The Deal, part 3

By Tango

“What happened?” Buffy asked urgently when Angelus finally reached the table. “Did he leave? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Angelus said, moving into his seat with the same amount of grace that he did everything else. Buffy was sure he would look like he had been in a fight, but not even a hair on his head was out of place. He looked perfectly calm. In fact, unless she was mistaken, he looked downright smug.

A grin spread over his face. “So you told him you were in love with me?”

“I had too,” she said, tears filling her eyes. Something in the pit of her stomach seemed to be giving away into a deep cavity that she thought she would never be able to fill. She had loved Riley and she would have never deliberately hurt him. She saw the pain in his eyes that afternoon and now again tonight. “He proposed to me. I had to tell him something he would believe.”

“You don’t love him,” Angelus growled. The hurt in her eyes infuriated him. Riley Finn, that bleeding heart, corn-fed, momma’s boy had captured her heart? It wasn’t even possible. The only reason she thought she loved him was because she had nothing to compare it to.

“How would you know?” she returned, her tears turning to an angry glare. “You wouldn’t know love if it smacked you in the face.”

“And you’re suddenly an expert on me?” he asked in a hollow laugh. He was suddenly very glad he had broken that asshole’s arm. Riley didn’t deserve Buffy. And for all the years, she had treated him like shit, all the years she hadn’t even bothered to look beyond the newspaper’s society page to see what he really was, he wasn’t going to feel sorry at all for anything he made her do. He leaned in and lowered his voice. “The only thing you know about me is the size of my cock and the weight of my bank account.”

“You arrogant-“ She sputtered but right after she started speaking the waiter arrived. She snapped her mouth closed and glared at the intruder, crossing her arms over her chest. The waiter approached the table and presented the bottle of wine she had ordered before Angelus, label out. He leaned in and whispered confidentially, “The lady asked for the most expensive wine in the house, Mr. Roarke.”

“Naturally,” Angelus said with a laugh that held absolutely no mirth. Buffy glared icy daggers at him. If looks could kill, Angelus would be riding beside Riley in the ambulance that would be arriving shortly. After Angelus approved the wine and the glasses were filled, he smiled over at Buffy. “Did you think it would bother me if we had a thousand dollars worth of wine with dinner? If you want to hurt me, Buffy, order the worst, not the best.”

“Thanks for the tip,” she grumbled. She had been deliberately trying to upset him with the wine. If she couldn’t manage it any other way, she thought that hitting his bank account would be the easiest way to get to him. Apparently, this was not the way to go. Next time she was going for Pabst Blue Ribbon beer. See how he liked that.

“Now,” he said, sipping his wine thoughtfully, “tell me, did you masturbate after you left me this morning?”

“What?” she asked, setting down her wine before it slopped down the front of her dress. She looked around to see if anyone had overheard him.

“Did you masturbate this morning?” he asked again casually. “Did you touch yourself after you left me?”

“No,” she said, obviously scandalized. Her cheeks blazed pink and she found it difficult to look into his eyes.

“Please don’t tell me that you don’t masturbate,” he said laughing. “80% of women do and the other 20% are lying.”

“Oh yes, I forgot, you’re an expert on women,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Are you really this arrogant or are you just stupid?”

Angelus laughed. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Of course not,” she said with a glare, each word punctuated. Truthfully, she had thought about it in the shower, still overcome with her short time in his bed, but she had refused. She wouldn’t give into him that easily whether he was there or not. “But you did, is that what you’re saying?”

“No,” Angelus said honestly. “I did orgasm, but I don’t like to do it myself when there are other options.”

“What, do you just keep naked women on the payroll, hanging around your house in case you need to have sex?” she demanded.

“You’re the only one I’ve ever paid to have sex with and that’s only because you’re the only one I’ve desired enough to pay,” he said, his voice low and soft. “I hope you’ll be well worth the price.”

“I hope I’m not,” she said with a defiant toss of her blonde head.

“Oh really?” he asked, he was still smiling at her and it was beginning to grate.

“I hope you’ve doled out all this money just to find out you don’t even like me. Wouldn’t that be funny?”

“Not for you,” he said silkily.

“And why’s that?” she asked, suddenly confused.

“Because if I don’t like fucking you, Buffy, which I very highly doubt, I’ll just have to find other ways for you to amuse me. By the time I’m through with you, you’ll be as seasoned as any professional whore. There’s nothing you won’t do to please me.”

Buffy stared at him and an icy chill went through her body. As much as she despised him and as much as she didn’t want to believe a word he said, she knew it was true. The lengths he would go to in order to debase her were beyond her imagination. After all, before she had met Riley, she hadn’t really been serious with anyone before and with him, she knew only making love into the night and being held afterwards. She was sure there were any number of things that were sick and twisted that Angelus would make her do. Even the session that morning with him had been something that was completely foreign to her.

With Riley, she had felt loved and wanted. She hadn’t been overtaken by the kind of passion that she saw in the movies, but she never really thought that was real anyway. She loved Riley. He treated her well. She always knew she was special and cared for. She was sure that if she had admitted how deep her money troubles had run, he would have done anything he could to help her. As it was, he had already offered to move in with her and take over half of her expenses but her pride made her say no. And now, she was terrified that after a year with this horrible man, her pride would no longer exist.

They ordered their food and sipped their wine and Buffy pretended that he wasn’t there. It was part of her plan to live through her life with Angelus Roarke. Ignoring him as much as possible was key. Naturally, he wouldn’t be putting up with very much of that at all.

“Huh?” she asked, snapping back into reality when she realized he had spoken.

“Your panties,” he repeated.

“What about them?” she asked in confusion.

“Take them off and give them to me,” he said wickedly, looking ever so casual.

“Are you insane?” she whispered harshly. “We’re in a nice restaurant. People will see.”

“You’ll have to be discreet then, won’t you?”

***

The mansion was dark and quiet when they arrived home. The large, dark house reminded her of a horror film. She winced at the thought that this was “home” for any amount of time. Home was supposed to be where you felt at ease, where you felt safe, and this house was anything but.

“I gave the servants the night off,” he said, tossing his keys on the table in the entryway.

“Oh, course,” she huffed, feigning aloofness, but she knew he wasn’t fooled. He had been teasing her all through dinner and in the car on the way home. He had used his words and little caresses to get her primed and ready for when they finally reached the house.

He urged her to brace her hands on the table and moved up behind her, caressing her body through the silk dress. He swept her hair over her shoulder and kissed her neck. Despite every attempt to hate it, she closed her eyes and was taken over by the feeling of his arms around her, his talented mouth and tongue moving over her skin.

He slid his hands over her hips and down her thighs before moving them back up and taking her dress with them. Her panties had been in his pocket since the dinner, so she was completely exposed.

“Mmm,” he said, moving his hands over her. “I like you like this, lover.” He pushed two fingers inside her dripping opening, plunging and twisting them. She held on to the table, trying to keep her balance. Her whole body was on fire as he touched her intimately, boldly using her like she was his possession.

“Nice and wet,” he whispered huskily. He touched and tormented her until she was shaking with her mounting climax and adorable helpless sounds were echoing through the hallway. He pulled away and unzipped her dress, kissing the skin that was revealed until the garment was pooled at her feet, ignoring her huff of irritation for deliberately leaving her unsatisfied. Again.

He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out of it, letting it fall to the floor as well so that he could press his chest against her bare back. Her skin was so soft and sweet and perfect. She smelled so amazingly good that he pulled her back into his arms and just held her there for a moment.

He released her quickly, however, when he realized what he was doing. He had to be very careful. Gwen was right. He worshipped Buffy Summers and had for a long time. She had more power over him than he would ever admit and the truth of it made him angry.

Turning on his heel, he headed into the living room. He flopped gracefully into his favorite leather chair and stared at her as she came in from the hallway after him, standing in the doorway, unsure of what to do. Left only in thigh high stockings and high heels, her nipples standing pointed and erect, her glistening sex waiting for the taking, she was stunning. He wanted to memorize that moment and stared at her until she was shifting uncomfortably from the weight of his stare.

“Come to me,” he purred, watched her with those deep brown eyes filled with lustful anticipation. She moved slowly as if she were trying to give herself more time, but the room was only so big and soon she was standing right in front of him, struggling not to cover her nakedness from his scorching gaze.

“On your knees,” he said, his voice hoarse with desire, just slightly more audible than a whisper. Gods, he wanted her so badly he could barely stand it. He watched her as she lowered herself to her knees in front of him and waited. He knew she wouldn’t initiate anything, but it didn’t matter. He would have paid ten times what he was already paying her just to see her like this right now.

“Closer,” he said and watched her inch closer between his legs, her breasts temptingly within reach of his hands. Just as he reached out to touch her, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Buffy watched with surprise as he growled in irritation and then realized the source of the anger when he reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny, silver cell phone.

“Wesley, I know twenty-five ways to kill you with my bare hands. If this isn’t a life threatening emergency – What?” Buffy watched with shock as the pleasure and anger fell from his face to be replaced with…was it fear?

“No,” Angelus said, gesturing for Buffy to move back so that he could stand up. “No, nobody moves until I get there.” He went into the hallway and was shrugging into his shirt as he talked.

“And I wasn’t called before this, why?” Angelus barked, heading back into the house with his shirttail fluttering behind him. “It doesn’t matter what I was doing tonight! You think this is less important than Buffy?”

Buffy perked up as the last sentence sunk in. Less important than Buffy? As if he thought she was important to begin with? Curious, Buffy stepped into her dress and followed him deeper into the house. It wasn’t hard to follow him, as he was roaring into his cell phone. She found him in his private office, swinging back a picture frame to reveal a safe behind it. She stared open mouthed as he turned the dial, swung open the heavy safe door to reveal piles and piles of money. She had never seen a single hundred-dollar bill, let alone stacks and stacks of them.

“No Wes, you keep everyone of those fuckers right there. It’ll take me two and half hours to get there. If anyone so much as takes a piss, I want to know about it. You understand?”

He grunted and shouted into the phone as if he was about to go into war and Buffy curled herself into a large armchair and watched him. He pulled a briefcase from under his desk and dumped out the files inside of it to stack money there instead, either completely unaware of her presence or completely indifferent to it. After a few more moments of shouting, he snapped the phone shut and shoved it into his pocket. He closed the briefcase and the safe with a very strange air about him. His body was so tense, she could see every tight muscle revealed by his still open shirt.

He turned to her and his face softened, just slightly. “You’ll sleep in my bed. I trust you remember where it is.”

Without another word, he was gone.

***

Buffy headed upstairs to the Angelus’ bedroom and looked around. Her dresser was sitting against the wall next to his and she stared at it for a moment. She hadn’t been entirely sure where he had planned to put all of her things but it never occurred to her that her bedroom furniture would be in his bedroom. It was almost sinful the way her dresser sat flush with his, almost intimately sharing the space. Her dresser with its light oak finish contrasted sharply with the gleaming, deep brown mahogany of his. Her furniture was middle of the road – not cheap but not overly expensive, whereas his looked like it cost more than her Jeep.

She opened the drawers and sure enough, all of her clothes were there. She wandered over the walk-in closet and gaped. It wasn’t a closet as much as it was another room. His clothes were organized within an inch of their lives, as were his shoes and ties. His servants must have cleared room for her because she had her own sections of the closet. Naturally, she had quite a few less items of clothing than he did but she had a whole half of the closet.

Shaking her head, she headed back out into the bedroom. This whole thing was strange. Did you clear out half your closet for someone that you only thought of as a whore? Did you move her furniture into your bedroom like you were lovers moving in together?

His bedroom had a certain feel to it, a darkness that made it seem decadent just to stand there. There was very obviously a design here, as all of his things matched from the walls to the furniture to the art. Her things, however, didn’t match at all. They looked like well loved sore thumbs.

Her pictures were on the wall next to his impeccably tasteful framed art. She looked from the giant framed Matisse to a photograph of her, Willow and Xander all jumbled together and smiling. There was one of her mother before she had gotten sick. Buffy touched the glass that covered her mother’s face. Refusing to think about how ashamed her mother would be if she found out just what her little girl had decided to do with her life, she moved on. Her grandmother’s rocking chair with the quilt her mother had made was sitting in the corner looking alien and out of place. She wasn’t sure what he was trying to do, but the whole thing was more than a little eerie.

After changing into her favorite pajama pants and a t-shirt, she climbed into bed on the opposite side she had seen him in that morning. She was tempted to take his side of the bed out of spite, but knowing him, he’d just come home and lie on top of her. No, thank you.

She pulled back the duvet and slid in between the black silk sheets. Even though she thought it would take her a while to fall asleep, the events of the day had physically and emotionally taken their toll. With a last sleepy, mental note about asking Angelus what happened did with her favorite pillow, she fell into a deep sleep.

***

Buffy woke up in the early hours of the morning, before dawn had even started streaking across the sky. She felt someone climbing into bed with her and froze for a few fearful moments, not daring to move. She had forgotten momentarily where she was.

“It’s okay,” Angelus’ said, pulling her against his already naked body. “It’s just me.”

Not that he was a reason to relax, but at least she knew who was in bed with her now. He urged her to turn over and covered her mouth with his own. He was warm and already aroused as he settled between her thighs. He slid his hands underneath her shirt and cupped her breasts. With a soft groan into her mouth, he quickly began pulling her clothes off in the dark. There was a weighty silence about him that was unlike anything he had shown her so far. No sarcastic remarks, no taunting, just him and his roving hands and talented mouth.

“No more games. I want you now,” he whispered, tossing her clothes on the floor next to the bed. He kissed her and she felt the roughness of his face and idly wondered if he shaved twice a day. He kissed down now her neck to her shoulder, while his hands moved between her thighs. His mouth moved to her breasts as he spread her open and touched her lightly, relearning the shape and texture of her.

As ready as he was, he knew she wasn’t yet. He wanted her, wanted to lose himself in the sensation of her, but he knew he couldn’t just fall on her like some ravenous beast. He had to build her up to a fever pitch. He wanted to ensure that she enjoyed it as much as he did. No matter how much she wanted to hate being in his bed, he wouldn’t allow it. He had planned many things. Some were planned for her to enjoy and some were not, but she would like fucking him. That much he was sure of.

He forced himself to slow down, to let all of the tension of the night’s events disappear against her silky skin. In the darkness, he didn’t have to curb his expression, didn’t have to worry if his near worship of her would show in his eyes. He moved his mouth and hands over her body, discovering every plane, every dip, every curve with his body that he had already memorized with his eyes. Finally, he made his way between her legs, pausing to leave wet kisses along her inner thighs before settling on the treasure in the center.

Buffy squirmed slightly as he took his time, breathing in her scent before spreading her open with his thumbs. His eyes had long adjusted to the darkness and he looked up at her as he lowered his mouth to her sex. He explored there just as thoroughly as he had with the rest of her body. He closed his eyes and licked her languidly, leaving no spot untouched.

Buffy struggled not to pant with pleasure, but couldn’t stop sounds of pleasure from erupting. He felt so good, licking and sucking and nibbling between her thighs. Her legs were spread wide to accommodate his broad shoulders and even in the dark, she felt spread embarrassingly bare. The pleasure outweighed any thoughts of distancing herself from him, however, and this time, instead of withholding her orgasm, he kept going, taking his time, but building her release. After the several times that day he had brought her to the edge only to refuse her pleasure, this time felt a thousand times more intense. When at long last, she found her climax, she went screaming.

He reached for a condom in the bedside table and ripped it open with his teeth. His hands were shaking as he sheathed himself in the plastic. He wanted her even more badly now than he had ever wanted anything or anyone before. Her passion was his undoing. She was still crying out in pleasure when he entered her, stretching her to fit him, her fluttering inner muscles massaging against him as he slowly slid his length inside her.

He groaned her name as he moved inside her. She was so tight, so hot and wet, so unbelievably perfect that he could only imagine what she would feel like when he wasn’t covered. Her nipples were tight points, rubbing against his chest. Instead of lying back and basking in her pleasure, she wrapped her legs around him and held on to his shoulders as he moved inside her. She moved with him, finding the rhythm and meeting his thrusts.

He knew she would be different than his other lovers, knew that she would fit him perfectly and she did, in every way. Her hands seemed to move just where he wanted to be touched and her breathy little cries of pleasure were fuel to the fire. She came quickly the second time, gripping him so tightly with her inner muscles that he almost lost it then. He buried his face her neck and thrust even harder as she turned around the bend a third time. She dug her fingernails into him and arched her back, bucking against him like a wild thing.

“Angelus!” she screamed, crying out in more pleasure than she had ever experienced and when she let go, he followed suit, shouting her name hoarsely.

He collapsed against her for a moment, letting her have his full weight before rolling them over so that she lay on his chest. He wanted to be angry with himself for not playing this out the way he had planned. He had wanted to torment her until she begged him and when he entered her for the first time, he wanted her to be mindless in her need for him. But he couldn’t possibly be disappointed in having the best sex of his entire life. What would be the point in that?

Next