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Angela shut the door too hard as she came into the house. She was worn out after a long day of bullshit, her shoulders aching from twelve hours in a vest, her last witness's words refusing to leave her head. She was more than ready to unclip her badge from her belt and get out of her work clothes. Wesley was already home, sleeves rolled up, waiting on the couch with his elbows resting on his knees, his head in his hand. He looked up the second she walked in.
“You’re late.”
“Don’t start.” Angela shook her head.
He sighed as he stood. “I texted. All day. You didn’t answer once.”
Angela dropped her bag by the door and kicked off her shoes. “I was in the middle of something. It ran long.”
Wesley moved to her slowly, stopping when he reached her. Instead of embracing her as he usually did, he paused.
“You’re wound up,” he said. “I can see it.”
“I’m fine,” she snapped.
“You’re not.” His hand came up, fingers holding her chin, tipping her face up. “You need it, don’t you?”
Angela let out a sharp exhale. She knew exactly what he meant. When the job got under her skin and she couldn’t shake it, Wesley was the only one who could take the edge off.
She held his gaze. “Yeah. I do.”
“Bedroom. Now.”
She led the way, Wesley following close behind her. He was close enough that she could hear his breathing, feel his presence at her back.
The second the door shut, he was on her. His hands flew to her belt, unbuckling it with practiced fingers, pulling her pants and panties down in one motion. Angela stepped out of them without being told. Wesley left her shirt on. He liked that sometimes, liked her still half in uniform while he put her over his lap.
He sat on the edge of the bed and guided her down across his spread thighs. One of his hands settled between her shoulder blades, pressing her flat. The other rested on the curve of her ass.
“Count,” he said.
The first spank echoed throughout the room. Angela jerked, a sharp grunt leaving her mouth. “One.”
Wesley didn’t go easy. He never did when she needed it like this. He worked over both cheeks, then lower, until her skin went pink and her breathing was rough.
“Six–fuck, Wesley!”
“Language.” Another hard spank, right over the same spot. Angela hissed through her teeth.
“Seven.”
By nine she was squirming, thighs pressing together, the ache blooming into something hotter. Wesley’s hand slid under her, fingers finding her already wet. He stroked once, and she lifted her hips, chasing his touch.
“Greedy,” he murmured. Another spank landed, harder. “You’re dripping on my pants.”
“Wes–”
“Shh.” He spanked her again, then rubbed her heated skin with his hand, soothing her for a moment before landing two more firm strikes. After, his fingers were back between her legs, two of them sliding into her without warning. Angela gasped.
He fucked her with his fingers while spanking her with his other hand, quick strikes that made her clench around him every time. She was panting and moaning through it, one hand gripping his thigh as she struggled to stay on his lap.
“You take it so well when you know you need it,” Wesley growled. “All that attitude gone. Just my good girl getting her ass reddened.”
Angela moaned. He added a third finger and spanked her hard enough that she cried out. She came with little warning, hips rolling against his hand as he worked her through it, still delivering the occasional sharp smack that made her clench harder.
When she went limp he eased his fingers out and massaged her heated, red skin. Angela stayed draped over his lap, breathing hard, the sting settling into a satisfying warmth.
Wesley’s hand stroked up and down her back. “Better?”
She nodded against his legs. “Yeah.”
He helped her up, pulling her into his lap properly this time, and kissed the side of her neck. Angela melted into him, her tension evaporated.
Wesley’s mouth hovered over her ear. “Next time answer your texts.”
Angela huffed a quiet laugh against his shoulder. “Make me.”
His hand settled possessively over the sore curve of her ass, squeezing hard enough to make her suck in a breath.
“I will.”