Chapter Twenty #3
“Don’t rush it,” I bite out, moving my hand faster now. God, I want her to draw it out yet I can’t slow myself down.
“Fuck,” Wyatt chokes, sounding pained. “Oh fuck, that’s tight, sweetheart.”
My warning is a low growl. “Do not clench for him, Max. Don’t make him come in you.”
I know what she’s doing. I can tell by the way she’s moving her hips. She’s squeezing her pussy, milking every inch of him, and instead of stopping when I tell her to, she lifts her eyes to me, the tiniest hint of a self-satisfied grin on her face.
“Fuck, that feels so good, Wyatt,” she purrs defiantly, and he gasps, squeezing his eyes shut, his fingers digging into the arms of the chair.
“Wait, stop,” he pants. “I can’t—”
But she doesn’t. She rides him harder and faster, never taking her eyes off of me, and suddenly Wyatt is raising his hips off the chair, groaning as his whole body stiffens.
“Fuck!” It comes out a broken cry. “Fuck.”
He stills inside her, chest heaving, and then falls back into the chair with a pained exhale.
“Oh my God,” he breathes, panting like he’s been running miles. “Shit.” He takes a deep, stuttered breath. “Sorry, boss.”
“Not your fault,” I respond, keeping my eyes on Max. “What did I tell you?” I ask her, very calmly.
She blinks demurely, almost apologetic, except that grin that’s still teasing her lips.
Brat.
Wyatt’s hands stay on her hips, steadying her. His voice is low, almost amused. “You really couldn’t help it, huh?”
Max’s cheeks go pinker.
“Stand up,” I tell her. “Hands on the arm of the chair.”
She lifts herself off of Wyatt, planting her feet on the ground, her palms on the chair, presenting her ass, her face bent closely over his.
“Naughty girls get punished,” I say, placing my palm on her ass and then lifting it.
The first spank lands hard, and Max jolts, a sound ripping out of her that’s pure heat.
I don’t pause long enough for her to relax. I lift my hand and spank the same spot, harder. Her knees bend, and she catches herself, fingers gripping the chair.
A third spank, hard and fast.
Max’s head turns toward me, eyes bright and wild over her shoulder.
I lean in. “You think you’re cute?”
I spank her again.
She gasps—then laughs, breathless.
Wyatt’s voice is rough now. “She’s gonna make you hit her all night.”
“She’s welcome to try,” I mutter.
Max shifts her hips, just a little. I grab her hip and still her. “Don’t move.”
I deliver one final spank, then slide my hand over the sting I’ve left there, my palm soothing what I just marked.
Max shivers.
I step in close behind her and press my body to hers, letting her feel exactly how hard I am, then I hook two fingers under her chin and tilt her head slightly so she has to feel my breath at her ear.
“Now you’re going to take me.”
I hold her chin until she stops squirming and goes perfectly still.
“Spread your feet,” I tell her. “Wider.”
She obeys. I slide my hand down her spine and over her hip, anchoring her in place, then I line myself up and drive in.
Max cries out, her whole body tightening around me, and I set a ruthless rhythm.
She’s soaking wet and slippery, heat and velvet gripping me as I thrust in.
It feels like sliding into pure fire—tight and wet, her body trembling, still pulsing from Wyatt.
The sensation is overwhelming, every push dragging another desperate sound from her lips.
After all that waiting, all that watching, being inside her is almost too much.
I want to lose myself immediately, but I force myself to hold back, to savor the way she takes me, the way her pussy clings to me and draws me deeper.
Wyatt is murmuring to her, something filthy and approving that makes her go tighter around me.
She moans, and I thrust harder. “Take it.”
I can feel Wyatt’s cum hot and slick inside her, mixing with her own wetness.
It's obscene and perfect, the extra slickness as I fuck her. The thought that she’s full of him, that I’m filling her now, too, just stokes the fire—makes it hotter and dirtier.
Makes me want to claim her even harder. Even deeper.
“You think I didn’t know what you were doing?” I growl, mouth at her ear, my hand gripping her hip to keep her still. “All that pretty little riding. All that ‘oops, I can’t help it.’”
I thrust deep, punishing, and she whimpers.
“I told you not to clench for him.” Another brutal stroke. “And you did it anyway. You squeezed him with this tight little pussy just like you’re doing right now for me, didn’t you?”
Her breath stutters. She tries to look back, but I turn her face forward with a rough hand at her jaw.
“That’s what brats do,” I say, voice low and vicious. “They break the rules and act surprised when they get punished.”
I slap her ass again, right over the sting I made, and she jolts, a squeal tearing out of her.
“You’re going to come for me,” I command her. “And I want you to look at Wyatt when you do. Keep your eyes on him. Let him watch you come, sweetheart.”
I slide my hand between her thighs and find her clit, swollen and sensitive, and she lets out a low cry. One slow circle, then firmer, and her whole body locks.
“Ryder—” she gasps, voice breaking.
“That’s it,” I say. “Come for me, baby.”
She tries to hold it back, a mix of brat pride and stubbornness, but it’s too late. The orgasm hits her and her thighs tremble. Her fingers claw the chair. Her pussy clamps hard around me, pulsing in helpless little grips that make my vision blur.
She cries out, shuddering, and I keep fucking her through it, relentless, until I follow her a second later, burying myself deep into her pussy, vision black as my breath tears out of me.
For a few seconds all I can hear is my own heart beating. I collapse over her back, breathing hard, until the sounds of the room start to come back.
Finally, I pull back and look around. As if he can tell what I’m looking for, Wyatt picks up the box of Kleenex on the side table beside him and hands it to me with a low chuckle. I grab a handful and try to clean us both up as I pull out.
When I finally pull her upright, she’s boneless, hair a mess, mouth pink and swollen. I keep an arm around her middle for support and her knees wobble.
Wyatt shifts in the chair, still catching his breath, watching us with quiet heat in his eyes.
Max turns her head to look at me, lashes heavy, a smug little curve on her mouth like she’s proud of herself.
I pinch her jaw gently. A warning.
“Don’t look so pleased,” I murmur. “You earned that.”
Her laugh is soft and breathless. “Did I?”
I lean in, bite the side of her neck, just teeth and light pressure, then let my lips brush the mark. “Next time,” I say, low enough that only she can hear, “you’ll decide if you want to be good…or if you want me to make you pay again.”
Wyatt reaches for her hand and squeezes it.
“Hellcat,” he murmurs.
She laughs and I just know I’ve created a monster. The brat dynamic has been thoroughly rewarded.