He’d been fantasizing about spanking Mia for a while, but he hadn’t realized how deep the desire flowed until he landed that first smack.
She was perfect, sticking her firm ass up and out, throwing her head back with soft gasps and moans with every crack of his palm. If it were up to Wyatt, he’d keep going, but Mia’s whimper indicated she was at the end of her rope.
Wyatt ran his hand over her inner thigh, the slickness greeting him on her skin was enough to drive him mad. “You’re dripping wet.”
Mia looked at him through the mirror, her eyes heavy with arousal. “Are you ready for your reward, la bête?”
Wyatt’s gaze wandered down, to where his fingers met Mia’s wet need, and he slowly stroked through her folds.
“This isn’t my reward, Prickly Pear.” He dragged one lathered finger between her cheeks, circling the puckered hole that had been taunting him since he’d bent Mia over the counter. “That’s my reward.”
Mia’s witchy eyes met his through the mirror, her brows knitted together, and for a moment Wyatt was worried she’d use her safe word.
“You really do have a fixation with my ass, don’t you?” His concern turned into the half-grin that got Mia all huffy and puffy with irritation. “Just fuck me already.”
Wyatt grabbed the lube and condom from his back pocket, releasing his erection from its denim confinement and sheathing it with rubber before teasing his length through Mia’s lips, ratcheting her need. He kept teasing her until she was shuddering and whimpering, begging him, then he notched at her opening, slowly pushing, watching her spread open for him.
“Oi…” Mia’s satisfied sigh when he was seated deep shot straight to Wyatt’s chest. Knowing she’d missed him, if only on a physical level, exhilarated him. He told himself it was gloating, but that was a lie if he’d ever heard one before. Wyatt knew his satisfaction stemmed from his own longing being reciprocated.
It was a dangerous place to go to, mutual feelings and such nonsense that Wyatt knew could never exist between him and Mia. The only mutuality they had was a desire fueled by varying levels of disdain, depending on the time of the day and if Mia had skipped lunch or not.
“You feel good,” Wyatt said as he worked deeper into the heaven that was Mia’s body.
“More, I need more,” Mia begged in a ragged voice, pushing back.
Wyatt set a steady rhythm, one he knew would keep Mia on the brink of an orgasm but not push her over, and flipped open the lube, letting it drizzle down to her crack. She let out a low hiss when the cold gel touched her skin, then moaned when Wyatt spread it over her rosy cheeks and the valley in between.
His fingers gently probed her, teasing the sensitive nerve endings then sliding in, first one, then two.
“Mmm, yes,” Mia mewled with approval when Wyatt started moving his wrist at the same pace as his hips.
“You like that?” he asked, pumping his fingers deeper and scissoring them. Mia’s head lifted, her gaze full of defiance. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of answering, but she wasn’t going to lie either. Wyatt admired that about Mia, how she never hid from the truth. That didn’t mean he’d let her off the hook. Wyatt came to an abrupt stop, and Mia’s eyes grew wide, her mouth opening, to protest no doubt, but Wyatt didn’t give her a chance. “I can stay like this all night without moving. Answer me, Mia—do you like it when I play with your ass?”
Mia glared at him through the mirror, her irises a deep purple flame that threatened to burn him, but he held his ground.
“Answer…” he slightly shifted his fingers, “…me.”
Mia clenched her jaw, so Wyatt inserted a third digit, pressing them deep and wide, causing Mia to hiss with pleasure.
“Answer.”
“Yes,” she breathed out in defeat. “I like it.”
Wyatt smirked at her livid reflection, picking up his methodical thrusts, hips starting to move faster, angling to reach her sweet spots.
It didn’t take long for Mia’s eyes to grow unfocused, her inner walls gripping him forcefully as she climaxed with guttural cries. Wyatt gritted his teeth as she tried to pull him over with her. He had other plans, and he was a man who saw his plans through, even in the face of sweet temptation.
Pulling out, Wyatt brought his cock to Mia’s rim, rubbing the tip over it before aligning and slowly pushing the head in.
Wyatt braced one hand on Mia’s hip and smoothed the other up her spine, over her tattoo, weaving his fingers into her short hair, tugging her head up and locking eyes with her through the mirror.
“Gardez vos yeux sur moi, ma figue de Barbarie.”
Mia’s jaw dropped and her eyes grew wide as she gaped at Wyatt. “You speak French?”
And there was his real reward. He could fuck Mia six ways to Sunday and it wouldn’t give him the same satisfaction he got from that flicker of guilt that shadowed her features, evidence that she felt something other than loathing for him.
“Oui, Mia.” He fastened his palm on her hip and sunk deep into her ass, a cry ripping from her heaving chest as she struggled to accommodate him. Wyatt waited patiently until the tension dissipated from Mia’s body before pulling back.