Page 33 of Pucking Tangled

THIRTY-TWO

Waylon

He’d told Mia once to stay out of the garage. No reason. No explanation. Just a wall of charm and a warning smile. And she’d listened.

But the way they connected during their night out had Waylon wanting to give her more. A peek behind the curtain. A look inside his mind.

He wanted Mia to see him.

The real him.

Not the smartalec hockey player with a dirty mind.

Mind made up, he left the door ajar and walked into the backyard to find Mia on one of the lounge chairs with her law books open, Skeeter beside her.

He paused and watched her for a beat before he cleared his throat and called out her name.

“Got a few minutes?” he asked .

Skeeter automatically stood and wagged his tail.

“Hey, boy. Can I borrow Auntie Mia for a few? Go find your dad,” he told the dog with a pat on his head.

Mia set down her text book and stretched her arms over her head. Summer classes had begun earlier in the week and Mia had been too distracted with course work to focus on much of anything else.

“Is everything okay?” Mia asked.

“Yeah. I…uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I have something I’d like to show you.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh.”

“Come with me.” He held out his hand.

She hesitated only for a second before she took it and stood.

Waylon led her through the backyard, making sure to close the gate behind them, and across the driveway to his garage.

It was quiet when they stepped inside. Cooler than the mildly humid evening air outside.

It smelled of turpentine, graphite, and the faint scent of cedarwood from a half-finished frame near the door.

He said nothing, giving Mia time to take it all in.

He looked around, trying to see things from her point of view for the first time.

Sketchbooks stacked in uneven piles around the room.

Empty coffee mugs with paint brushes sticking out of them like flowers in vases.

Canvases propped against every wall, some covered, some exposed.

Charcoal dust clung to the floor. A half broken easel leaned drunkenly in the corner from a night when he was too angry to focus and almost destroyed more than just it.

She moved forward with delicate steps as she explored his private space .

On the far wall was a portrait in oil.

Full color.

Layered brushwork.

Her face, soft in sleep, one arm curled under her cheek, mouth slightly parted. He’d painted it from memory after the first time he’d seen her napping on the couch, Skeeter curled at her feet, peace written in every line of her body.

It wasn’t sexual. It wasn’t even romantic.

But it was intimate.

He knew the minute she saw it. Her breath hitched and she whispered his name.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” he said quietly, finally closing the door behind them. “At first it was just study sketches. Quick lines. I tend to do that when I’m trying to learn someone.”

She turned to him, brows lifted. “You were trying to learn me ?”

He shoved a hand through his hair and gave a breathless laugh. “Figured if I couldn’t say what I was feeling, maybe I could draw it instead.”

“These are amazing, Waylon. You’re extremely talented.” Mia spun around the, quickly trying to take in every piece of art work she hadn’t yet explored.

She moved toward a table covered in unfinished projects, running her fingers along the edge of it. It wasn’t long before her gaze landed on another canvas. It was a rough sketch, but still unmistakably her curled up on one of the kitchen chairs in her favorite hoodie and sipping coffee.

She traced over the lines he’d drawn with an unreadable expression on her face.

He swallowed hard, his nerves trying to get the best of him. “I see you, Blondie. Even when you feel invisible.”

Mia looked back at him over her shoulder with a smile that nearly knocked his entire world off its axis. “I could kiss you right now, Waylon Ryan.”

He stalked toward her, one slow step at a time, until he was directly in front of her. He cupped her cheek and brushed his thumb over her lips. “I wouldn’t stop you.”

She stood on her tiptoes and met him halfway.

Their kiss started out soft and slow, her hands sliding up his chest to grip his shirt.

He held on to her hips, holding her steady and kissing her like she meant the world to him.

Because she did.

She pressed her body against his like she couldn’t get close enough.

He shoved his sketch pads and pencils aside, then lifted her onto his work table without breaking their kiss. Mia’s knees fell open, and he stepped between them. He pulled back briefly to peel his shirt over his head.

When he reached for the hem of her shirt, Mia smiled wickedly. “I’ve been waiting for you to finally lose control.”

He laughed while kissing down her neck. “Careful what you wish for.”

He fumbled with her shorts, but she lifted her hips enough for him to tug them down her legs, along with her peach cotton thong. He pulled his own shorts down, freeing his cock, and then… nothing.

Waylon let out a string of curses. Talk about piss poor planning on his part.

“Problem?” Mia asked.

“I don’t keep condoms in here.”

He didn’t miss the way her face fell in disappointment when he pulled his pants back up and tucked his erection away.

“Don’t worry. Doesn’t mean I can’t do this.” He fell to his knees, pulled her to the end of the table, and draped her legs over his shoulders before burying his face in her wet cunt.

Her head fell back when his tongue dipped between her folds. “Waylon!”

Holding her thighs in place, he devoured her like she was his very last meal.

Mia arched her hips and pressed his face even closer as her orgasm rocked through her and his name tumbled from her lips.

When he stood, he grabbed his shirt and tugged it down over her head to cover her. “My room. Now,” he growled, desperate to ease the ache in his balls.

They raced through the house and up the stairs. At the top of the steps, Waylon grabbed Mia and tossed her over his shoulder as he hurried down the hall and into his room.

The door slammed behind them but he couldn’t be bothered to care.

“Bed,” he commanded, dropping his shorts and pulling a condom from his dresser drawer.

She laid down in the middle of his bed and spread her thighs for him, reminiscent of the day he caught her getting off on her own.

“Trust me?” he asked, settling between her legs.

“More than you’ll ever know.”

He nodded. “Good girl. I promise, I’ll never do anything to hurt you, Mia. But you should know I like things rough.”

Her skin flushed. “Do your worst, Waylon. Just make me yours—now.”

He thrusted inside her in one swift motion, not even giving her time to adjust.

“Holy. Shit!” She dug her nails into his biceps and bit her lip .

“Good?”

“You’re huge.”

He didn’t need her to tell him that. That wasn’t confidence talking, either. He was well aware that he was the biggest out of the four of them. Not that he spent a lot of time looking at everyone else’s dicks.

“Need a minute?” He raised a brow.

“No.”

“I knew you could handle it, Mia.”

He began moving his hips, pounding into her. His hand went around her throat, gently pressing on the sides just below her jaw. Mia’s eyes widened with a look of panic.

“You’re safe. Trust me. If it’s too much, tap my arm twice and I promise I’ll let go.”

“Okay,” she replied with a shaky breath.

“That’s my dirty girl.”

She looked so goddamn sexy with his hand around her throat and her tits bouncing with every thrust. Better than he could have ever imagined. And he damn sure had imagined their time together a lot.

Letting go of all of his inhibitions and pent-up sexual tension, Waylon fucked Mia hard. With an unbridled passion that he couldn't contain.

And when he felt her pussy clamp down around him, he released his grip on her neck and watched her soar.

Her horse moans and his name tumbling off her lips when she came made his cock even harder.

He quickly pulled out and tore off the condom. Fisting his cock, he grunted as his release splashed onto her stomach and her chest in long ropes that felt like they’d never stop.

He thought her wild eyes and freshly fucked smirk drove him wild, but when she ran her fingers through the mess he made and brought them to her lips and sucked his release into her mouth like it was a world-class dessert, he knew he was a fucking goner.

Something about the way she looked at him with such hunger told him that underneath it all, this woman would match all of his kinks.

He needed a minute, but he was far from done with her now that he’d finally gotten a taste of his own.