The sound of his palm contacting Mia’s ass filled the air. Her cheeks turned a rosy red under his punishing hand, and Wyatt was harder than he could ever remember being.

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 at 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. She never hid from the truth, as unwelcome as it may be. 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 beat her to the punch. “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.


“Yes,” she breathed out in defeat. “I like it.”

Wyatt smirked at her livid reflection, picking up his methodic 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, and Wyatt grit 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 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.

“I understood every insult…” pound. “…every hateful word…” pound. “…every bit of venom you spit at me.” pound.

Mia arched her back in an attempt to match his movements, her expression that of pure pleasure as Wyatt slammed into her. The globes of her ass were a tenderized pink, and Wyatt couldn’t resist bringing his palm down hard, the sound of her gasp the only thing louder than the spank.

“Putain de merde,” Mia fumed at his reflection, and Wyatt landed another strike. “Connard.” Crack. “Branler.” She was provoking him, swearing with a fiery rage though she knew Wyatt would punish her for every ill-spoken word. “Tas de merde. Fils de pute…”

Mia was moaning her curses, practically begging him to keep spanking her while he pounded her ass, and Wyatt lost track of the insults. His fingers were curled tightly in her hair, their eyes locked in the mirror. Definitely a witch, and Wyatt was hexed.

Returning his hand to her waist, Wyatt picked up his pace. Mia’s eyes glazed over, her gaze seemed almost broken from the overload of pleasure.

“Fuck, Mia, the look on your face.” She was beautiful. So receptive and responsive. Utterly perfect in the way her entire body tightened around him when she came with a desperate cry of his name.

Wyatt let go of Mia’s hair and she sagged with her forehead against her arms. He took hold of her hips with both hands, thundering towards his own climax, fingers digging into Mia’s flesh and undoubtedly leaving a mark.

He’d lost his rhythm, his control, his very grasp on reality, his entire body shaking under the force of his release before slumping forward, panting into Mia’s damp flesh as the tantalizing scent of her skin mixed with the carnality hanging heavy in the air of her bathroom. It was a blissful haze that Wyatt had missed more than he was willing to admit.

“You really are an animal,” Mia said from underneath him with a murmur.

Wyatt laughed, kissing up Mia’s back as he slid out of her and helped her stand. She leaned into his body and let Wyatt lead her to the shower, where he gently washed her before cleaning himself.

Mia’s left butt cheek was a glowing red while her right was a tender pink, the shape of his fingers starting to form at her hips. Wyatt dried Mia off and, despite her meek grumbles of protest, carried her to bed before going to dig through her freezer.

When he came back, Mia was curled on her side, eyelids drooping and a satisfied smile on her face.

“Brussel sprouts?” Wyatt asked, holding up the only eligible substitute for an icepack he managed to find. “Really?”

Mia scrunched her nose, then laughed. “I think those are from Christmas three years ago.”

Wyatt turned the bag in his hands, finding an alarmingly old expiration date and rolling his eyes before wrapping the makeshift ice pack in a towel and sitting next to Mia on the bed.

“On your stomach,” he ordered, and Mia huffed, snuggling deeper into her position.

“I’m fine like this.”

“Stop being so stubborn, let me take care of you.” Mia just pulled the covers tighter around her body. “How are you going to get any work done if you can’t sit tomorrow?”

It was a trump card. Mia was dedicated to a fault when it came to her work in the hub, and it took her less than three seconds of thinking about it before she threw the duvet aside and turned onto her stomach.

“Thank you,” Wyatt said somewhat sardonically, pressing the compress into her left cheek. Mia cringed but otherwise stayed still. They stayed quiet for a while, lost in their individual thoughts before Wyatt decided to share his. “I wasn’t expecting you to enjoy the spanking that much.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Nothing about that was disappointing.” Wyatt repositioned the compress, glad to see the redness of Mia’s skin had lessened. “Ton petit cul serré était incroyable.”

Mia gaped at him, though she was smiling in amusement. “That is terribly crude.”

“That’s rich coming from someone who was practically begging me to spank her ass raw less than five minutes ago.” Wyatt lay next to her, leaning on his arm. “Not to mention the terribly crude names you’ve been calling me over the past few weeks. You don’t get to act all prim and proper all of a sudden just because I said fucking your tight little ass feels incredible.”

Mia scrunched her nose. “That sounded much better in French.”

“Everything sounds better in French.” Wyatt laughed, dipping his head to press a soft kiss on her lips. “More aftercare or enough?”

“Enough, I’m tired.”

“Okay, Prickly Pear.” He kissed her again before placing the packet on the nightstand and turning off the lights.

Mia immediately snuggled into him, breathing a sigh of relief, and in a matter of minutes her breath was shallow and steady. Wyatt was just as spent, but the exhaustion wasn’t enough to bring sleep to his doorstep.

His thoughts were racing, all the things that were easily pushed aside during intercourse rushing to the forefront of his mind. He’d missed her. Not just the sex, but everything they shared in and out of bed. The willowy woman sleeping soundly next to him had somehow become an integral part of his life, an inevitability. And she still hated him.

Wyatt was in trouble.