock with these heavenly juices?”
“Yes! Yes, please!”
“I dunno how this is gonna work, pet.”
That much sliced through the fog and Buffy sat up, a nervous titter racing down her spine. “Then we’re in trouble,” she replied, her voice shaking. “What do you—”
“In here. Your virginity isn’t…” Spike frowned, and while she hated the absence of the sultry smirk, he kept her body on fire by the steady thrust of his finger, soon accompanied by a second. “It’s so bloody hard to remember this isn’t really happenin’.” As though it was the most natural thing in the world, his head dipped every few seconds between words to suck on her clit. “That you’re not really here…burning my skin off my fingers with your heat an’ tremblin’ beneath me.”
Buffy swallowed hard. It was beyond difficult to focus on what she knew was a very good point with his hand turning her into goo. “Is this…not good enough?”
His eyes widened. “Have I ever done anythin’ to make you think that?”
Those were dangerous words. He’d done a lot to make her feel inadequate, but at the same time, he knew he was on uneven ground. Furthermore, he was right; he hadn’t done anything to make her think the dream-world wasn’t enough for him, and to be truthful, that was a big part of the problem. The dream-world was enough for him, or it had been. And it had never been enough for her.
“No,” she whispered, “but—”
“It hurts, baby,” he whispered, his eyes dropping to her pussy, his wicked tongue licking his equally wicked lips at the sight of his fingers pushing into her soaking hole. “The firs’ time for girlies…it hurts. But I don’ know how it works in here. If it’ll hurt for you here…an’ out there.”
“Hurts?”
He nodded and licked her clit again. “For sweet li’l slayers,” he agreed. “Not for bad ass vamps.”
A shudder raced down her spine, laced with apprehension even as her hips rose to meet the eager thrusts of his hand. “That.” Pant. “Isn’t…fair.”
Spike smiled softly. “I know.”
Electric sparks burned her veins. “So girls…get…the short straw.”
Spike chuckled and nipped at her wet flesh, stretching her inner walls wider to accommodate a third finger. “They don’ teach you anythin’in school, do they?” he mused, grinning.
“Sperm. Egg. Baby. Basics.”
“So they leave out the fun stuff,” he clarified. “But yeah, love…it hurts for girls the firs’ time. But here…I dunno if it’ll hurt here. If all outside rules applied, I’d be in a chair an’ not movin’ around like my back’s not mendin’. It’s not…it’s not real in here. Not in the way we want it. We’re not…it feels real.” He trembled and licked her clit again, his fingers curling inside her. “God, it feels real. But you’re not really here. You’re really in your sweet li’l beddy-by…an’ I’m—”
“With her,” Buffy ground out, her hips bucking.
“No.”
“But—”
“Sweetling, we’re at different sodding ends of the factory.” Spike sighed and gently eased his fingers out of her pussy, leaving her wet flesh with a parting lick. “She got sick of me whimpering for you in my sleep. Doesn’ matter, ‘course. I left her bed before she got the chance to kick me out. She jus’ started goin’ on about how you’re sunlight an’ how I’m lost to you.”
“You left?” Buffy repeated, sitting up as he rose to his feet. “You left before she—”
“You’re not my consolation prize,” Spike said firmly, taking her hand and encouraging her to turn as he dropped to the mattress. “’m here ‘cause I want you. I don’ want her. An’ I’m pretty sure we went over this.”
“Pardon a girl who was told she’d ruined your life for being a little insecure,” she retorted wryly.
Spike stiffened but didn’t reply, instead settling at the head of the bed, his back at the headboard, his legs stretched out. The eager protrusion of his cock rested proudly against his stomach, his hungry eyes raking down her body as she prowled up the mattress. “There’s nothin’ to be insecure about,” he murmured, palming her breasts as his mouth found the soft column of her throat. He moaned against her when her belly rubbed against his erection. “Nothin’.”
“It’s going to take me a while,” Buffy replied, her anxious hand wheedling between them, eager for the feel of his length rubbing against her palm again. “A long while.”
Pain flashed across his face, but he did not object. No matter how much progress had been made, the air between them was still wrought with tension. “I know.”
“But I trust you.” It was a dangerous admission, she knew; even with everything he’d promised her, even with the faith she had in the authenticity of his words, letting him know just how much he owned her—that he possessed both her love and her faith—could very well come back to haunt her. She was making a series of precarious leaps all at once and hoping the net beneath her was as sound as it looked. He knew she loved him. He knew her virginity belonged to him. He knew he held her trust. What else was there to give him, aside from her blood?
A wicked thrill raced down her spine. Her blood was his, too. Even as much as he’d hurt her, there was little she wouldn’t give him. Sitting astride his strong thighs, her hand pumping the length of his thick shaft as her eyes enjoyed the euphoric brightening of his. There was nothing she wouldn’t give him.
“You trust me?” he gasped, his hips jerking forward. “Oh Buffy…”
“I know. You don’t deserve it.”
“I don’t,” Spike agreed with a nod. “Guess I’m lucky you love me.”
Buffy inhaled sharply. Were it not for the tender veneration in his eyes—the look which told her just how much those words meant to him—she would have felt she was being mocked.
But she wasn’t. Spike took those words seriously, and he would resent her doubt, no matter how right she was to preserve it. So she didn’t say anything, rather contented herself with his whimpers as she stroked his cock. There wasn’t anything to say—he knew she loved him, and he likewise realized he didn’t deserve it.
Not now, but he was trying to make up for it.
“Buffy…” Without warning, he seized her wrist again and gently coaxed her hand away from his erection. She would have pouted had he not immediately urged her upward until it felt like she was perched just above his balls, the base of his cock nestled against her crevice and his hard length rubbing her belly. And without warning, it occurred to her it was about to happen. She was about to have a man inside her body. And while it would do nothing to her physiologically—while she would awaken in her own bed with her virginity more or less intact—it didn’t make what was about to happen less real. Not to her.
Nothing they’d done in here had been false. Nothing.
He slipped a hand between her legs, his other snaking around her waist. “Hold onto my shoulders, kitten,” he purred, “an’ lift up jus’ a bit.”
She felt so open—so exposed. Her legs were open and her wet flesh was pressed intimately against him. True, they’d been like this before, but the effect refused to fade with time. And now, for the first time, she would take a man inside her. Not just any man: Spike. The man she loved. The vampire she loved. Tomorrow morning she would go to school and be with her friends and pretend nothing had changed because, ostensibly, nothing would have changed. Nothing except everything.
“Lemme know if it hurts, baby,” Spike whispered, bathing kisses down her throat, the hand at her back caressing her ass soothingly as the other positioned his cock at her sopping opening. “We’ll go as slow as you need.”
Buffy hadn’t known what to expect with her first time. She wasn’t the sort of naïve little girl who dreamed of making love with her soulmate on a bed of white silk sheets amidst a scattering of rose petals. Until Spike, she hadn’t known if she was capable of the sort of love shared between lovers. Love had been such an abstract concept—something so far removed from anything feasibly attainable in any lifetime. And while she knew she was capable of love itself—she loved her mom, her friends, her Watcher, and when he wasn’t a jackass, her father—the idea of romantic, physical love remained something she craved but never thought to touch. Now with the head of Spike’s cock slipping inside her as he panted hard against her breast and gently stroked her clit with his thumb, every previous notion, every careless word she’d ever assigned to the art of lovemaking was washed away in a torrent of ecstasy.
“Oh my God,” Buffy gasped, her nails digging into his forearms.
“Jus’ a li’l more,” Spike replied, his voice strained, the hand at her back urging her ass to meet him. It was only then she noticed how stiff her legs were, how tension had locked every muscle in her body. She fought to overcome fear—to beat down the inner voice that promised she would never be good enough. That she would never be feminine enough. Not soft where he needed her to be and not firm where he liked his women firm. Perhaps she would make the wrong move and be laughed out of the room, therein solidifying her worse fears.
The Slayer was all-consuming, and the Woman represented nothing more than her assigned gender. After all, if she couldn’t make this work in a dream, what hope did she have at achieving it in reality?
Buffy was determined not to let her fears rule her. Not with every inch of her doused in pleasure. With a trembling breath, she forced her vaginal muscles to unclamp, drew in a sharp breath, and impaled herself on his cock completely. White blinded her eyes and every cell in her body cried out in ecstasy. The faint sting of discomfort faded almost instantly—left only with the feel of him, large and thick inside her. Stretching her in ways she’d never thought she could stretch. His smooth skin cradled against her molten walls, cooling her fire while simultaneously stroking the flames to new immeasurable highs.
Her back arched and her head rolled back. “Ohhh,” she cried. “Oh…my God.”
“My God,” Spike echoed, his head hitting the headboard, his eyes squeezed shut. “So hot. So fucking hot, you are.” His chest heaved with unnecessary pants and he forced his eyes open, swallowing her in his heated gaze. “Are you all right, kitten? Any pain?”
“I…I…” Buffy shook her head, her chest crushed with the weight of her gasps. “No. No. Oh God. Oh God.” She bit her lower lip hard and wiggled her hips, determined to create friction, needing to feel his flesh slide against her. “I just…I feel…full.”
The words sounded ridiculously cheesy to her ears, especially coated in her voice, but it didn’t make them any less true. Whatever discomfort she’d felt initially had only been the shock of invasion—the surprise of having Spike inside her body. She’d thought, on some level, the explorations of his fingers would have prepared her for this, but God, she was wrong. So incredibly wrong. And now that she had him inside her, she felt at last that she did own him—at least a small part. There was a part of Spike within her which no one else could touch now. Even if, despite his best wishes, he broke her heart, there was no way any other woman would ever get what she had now.
“You feel so good,” Spike whispered against her lips. His thumb remained poised above her clit, massaging her softly. “You’re so hot. You’re so bloody hot. I knew…I knew it. Knew you were hot, but God…” He caressed her lips with his, abandoning her hypersensitive bundle to cup her ass entirely. “Need you…Buffy…”
“What?”
“Move…ahhh…” He flashed a reassuring smile as she lifted herself off his cock, held for a hesitant second, then sank back down again. “Ohhh, yes. Yeah, that’s it. Jus’ like that, baby.”
This was another thing she’d never envisioned in her first time. While she was fully aware of a variety of sexual positions—okay, three—she’d never seen herself as the sort to control what happened in the bedroom. But here she was, grinding herself against Spike as she fought to find a rhythm which seemed natural. Her jerky breaths betrayed her nervousness, but when she seemingly faltered, he didn’t frown or roll his eyes or bring any of her worst fears to life. The look on his face remained reverent, his eyes never leaving hers.
She knew why he’d given her control. After all that had occurred, she needed it.
“That’s it,” Spike whispered again, squeezing her ass and helping her lift off his cock. The wet suctioning sound which filled the air between their shared pants should have made her nose wrinkle in distaste, but it only made the heat in her skin burn hotter and the flood between her legs more pronounced. “Oh, fuck, that’s it. Go as slow as you need.”
But she didn’t want slow. The blaze in her body was too intense. And from the edge in his voice, she could tell slow wasn’t exactly something he wanted, either. “What do…”
The words wouldn’t come. There just didn’t seem to be a good way to ask anyone how to have sex, especially since everything seemed really obvious. Insert, withdraw, repeat. But her jittering nerves and her racing mind and the compounded sensation of being split with pleasure and wracked with fear all at once had her drawing an infinite blank.
Thankfully, Spike didn’t make her clarify. Instead his eyes softened and he brushed his lips against hers. “Jus’ move with me,” he whispered, lifting her off his lap, and the wet slide of his cock between her pussy walls had her hips wiggling with a need to lock him inside and throw away the proverbial key. “An’ down,” he sighed, burying himself in her pussy again, the tip of him brushing nerves she’d thought solely reserved for hardcore fantasies. Spike kissed her lips again, then his mouth was at her ear, his voice reverberating through every facet of her body. “An’ up again.”
Buffy squeezed her eyes shut, her body rising and falling. “Ohhh…”
“Feel so good,” he murmured, tugging at her earlobe with his teeth. “An’ again. Faster.”
Yes. Faster. Faster was good. Faster was infinitely good. She just hoped she could handle faster. Buffy nodded harshly, her racing mind determined to keep up with every sensation. She was nervous and split apart with pleasure, focused on the wet slide of his erection inside her and, at the same time, the look on his face. Mindful for any grimaces or signs of exasperation at how pathetic she was. But there was nothing. Nothing but bliss stretching every curve of his face. Her named lived on his lips, her eyes swallowed in the endless blue heat of his. And at that moment, it was all she knew.
“Fucking hell, you’re perfect,” he moaned, encouraging her to bounce faster on his cock. The wet smack of their bodies rocking together echoed in her ears and served only to fuel the growing inferno in her belly. “So tight. God, you’re so…so tight. So bleeding hot.” He nibbled a kiss off her lips, coaxing her to lean forward until she was stretched to the breaking point. There was no way he wasn’t splitting her in half, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not when the hurt felt this good. Not when his hips started lifting off the bed to meet her thrusts. “How…how do I…Buffy?”
“I…I’ve never…good.” And if that wasn’t the understatement of the year, she didn’t know what was. She only wished she had a way with words. Something that would make what she felt sound sexy and hot rather than adolescent and foolish. She wanted to tell him how she’d never realized how empty she was before—how she could’ve gone through life without being complete. But she knew how that sounded to her own ears—never mind how they would sound to his. It didn’t matter it was the truth. The truth was totally immune to clichés and really bad metaphors—the truth didn’t care how it sounded, it merely was. And for that reason, she bottled the truth inside and stuck to safe-ground. A place where her girlish sentiments couldn’t be mocked, even if the leftovers did her real feelings little justice. “Spike…oh God…”
“Good?” he repeated, grinning and swirling his hips under her before stabbing his cock inside her again. “Jus’ good?”
Colors burst behind her eyes. “OH!”
“Waited so long for you. So fucking long.”
Perhaps it had been long. She really didn’t remember at the moment. She could barely remember her own name. All she knew was her body was galloping closer to an explosion unlike anything she’d ever felt, and she could barely keep up with him. With the steady thrust of his hips beneath hers as she fought hard for the supremacy she’d forgotten she already had. She felt the eager slap of his balls against her wet flesh every time he arched off the bed, heard the squeaking of the mattress beneath their thrusting bodies and shivered at the colorful words she wasn’t even certain Spike was fully aware he released into the hot air between them.
“You feel so good. My Slayer. My Buffy. Mine mine mine mine.”
God, there was no arguing with that.
“You love this, don’ you?” he demanded, threading his fingers through her hair and jerking her head back just far enough so she felt the degrees of separation between them. “You love knowin’ I’m yours, almost as much as you love drenching my cock with your hot li’l slayer juices. Don’t you?”
She nodded before she knew what she was doing, her body shoved into overdrive. She clawed for balance, bouncing mercilessly in his lap, worries banished in favor of pleasure undoing every seam in her body. Spike had made her an addict at first taste. There was no way she could go without his erection piercing inside her wet sex. Her pussy throbbed and her body rocketed closer to explosion. And she was thoroughly lost.
“Oh God,” Spike whimpered, nipping at her breast. “Buffy…”
She tried to say his name, but words were, as always, lost. “Unh—”
He clenched his teeth and arched his back, and the deeper he burrowed himself, the more she wanted to keep him there. She started clenching muscles she’d forgotten she had with every thrust—muscles she typically reserved for extra-high kicks or other fancy slayer maneuvers. Muscles she’d never figured would ever come into play for anything else. And at the first contraction, his eyes went so wide she thought she’d hurt him—that was, until, her name tore off his lips as his hips started bucking madly.
“Oh my God. Oh God. Buffy Buffy Buffy! Squeeze me. Oh God, yes. Fuck yes.”
“Ohhh…”
“So fucking good. Gonna pop me, you are. Oh Christ.” One hand released her ass, resting at her abdomen and soaking up the sight of his cock sinking again and again into her warm depths. “Where the hell…” he gasped, his thumb sliding over her slippery clit, raw spasms quaking through her body, “did you learn that?”
Buffy shook her head because she hadn’t known she was doing anything, doing her best to rub herself against the pad of his thumb. The duality of sensation was going to unmake her. His length was inside her, his eyes were on her hot face, and he was stroking her swollen clit. There was no way. No way…
“Buffy—”
“Spike, please!”
A growl tore through the air and he jerked her to his chest, crushing his free arm around her middle and burying his face in the crook of her throat. “Tell me,” he whispered, massaging her furiously. “Tell me you love me.”
Tears choked her throat and she didn’t know why, only that her forbidden confession was spilling through her lips without hesitation. “I love you,” she cried, her pussy clenching as tremors seized her body, blinding ecstasy ripping through her every fiber. She couldn’t see—she could barely breathe if she wasn’t screaming his name. Her muscles clamped down around him, soaking his cock with the flood of her release. And he gave back as good as he got. His fangs were suddenly nipping at her throat, the growls rumbling through his body melting into helpless whimpers as he trembled hard and spilled himself inside her.
“Buffy,” Spike murmured, his incisors grazing her sweat-laced skin. “My Buffy…”
He didn’t bite her. She thought he might bite her, but he didn’t. And to her astonishment, she wasn’t sure if the sinking sensation in her gut was relief or disappointment.
What did that mean?
“My Buffy,” he said again, his hips still thrusting upward, his cock seemingly desperate for as much of her as she could give.
The silly vampire didn’t realize she’d already given him everything. And perhaps, for the time being, that was a good thing. Perhaps.
But as her trembling body fell back to earth, she knew it wouldn’t last. He owned every last bit of her. He’d asserted the claim, of course, but she’d given herself to him freely. And if he ever stopped reminding her that she belonged to him, perhaps then there would be actual cause for worry.
For now, though, as he wrapped his arms around her sated body and cuddled her to his chest, she refused to think about what came tomorrow. What happened in the fallout of what they’d shared. What he’d given her in place of all he’d taken. The words he’d demanded—the same words she’d willingly given. The words he had not returned.
The tender kiss at her brow told her he loved it that she loved him.
And for now, it was enough.