Her Little Secret
This wasn’t where she was
supposed to be. Never here and certainly never with him. She didn’t care. Not
tonight anyway. The ache between her legs was burning her alive. Tugging her
short, red leather skirt down, Buffy slipped from her mother’s jeep. If her
mother ever knew she’d borrowed it while she was out of town, she’d kill her.
But it was only one more thing she didn’t care about. Not tonight, not at
Angel had been gone for
almost five months without a backward glance. Spike was back. And she was
learning what it was like to be a vampire’s whore.
There were stares as she
made her way across the Sunnydale Motel parking lot. She ignored them. Her eyes
fixed on the door that was her destination. The number someone’s idea of a
joke, 666, and it was their room. One night a week she found her way here to
the treat of being able to do it on a bed. Most nights they fucked
wherever they could find an iota of privacy.
The motel nights were the
ones where they played out their darkest fantasies. His mostly but she was
learning to love them. He’d leave clothes or instructions for her in his crypt.
She would follow his requests by either wearing the clothes or picking up what
he wanted then meet him here. Never did they arrive together. She wouldn’t risk
being seen in public with him. She wanted the cover of night. Her desires
fulfilled by the darkness of his demon.
He opened the door even as
she went to knock. He was waiting. The one quick glance she was afforded showed
the blood red satin sheets, the candles burning around the room and the
handcuffs shining in their glow.
“You are quite the little
slut, aren’t you?” Spike purred. He pulled her into the middle of the room then
slowly walked around her. She held her head up as he took in the red lace bra
showing through the black mesh shirt, the leather skirt barely covering her ass
and the black fishnet stockings flowing down into red stiletto heels. “I like
what you do to yourself when you want to please me.”
“Just fuck me, Spike, and
get it over with.”
The slap was unexpected. The
back of his hand sent her stumbling on the impossibly high heels. She held her
stinging cheeks as she regained her footing, staring her hatred at him. He
laughed. She wondered if Angel would even care if he knew what she was doing.
Probably not. He left her, didn’t he?
Tears welled up in her eyes
as she accepted what she had become. All of it was because she wanted to
forget. The first time she had tried to pretend it was the love of her life as
she touched the coolness of Spike’s flesh. But the heat between them was too
much and it was Spike’s name she screamed while being fucked into the rough top
of the sarcophagus. It was him that she was addicted to.
They stared at each other.
Then he reached for her and she went…willingly. He kissed her. Hot, drowning,
passionate, sweeps of his tongue tickling the back of her throat. His erection
pressed into the apex of her thighs making her wet with desire. His hands cupping
her ass pulled her closer until she parted her legs just to be able to stand.
She wasn’t idle. Her hands
dived under his shirt to clutch at the plane of his back. Her tongue angling
with his and her nipples ached for his touch.
“What do you want tonight?”
Spike asked, walking them backwards toward the bed. “Tonight I’ll do whatever
you want.” He chuckled. “I think I’ve taught you enough for you to take control
for once.”
Oh, yes, he had taught her
well. She didn’t think there was anything they hadn’t tried. Sometimes she felt
degraded as he did things to her that no good girl should want but he always
left her wanting more. The ache replaced by a soreness left by being used over
and over. She reveled in the memories as she went through her daylight life. No
one knew. No one suspected. It was just as she wanted it, just as she wanted
him, her little secret to enjoy.
The back of her knees hit
the bed. She went to crawl back but he stopped her. He held the back of her
legs while she stared at him leaning on her elbows.
“Lift up, Slayer.”
She did, letting him pull
the mere wisp of her red lace thong down. She was open to him. The thought
thrilled her and she felt the rush of her juices flowing again. She needed him.
He didn’t disappoint, spreading her knees even further apart, pulling her to
the very edge of the bed.
“Do you want my tongue or my
cock?”
“I…your tongue,” Buffy
rasped out. “Eat me.”
He laughed. He loved that he
had gotten her to the point of talking dirty. She thrust her hips up toward
him. Silently, begging him to put her out of her misery. He ran one finger down
her slit. His touch so light she could barely feel it. She threw herself down
on the bed, biting her lip, to keep from screaming her frustration. His finger
rested at the sensitive area between her pussy and her ass. Without warning he
thrust into her heated, dripping channel. This time she didn’t contain the
scream. He dove all the way in, finding the perfect spot and stroking it.
Buffy arched up trying to
find the right amount of friction on his seeking digit. He laid a hand on her
stomach to hold her down. It was then that he finally lowered his head. His
tongue didn’t take the time to tease. It went directly to her aching clit to
flick at it. She sighed. His finger and tongue worked together to take her from
the pain of her life. This was where she was happy. He knew exactly how to
caress her, how to push her buttons, how to take her to the very edge of
paradise.
She squirmed as his tongue
circled her clit letting her ardor build a little more. He slipped another
finger into her then he added a third. The rhythm was a slow thrust that had
her curling her toes and clutching the sheets in her gripping fingers. Only a
little more and she would be flying. He dragged it out, changing the tempo, his
tongue flat, licking up and down. She was ready to push him aside and do it
herself when he latched onto her clit again. He sucked it between his teeth to
slowly nibble on it. She lost it. Her orgasm crashed through her. She broke her
rules, grabbing his hair, and throwing her legs around his shoulders. She let
him know her need for him.
“Oh, god, Spike, oh, oh,”
Buffy rambled, letting herself be lost in what she was feeling. Nothing out
there could compare to this…to him. “Oh, so good, Spike.”
“Let go, pet,” Spike
growled, holding onto her legs as he stood. She was almost upside down when she
unclasped her ankles. He flipped her, shoving her face down in the sheets. He
didn’t wait. He pushed her skirt up. She heard the rasp of his zipper and she
opened her legs in anticipation. “On your knees,” he ordered and she obeyed.
Her ass was high in the air waiting for him.
He grabbed her hips, letting
his fingers sink into the soft flesh. There would be bruises in the morning. He
positioned himself at her opening. She was tingling with how much she wanted
his cock to fill her up. This time he was slow, easing in a little then pulling
back, then another slow thrust back into her. It was always different. Somehow
he knew how to match her mood. She wondered what it would be like if they ever
made love. How it would be if they ever did it the normal, boring missionary
position. It was the only position they hadn’t tried. Neither wanted that much
intimacy. They were in it for the pleasure, the feel of the fuck; it was a
truce they had made so they could both get off.
“Where are you, kitty,
kitty,” Spike said, knowing she had drifted off a little. He took her arms and
pulled her up so they were back to chest. His hands teased at her breasts,
plucking at her nipples until they were hardened buds thrusting out for his
attention. “What does the big bad have to do to keep your attention? Maybe you
need to be punished.”
Slap.
His hand hit against her
hip. He didn’t hold back and she winced from the sudden pain. She grabbed his
hand moving it across her belly and in between her legs.
“You want me to pay
attention,” Buffy whispered. “Then make me feel that you’re there.”
“Whatever you want, baby,”
Spike said, walking them forward. He wrapped her hands around the top of the
headboard. “Hang on. You’ll need it.”
Holding nothing back he
pounded into her from behind. His hands propped on the wall on either side of
him so he could keep his balance. Every ounce of his vampire strength was used
to thrust into her. She bounced with each inward stroke. The bed rocked. His
cock, hard and hungry, took what it needed from her. She felt him scraping
along her inner walls, battering at the entrance to her womb, and she loved it.
Every motion was sending her into a fervor she didn’t know existed. Every
slayer should have a vampire love, she thought as he played her body like only
he could. Riley and his sweet sappy kisses could never drain her like this.
She pushed her bottom back,
spreading her legs a little more, anything to get fucked a little harder. Her
hand spread the lips of her cunt, rubbing against herself. He was lost in what
he was doing. This orgasm she had to give to herself or she would remain unsatisfied.
Her body bowed back. Her head resting on his shoulder, begging for the one
thing he had never given her. The one thing she craved. To be marked as his
property. To take away Angel’s mark. She didn’t want it anymore.
“Bite me,” Buffy begged, voicing
her need for the first time. Never had she asked. Never had she let her inner
feelings come into the play. Never had she admitted to herself what she did
want. “Please.”
Spike wrapped his arms
around her, twisting them until she was on the bed again with him molded to her
back. He hadn’t lost his rhythm. He was still pounding into her.
“Spike, please, mark me.”
He pushed her hair to the
side. “You’ll be mine. I’ll never let you go or let anyone else have you.”
“Yes, please, only you,” she
whimpered. “This is all I need.”
“I want the world to know,”
Spike whispered, his fingers snaking down into cunt, playing with her clit.
“You will tell everyone that you are mine.”
She squeezed his cock with
every muscle her pussy had. “You won’t hunt anymore. You’ll help me fight evil.”
He scraped his fangs along
her shoulder.
“Yes,” he whispered, biting
into her, forcing another orgasm from her.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Buffy
chanted as he drank from her, his cock spilling his seed deep inside her and
his fingers twisting at her clit. “I’m yours.”
They collapsed weak from
what the passion had wrought from them. Neither spoke for a long while. Her
breathing heavy with exertion, his matched hers just to be a part of her. When
her heart had slowed some, and oxygen was no longer an issue, he turned her
over with gentle hands. He undressed her, dropping the guise onto the floor.
His jeans followed.
She watched him. His eyes
were hooded and she was unable to read them. Her stomach clenched unable to
stand the silence anymore. What if he hadn’t meant it? What if she had blown
everything? What if he never wanted to see her again? What if he didn’t love
her?
Spike came back to her,
cradling her in his arms, pulling her close. He licked at his mark and she
wanted to purr in contentment. This was perfect. It was what she had really
wanted all along. Her fingers threaded through his hair.
“Stay the night,” Spike
whispered.
“If you’ll make love to me,”
Buffy whispered back before pulling him down for a kiss that sealed what their
hearts demanded.
~~~The End~~~
