Chapter 7
Spike’s eyelid’s fell thickly to half-mast. “Anybody ever taste that juicy slayer pussy, love?” he whispered with icy seduction and dropped to his knees. Contrary to his hardened tone he slid his fingers softly into her waistband and eased her plain white panties smoothly down her legs and off her feet. Spike pushed her right foot up onto the arm of the side chair and angled her knee outward. “Oh, very nice, kitty,” he hummed into her mound in appreciation. His tone abruptly changed to pure sass. “Try not to like it,” he challenged as he glared up at her.
The look on her face told him she’d not experienced this before. In Spike’s estimation Angel was certifiable not to have sucked on this delicacy. That made no sense to Spike at all. Angel did her, did the dirt, lost his soul for it and never went down on her.
Spike could smell her arousal hasten at the anticipation of a tongue down there; specifically, a tongue that knew its way around the neighborhood. This flooded her with desire. His nose practically entered her lubricated passage as he inhaled her. Her abdominal muscles jumped at the sensation.
“Ouph!” escaped her lips as her hands moved convulsively to her pubis.
“Here, love,” he directed softly as he paused to kiss her hands and place them on his head. “Put them here, I’m gonna take you someplace wonderful.” He returned his attention back to her flesh. “Beautiful,” a low voice Buffy would never have recognized as Spike’s filled her ears. He inhaled the delirious scents once more. He knew she had finished her cycle mere days before and he cursed his timing.
“You smell like gumdrops.”
He floated in her essence. As gently as he covered her mouth his lips touched her vulva. Again she reacted in a mindless convulsion. A high pitched breathless yelp rocketed out of her throat. He stilled himself, steadied her and looked into her questioning eyes again.
“Just let it happen, love,” he soothed with another tender kiss. A soft kiss transformed into long luxurious licks up and down her cleft. He sopped up her flowing lubrication like a sponge. “Pussy candy,” his voice hushed with delight. Buffy’s gasping wordless exclamations hardened him severely. Her hands left his head and gripped the top of the chair with murderous intent.
He felt an unexpected pleasure and pride in initiating her in this activity. He would be thorough. She would not forget his tongue any time soon. She tried to brace herself but teetered as his tongue entered her passage. He curled it internally and drew out streams of fluid. She could hear him slurping it up with relish.
Pausing briefly he looked up into her quivering face and smirked. “You like it, don’t you?” She opened her jaw but no words came out. Words hadn’t yet been invented for this.
With no warning he growled sensuously into her tissues and she climaxed. Buffy had experienced orgasms before. The bad one she hurt Angel with was not her first. She knew how to pleasure herself but hadn’t done so in a long time, not since before she left Sunnydale.
Now she was stunned not to experience the slow rise of sensation to an inevitable burst. Her climax slammed into her at full force, seemingly from nowhere. Her hands found his head again and held him in place. She never wanted him to move from that spot again.
An unfamiliar voice filled her ears with a shriek of pleasure. It was her voice. She was transforming in the dusty yellow light of her small room. She was being reshaped for pleasures yet to come.
Spike grinned at his success and claimed her clit. I’ll make you howl, Slayer…make you sputter…make you forget the earth is round…
Her knees buckled under her as she hurdled into a second orgasm. Two fingers entered her aggressively and pumped with fevered urgency. Her juices flowed freely over his hand. The crescendo of sensation stunned her, it screamed in her ears. Another orgasm thundered through her body.
“No,” she struggled. “I can’t, I can’t…” Her voice twisted with pain and then stopped. Her knees wobbled, she was crumbling, losing her balance. Spike grabbed her and pulled her forward down onto the carpet.
“Yes you can. Come on Slayer, be bold, show me want you need.” That brief encouragement was met with a pained gasp from Buffy. Spike lay back and lifted her over his face. She spread her legs widely and arched herself into his mouth. No prodding was necessary to initiate the desired movement. It just happened. The Slayer fucked the face of this vampire as naturally as she once shopped for shoes, with fevered abandon.
A relentless tongue lassoed her clit. She flowed through hard peaks and valleys of unrivaled sensation. Her weight fell forward over his head and onto her palms and then her elbows as her hips ground her ferocious need into his mouth. Unusual spiraling cries vibrated through her lower jaw as she crested again and again.
Lost in this language she spoke in tongues she had never known.
Spike moved suddenly with swiftness that she had only glimpsed in battle. Ignoring his own need to take her right there on the carpet and pound into her for several hours he chose another selection. The need to show Buffy her own desires became paramount. He slipped out from under her and turned to pick her up. She was brought to standing facing the dresser.
“Climb up.” His voice drifted inside her head. She felt her knees press against the smooth surface of the wooden dressed as she mounted it. A forceful knee knocked her deodorant, lipstick and a magazine off the dresser and onto the floor.
“Spread your legs.” His voice was as soft as his tongued caresses had been. Gentle fingers slipped down her inner thighs urging her wider as her breath skittered from her lips.
Angel had been so attentive, so fixed on her pleasure and yet that first growling orgasm from Spike was the most devastating physical truth Buffy had ever experienced. Now she wanted Spike to take her to places she’d never been, places Angel had been too gentlemanly to dare visit.
Buffy wanted to know it all.