The Good Girl 3
by Elaine Martin
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Author's Notes: The result of a cancelled Saturday night. Alcohol deprevation was
kicking in, thus I thought I'd subject you all to the horror of another
installement in this godawful wee series!!... :)
- To all who have ever offered me feedback, I'm eternally grateful. I LOVE
YA BABIES! ! !
- Kevin, I love you baby. More then I ever knew. Thanks for putting up
with my crap time and time again, and always taking me back with open
arms... Kisses :)
Feedback: hehe! *giggles inanely* YES,YES,and YES!!!!
Well this is quite the fucking quandry. I reluctantly allow my gaze to survey the every increasing crowd, and my eyes instantly lock with Willow's. Her lips flap silently, her eyes conveying complete and utter disbelief. Beside her, Xander appears to be swaying as though drunk. Undoubtedly, unsure as to whether his alarm clock is about to go off and he'll have to hurriedly change the sheets before his mother comes in to make his bed. Oz, unperturbed as ever, looks on nonchalantly, while Cordelia and co. giggle hysterically and point.
Ah, FUCK!
Noting my extreme discomfort, Faith pulls me closer, if that's physically possible, and squeezes my breast ensuring that our audience are allowed a premium view.
I move to swat her hand away, but hesitate on receiving the raised eyebrow treatment from my tormentor.
"Choices, choices B." The bitch has the audacity to grin widely as she gently taps the diary clutched in my hand. I am reminded that her missing hand is positioned against my bare ass when she allows a finger to stray...
"Christ Faith!" I whisper harshly through clenched teeth. Her grin merely expands as she continues the intrusion. My eyes are watering and I fight the urge to launch her into the shell shocked crowd.
"At least not here..." I'm fucking pleading! Dammit, I'm begging her! She's getting off on it, her pupils dilating as she momentarily ceases her ministrations and feigns intense thought.
"But we're having so much fun B! Hell, I thought you were an exhibitionist. Don't hate me if I'm wrong, but I believe it was a July entry... what was it now...oh yeah, that's right: 'LA nightclub, fucked frat boy while his pathetic little girlfriend looked on in horror. Damn, I love doing it for an audience.'- And to think that Daddy thought you were sleeping over in Suzie's."
It seems as though every tooth in Faith's mouth is on display, and I mentally imagine them shattering on connection with my fist.
"Now, now B, glaring's not nice." Faith shakes her head in mock disapproval, but, thankfully, removes her hand from my skirt, instead draping her arm over my shoulder.
"Mine or yours?" Her tongue slides against my neck and she nibbles gently on my pulse point. And the fucking crowd isn't getting any damn smaller.
"I don't give a shit Faith, just get me out of here", I hiss. She concedes, offers the crowd a gratuitous wink and leads me away from the school, slapping my ass to an eruption of cheers from our audience...
This has to be the best day EVER. Well, apart from the day I became a slayer and I was finally able to bounce my Dad's ass off every wall in our shitty excuse for a home. I'm grinning from ear to fucking ear, and poor little darling Buffy is all wrapped up in my arms, wishing that the hell mouth would suddenly crack open and swallow her.
We arrive at my motel room, and I don't waste a minute. A 'B' shaped sex slave. I'm betting blackmail has never tasted this good. And dammit, I'm sure as fuck about to find out.
"Get them off B." I fling her onto the mattress, and she lies sprawled and glowering, while I lean against the door, arms crossed. Fists clenched with frustration, she begins by removing her shoes and placing them side by side at the foot of the bed. Always the good girl.
Her skirt is the next to come off, and she folds it neatly, placing it alongside her shoes.
And fuck if this isn't another one of her little games. Guess I better help her out.
I swagger over to the bed, and she lies back against the pillow, her glare intensifying. I don't give a shit, I know that in a few minutes she'll be screaming my name. I climb atop her, my ass resting on her torso, her legs locked beneath my weight.
I forcefully rip at her top, tearing it in two as she did mine. Her small breasts are hidden beneath the essential ingredient in any good girls lingerie collection. A white bra. I laugh aloud as I grab at the material, disposing of the barrier. And there they are. Bronzed Buffy tits. No tan lines... there's a thinker.
Our eyes lock as I slowly slide a hand inside her panties. She struggles to maintain her pissed off composure, but I'm fucking good... She fights it, and shit, she does a better job than most I've come across... It takes only five minutes, and I have the righteous Buffy Summers shuddering in my arms.
I'm lying here pretending to be asleep. Beside me, Faith is perfectly still, her arm nestled in between my naked thighs. I'm wondering whether to stay or get the fuck out of here. She fucked me and I fucked her. She came beneath my touch, as I did from hers. And I fucking hate myself. I'm losing at the game I created. I don't fucking lose.
Faith turns slightly, her head resting against my neck. I force my breathing to become laboured. We are still for several minutes, and I almost lose myself to sleep when her lips gently brush against my shoulder... and then she says it, a whisper so slight that, were it not for my enhanced hearing, the words would have been lost.
"I love you."
I turn to face her, and her eyes widen as though a deer caught in headlights. She's speechless, I'm guessing for the first since exiting the womb. I capture her lips in mine and she responds, pulling me towards her, hands caressing my face, feverish fingers combing through my hair. I allow her tongue to duel with mine. Allow her this one moment. And then I pull away.
And I laugh.
It takes her a moment to realise. Her face falls, and her mask drops... just for a second. Poor, poor vulnerable Faith, just wants to be loved.
I'm still laughing as I climb from the bed, still laughing as I pull on my clothes. Fuck her, she can do what she wants with my diary. Who's going to believe a loser slut like her anyway? I'll just say she wrote it all herself.
I swing open the door and glance behind me before I leave. The expression on her face causes me to laugh even harder. The mask is back on, back in place after years of practice. I slam the door shut, my laughter echoing across the confines of the motel hall. I know she can still hear me.
And that's just the best revenge of all.
Game over. Good girl wins.