A/N: Thank you everyone sticking with this story... each of you is a tremendous dish. ;)

Thank you All4Spike and BloodyHell for swift betaing!
 

Chapter 18


Buffy was mortified. The sugar infested coffee Spike had gulped down like it was a glass of water seemed to have a strange, very unpredictable effect on his behaviour. His pupils were slightly dilated and a permanent grin that bordered on maniacal was fixed on his face.


But that wasn’t the worst. Spike had tipped over the salt shaker until it all spilled on the table and he now used it as a canvas for drawing crude images with his index finger. What it depicted, she didn’t even want to contemplate.


She kicked him on the shin.


“Keep those feet to yourself, pet.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Unless you want me to bite them off.”


She banged her head against the table but the reprieve didn’t last long and soon Spike was shaking her shoulder, giggling.


“What!”


“Look.”


She did and rolled her eyes. “You can’t draw boobs in a public restaurant.”


“But they’re your boobs,” Spike said, jutting out his lower lip.


“My nipples are not lopsided.” She glanced down at her chest with a frown.


“Mmm, maybe you should let me have a look then, yeah? For accuracy and all.”


He stared at her breasts with dazed eyes.


“No way, Mister. Now let me finish my pancakes in peace so we can get out and never come here again because I‘m sure they’re about to kick us out.”


Spike bounced his knee up and down rapidly, making the whole seat vibrate. Just as she was about to put the fork in her mouth, Spike grasped her wrist and tugged it in his direction. His eyes closed for a second as he wrapped his lips around the fork to suck the bit of pancake into his mouth with a groan of enjoyment.


“Hey, that was mine,” she protested though it came out a lot breathier and far less threatening that she’d planned.


“Yummy.” He licked his lips and pinned her with a lustful gaze. “Though not as sweet as your pussy is, I bet.”


“Ugh…”


Who knew dirty talk could be a turn on?


She might have squeaked out something barely resembling human speech before finishing her pancake in a hurry.


“Let’s ditch this place,” Spike said with a suggestive grin.


“Well, go pay first.”


“What if I don’t want to?” He tapped his chin with his forefinger, pretending to mull it over. “Yeah, I’m not gonna.”


He made a move to dash but she was faster and clasped her fingers around his wrist, yanking him back to the seat. “If you leave I swear I’m gonna find you and… do something. Something painful and humiliating.”


Spike lifted a brow. “Strikes fear right into my unbeating heart. But I’ll bite… figuratively. Pay then, love.”


“But you have the money.”


“I do, don’t I?”


She pouted. “Spike…”


He relaxed into his seat with mischief twinkling in his oh so blue eyes, his legs splayed. “It’s in my front pocket.”


Her eyes darted to the pocket in question. “So? Take it out.”


“Nope. If you want to pay, you take it out.” A grin.


The sneaky bastard. Like she’d be embarrassed to put her hands near his… his… stuff? She’d show him!


She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, glancing around to check if anyone was watching. Then with a nod of determination she delved her hand into the front pocket of his jeans. They were snug. Very, very snug. She fumbled around until she found a thick wad of bills, single-mindedly ignoring anything else her questing fingers might have come in contact with.


Spike growled and shot her a look that threatened to melt her right into the cheap vinyl seat.


Finally, she drew out her hand and counted out the bills to pay for their dinner before putting the rest into the front pocket of her skirt. As she stood up and walked out of the restaurant she could feel Spike hot on her heels. In fact, Spike’s presence was definitely making itself known when he entwined his fingers with hers and tugged her against him.


“Spike, what are yo-”


She really wanted to finish that sentence. And she would have if he hadn’t pressed her up against a random car in the parking lot, his mouth swallowing any resistance she might have offered.


Her arms fell to her sides as she sighed into his mouth. As though his lips devouring hers were that one thing missing in her life and as soon as they made contact again, all the doubts evaporated. It was just her and him and the incredibly taste of sugar and Spike.


His tongue twisted around hers, his hands always touching and sending sparks of electricity across her skin. Her need to touch him became irresistible and her own hands sprung into action, roaming the expanse of his back. It was hard to breathe as her heart picked up in speed, making her blood race through her veins. But oxygen didn’t matter. Not when he commanded her every sense with expert brushes of his fingers against her bare thighs. Not when he sampled her lips with a groan of enjoyment that made her shiver. Nobody but Spike had the capacity to render her utterly speechless and completely willing to let him have her in the middle of a parking lot.


He wedged his thigh between her legs, rubbing against her and quite frankly driving her out of her mind with the rising tension. Any last barriers fell down with a thunderous crash and her fingers traced the dip of his lower back until she was squeezing the tight muscles of his ass.


The kiss deepened until Buffy thought they were going to eat each other alive, their tongues clashing in a silent war for dominance as they clutched at each other with barely restrained desperation. He pulled away long enough for her to draw in a breath, tearing his lips down her throat, one of his hands sliding up to cup her breast.


“Been wanting to do this all day,” he rasped and before she could make her brain work enough to come up with a fumbled reply, their lips were joined again, her every nerve ending raw and sensitive to his ministrations.


She nipped at his swollen lips, urging him to rock against her faster. Spike complied, his other hand sneaking under her skirt to caress her bottom. And now she knew for sure Spike was evil because the way he teased the edges of her panties almost had her jumping out of her skin with the need to feel him everywhere. Fire was licking her skin now and she whimpered into his mouth, moving against him with arched back, pushing into his capable hands that were driving her closer and closer towards the edge.


“Ehm… ehm… excuse me!” a man called from behind Spike, the voice penetrating Buffy’s lust-addled mind.


She pushed Spike off, mortification making blood rush to her cheeks. Spike didn’t seem to get the memo, his lips still puckered as he made a move to dive in for another kiss.


“Spike… stop it,” she said and held him off with outstretched arms.


The middle aged man who had interrupted the happy ending Buffy was about to indulge in frowned at them in disapproval.


“That’s my car,” the man said, irritation clear in his voice.


It was that moment Spike chose to make his presence known. “Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something here, mate?”


The man’s jaw dropped and sputtered something unintelligible in response. By then all Buffy wanted to do was dig a nice big hole in the ground and crawl into it until she stopped feeling like a skank caught with her hand in a cookie jar. Or squeezing Spike’s butt as the case may have been.


“I’m sorry. W-we’re going. Right, Spike?”


Not waiting for his response, she seized him by the T-shirt—definitely not noticing the firm muscles beneath—and dragged him away, her legs still wobbly.


She made it to the edge of the lot when Spike banded his arms around her waist and growled. Her knees almost buckled as his body molded against her back, making her heart gallop once again. This was utterly insane. This unexplainable need she felt for him. For his touch. His taste. All of him.


“Buffy,” he whispered her name in a husky voice, his hold loosening as his hands slid up to cup her breasts.


She wriggled in a half-hearted effort to shake him off. “We can’t.”


“Why not? I can smell how hot you are. Almost came back there, didn’t you?” He pinched her nipples, making her gasp and quiver. “Want you so much, Buffy. Can you feel it?”


Oh boy, could she ever. The way he pressed against her behind and kept touching her in no way made it easy for her to think. There was a reason they shouldn’t be getting so close. She had it on the tip of her tongue. Only Spike’s taste seemed to have chased it away with a triumphant middle finger to prove its victory.


Reason didn’t stand a chance.


Spike’s whole body practically vibrated with repressed energy. Probably the influence of the sugar high that had made him overly affectionate and incredibly hyper. She should never have let him order that coffee in the first place.


“We c-can’t… because… we should be on our way! Before the s-sun comes up.”


“We still have our stuff back at the motel. Wouldn’t want to abandon Mr. Donald now, would you?”


He brushed her hair to the side and nibbled on the shell of her ear, his wicked tongue playing with the piercings. How did he know it was her weakness?


“But we only… to get the stuff.” Did that even make sense? God, what was he doing to her?


They somehow managed to stumble down two blocks to the motel, Spike constantly stopping to steal kisses that rendered her almost unable to walk, not to mention think rationally.


After what seemed like ages they finally made it to the motel room, Buffy fumbling with the key and trying to fit it into the lock while Spike slid his hand under her top and caressed his way up her torso. When he reached her breast and squeezed slightly, she dropped the keys.


With an impatient growl, Spike gripped the doorknob with his free hand and broke it off. She opened her mouth to protest but she found herself pushed against the door, slamming it closed behind them as Spike’s lips covered hers.


Too weak to deny him, she wound her arms around his waist to pull him closer. She could feel his body moving against hers, her heartbeat frantically beating against his still chest. But that way okay, her heart could beat fast enough for both of them.


Spike tilted his head to the side, kissing her long and deep until she forgot her own name. All she needed was him. Suddenly touching him seemed the most important thing in the world and she pulled the T-shirt from his jeans, her fingers tentatively slipping under the material to caress his trembling stomach.


He sighed into her mouth before nibbling on her lower lip.


“Spike… please,” she whispered between kisses, unsure of what she was pleading for but knowing she was going to burn up if he didn’t quell the fire.


He slowed down the kiss, his hands softly tracing her curves until he reached her bare thighs. Shivers erupted on her flesh when he stroked the place her legs met her ass, his fingertips dangerously close to the place she needed him the most.


“Gonna make you feel so good,” he murmured against her lips then kissed a hot trail along her jaw before sucking on her neck in just the right spot to make her gasp. Her leg automatically hooked around his hip.


Spike’s left hand wandered to the front, his touch tickling her inner thigh before he slid upwards and brushed her panties aside. Harsh breaths filled the silence of the room. Then he caressed her, his expert fingers slipping over her flesh with ease that made her throw her head back against the door.


Her hand flew to clutch at his forearm and she didn’t know whether it was to stop him or to keep him from doing just that. He made the decision for her and she feared she wouldn’t be able to stand anymore when he slid two of his fingers inside. It was a tight fit and she bit her bottom lip before locking her eyes with his. What she saw there made her tremble.


Nobody had ever looked at her like that. Like she was a piece of chocolate fudge cake he couldn’t wait to take a bite out of. Like her every moan and whimper as he slowly pumped his fingers nearly drove him out of his mind with lust. He leaned in and kissed her desperately, sucking at her tongue in tandem with his thrusts.


Her knees trembled and if it wasn’t for him holding her up she would have crumpled to the floor. Her nails dug into his shoulder blades when the heel oh his hand pressed against her clit and he crooked his fingers inside her to hit something really interesting.


“Oh God, Spike!” She rocked her hips in time with his movements, his growl against her cheek pushing her higher and higher until she thought she’d pass out from the sensual overload.


“So beautiful,” he whispered roughly.


Then he swapped long and deep thrusts for settling on that one spot inside her that made the breath catch in her throat when he massaged it rapidly. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling her toes curl as the tide started to crest. She just needed one… little… push. Spike bit on her neck with blunt teeth and she flew off the edge, falling and falling, blackness tinting the edge of her vision with the force of her release.


Spike slowed down his movements, drawing out her pleasure, guiding her down from the high until she slumped against him. He drew out his fingers, the friction making her spasm in an aftershock and she watched with wide eyes as he sucked them into his mouth with a groan that could only be identified as the sexiest thing she’d ever heard.


Their gazes locked, tension between them so thick she could hack it with an axe. Someone banged on the door, making her jump.


“If you want to stay another day, you’re gonna have to pay up! And I’m charging you for the broken lock!” came a grumpy voice through the wooden door.


Oh, come on! Spike thought desperately, resigning himself to another case of blue balls.


TBC

 

A/N: Yay for blue balls?!