74: The Factory, Westside Sunnydale
“Get ready for the world to be sucked into hell again,” Spike sneered at his grandsire’s back as he and his bit of human fluff left the building. That girl was all neck and curves. It did not take a genius to figure out the appeal. “Was that the plan all along: Peaches gets happy…Big Bad Daddy returns?”
Drusilla glanced at him over one shoulder. She had been staring after the departing couple except that her expression was wistful and dreamy-eyed in a way that gave Spike lusty shudders. He knew what that look meant. Watching anticipatorily as Drusilla crossed the space between them, he was fully prepared when she grabbed him by the shoulders to push him hard against the back of the chair.
She kissed him until his mouth was smeared with her bright red lipstick and he could hardly remember his own name. He felt her teeth tug playfully at his lower lip as he hauled her into his lap.
Leering, “Someone’s saucy tonight,” Spike muttered as Drusilla plucked open the buttons of his shirt one by one. He did not care that it was Angelus’ visit that sparked this sudden bout of lustiness as long as he reaped the benefits.
Sex with Dru was such a contradiction. There was the side of her that responded only to gentility, to the part of him she protected and coddled, that he showed only to her. Dru often let him be the aggressor, the dominant one despite her status as his sire, but every now and then, she reminded him.
Fluidly, she moved from his lap to the floor, the diaphanous layers of her gown pooling around her. Her red nails dug into the material of his jeans just enough to let him feel her scrape them down the inside of his spread thighs. “Rrrrowl,” she made a little sound at the back of her throat leaning in to rub her face against the bulge of his erection.
Drusilla lifted her head to look up at him, silently licking at her smudged lips. “I’m going to eat you up,” she warned playfully.
It took Spike less than three seconds to unbuckle his belt, unzip and give himself an eager squeeze of anticipation as he readied himself for the pleasure to come. He stared down at Drusilla, his nerves on edge, aching with it as he waited for her to take him into her mouth.
Only her attention was suddenly elsewhere.
“What the—?” Spike glanced in that direction to find the goggle-eyed china doll facing them on top of the table with her prim little mouth, taffeta dress and shiny black shoes just so.
He was about to fling the doll across the room when Dru’s flingers slid around his rampant flesh to grasp him tightly. Spike looked into her sparkling black eyes as she started to move her hand, helpless to find any words as he clutched at the arms of the chair.
With a wink, Dru purred, “Miss Edith likes to watch, the naughty girl.” And then Spike promptly forgot about his irritation over the voyeuristic dolly as Dru moved down to swallow him whole.