The lighter flicks and the fire is like a snake or a flag. Drusilla thinks of burning to dust. She shivers.
That's what fire means. A little piece of sun, ready to gobble her up.
The smell of Spike's tobacco fills the room. He blows it in her face and she sniffs it up. Her Spike. Her fire-drinker. He gives her a smoky kiss, and she sucks him in eagerly. He tastes of dry.
He tears open her dress. Such an eager boy. The cigarette glows red like an eye, as he lowers it to the soft of her belly.
Every time, she thinks she might really burn up. But she doesn't. It's just a hot tickle. A mean tickle. The best kind.
She pulls his cock from his trousers, hikes up her skirt, and lowers herself onto him.
As she rides, he lights another. She can't wait to see where he'll mark her this time.