The Deal


A few hours later, just as Mia was about to sit for dinner, or an extremely late breakfast considering she’d been asleep most of the day, a knock on the door stopped her mid wine pouring.

She wasn’t expecting anyone, but every once in a while one of the neighbors would drop by asking for a cup of sugar or milk. Out of habit, Mia looked through the peephole, taking a step back and blinking at the periwinkle door before looking again to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating.

With her best frown plastered onto her face, she opened the door, greeted by a freshly shaven Wyatt casually leaning on the frame, his expression taking on a smugness that made Mia want to smack him as he scanned her head to toe.

“Good morning,” he greeted, his gaze still roaming her body with increasing heat.

“How do you know where I live?”

“Giles told me.”

“Why?” she asked, though, considering the way he was looking at her, she was quickly losing interest in why he was there and becoming more occupied with thoughts of what they could do once he was inside her flat.

“Because he can’t retain information for shit?” Wyatt shrugged, unbuttoning his trench coat while waltzing into Mia’s apartment uninvited, looking around as he made himself comfortable.

Mia closed the door behind him and locked it, for safety, she told herself, not to keep Wyatt inside. “No, Wyatt, why are you here?”

“Oh, are you avoiding me?” Mia could sense a tone of worry, indicating the idea didn’t sit well with him. Something about that knowledge thrilled her. Both the idea that he’d spent the day bothered and that he made an extra effort to come see her were equally exciting to Mia.

“No, I was very tired.” At her words, his all-too smug grin was back, and Mia huffed out a huge sigh, as if resigning herself to the fact he probably wouldn’t be leaving any time soon. She wanted to seem as if the only reason she wasn’t protesting was that she couldn’t be bothered to argue with him right now. “Are you hungry? I made fish and chips.”

“Sure.” He followed her to the kitchen area, eyes taking in everything as they crossed the living room, the open floor plan allowing him to take in the entire living space.

Mia threw a glance over her shoulder, amused at the almost child-like curiosity Wyatt was exhibiting. “Like what you see, Doctor Jenkins?”

Wyatt laughed, turning his gaze to her with a warm smile. “I do. It’s very homey and somehow very you.”

“I should hope, considering it is mine.” Mia pulled out an extra plate and poured Wyatt a glass of wine.

“Really?” She nodded, handing him his drink.

“My father left it to me when he died, I’ve been living here since I came to Oxford when I was seventeen.”

“Was your father British?” Wyatt asked, taking the glass of wine she offered and lifting it to his mouth, again skipping the basic etiquette of saluting. Mia decided enough was enough.

“No, and also…” she lifted her glass in his direction, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

“Jenkins don’t toast.”

“Why not?” Mia asked, still irritated, but now also curious.

“My mom is very accident prone, and after a glass of beer magically exploded in her hand when she toasted it and she had to get six stitches, it’s been sort of a big no-no in our house.”

Part of her was surprised at how easily Wyatt was sharing personal information about his family, especially with her. It wasn’t as if they were two friends chatting, they were rivals who happened to engage in one night of epic sex. Of course, people like Wyatt Jenkins would easily talk about their family, they were picture perfect.

Whatever the reason for Wyatt’s ease around the subject, Mia was startled to find that she wanted to hear more. “So, you don’t toast because your mother is a klutz?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” He laughed again, lightly clinking his glass against hers. “There. I wouldn’t want to offend your culture.”

“And no one ended up in the hospital!” Mia took a sip, hiding a smile that was fighting to emerge. This was new, talking to Wyatt like a person without feeling like she needed to be defensive. Or wanting to stab him.

“Yet,” he said with a ridiculously sexy smile. Setting his wine on the table Wyatt gestured at the oven. “Shall we eat?”

The meal continued the trend by being surprisingly comfortable. They talked about high school, their work before Wyatt came to Oxford, even about the hub. There was no bickering or fighting, no clash of wills and the exhausting anger they always seemed to bring out in each other.

“How did you end up in social genomics?” Wyatt asked, his large eyes never leaving hers. It was an innocent and requisite question, but it carried too much weight for Mia to be entirely forthcoming. Unlike Wyatt, she didn’t grow up in a scientific house that exposed her to genetics at a young age or enabled her imagination to spark with physics theories disguised as comic book storylines.

“I started with social medicine when I first came to Oxford and one of my courses was with Herbert, he took me under his wing and introduced me to social genomics, and I fell in love with the field.”

“As simple as that?” Wyatt raised an eyebrow and Mia shrugged.

“Not everything in life needs to be complicated, Wyatt.” She knew that wasn’t true, and judging by Wyatt’s sardonic smile, he wasn’t sold on the notion either.

“Are you done?” He indicated her plate and Mia nodded.

Wyatt cleared the dishes and took them to the sink, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows before going about the task of washing them. It was positively unexpected, this civilized side, and Mia wondered what he was hoping to gain by showing it as she sat there, watching his muscles flex and drinking her wine while enjoying the view.

They spent a few minutes in amicable silence, the sound of running water the only thing breaking it, until Wyatt cleared his throat.

“So, I have a proposition.” He was looking intently at the plate he was scrubbing, placing it on the drying rack next to the rest of the dishes before turning to Mia.

“The real reason you came over?” she speculated, her gaze hungrily scanning his broad form as he approached her, sliding between her chair and the small dining table, and leaning back, arms crossed over his chest and his crotch level with her face.

Mia was tempted to reach out, loosen his belt and free his cock, take it into her mouth and have a repeat performance of the previous night, but Wyatt was going to have to ask for it.

“I came over because I was bothered by the idea that our little tryst last night had you going into hiding, but I admit I had more than one reason.” Wyatt stretched out his hand, hooking a finger under Mia’s chin and tipping her head up as his thumb traced her bottom lip. His smoldering russet eyes set her body aflame, his voice dropping an octave as the air between them became heavy. “I woke up and you were gone. I wasn’t nearly done with you.”

“What if I was done with you?” she countered playfully.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” he answered, sporting his infuriatingly sexy half-grin as his thumb kept rubbing over her lip. “And I have zero inhibitions about bending you over the table to check how wet your panties are just to prove my point.”

Mia knew he would do it, and part of her wanted to goad him until he made good on the tempting threat, but she also knew Wyatt was right. If they were going to take this beyond one night it had to be hashed out, no room for interpretation or confusion.

“What is it you propose, labête?” She bit back a moan at the way his pupils dilated when she called him that. He truly was a beast, undeniable feral power and appeal. Mia was finding it increasingly difficult to ignore the growing bulge in front of her or the neediness pooling between her thighs.

“I want to fuck you, Mia.” His hand slid to her throat, thumb tracing the throbbing vein in her neck. “And it seems you want it just as much.”

“I can’t deny you’re more pleasant to be around when you want something other than to get me out of the way.”

“Funny, I was about to say the same thing.”

Mia could sense the slight bitterness in his voice, and she couldn’t hold it against him. She’d been much more dedicated to the task of getting rid of Wyatt than the other way around.

“What are your terms?” she asked, needing to steer away from the guilt simmering inside her.

“I want a carte blanche,” Wyatt answered, his eyes full of fire. “Let me do anything I want to you.”

Mia sniggered and shook her head, catching his wrist and pulling his hand away from her throat. “And I’m supposed to lay back and take it like a good girl?”

“No. Force me to work for it, Mia.” His eyes flared and he flipped the position of their hands, pulling Mia against his chest where his heart beat fast and strong against her palm. “I want to have to seduce you, I want to earn every sweet moan, every orgasm. I want to go to battle with you and break you.”

“What if I break you first?” Mia knew she was talking a big game for someone who was rapidly becoming a hot quivering mess under the untamed hunger in Wyatt’s gaze, but she couldn’t help herself.

“I think no matter who ends up with the upper hand, we both win.” His logic was sound, though even if it weren’t, his low, husky voice trickling down her spine with a pleasant tingle marked the end of the conversation as far as Mia was concerned.

She pushed up to her toes, pressing her lips against his as a way to seal the deal. There was a sliver of recognition that this may be a terrible idea, but it was a lost fight. Whatever it was that drew them together, it was too strong for logic to ward off.

Mia decided to embrace it and enjoy it while it lasted.

Why Would Mia Need a Safe Word?


Wyatt was starting to think that Mia really was a witch. Something about the fragrance of her body lotion was addictive, the way it gave out a gentle cloud of sweet pear aroma that penetrated even the heavy scent of sex in the air.

He pressed his nose into the soft skin of her back, inhaling before planting a kiss there, then another one a bit higher, and another even higher, his lips marking a trail to her neck.

“That was good,” he said, still sprinkling tender kisses over her shoulder, hugging her from behind.

“Too good.” Her hand stretched back to tangle in his hair, bringing his exploring lips to hers. “No one should be that talented at fucking.”

Wyatt couldn’t stop a burst of laughter, leaning over Mia and meetingher indigo gaze.

“I told you, Prickly Pear, hate is a strong fuel.”

“So, you’re saying it’s chemistry, not you?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “How unexpectedly modest.”

“You have me all wrong you know.”

“I have you right where I want you, Doctor Jenkins.” She turned away from him and snuggled deeper into his chest.

Wyatt tried to shake off disappointment at Mia’s easy disregard of his statement. She probably thought he was joking, but the truth was he hated how little Mia thought of him. Probably because, on a professional level, he had her on a high pedestal.

Mia was focused, driven, and innovative. Every moment he spent with her, his opinion of her rose. She intrigued him on so many levels, even the parts of her that spit fire and venom at him. Wyatt liked that his family name didn’t impress her, but he wished she regarded him as an equal rather than a nuisance. Still, he was glad she’d willingly accepted his offer and that he had Mia all to himself for the time being.

Mia sighed in content when Wyatt tightened his hold, wiggling a foot between his ankles to tangle their legs and looking at him with wicked amusement. “For the record, I won this round.”

“I told you, the beauty of this arrangement is that, even when one of us wins a battle, we both win the war.” He nuzzled her neck, breathing her in. “The collateral damage of our combat but a small death.”

Mia laughed softly at his reference to the French metaphor for an orgasm. “I dare say more than one.”

“I like fucking at your house, better than at mine.”  He liked being surrounded by things that were so distinctively her.

“Your bed is bigger.” She wasn’t wrong about Wyatt’s king size bed being larger than her queen, but the way Mia snuggled in close, Wyatt failed to see how that was going to be an issue.

“We need to make a few rules,” Wyatt said, thinking of how to approach the delicate subject of exactly what he wanted to do to her under their arrangement. “Maybe a safe word.”

Mia wiggled out of his hold and turned to face him with a curious gaze. “What for? If I tell you to stop, won’t you?”

“Of course, but these games, they can get out of hand, cross a line, get too much. Or maybe one of us meets someone and wants to stop or gets bored.” With every word he felt growing dread at any of those scenarios coming true. “We need something to signal it’s more than a momentary pause, that it’s over for good.”

“Agastopia,” Mia replied after a moment. “It means admiration of a particular part of someone’s body.”

“I know what it means.” Wyatt chuckled at how appropriate her choice was. “That’s a good word.”

“Thank you.” Mia flashed him a sassy smile. “Now that we have a safe word, mind telling me the real reason why I need it?”

“What would be the fun in that?” Mia rolled her eyes and threw herself back in the pillows.

“No gags or blindfolds.”

“Obviously.” Wyatt traced her collarbone with a light touch. “I want to see in your eyes the moment you cave under the pleasure, hear when you finally give in and beg.”

“I don’t like being tied down, either.” She paused, probably waiting for Wyatt’s response, but he just nodded. He was mildly disappointed, but it wasn’t a deal breaker. Restraints were fun, but they weren’t what he had in mind when he asked Mia for a safe word. “I don’t mind if you restrain me with your hands, but no accessories.”

“Okay,” Wyatt answered, smiling at her reassuringly. “Anything else?”

“The rules,” she reminded him. “What about those?”

“Total separation between work and our private lives, the hub stays professional.”

“Agreed.” Mia gazed at the ceiling for a few seconds before turning her gaze to Wyatt. “And no talking about personal stuff. Just because we’re screwing doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

Wyatt stared at her for a few moments, trying to see something, anything, in her closed off expression that would tip him off as to why Mia would stonewall him like that, before sighing. “If that’s what you want.”

“I want orgasms and the position I deserved to get in the first place.”

“Well,” he placed a palm on her knee and slowly dragged it up her thigh, “one of those I’m more than happy to provide.”



“Mia?” Giles’ concerned voice broke Mia out of her daze. She blinked a couple of times before remembering what he asked and quickly checked her notes.

“The tray marked red needs to go to sequencing, and the one marked in blue to Amika in the clinical lab.”

“All right,” Giles said slowly, still gazing at her with concern. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, just tired,” Mia reassured him. “I was up late.”

“Reading the new John Hopkins paper?” Giles let out a low whistle that meant he was impressed by whatever he had read. “It was wicked interesting.”

“I haven’t gotten around to it yet,” Mia answered, staring intently at the sheet of paper attached to the clipboard in her hand. She’d been waiting for this specific article to come out for ages, constantly telling every willing listener how they simply must read it, had even marked it in her calendar, then proceeded to completely forget about it.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Giles asked again. “You seem out of sorts.”

She was about to answer when a voice from behind her spoke. “You do seem a bit out of focus, Doctor Bissonnette.” Mia spun on her heels, grip tight on her clipboard and eyes narrowing at Wyatt, daring him to dish out the innuendo laced taunt she knew was coming. “You should call it an early day, go home and straight to bed.”

Wait for me there, was said with his eyes. Wyatt presented a stoic exterior, but Mia was quickly learning it was a well-honed professional persona that was hiding a raging fire, one she had been willingly consumed by every night for the last two weeks.

“You know, you’re right.” She tapped her clipboard with her pen, eyes never leaving Wyatt’s. “I should go home, lock the doors, get a good night’s sleep.”

Wyatt’s brow arched and he was clearly fighting the upward tug of his lips at her goading response, but Mia wasn’t done. If Wyatt thought he could use sleep deprivation and physical gratification to break her resolve and accept his presence in her lab, he had another thing coming.

Also, Mia was still in the dark as to why she would need a safe word. Wyatt was a ferocious lover, but nothing he did ventured beyond rough fucking and orgasm denial. It was only a matter of pushing him hard enough, though, and Mia was up for the task.

“But I’m not leaving until I’m done with this batch, and that could take a while.” Mia turned her clipboard to Wyatt, showing him all the boxes that had yet to be ticked off. “If you want to help, you could grab me a cup of coffee from the shop outside.”

Giles froze with the red tray in his hand, eyes wide as they bounced between her and Wyatt. Mia knew she was pushing the boundaries of Wyatt’s patience, sending him on a coffee run as if he were some low-level grad, and the dangerous flame that flickered in his eyes sent a hot thrill through her body.

He was back to amicable in a heartbeat, but Mia sensed she’d be paying for her impertinence later tonight.

“One cinnamon mocha coming right up,” Wyatt said in a light tone and an easy smile, turning his gaze to Giles. “Double shot cappuccino?”

“Err…” Giles seemed mortified, whether at Wyatt offering to get him coffee or remembering his preferred brew, Mia didn’t know, but it was amusing, nonetheless.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Wyatt laughed as he backed out of the lab. “I expect a full report on the initial findings no later than Friday, Doctor Bissonnette.”

“Of course,” Mia answered, wondering if her punishment was going to involve Wyatt keeping her awake through Friday.

“Um, Dr. Jenkins?” Giles said from behind Mia, finally finding his voice. “You’ve got donor meetings in London the entire of next week. You’re leaving Friday morning, remember?”

Wyatt grimaced, and Mia took a few steps closer to him. “It’s alright, I’ll hold down the fort while you’re gone.”

“Will you, now?”

“Yes.” She took another step, close enough so only Wyatt could hear her when she whispered. “I’ll manage just fine without you for a week.”

Mia was met by a scorching gaze, her insides melting into a puddle under it.

“Want to bet on it?” he asked in a low voice, the tips of his fingers grazing hers.

“What do I get when I win?”

Wyatt’s lips stretched into a lazy grin. “I’ll go get you that coffee now.”

Mia watched Wyatt’s broad back and shoulders as he turned away, thinking that this may be one bet she’d enjoy losing.

Punishment and Reward


Mia was walking back to the lab from a division meeting, immersed in her phone. Specifically in the raunchy exchange she and Wyatt had a couple of nights ago. It pained her to admit that she felt his absence, mostly from her bed.

Laughter greeted Mia as she approached the hub. She didn’t need to get close to know what the source of excitement was. The second she lifted her head from the screen she could feel Wyatt’s energy in the room, quickening her pulse and pulling her to him.

“Mia!” Giles turned to her with a broad smile, radiating with enthusiasm. “Wyatt’s back!”

“Doctor Bissonnette.” Wyatt nodded her direction from his perch on one of the couches. He addressed her with familiar politeness, no heat or even a sliver of warmth.

“Doctor Jenkins, welcome back,” Mia answered with the same intonation. She was just as skilled in playing this game, even with the liquid heat centering low in her abdomen, tugging at her belly with need.

“Thank you.” Another courteous smile, and Wyatt was standing. “I have some work to catch up on, but we should have a hub dinner on Monday, my treat.” He shoved one hand into his pocket and pointed with the other at Giles. “You choose, somewhere fun and tasty.”

Giles was beyond himself, eyes shining and smile broadening. “Fun and tasty, I’ve got you covered, boss.”

“Great. Back to work everyone.” Wyatt retreated to his office and the group quickly scattered to their various duties, but Mia was too stunned to move.

They hadn’t seen each other for a week, but the entire time they’d been texting. Not only sexting, but also about the hub and Wyatt’s meetings, sometimes about silly things like a new coffee shop she’d discovered or a really good wine he drank. And here he finally was, flesh and blood standing right in front of her, and he barely gave Mia a second glance, not even for a professional chat.

The bastard, she seethed in her mind, turning after Wyatt and making a conscious effort not to stomp. He thinks he can play me that easily?

She leaned on the frame of Wyatt’s office door. “Doctor Jenkins, a moment of your time.”

“Yeah, sure, come in,” he answered without lifting his gaze from his computer, pretending to be distracted by whatever he was working on.

Mia walked in and shut the door behind her, the fiery heat in her body amplifying with every inch she cleared between them.

“How was your trip?” she asked, forcing herself to take measured strides.

“Boring but successful.” He shrugged, finally lifting his gaze from the screen to her. He couldn’t mask the fire in his eyes, a flame that seared through Mia’s body with almost painful longing. “I know there are a lot of hub updates from the week I wasn’t here, I saw your report on the newest experiment and Giles’s proposal, and I promise I’ll make time to sit with you properly. But I have to finish these funding applications first.”

“That’s not why I’m here.” She rounded his desk, spinning his chair so he faced her and straddling his thighs, crashing her mouth against his.

“Mia,” Wyatt growled in a low rumble, placing his hands on her waist and pushing her away before she managed to wiggle her hips closer to his. “Total separation, it’s the only rule I gave you.”

“You can’t fool me, la bête,” Mia said in a breathless murmur, cupping Wyatt through his gray slacks. He was hard like granite and need flooded Mia’s body. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been craving him until now. “I need you inside of me, now.”

With a swift move, Wyatt stood and placed Mia on the table.

“You think I haven’t been dying to bury myself in your tight little body since the moment you walked into the hub?” His voice had an edge to it, gruff and desperate, his fingers flexing almost painfully against her flesh. “But this is the one red line I asked you not to cross, for your protection as much as mine.”

Mia knew Wyatt was right, but the knowledge faded away under the onslaught of yearning for the feel of his body against hers. She fisted his shirt, locking her ankles behind his back and engaging every muscle in her body to pull his solid bulk to her.

Wyatt groaned into her mouth, loosening his hold enough for Mia to tip her hips into his, the neediest parts of her feverish for any kind of contact.

Mia gasped when Wyatt’s fingers closed around her throat, holding her steady as he pulled away. His eyes were dark, dissolute in a way that made Mia tremble with desire under his touch. Dominance was seeping out of his skin, further intoxicating her, edging her closer to madness.

“Wyatt,” Mia panted, clutching his shirt. “Please.”

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” It was pointless to deny, and she was too far gone to even try. “Did your sweet pussy miss my cock, Mia?”

“Yes.” She caught his gaze, licking her lips and reached out to trace his with her fingers. “And your mouth.”

Wyatt’s lips stretched into a dangerously smug grin under her fingers. “You know what this means, Prickly Pear?”

Mia had no idea, but she sensed it wasn’t something she’d like. “That you’re going to break your stupid rule and eat me out right here on your desk?”

“No.” He tightened his hold on her throat, the vein in his neck throbbing fast and hard. “It means you lost our bet, so tonight I get to collect my reward and punish you for breaking my rule.”

A pleasurable shiver ran up Mia’s spine. She was sure she’d managed to push him beyond his breaking point last week with her coffee order but was proven wrong. Not that she was disappointed by the result, Wyatt had a natural gift of coaxing her to the edge and then keeping her teetering there with various methods of delicious torture. It was a sweet form of punishment, but not the one she craved.

“You’re an animal,” she hissed at him.

“You have no idea,” he said with that same cocky grin, stepping away and resuming his seat, rolling a few inches back to allow Mia easy passage. “Go back to work, Mia. I’ll see you tonight.”


Mia was not sitting and staring at her front door in restless anticipation for Wyatt. No, she was doing perfectly fine. In fact, Wyatt shouldn’t even bother showing up as far as she was concerned.

After all, she hadn’t tidied and taken a long, soothing bath with scented oils just for his benefit. And she most certainly did not buy the bottle of wine she was currently drinking from simply because he’d raved about it.

It was after 8 pm, and Mia was sipping from her glass in the dimmed light of her flat. Alone. Not that she was bothered.

Her thoughts were cut short by the sound of soft knocking on her door, and she sprang off the couch, almost spilling wine all over herself, rushing to the door and pausing to smooth out her silk robe before opening it.

Mia’s breath stalled at the sight that greeted her. A freshly shaved and showered Wyatt filled her doorframe, eyes blazing over the exposed skin of her legs and thighs, delaying on the deep vee revealing the skin between her breasts, before lifting to meet hers.

There was a moment where everything except the crackling energy around them froze, and then Wyatt was devouring her lips, pulling the panels of her robe open and cupping her breasts, backing Mia deeper into the flat until they were in her bathroom.

Mia’s ass bumped into the vanity countertop and Wyatt pulled away, uninhibited lust burning in his eyes when he looked at her.

“What am I going to do with you?” He sounded almost irritated, but in a sexy, Wyatt manner that made Mia want to push all his buttons until he unleashed that feral side he kept neatly tucked under his highbrow exterior.

“You can fuck me, for starters,” Mia said with a purposefully challenging tone, and Wyatt bowed his head, skipping her mouth and pressing his lips to her ear.

“We’ll get there, Prickly Pear,” he promised with a hush that jolted through Mia’s body all the way down to her toes. “But you need to learn a lesson about the importance of following the rules before I give you what you want.”

Wyatt straightened, whipping his shirt over his head and looming over her. A wall of defined dips and ridges that Mia was starting to know as well as she knew her own body.

“Take it off.” He indicated her robe, and Mia let the smooth fabric slide down her arms. “Turn around.” Once again, she complied without argument. “Bend over.”

Mia bit her bottom lip at the last command, lowering herself over the counter and bracing her forearms on the cool marble, watching Wyatt through the mirror.

“Such a sexy ass,” he rumbled in appreciation, caressing the soft skin of her cheeks. “One might say I’m full of admiration for it.” He delivered a light swat to her right ass cheek, enough to make his intentions clear, before lifting his gaze to meet hers in the mirror. “What would you call that, Mia?”

She knew what he was asking and she knew what she wanted.

Without hesitation she flashed him a wicked smile, her gaze never wavering from his. “I’d call that a perfectly understandable fixation on a beautiful bottom.”

Wyatt’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction, and before Mia could prepare the flat of his palm landed on her rear again, this time with a resounding crack. Mia yelped at the sudden sting, heat from the point of contact licked over her skin, slicking her thighs. She’d finally pushed him over the edge, she’d won.

“Do you want to know a secret?” he asked, smoothing a hand over her warmed skin, and Mia nodded. “I’ve been back since yesterday evening.”

Mia’s eyes flew open in time to see Wyatt’s palm descend for another whack, crying out when it made contact with her skin. He was sporting a smug grin, and Mia cursed herself for not realizing she’d been played. Again.

She may have voluntarily pushed Wyatt over the edge, but he was expecting it, hoping for it, even. And he’d lured her into taking the plunge with him.

Punishing Mia


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, mon 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.