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Chapter 18: It's About Damn Time
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Andrea sighed deeply and playfully blew a mound of bubbles towards her feet. She tossed her luffa at the bathtub wall and caught it when it bounced back. She heard a weak squeal as her arm brushed her rubber duck, Captain Nemo. She picked him up and set him carefully on top of the shampoo bottle, more out of boredom than anything else.
She'd been in the bath for at least half an hour. She resignedly yanked the plug out of the drain with her toe and stood carefully up. She dried off and dressed in the clothes she'd brought in with her. Walking into her bedroom, she hesitated for a moment, before going to the only empty corner and sitting in it. She brought her knees to her chin, locking her arms around her shins.
"What's wrong with me?" she asked herself. Okay, let's make a list. You're in love with a vampire. You can barely stop yourself from jumping his bones whenever your in the same room as him. He probably doesn't give a damn about you. Face it. You're screwed. You need to seek professional help. You -
"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Spike frowned at the curled up version of Andrea. She fiddled with her sock, avoiding his gaze.
"Remember when I told you that sometimes I have crazy logic?" He swallowed at the memory.
"Yes, pet."
"Well, this is one of those times." When he remained silent, she continued. "See, I figure that if I make myself really small, then there will be less of me that wants you, and I won't have to fight it so hard."
"I see. I think." When she looked up at him, he was grinning. He held out a hand toward, and, when she took it, pulled her to her feet. He let his hands drop to her waist and whispered softly against her lips, "You don't have to fight it anymore." She lightly pressed her lips against his and moaned softly as his hand moved up her rib cage to cover her breast, his other hand pressing her against his growing erection. Andrea deftly removed Spike's belt, and unzipped his black jeans as she followed him down onto her bed. He groaned when she slipped her hand inside his pants and stroked him lightly. She smiled against his lips. His fingers tunneled into her golden locks, pushing through her lips with his tongue.
"Why don't I have to fight it, Spike?" she asked quickly between kisses.
"Because. . .Oh, God. . ."
"Good answer." They heard a loud crash downstairs and jerked away from each other. After a moment of silence, Andrea said, "Jill probably just knocked something over." Then they heard an angry roar.
"I don't think Jill would get that pissed off at a household appliance, love." She scooted off the bed and heard Spike do up his pants as she hurried to the door, jerking it open.
The Mellora demon stood at the bottom of the stairs, the door lying flat on the floor. "Shit," Andrea cursed. Spike appeared beside her.
"Bloody hell."
It started to stomp furiously up the staircase toward them. Andrea grabbed Spike's hand and pulled him into the hall. Just as it reached the top of the stairs, Andrea yanked Spike over the railing. They landed on the floor below, the force of the landing knocking the wind out of them. She ran into the livingroom and grabbed a blanket, tossing it at Spike, who took the hint and covered his head with it. Andrea grabbed her car keys and they ran outside. She gave a sharp whistle, and Jill bounded out of the house and into the car. Spike jumped into the passenger seat as Andrea started the car and squealed out of the driveway, hoping they could get somewhere safe before Spike got a little flamey.
"My crypt," he suggested, and she swerved to the left, in the direction of the cemetery. "I'd also appreciate it if you'd hurry," he said in a slightly panicky voice. "I'm starting to sizzle." She stomped on the break and pulled Spike out of the car, dodging headstones as they ran toward the mausoleum. Andrea threw open the door and they stumbled inside, Jill right on their heels. Spike tossed the blanket to the floor with a yell, stomping out the flames that had ignited somewhere between the Johnson memorial and Dottie Parker's grave. His chest heaving from exertion, he gave her a boyish grin. "That your friend?" She nodded.
"Funny. Yeah, that's my good old buddy Mel."
"He's not so tough." Spike shrugged. "I could have taken him." Andrea walked slowly towards him, placing her arms around his neck.
"My hero." She ran her fingers through his bleached curls. He kissed her neck.
"S'not fair," he said softly against her skin.
"What's not fair?"
"Us gettin' all worked up like that. Without actually gettin' to hit anything." His mouth had worked its way to her lips.
"You're right," she gasped. "Not fair at all."
"But I can think of a few ways to . . .unwind." He pushed her against the cool stone wall, bracing her there with his hips. He kissed her fervently and pulled her shirt over her head, revealing her full breasts, rising and falling heavily beneath the lacey cups of her bra. He placed a moist kiss on the swell of her breast. She curled her fingers into his hair.
"Spike, this is wrong," she moaned as his fingers teased her nipple into a small, hard bead. She tugged his black tee off him and ran her hands over his smoothed, muscled chest.
"Then why does it feel so right?" he asked against her lips. She didn't answer. Just helped him remove her hip-huggers. He carried her to his sarcophagus, which, surprisingly, was covered by a few pillows and a comforter, but she was too distracted to comment. Spike flicked open the clasp of her bra, tossing it to the floor, before peeling the matching panties down over her hips. When he moved his fingers to the most sensitive spot of her body, she gasped, and he covered her mouth with his, sweeping its heated interior with his tongue. He pushed his fingers into her. She was warm, tight and wet. She moaned in ecstasy. Andrea frantically yanked at his belt, until she tore it out of the loops on his jeans, then she pushed the denim pants down over his hips. They fell to the floor and landed in a careless pile.
"Spike, please," she begged him. He smiled.
"Please what?" She dug her nails into his shoulders.
"I need you inside me." He maneuvered himself between her thighs, spreading them easily. She cried out when he thrust into her. It was all he could do to keep from coming that second. She was so snug and hot. He groaned and began to move inside her, pulling almost completely out of her before burying himself inside her again. She locked her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into her. He inched her legs higher. "Oh, God. . .Spike. . ." He moved a hand between their sweat-slicked bodies and expertly pressed the tiny bead of flesh he sought. Andrea could feel her muscles tightening, her climax building as liquid heat seared every inch of her body, radiating out from every spot Spike touched.
"Let it go, love," he whispered to her. "Come for me." His erotic words pushed her over the edge. She screamed his name, shuddering violently beneath him. He came with her, pouring the frustrations of the past week into her inviting body.
Jill, who was curled up on one of Spike's chairs, gazed at them boredly, as if to say, 'It's about damn time.'
A/N: What do you think? Hot enough for ya? Sorry it took me so long, but I just couldn't resist making them suffer. It was masterful. ;) Anyways, review. Tell me what you think.
Andrea sighed deeply and playfully blew a mound of bubbles towards her feet. She tossed her luffa at the bathtub wall and caught it when it bounced back. She heard a weak squeal as her arm brushed her rubber duck, Captain Nemo. She picked him up and set him carefully on top of the shampoo bottle, more out of boredom than anything else.
She'd been in the bath for at least half an hour. She resignedly yanked the plug out of the drain with her toe and stood carefully up. She dried off and dressed in the clothes she'd brought in with her. Walking into her bedroom, she hesitated for a moment, before going to the only empty corner and sitting in it. She brought her knees to her chin, locking her arms around her shins.
"What's wrong with me?" she asked herself. Okay, let's make a list. You're in love with a vampire. You can barely stop yourself from jumping his bones whenever your in the same room as him. He probably doesn't give a damn about you. Face it. You're screwed. You need to seek professional help. You -
"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Spike frowned at the curled up version of Andrea. She fiddled with her sock, avoiding his gaze.
"Remember when I told you that sometimes I have crazy logic?" He swallowed at the memory.
"Yes, pet."
"Well, this is one of those times." When he remained silent, she continued. "See, I figure that if I make myself really small, then there will be less of me that wants you, and I won't have to fight it so hard."
"I see. I think." When she looked up at him, he was grinning. He held out a hand toward, and, when she took it, pulled her to her feet. He let his hands drop to her waist and whispered softly against her lips, "You don't have to fight it anymore." She lightly pressed her lips against his and moaned softly as his hand moved up her rib cage to cover her breast, his other hand pressing her against his growing erection. Andrea deftly removed Spike's belt, and unzipped his black jeans as she followed him down onto her bed. He groaned when she slipped her hand inside his pants and stroked him lightly. She smiled against his lips. His fingers tunneled into her golden locks, pushing through her lips with his tongue.
"Why don't I have to fight it, Spike?" she asked quickly between kisses.
"Because. . .Oh, God. . ."
"Good answer." They heard a loud crash downstairs and jerked away from each other. After a moment of silence, Andrea said, "Jill probably just knocked something over." Then they heard an angry roar.
"I don't think Jill would get that pissed off at a household appliance, love." She scooted off the bed and heard Spike do up his pants as she hurried to the door, jerking it open.
The Mellora demon stood at the bottom of the stairs, the door lying flat on the floor. "Shit," Andrea cursed. Spike appeared beside her.
"Bloody hell."
It started to stomp furiously up the staircase toward them. Andrea grabbed Spike's hand and pulled him into the hall. Just as it reached the top of the stairs, Andrea yanked Spike over the railing. They landed on the floor below, the force of the landing knocking the wind out of them. She ran into the livingroom and grabbed a blanket, tossing it at Spike, who took the hint and covered his head with it. Andrea grabbed her car keys and they ran outside. She gave a sharp whistle, and Jill bounded out of the house and into the car. Spike jumped into the passenger seat as Andrea started the car and squealed out of the driveway, hoping they could get somewhere safe before Spike got a little flamey.
"My crypt," he suggested, and she swerved to the left, in the direction of the cemetery. "I'd also appreciate it if you'd hurry," he said in a slightly panicky voice. "I'm starting to sizzle." She stomped on the break and pulled Spike out of the car, dodging headstones as they ran toward the mausoleum. Andrea threw open the door and they stumbled inside, Jill right on their heels. Spike tossed the blanket to the floor with a yell, stomping out the flames that had ignited somewhere between the Johnson memorial and Dottie Parker's grave. His chest heaving from exertion, he gave her a boyish grin. "That your friend?" She nodded.
"Funny. Yeah, that's my good old buddy Mel."
"He's not so tough." Spike shrugged. "I could have taken him." Andrea walked slowly towards him, placing her arms around his neck.
"My hero." She ran her fingers through his bleached curls. He kissed her neck.
"S'not fair," he said softly against her skin.
"What's not fair?"
"Us gettin' all worked up like that. Without actually gettin' to hit anything." His mouth had worked its way to her lips.
"You're right," she gasped. "Not fair at all."
"But I can think of a few ways to . . .unwind." He pushed her against the cool stone wall, bracing her there with his hips. He kissed her fervently and pulled her shirt over her head, revealing her full breasts, rising and falling heavily beneath the lacey cups of her bra. He placed a moist kiss on the swell of her breast. She curled her fingers into his hair.
"Spike, this is wrong," she moaned as his fingers teased her nipple into a small, hard bead. She tugged his black tee off him and ran her hands over his smoothed, muscled chest.
"Then why does it feel so right?" he asked against her lips. She didn't answer. Just helped him remove her hip-huggers. He carried her to his sarcophagus, which, surprisingly, was covered by a few pillows and a comforter, but she was too distracted to comment. Spike flicked open the clasp of her bra, tossing it to the floor, before peeling the matching panties down over her hips. When he moved his fingers to the most sensitive spot of her body, she gasped, and he covered her mouth with his, sweeping its heated interior with his tongue. He pushed his fingers into her. She was warm, tight and wet. She moaned in ecstasy. Andrea frantically yanked at his belt, until she tore it out of the loops on his jeans, then she pushed the denim pants down over his hips. They fell to the floor and landed in a careless pile.
"Spike, please," she begged him. He smiled.
"Please what?" She dug her nails into his shoulders.
"I need you inside me." He maneuvered himself between her thighs, spreading them easily. She cried out when he thrust into her. It was all he could do to keep from coming that second. She was so snug and hot. He groaned and began to move inside her, pulling almost completely out of her before burying himself inside her again. She locked her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into her. He inched her legs higher. "Oh, God. . .Spike. . ." He moved a hand between their sweat-slicked bodies and expertly pressed the tiny bead of flesh he sought. Andrea could feel her muscles tightening, her climax building as liquid heat seared every inch of her body, radiating out from every spot Spike touched.
"Let it go, love," he whispered to her. "Come for me." His erotic words pushed her over the edge. She screamed his name, shuddering violently beneath him. He came with her, pouring the frustrations of the past week into her inviting body.
Jill, who was curled up on one of Spike's chairs, gazed at them boredly, as if to say, 'It's about damn time.'
A/N: What do you think? Hot enough for ya? Sorry it took me so long, but I just couldn't resist making them suffer. It was masterful. ;) Anyways, review. Tell me what you think.