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This beautiful layout is courtesy of Cally at DOUBLE RAINBOW...
Saint Patrick’s Day 2009
Somewhere between Edenscroft and London
About 3:30 a.m.
“Did you enjoy tonight?” Angel thought there were few things lovelier than his beloved in her evening dress beside him as a hired chauffeur drove them back home from an elegant supper at the Lincolnsfeldt Hotel and an ice show.
Buffy shone like a star against the dark supple leather interior of his cherished custom-designed Cadillac. Her evening gown was a simply cut, beautifully fitted jade green silk jersey slipdress that flowed smoothly over her body, molding her delicate curves. The crescent-cut slit stopped barely short of her right hip. Angel had given her a glorious white mink cape lined in jade silk and at first Buffy had demurred the decadent gift. A true socially conscious California girl, Buffy had always subscribed to the “Animals are for loving NOT wearing” slogan. But English winter and Angel’s touch as he draped the rich warmth over her nearly bare shoulders had induced her conscience to compromise and she was genuinely thankful for the indulgent comfort of the lofty furs .
She smiled at her lover contentedly. “It’s just dreamy.” She spoke softly, almost breathily. The hint of smile deepened to reveal her pearly teeth. “Although it was a little intimidating to have a lot of fine young things dressed in bustiers strutting their stuff in font of you.”
Angel laughed heartily, a rare sound filled with even rarer true mirth. Buffy had a slightly prudish streak he found absolutely charming. In private she was free, deliciously uninhibited with Angel and responsive to his desires. In public, though, she became more conservative. Angel liked it, it lent her dignity. He wondered when her confidence in their future, their belonging together, would ease the tension in her hands when he held and kissed them in public and allow her to relax against him when he slid his arm across her upper back to guide her to their car, their table at a gourmet restaurant, their private box at a theater.
“There were a lot of those, weren’t there?” he asked when he finished laughing.
Buffy shrugged slightly and her smile covered her teeth again. “Well, it *was* ‘Moulin Rouge Glace.’ I think Baz would’ve pretty proud of that cleavage factor.”
The corner of Angel’s mouth tilted upwards at the Slayer’s insecurity hidden in humour. *D’you think they’ve got anything on you?* He cast a hungry glance over Buffy. Her hair was swept up in some wonderfully messy style that looked like it would come undone at any moment and left sun kissed tendrils waving around her face. Bedroom hair, soft and touchable. The silvery white mink lent an ethereal contrast to her clear golden complexion. Buffy’s eyes leaped out towards him even in near-darkness and Angel savoured his perfect night vision. He could see every tint and shade of all the colours that created the soft hazel orbs he loved so well. Washed jade, soft teal, turquoise, light golden brown, mossy green and just a fleck of gold. Faint character lines etched the corners of her eyes, a thread or two of grey insinuated itself in her golden hair. Angel’s eyes hardened, offended by the stray signs of ruthless mortality. Then he relaxed.
They would be gone soon enough.
Buffy stiffened involuntarily and sweat broke out in the hollows of her palms. Angel looked at her so intently, and his hard mouth was tilted into a satisfied smirk. For just a moment, a hint of saffron fire flared in his warm dark eyes. For just a moment, he looked like Angelus.
Her nipples stiffened and rose up, swelling against the silk and she licked her lips warily. She almost shrank away as the incredibly sensuous handsome man turned on his side and leaned closer towards her.
“I love you,” he told her. “I love you so much, Buffy.” His voice was husky, pure and deep. He leaned closer to softly kiss her lips. “I love you more now than I did before.” And it surprised him that it was true. The girl he’d loved, the developing woman, had been precious and wonderful but the woman she’d blossomed into was simply amazing. He picked up his courage and told her what he wanted. “I don’t want to live separately from you anymore. We don’t have to, I want you for my wife.”
Their lips met in a passionate kiss. Slow, tender, consuming heat enveloped them and Buffy sighed in relieved delight. Her arms came up instinctively, not a moment of conscious thought, to embrace her strong beautiful lover. Their lips moulded sensually together, moving to touch different choice spots and spaces, parting to suck and nibble, tongues extending to caress and dance with each other in languorous strokes. Her moan was a plaintive cry that Angel understood immediately and the vampire only glanced at the privacy screen to be sure it was closed before he coaxed her to lie back across the soft-cushioned leather seat and blanketed her body with his.
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Edenscroft in Devonshire
about 4:30 a.m.
By the time the driver opened the door for her to slide out of the car, Buffy had tucked her ripped G-string in her tiny evening bag. She could not quite look at the man, certain he smelled the aroma of Angel’s confident and all too successful oral loving. She’d never done it in a car before and she was appalled at how the roomy but still confined space retained her most intimate odor. Angel came round to her solicitously, putting am arm round her and drawing her against him as he handed the driver a generous tip and bid him good night. Buffy leaned her head against Angel’s upper arm and closed her eyes, feigning sleepiness. Angel kissed her lightly, a gentle brush of his mouth on the top of her head and squeezed her in his arms.
“Let’s go inside,” he said softly. “You were wonderful, I want more of you.” His deep caramel voice called fresh honeyed desire to leak from her swollen quim onto her dark gold pubic hair. He chuckled knowingly as she blushed.
“So I get second prize?” She asked huskily, as Angel led her carefully up the wooden steps in the dark. He stopped abruptly and looked down at her.
“What’s first prize?” he asked. She raised her kiss-swollen mouth to his.
“Let me do you,” she whispered provocatively, sweeping her hand over the crotch of his pants.
The door opening put a quick stop to her exploration but Buffy vowed it wasn’t over. She turned to smile at Ephraim.
“You shouldn’t have waited up so late, Ephraim!” she chided kindly. The demon looked at her and smiled politely. For some reason, it didn’t utterly unnerve her to know that he knew exactly what she had been doing with Angel and how she felt about it.
“Actually, ma’am, I didn’t wait up.” He was a bit more soft-spoken than when he was fully awake. He allowed Angel to remove her fur cape and hand it to him, then took it along with Angel’s charcoal cashmere coat. “You have visitors, sir,” he continued steadily.
“Who?” Buffy held onto the small credenza covered with ornately framed photographs as she eased each slim foot out of it’s four-inch spike heel pump. She didn’t see Angel’s mouth tighten and his dark eyes harden.
“Americans, ma’am, come to see you–”
“Buffy?”
She turned towards the formal sitting-room and broke into a delighted exclamation as a pretty lily-skinned woman with huge green eyes stepped out into the foyer.
“Willow? Willow!”
Angel watched calmly as the woman he loved embraced her closest friend. They began the traditional girlfriend’s dance, exclaiming over how nice they both looked and telling each other where they’d just been and what they were doing. Angel glanced past them to the other person he’d smelled when he first came into the house. Tall, compactly muscular, his dark blond hair a little limp, the man stood half out of the parlor, his taciturn expression mirroring the vampire’s.
“Angel,” Wesley Wyndham-Price said quietly. “It’s been a while. You haven’t been easy to reach lately.”
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"Repeat the Sounding Joy" Part Six
"Repeat the Sounding Joy" Contents...
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