She was quiet all through breakfast, and he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. He wondered if possibly she was regretting the things she allowed him to do, but he knew she loved them. The way her snatch squeezed the life out of his cock told him that, and the way she held him so tightly afterward.
He wasn’t sure what drove them—what made her get off when he was rough with her. What excited him about hurting her. He wanted to ask about her previous experiences, but it seemed inappropriate.
Yes, he thought dryly, because everything else we do is perfectly proper.
Had they ever just made love? Slow and sensuous and lingering, no trace of dominance or submission. No games.
He loved having her sprawled out at his mercy, but god, he wanted that.
Abruptly Buffy set down her fork and yawned. Loudly. Loudly enough that the people at the next table turned to stare at her.
“Tired, sweetheart?” he asked kindly.
Buffy nodded, rubbing her eyes with her hands and yawning again.
“Want to go up and take a nap?” he offered. His plans could wait. They had all weekend.
“No, I’m like this every morning,” she answered sleepily.
William blinked in surprise. “Every morning you have this much trouble waking up? How can you concentrate on your first class?”
Buffy laughed. “Well, usually I just—” she broke off. She didn’t think he’d really like to hear about how she drifted through her first couple of classes every day.
“Usually what?” he asked suspiciously.
She tilted her head down and looked up at him flirtatiously from under her eyelashes. “Usually I spend them thinking of you,” she said sweetly. Which was the truth, of course.
Unrepentant flirt, he thought. “You up for a walk this morning? Get away from the swarms of people?”
She shrugged. “I’m not really a big walker.”
“You might want to make an exception—I’m told the woods are very nice this time of year.”
“Well, yeah, I’m sure they’re great, but I was thinking maybe we could stay in our room and, umm, do a little more of what we were doing last night.”
William smiled tolerantly. “You know, Buffy, what’s so nice
about
“The trees?”
“No.”
“The, uh…syrup?”
“No, Miss Summers. What’s nice about
Buffy stared at him for a moment. “What do you mean?”
He smiled blandly and returned his attention to his breakfast. “Eat up. I understand hiking requires a lot of energy.”
~*~*~*~
Okay, the woods were pretty. She had no objection to pretty. And there were birds flying around, which was nice, and once William stopped her to point out a quail with a whole line of babies trailing after it, which was…okay, that was cute. Baby quail were cute.
“Those are cute,” she said to William as they began walking again.
“Yeah,” he answered. “Good with rice and carrots, too.”
Buffy stopped in shock. “You mean—you mean—ewww!” William just laughed at her. “You—you’re joking,” she said finally.
“Yeah,” he admitted, glancing around. They hadn’t seen another person out all day; all of the inn’s guests were already beginning the Thanksgiving festivities. They were missing a beautiful day: temperate weather, gorgeous foliage. Buffy.
“I think this is far enough,” he said, letting his backpack drop to the ground.
Buffy stopped and looked around. They were in the middle of a clearing ringed by tall trees, the ground red and gold and brown from the fallen leaves. She turned and looked at William, rooting around in the backpack before pulling out a plaid blanket. “What have you got in there, a picnic?” she asked hopefully. Okay, they’d just had breakfast, but what else was there to do out here?
He glanced at her with a perplexed look on his face. “No, sweetheart, it’s just a blanket,” he told her, sweeping the fabric out and settling it on leaf-strewn ground. “It’s for sitting.”
“Sitting,” repeated Buffy, less than impressed.
“And possibly for laying as well.”
“Laying, huh?”
“In case you’re tired….” he suggested innocently.
“You know, I think it is time for a nap,” she agreed, goosebumps prickling her skin despite the pleasant weather.
“You might want to take off your clothes…so they don’t get wrinkled,” he suggested.
“Yes…yes, that’s a good idea,” she agreed. Her fingers went to the first button on her shirt; she wore front-button shirts more often around him, because she’d noticed how much he enjoyed undoing them. “Would you like to help?” she offered.
William shook his head silently.
She moved to undo the buttons, trying not to rush. William wasn’t like her old boyfriends, who wanted to hurry up and get to the sex. And then hurry through the sex so they could…what? She had no idea. It was like they were graded on speed or something.
No, William wasn’t like them at all. Thank god!
Dragging her blouse off, she felt exposed out there in the open, with William staring at her intently. There was no one around—everyone was too busy drinking cider and watching football—but if anyone walking by, they’d see the whole thing. See her, naked. In a few minutes, they’d see him, touching her. Stroking her, pounding inside her, driving her mad.
The thought excited her.
William watched her as she pulled the last of her clothing off. She was breathing heavily, and her eyes were starting to glaze already. Christ, maybe they should have tried this before.
“Come here,” she invited, holding her arms out.
“Lie down,” he told her, wanting to see it. Her, reclining among the autumn leaves.
She dropped gracefully to the blanket and looked up at him, stroking her hands across her stomach.
She wasn’t anything like his fantasy. She was more gorgeous, more natural and sensual than he could ever have imagined.
He crossed the few steps to the blanket and dropped down beside her. She smiled up at him, and with a growl he bent and covered her body with his. Hungrily his lips claimed hers. “Beautiful,” he rasped, the words throbbing against her lips. She giggled shakily and snaked her arm around his neck, dragging him back to her. It wasn’t right, them apart. He shouldn’t be there and not touch her.
He dragged his lips down her throat to bury them against the curve of her neck. “I couldn’t stop thinking about this,” he groaned. “I dreamed of it. Dreamed of you. Out here, under the trees, on the ground. Naked.” She shivered against him, nuzzling his hair and lightly stroking her fingers down the sensitive curve of his ear. He shuddered. “Do that again, baby,” he begged her. She complied, loving the feel of him at her mercy.
His breath brushed her shoulder as he traced his way back to her mouth, lips just skimming her flesh. His fingertips skated over her collarbones before stroking her breasts so lightly she could barely feel his touch for the first few moments. She pushed up restlessly against his hands and he drew back until she subsided.
Then he returned his hands to her, feather light, persistent, barely there as he left her mouth again to bite gently at her jaw, reddening tiny spots along her throat.
She moved her hands to his back, to his biceps, to his shoulders; she didn’t know what to do with them. Finally he took them in his and pushed them up beside her head before returning his attention to her neck.
Not touching him, she felt guilty. He wasn’t receiving the kind of pleasure she was, the thrill of the other’s hands. It was all about her. He was just there to service her.
And the worst part was, she liked it.
“I—I—”
He glanced up at her, lashes startlingly dark around his sleepy blue eyes. “What do you want, baby?”
She struggled to answer him. How could she tell him when she didn’t even know herself? That she loved what he did to her? That she wanted to make him happy? That she was beginning to fear spring, when this would all be over, because she’d graduate and go on to college, that she’d have to leave him, because she wouldn’t have a choice?
“Buffy?”
“I want you,” she whispered finally. It was the only think she could think of, and it was true.
He drew back and studied her, watching the play of emotions on her face. “You’ve got me,” he whispered against her lips. “You’ve got me.”
Did he know what she meant? What she was thinking? Sometimes, it was as if he did. “Good,” she sighed, sliding her arms around his neck.
He didn’t protest that she’d moved, merely pressed sweet kisses against her cheek as he stroked her hair back with one hand. The other slipped down to part her damp curls and guide him into her body.
There was nothing rushed about it. They were both quiet as they absorbed the feel of her surrounding him, as if it were the first time and the sensation were new to them.
Love you, thought Buffy hazily. She wasn’t supposed to say it, was she?
Why not? People liked to hear it, right? And William liked her bluntness…right?
So why didn’t she say it?
Yeah, just say it. “William—uhh!” she broke off as he rolled her clit between his clever fingers. The rush overwhelmed her, and whatever she was gong to say was lost.
“You going to say something, baby?”
Yes. No. She couldn’t remember. “Don’t stop,” she told him.
He bit back a laugh. As if he could stop now, in any way. “Don’t
worry,” he promised softly. “I won’t.”
