NOTE: This Chapter is rated "M". I hope it does not go over the guidelines for "M". If it does, let me know and I will edit it. But you have been warned! Thank You!

Chapter Nine: Come What May

There he was, standing across the room from her. And he was not alone. There were two very tall, very beautiful women standing one on either side of him. He had his arms around them, laughing, and carrying on. What a jerk!

What a handsome, gorgeous jerk that Buffy wanted so bad she could scream.

She pushed her way through the crowd to the bar. The bartender gave her a glass of champagne and she gulped it down. He refilled her glass. She left the bar, going over to the far side of the room, her eyes finding Bruce again immediately.

He was still there, having a great time it seemed. Figures that she would be pining away, crushed and full of regret while he had obviously gotten over her fairly quickly and was moving on.

She didn't know whether to go punch him or slap him.

She did know that whatever one she did choose, she would then kiss him, whether he was conscious or not.

She watched him as she made small talk when she had to, but she always made sure she could see him no matter what. He was wearing a medium gray, pinstriped suit; with a white shirt also pinstriped with what she would see were a pale blue color, and a black silk tie. His hair was perfect. His dark eyes bright, though there were a few times she could have sworn a shadow fell across them.

And then it happened.

She had taken her eyes off of him for just a second. Just to look down at her half empty glass, thinking that half empty meant time for a refill. When she looked back up, there he was, immaculate suit, beautiful women still attached to his sides, and he was looking at her.

Their eyes met and for a moment everything froze. It was like being shocked with a high voltage of electricity. She was surprised her hair was not standing on end. Time seemed to slow, the sounds of the crowd dissipated as if sucked from the room. He stared back at her, his face blank, his eyes dark and penetrating. It seemed like forever, but it was only actually for a second and then, just like that, he turned away from her, gracing one of the bimbos at his side with a smile, and Buffy was forgotten.

It pissed her off.

It totally sent her Slayer libido into overdrive.

The champagne was going to her head. It was either that or the cologne worn by Bruce Wayne that was making her tingle from head to toe. She could smell it from where she stood, over all the other scents in the room. Her dress felt confining and she slipped out of her high heels shoes, kicking both off in separate directions, not caring at all about what anyone thought. Truth be told, she was daring someone to say something.

Bruce had moved from where he had been holding court all evening, and was now seated on a couch between the two young women who were wearing dresses that looked like something out of Vogue. They were obviously models and by the silly grins on their faces it was clear Bruce was entertaining them with a story; she couldn't imagine either woman had anything more interesting to say than what they'd eaten and then thrown up in the same afternoon. Despite feeling a little jealous and more than a little dislike for each of the women pawing at his arms, Buffy came toward the couch, her eyes focused on Bruce, the rest of the world shut out around her. He paused in mid-sentence, taking in her approach with lewd approval and casually slid his arms around either woman soliciting a giggle from both.

Buffy tossed her hair back, gliding by the couch, fuming inside until a young man with blonde hair and a wild flowered shirt hurried over to her, carrying both of her shoes. She paused, allowing him to kneel and slide the shoes onto her feet, her gaze transferring from the newcomer to Bruce. When the man stood up, he blocked her view of the billionaire playboy philanthropist. His offer to get her a fresh drink was accepted and she took his arm as they walked over to the bar together. Taking a seat on a stool, she laughed and nudged her new friend while he told her in an animated voice about the stock market and his family's home on Martha's Vineyard and how she would fit in so nicely with his friends. She accepted the invitation to join him for the weekend, not at all meaning to go.

After two rounds of drinks came and went, her attention remaining on the blonde and not on Bruce, she was not at all surprised when a figure slid in between them and ordered three champagnes. It was Bruce. She ignored him, though she was well aware when his hand slid across her thigh. He was standing far too close. Close enough to tell the other man that he was out of his league, and needed to move on.

The three champagnes he had ordered were placed on the bar, but ignored. Bruce turned toward Buffy and with a sigh and a tilt of his head, suggested they walk out into the courtyard to enjoy the sunset. She slid her arm through his and allowed him to guide her through the throng of people out to the courtyard which was lit with tiki torches around a swimming pool. Not sure what he intended, she permitted him to walk her around the pool and down a pathway bordered with flowering bushes. The moment they were out of sight of the crowd, Bruce jerked Buffy into his arms and up against his chest. She melted against him as his lips brushed across her own. She couldn't help but respond to him.

"What about the party? Your friends?" She managed to ask as he turned her around and walked her backwards, his lips latching onto the spot right below her left ear.

"Friends?" He chuckled as he guided her farther down the path. She soon found her back pressed against what she could only guess was a very tall hedge. It was kind of prickly on her back. "I don't know half of them and the ones I do know, I don't like."

"What about the models? You seemed to like them well enough."

Again he chuckled, his breath tickling her ear. "I was only with them for the attention. The second I saw you they became props to make you jealous."

She had a feeling she should be angry at his words, but for the life of her, she just couldn't be, especially when his hands trailed down her thighs, only to grip them and pull her up and off her feet. She wrapped her legs around him without delay, her shoes once again kicked off. Her back slammed into the hedge behind her - there was something else keeping it in place - as her arms came around his neck. He had succeeded in making her jealous, that was for sure.

Heaven help her, she wanted this man.

The mid-thigh length black dress she had worn had been a great choice. Deciding against the black panty hose had been an even better one.

His mouth found hers again, rough and desperate. She returned it with equal fervor. Her hands plummeted into his hair, yanking it just hard enough to make him growl, truly growl, and bite her bottom lip. Satisfied that she had thoroughly mussed his well groomed hair, she trailed her hands down to the two buttons of his jacket that were buttoned up. They popped off so easily. So much for the $5,000 suit. She didn't care if it stayed on or went off, just as long as it was out of the way.

His belt was next, undone, and pulled out, making a sound almost like a whip as it did. She told herself that she needed to gain a little bit of control here. She didn't want to damage his suit anymore than she had, and she didn't want to damage him any more than she needed to. She needed him fully functional. So, she took great care not to tear the button off the slacks he wore, or to mangle the zipper.

He, on the other hand, didn't give a damn about being gentle or careful with her clothing. Point proven when the underwear she wore was torn apart like the flimsy material they were made of.

The kiss stopped for a brief moment, his lips lingering against hers, every breath he took was hers and vice versa. Then he plunged back in, sucking her tongue into his mouth. She was so into it that when he thrust into her, it caught her off guard. She broke the kiss to yelp, but it turned into a long, drawn out moan. She threw her head back, her hair catching whatever the hell it was behind her. His lips latched onto her neck, teeth nipping just enough to sting in a very good way. One of her hands found its way into his hair again, while the other took a death hold onto his jacket just above his shoulder blade. Seconds later, she heard the expensive material tear. He didn't seem to care, so neither did she.

He pressed her harder into the thing behind her, her head banging into it every time he thrust into her. She was making noises she had never made before, wouldn't have even guessed that she could make. She could hear the party in the house, but it was like white noise. The sounds that were prominent to her were the ones she and he were making.

It was building. Intoxicating and marvelous. Buffy was far from innocent, even though it had been a while, but she swore she had never had it like this. It was all consuming, magical, soul shakingly divine. It was perfection. It was absolute bliss. The most intense experience she had ever had, and it wasn't even over yet.

Her head fell forward, some of her hair staying with the thing behind her as she did so. He kissed her again, and then nipped his way to her ear. "Listen to me," he whispered with significance. "I don't care who you are or what you do. It doesn't matter a damn bit to me, because it doesn't change the way I feel about you. Come what may, you are mine."

That did it. She dug her nails into his scalp and his shoulder, leaning her head forward to bite the material of his jacket on the undamaged side to stifle the scream that erupted from her. She rode the wave out with an almost frantic delight. Her heels dug into his thighs. He kept one arm around her, holding her tightly and securely, while the other slammed into whatever was behind her, moaning her name as he spilled liquid heat deep inside her.

Coming down was a slow process. She opened her eyes, half expecting a crowd to be gathered at the end of the pathway after having heard them, but there was no one, and the party could still be heard undisturbed. She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face into his hair, and whispered "Yours."

With his one arm still holding her up, he used his other hand to cup her chin and gently urge her to look at him. When she did, his eyes were bright and dancing with joy and love. Love! He smiled at her, an ear to ear grin that was contagious, causing her to return it. He kissed her again, deeply, but much more slowly than before. When they took a break to breathe, he put his forehead to hers, their bodies finally cooling down and calming.

"Buffy," he said and she recognized that this was the second time he had said her name, her real name.

"Yes," she answered. She wanted to know how he knew, but now was not the time to ask.

"Come home with me."

"Okay."

It took them a few moments for her to get her legs underneath her when he set her feet back down on the ground. Once she he was sure she was steady; they went about cleaning up the mess they had made. He found his belt. She had actually thrown it hard enough that it was wedged into a potted rose bush. Yanking it free severely damaged the foliage. She found her torn underwear down the path a ways by one of her shoes. The other had cleared the path and was lying by the pool. This gave them a good laugh and Buffy dashed out to get it, while he made sure no one happened to be watching, and then she ran back to him where he caught her in his arms, kissing her again.

They had to take care not to be seen. In order to do so, they had to skirt around the one side of the pool and quickly to another pathway that led to a gate. They laughed like a couple of teenagers the whole way. Once at the gate, Bruce opened it just enough to peer around to make sure no one happened to be standing out there. While he checked, Buffy had to stifle a laugh at what would happen if someone did catch them, especially one of the Gotham City Herald's reporters that seemed to follow him around everywhere. What would people think if they saw Bruce Wayne leaving a party with his shirt untucked, his jacket torn at the one shoulder, his hair a mess, and his belt and one black high heeled shoe in one hand, while the other was entwined with the hand of a young woman with holly bush scratches on her back, her hair tangled, and her torn underwear and the other black high heeled shoe in her other hand?

What a scandal that would be!

Fortunately, there were no other people out and about. His car was parked across the street and once he had disarmed the security alarm, they made a mad dash for it. As soon as they were safely inside, he Bruce started the engine and floored it, spinning out in a barrage of smoke as they took off.

"How are the models going to get home?" She asked in mock concern.

"Not my damn problem," he answered.

All of this was the funniest thing to the both of them. The night was cool, the sky clear and full of stars, with no traffic on the streets. The sunroof was open, and Buffy, feeling very brave, stood up, one foot in her seat, and the other on the console between the seats, and enjoyed the wind in her face, whipping her hair around. While she did so, she felt Bruce's hand on the back of her of her knee, and then his lips on her thigh. This prompted her to take her seat, telling him to "find some place to park this car" as she did so.

He wasted no time in taking her advice and after another intense round of lovemaking, where she was pretty sure they dented the hood of his very expensive Lamborghini in the process, they were off again, heading for the Palisades, where he lived.

Wayne Manor could be seen a mile away and as they got closer, it got bigger. Buffy was not only very impressed, but a little intimidated.

"Hey," he said, drawing her attention away from what they were heading toward and to him. He took her hand, holding it tightly, and kissed her knuckles. "Don't worry, all right?" It was as if he could read her mind, pick up on what she was feeling. "From this moment on, what is mine is yours. Got that?"

Though the console was in the way, she managed to lean over it enough to kiss him and then put her head on his shoulder.

The gates opened as they approached and he sped up to the front, parking the car as close to the door as possible. Once inside, he cautioned her to keep quiet as to not wake up Alfred, who had left a light on for his return, and they crept to and up the stairs, down the hall and to Bruce's room.