His ass was a work of art, two taut globes that fitted perfectly into the palms of Xander's hands. Skin like water on silk, so fine that his hand-prints were crystal clear.
They looked beautiful.
Spike hissed as he climbed onto the bed but didn't move, not even the slightest flinch when his tanned, callused hand caressed the heated curves. Squeezing the cheeks apart, he admired the subtle rose-pink of the asshole that could suck the come out of him easier than the mummy girl had sucked the lift out of her victims.
Goddamn, he was a lucky, lucky man....