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Strip Snap by Lilachigh
 
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Strip Snap by Lilachigh


Chp 3 A Normal Girl


Drops of water cascaded like silver rain from the tips of the oars as Spike rowed them out across the moonlit lake. Buffy lay back on a pile of cushions in the stern of the boat, trailing her hand in the water.

‘Where did you learn to row?” she murmured, watching in lazy delight the pull of the muscles in his arms and shoulders under his black tee shirt.

Spike smiled at her, his teeth a white gleam in the darkness. “Oh you learn all sorts of things when you’ve been around as long as I have, pet. But rowing - well, I learnt how to punt when I was a student at Cambridge - at the university. But that’s far harder than it looks! If you’re not clever you can end up clinging to the bloody pole in the middle of the river while your lady love floats away down stream in the bloody boat! So I stuck to rowing!”

Buffy giggled. She liked the way Spike could make jokes about himself. Angel had never mentioned the man he’d been before he became a vampire. She knew he’d been called Liam and lived in Ireland, but little else.

Buffy stretched out her legs, watching the white feathers on the hem of her dress flicker in the breeze. Her bare feet reached Spike’s legs. She realised he’d kicked off his boots when he got in the boat and she rubbed her toes against his as they pushed against the wooden slats.

“Minx!” Spike growled. “If I catch a crab with the oars, you can swim for the shore, missy.”

Buffy tossed her head. “Don’t tell me that a few little toes can put you off your stroke?”

Spike hissed and she watched in glee as the material round his groin suddenly stretched under extreme pressure. “You’ve never complained about my stroke before,” he said, shifting uncomfortably on the wooden seat.

“Well, they say practice makes perfect!” Buffy said, wondering where on earth flirty Buffy had come from. What was it about Spike that made her so relaxed? Why didn’t it matter what she said to him?

She realised that she never had to think before she spoke. When she’d been with Riley, she’d always sort of edited her words before they left her mouth, worried that she might upset him in some way, behave in some way that would offend or bother him. With Spike she could say or do what she liked.

But was that how normal girls behaved? Buffy bit her lip. She wasn’t a normal girl, but she wanted to be. She dreamt of a normal life, even though she knew she’d never have one.

Surely normal girls tried to be as nice as they could be for their boyfriends. Being the Slayer shouldn’t give her any right to be a flirt or a bitch. If anything, she should surely make more of an effort to be normal?

But with Spike - things were complicated, different. And tonight - she took a deep breath and relaxed - she wouldn’t worry about it. Tonight was Spike’s idea of normal, carved out of a dream, a fantasy and she was going to enjoy it - whatever happened.

As he rowed, Spike watched the emotions chasing each other across her face. He knew her so well, guessed what was going on in her busy mind.

He loved the way she fought with herself. The flirting, the giggling, all so natural to his Slayer, then the worry that she shouldn’t do any of that, then the slight shrug of her shoulders, the way her creamy breasts heaved as she took a deep breath and decided that she would do what she wanted, for tonight, anyway.

Spike frowned. He’d wanted this evening to be normal for her, but in his heart of hearts he knew it wasn’t. How would he know how to give a girl a normal evening? He’d been around for too many years, seen too much, done too much. He was a vampire without a soul and the girl he loved was the Slayer. So not much normal there, he thought dryly.

He dug the oars in savagely and the little boat jerked forward through the water, shattering the golden ribbon of moonlight that lay across the black water.

“Where are we going?” Buffy asked at last, dreamily gazing out into the darkness.

“Late supper,” Spike replied, his bad mood instantly vanishing at the sight of her relaxed face.

“Spike, even you can’t conjure up a restaurant in the middle of a lake.”

The vampire glanced over his shoulder, pulled hard with one oar and swung the boat round a little. Buffy realised that the darkness she’d been looking at was, in fact, the darkness of a thickly wooded island.

There was the softest shimmer of light where the sandy beach edged down to the water. With one more thrust, Spike drove the boat up onto the beach, leapt out and pulled it higher up, out of the wavelets.

He picked Buffy up and carried her in his arms through the sand and up into the shelter of the tree line. When he put her down she could feel soft grass cool under her feet. She shivered slightly in the night breeze and heard leaves rustling around her.

“Stay still, Slayer,” Spike whispered and left her standing in the dark.

For a second she stood swaying until her eyes got used to the black and she began to see vague images. Then there was the flick of a lighter and there was Spike, sprawled in front of her on a rug, lighting two squat blood red candles in deep bronze dishes. The flames leapt up, casting flickering shadows across his face.

Buffy felt something dark and primitive stir within her. She stepped forward and sank down next to him, watching, fascinated as he pulled a wicker picnic hamper out from under a bush behind him.

“We didn’t have champagne at your birthday party, Goldilocks,” he said. “Thought that was a pity. Every girl should have champagne on her 21st birthday.”

“Do I get to drink it out of a silver goblet?” Buffy whispered as he twisted the foil top with brutally strong fingers and the cork gave way without a fight, the same way she always did when those same fingers pried apart the most private parts of her body, slid in and out, rubbing, petting, goading her over and over again into a shuddering, shaking, screaming.....

Spike grinned at her. “Sorry, pet, plastic tumblers were all I could get at short notice.”

He poured the bubbles out and pressed the cold tumbler into her hand. His sapphire gaze never left her face as he raised his own drink. She’d never seen him with this expression before - so blatantly happy, so intensely passionate. It scared her.

She, the Slayer who was frightened of nothing and no one usually, was frightened that she could cause a man - even a dead one - this sort of pleasure. No man had ever looked at her like this before. With love, perhaps, affection, tenderness. But never this all consuming desire. It didn’t make sense. She was the girl men left, not the girl who caused this blizzard of violent feelings.

“A toast, sweetheart. Happy birthday, Buffy Summers. May all your dreams come true.”

She stared back at him, her lips made the shape of Thank You, but no sound came from her mouth. She drank deeply, gasping as the dry bubbles hit the back of her throat.

Oh God, the way he was looking at her. Why wouldn’t he look away? She couldn’t breathe any more. She was going to pant, those dreadful noises were going to come from her throat again, she was as wet between her thighs as if She could feel herself begin to tremble, her hand was shaking.

The champagne slopped over the edge of the tumbler and splashed across her throat. Spike growled and leant forward so fast she didn’t have time to breathe. His tongue licked up the trickle as it slid down between her breasts and Buffy moaned deep inside her head at the sensations he was giving her.

He pushed her back onto the rug as one of the candles guttered sharply in a gust of wind and went out.

He pushed her dress slowly up her legs, inch by inch, his tongue following his fingers. The white thong she was wearing stood no chance. The lace broke and was tossed aside. She moaned in anticipation, whining softly when his fingers just played with the curls covering her quim.

She spread her legs wider, inviting him, demanding, begging, insisting - “Spike, please, please, don’t stop, please - Oooooh”

She shrieked as icy cold champagne was poured over her and as her hips rose sharply off the rug, a mouth and tongue dived into the bubbles, licking and sucking and drinking. Her clit was being tickled by fizz and licked into a frenzy by the vampire’s clever tongue.

Then, without warning, his fingers joined in and the internal pressures were building and building and oh god please don’t let him stop, please don’t stop, oh god waves and waves of red hot pleasure that was too much, too much, too much and he sent her screaming her release into the darkness as the last candle was blown out by a gust of wind and above them, lightning flashed and the heavens opened.

to be continued

 
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