The weekend had flown by. They hadn’t been out of their room for much of it—just to eat and hike. And what they did while hiking was pretty much exactly what they did when they were the room bed, so that probably didn’t really count as doing something different.
Of course, if they’d actually done something different she would have been kind of disappointed. Well, extremely disappointed.
“You know, I think I’ll check out now,” William told her as they left the inn’s dining room after breakfast. “That way we can just leave when we’re finished packing. Wait here?”
Buffy nodded, and absently watched him approach the front desk. Wandering over to a flower arrangement on a side table, she bent down to catch the flowers’ scent, but couldn’t smell anything.
She bent closer and sniffed. Still nothing. Finally she touched a petal. Aww, they were fake! What a rip-off. You’d think that the least they could—
“Hi,” said a shy voice next to her. Buffy glanced up.
A girl a year or two younger than Buffy stood a couple of feet away. She smiled, clearly relieved to be around someone her own age. “Hi,” she said hopefully. “I’m Lisa.”
Buffy nodded at her, not really interested. “I’m Buffy.”
“You have a good weekend?” Lisa asked.
Buffy contemplated her reply. It was great! We hardly ever got out of bed! Or maybe, I loved everything except the leaves in my
hair. I sure like the way the got there, though. Or possibly, The only thing
that was better than the pie was the way William tasted when he—
Hmm. Maybe honesty wasn’t always a good thing.
“Yeah,” Buffy said blandly. “What about you?”
Lisa shrugged. “Same old, same old. I think I’d go crazy if the weekend were any longer! No friends, no computer, no—well, you know how it is with parents.”
Buffy laughed. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“So I guess you’re doing Christmas with your mom?”
Buffy looked at her blankly. “Huh?”
“Well, I mean, if it’s Thanksgiving with your dad, then it’s Christmas with your mom, right?”
“My…dad?” Buffy repeated in disbelief. What, was the girl on crack? Or was she just terminally stupid, like the person at family planning clinic who’d thought William was Buffy’s father?
The girl nodded. “It must be weird having, you know, your father be a cute guy,” she said sympathetically, as if she hadn’t been scoping Buffy’s hot father out all weekend. “I think the maid’s all in love with him.”
“He’s not my fath—maid? What maid?” demanded Buffy, gritting her teeth. Jesus, couldn’t they even get away for a weekend without some skank checking him out? Wanting to get her wrinkled old hands all over him?
Lisa glanced around and started a little. “The one, uh, talking to him,” she said, embarrassed.
Buffy swung around and zeroed in on the blonde talking to William as he arranged their check-out. “He’d never go for her,” Buffy said fiercely. Her? No way! She wore too much makeup, and fawned over him as he spoke. And she bleached her hair, Buffy thought dismissively, before remembering that she wasn’t a natural blonde herself. And that William knew that better than anybody.
Well, that didn’t change anything. That woman was much too old for him, she had to be at least, umm…thirty?
Not much older than William.
But William didn’t seem old, he seemed Buffy’s age, right? Except that he was smarter and knew more things, like how to drive her right out of her mind, even when she was on the ground and could feel twigs and pebbles biting into her ass and really should just be annoyed. He made her forget all about that. Hell, she’d even forgotten to worry about spiders crawling into her hair; she hadn’t even remembered that until she was almost asleep that night, and slipped out of bed to take a shower. Just because the whole sex-in-the-middle-of-nature thing was hot, it didn’t mean she wanted to wake up with a spider crawling across her face. The fact that she hadn’t even thought of it for hours was a miracle—like Ultrasuede, or really good Jimmy Choo knockoffs.
No, it wasn’t a miracle; it was William. Not just because of what he knew, but because of who he was. He was special.
She probably knew more, too, Buffy thought jealously. The maid. When you’d been alive so long you had to learn something, right?
It didn’t really matter, though, did it? William was just being polite. That’s the way he was, polite. He wasn’t interested in anyone but Buffy.
Lisa continued to talk, but Buffy wasn’t paying any attention; her entire being was concentrated on William and that woman as she kept making a fool of herself. God, the innkeeper could barely get a word in crosswise, the way that woman was talking!
Then William nodded and turned, smiling, away from the front desk. Buffy left Lisa babbling about god knows what, and met him in the middle of the lobby, making a show of taking his hand so the maid could see he wasn’t available.
The maid didn’t stop staring at William.
Buffy gritted her teeth. Of course she was still staring—she thought Buffy was his daughter. Fathers and daughters held hands, right? Buffy and her dad weren’t big on the handholding, but others were. On some planet, at least.
“You want to go up and get ready, sweetheart?” he asked, smiling.
Buffy forced herself to look up at him and smile. He was so sweet. So considerate. And most of all, hers. “Let’s go,” she told him, squeezing his hand.
As they started up the stairs she glanced behind her at the maid.
She was still staring.
~*~*~*~
They were quiet as they packed, stealing little kisses and snuggles, but nothing more. The long weekend had been tiring, and the thought of returning to school depressed them both. His hugs were tighter, almost bruising, and Buffy wanted to cry. She didn’t want to go back.
“I want to jump in the shower,” he murmured against her hair. “You want to come?”
Buffy smiled a little against his shirt. They’d never showered together, somehow, but that could wait for another time. “You go ahead,” she told him. “I have to change.”
He pressed a kiss into her hair. “Okay, love.”
He was in the bathroom for ten minutes, and when he came out, he was dressed and ready to go. Buffy was all ready, too. Her hair was in a fetchingly askew ponytail, and she had her shoes and socks on.
Just nothing in between.
She stifled a giggle when he caught sight of her and did a doubletake. “Buffy, what are you…we have to…to….”
Buffy caught her dangling ponytail between her fingers and twirled it slowly. “What do we have to do?” she asked innocently, absently drawing her right foot up her left calf and down again. His eyes followed the movement, and began to glaze over.
“We have to…to…leave,” he finally managed, choking a little.
Buffy smiled. “We don’t have to leave until
William could feel his brain fog up until thought was impossible. He had no idea how she did it, but he wasn’t going to fight it. “Plenty of time,” he agreed thickly, reaching up to unbutton his shirt. He tugged at the buttons to no avail until the threads holding them on threatened to snap. “Baby, I can’t—can’t—”
“Come here,” she invited, holding her arms out to him. Gratefully he abandoned his attempt on his shirt and buried himself in her arms, nudging her thighs apart to cradle him.
Beneath him Buffy shivered, relishing the weight of his body and the almost painful friction created by his clothing against her bare skin.
She’d thought maybe she was being too obvious, but apparently obvious was okay with him. Maybe it was primitive, but after seeing that woman drool all over William, Buffy had an almost desperate need to re-establish their connection. If she could, she’d tattoo her name on his forehead.
Unfortunately, she was fairly certain that people at school might notice if he walked around with “Property of Buffy Summers” spelled out right across his face. Yeah, that—
“Guh,” Buffy gasped, suddenly aware of William’s hands grasping the backs of her knees, pulling them further apart and pushing them up towards her shoulders. Tardily she remembered her shoes and reached down to remove them, but he put his hand on hers and stilled her movement.
“Leave them on,” he told her, his voice guttural.
Obligingly she wrapped them around his waist, and he growled his approval.
“Shirt,” he grated against her lips before pushing his tongue into her mouth. He didn’t bother with any of the preliminaries, and that was the way she wanted it. Wanted him. Primal and needy and not able to wait even another minute.
Just like her.
William’s hands pushed beneath her hips, grinding her soft skin against the coarse weave of his trousers as she shakily undid the buttons to his shirt. With a gasp of relief she fought off the last button, then pressed her breasts against his smooth, hard chest.
“Pants,” he grunted, nudging against her rhythmically. He dragged his mouth across her jawline, pressing kisses at random spots until he finally buried his face against the curve of her neck and began sucking voraciously, making her giddy. As she worked his fly open she vaguely thought that she would return to school with plainly visible marks on her neck, but she didn’t care.
And then his shaft was pushing into her hands, demanding attention, and everything else left her mind. “William,” she moaned, guiding him to her entrance and gasping softly as entered her.
William panted against her throat. He hadn’t caressed her, barely touched her, but he knew she was ready. He’d felt her burning through his trousers. Marking him.
They breathed against each other, savoring the feel of their bodies locked together—she enveloping him, he filling her. After a moment he rose above her, hands still cradling her hips, and slowly began to thrust.
William shuddered, trying to force himself not to spend immediately. A curious rushing filled his ears; for a moment, absurdly, he thought he could hear the blood pumping through his system. The outside world faded away, and all he knew was her, clenching him, squeezing him, making him hers. Exactly how he wanted to be.
William didn’t notice when the door opened and the flirtatious maid from the lobby began to enter, cloth in hand. She froze in place when she took in the sight in front of her, the beautiful man from the lobby, fully dressed, atop the girl with her long, naked legs wrapped around him, pumping, sighing.
Buffy cast a glance over his shoulder to see the maid in the doorway, then returned her attention to William. She clenched around him, and he gasped his praise. “That’s right, baby, that’s right…just. Like. That.”
The door shut as silently as it had opened, and the maid was gone. Buffy cupped William’s face between her hands and stroked her tongue across his parted lips, and he groaned. “Need this. Need you,” he told her thickly.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and tightened her legs, digging the short heels of her shoes into his ass. His strangled gasp told her he didn’t mind at all. “Me too,” she whispered softly. “Me too.”
~*~*~*~
The maid was nowhere to be seen as William and Buffy left the hotel, bypassing the front desk, since they’d already checked out. They were silent as they left the bed and breakfast behind them. They’d had to travel hours to have this weekend to themselves. Now they were leaving it behind, and it was as if it had never happened. As if it were a dream, or merely a fantasy.
The drive home would take until mid-afternoon, and then he’d drop her off in town to take a cab to school. Of course, he’d wait to see she caught one safely.
William felt tears stinging his eyes, and silently reproached his weakness. For touching her, for wanting her, for needing her. For…for everything. For being so sentimental that with every mile the school grew closer, his heart grew heavier. He wasn’t usually so mawkish. He’d never acted this way before.
Of course, he’d never had Buffy before, either.
Suddenly Buffy was cuddling against William’s side, one arm wrapped around him as she leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed happily.
William glanced down at her and eased his arm around her shoulders. “We’re not going to have any trouble, are we?” he asked. Trouble like on the trip down, he meant.
She knew what he was talking about. “No,” she answered sunnily. It had been a beautiful weekend, and she wasn’t going to do anything to spoil it.
He’d never know that she’d called the front desk to request the maid clean up a spill in room twelve, and that she shouldn’t bother knocking. Just come on in.
Buffy would be expecting her.
