Buffy paused when she saw the parchment paper. Non-folded, it lay innocently on her pillow, small perfect script waiting for her eyes to read. She looked over at the open window, then back at the paper. Walking to her bedroom door, she closed and locked it, taking a deep breath before turning back to the bed.
Slowly, she picked up the parchment and began to read.
Unbidden I come to you like a thief in the night, wanting to pleasure you. My eyes long to rove over your body, to drink in your beauty. My fingers yearn to touch you, to stroke your silken skin as you lay before me. I would start by running those fingers through your glorious hair, the strands tickling my palm. I would trace over the shell of your ear, lightly brushing it as my hand traveled to your cheek, over your lips, under your chin.
Buffy's heart beat picked up as her eyes ran over the words. She sat on the edge of the bed, her own hand curling around the collar of her silk, button down shirt.
Slowly down the column of your neck my finger would run, dipping into the hollow of your throat. I would trace your collar bone to your shoulder, down your arm, over your inner elbow to your wrist. There I would lightly brush the back of my finger over your pulse in small circles before moving across your palm to run over each of your fingers. Resting my fingertips on the back of your hand, I would travel back up the outer edge of your arm and shoulder to repeat the action on the other side.
Her breathing increased as the backs of her own fingers rubbed back and forth on her collarbone and upper chest.
Gently, my hand would run over your chest, lightly stroking a figure eight pattern over and over as you trembled in pleasure. My fingers would dip down through the valley of your breasts and along the underside of your rib cage to your side. Up they would dance, then back down to run across your taut stomach to the other side. Up and down again, slowly, gently, curling back around your rib cage to travel back up to your swan like neck.
Buffy swallowed heavily as she felt the phantom fingers running over her skin. She unbuttoned her sleep shirt with one hand as she continued to read.
Those beautiful, full breasts are calling to me, begging to be touched. I slowly begin to run my finger around their fullness, circling closer and closer to the dark, dusky areolas. My thumb would finally brush over your sensitive peaks, causing you to quiver at my side. I can feel your heart beating beneath your breast, singing its sweet song of arousal, of pleasure, of longing.
She was hot, her skin flushed as the words aroused her, titillated her. She pushed the silk from her shoulders, letting it pool around her waist, freeing her. The cool breeze coming through the window danced over her skin like her mystery lovers touch.
My hand dips between your breasts again, traveling down over your stomach, dipping into your navel before caressing your abdomen. Over your hip, brushing the backs of my fingers down the side of your leg, circling your knee to run back up your inner thigh. Lightly brushing the dark nest of curls, I move to the other leg, over your other hip and down your leg. The muscles beneath my touch tremble as I caress back up.
Buffy couldn't catch her breath. She stood, causing the silk sleep shirt to fall to the floor. Not moving her eyes from the parchment, she pushed her panties off with one hand and slid onto the bed. Leaning back against the pillows, that same hand ran up and down her body, her legs trembling as he had written.
Your scent beckons me. Musky, tangy, sultry, sweet. None of these words adequately describe what fills my senses. My fingers run through your curls before tracing your outer lips of your feminine folds. I see your abdomen tighten in anticipation and a small smile plays across my lips. Gently, I separate your silken lips and gaze upon your most private and sensitive area.
Her fingers dipped between her legs on their own, brushing over her pulsing clit as her vaginal muscles clenched in excitement. Her breathing was rapid, her chest rising and falling. Licking her lips, she touched herself as she continued reading.
I run my thumb over your nub, making you jump slightly. I use my finger again to run along either side of it, down to your opening. Teasingly, I trace around the opening, making your sweet juices flow. Slowly, I push into your heat, feeling its wetness and tightness as you clench around me. I run my finger around in your softness, turning my hand so that I may pleasure you fully. My thumb once again brushes against your nubbin and you gasp.
Unknowingly, Buffy moaned in the back of her throat as her finger circled around her clit, then pressed against it. She began rubbing it back and forth, wishing it were her mystery lover's touch rather than her own.
In and out I move my finger, adding a second as my thumb continues its assault. You begin to move your hips in a rhythm of lovers as your climax grows. Your scent permeates the air, overwhelming me, arousing me. I feel you quivering around my fingers and I watch as you orgasm, your head tilting back as you cry out in pleasure. Your breasts are rising and falling rapidly, your limbs trembling as I draw it out.
Buffy brought herself to climax as she read the words. Her head flew back just as he had written as bolts of pleasure flew through her. She removed her hand as she calmed, clenching the sheet at her side, breathing heavily. After a moment, she was able to continue reading.
You lay there bathed in the afterglow of your climax. Your skin is flushed, a light sheen of perspiration making you glow as your breathing slows. I move up next to you and trace your soft, peach lips with the tip of my finger, then slowly pull away with a whisper of a caress on your cheek. This night was for you and I take my leave, returning to my place in the night.
After reading the final words, Buffy inhaled deeply. She carefully laid the parchment on the bed beside her and stared up at the ceiling not knowing that her mystery lover sat watching her from the shadows through the open window.
A slow smile crossed Spike's mouth despite the hardness of his shaft pressed uncomfortably against the material of his jeans. He brushed the object in his hand against his lips, then carefully leaned forward and set it down before leaving.
Buffy heard something and turned her head to see a beautiful, deep purple rose lying on the open windowsill.