But progress had been made without her pushing it.
It was just happening.
And that was good.
However, this day was bad.
Because he’d come to her last night murmuring into her sleepiness while he pulled her into his arms that the job was done and she would have very much liked to have a full Sunday to have more time with him, make more progress with him …
And to play.
He’d helped her break the seal. She was back. And she had a sub who rocked it.
Not to mention, their last scene had been mind-blowing.
Branch was a phenomenal lover and she enjoyed every second when they had sex, his game, his rules. And importantly, if they were normal, it wouldn’t always be about the kink. They’d have both, and if it worked (which it did, hugely), they’d get off on both.
But she was in the mood to crack a whip.
More, she wanted to use every way she could to show him what they had was something worth keeping. Something worth building. Something worth fighting for. And Evangeline wanted to use every way she could dream up to tie him tighter to her. So tight, he couldn’t get loose even if the occasion came where he thought he should try, if only doing that to protect her from whatever it was that had all but destroyed him.
They were who they were. They liked what they liked in how they enjoyed playing. It was difficult to find someone in life you connected with in all the ways that were important. Add that crucial nuance, it made it exceptionally difficult.
She loved it that she had a man in her life who could throw a chop (or a steak, she’d now had both) on her grill and make her mouth water. And she loved that he’d fallen into a place where he could take off his boots and put his feet on her coffee table. She also loved it that he could make her feel what he made her feel with his hands and mouth on her.
But she was a woman who needed to wring a man’s balls dry.
And he was a man who needed a woman to wring his dry.
So she’d hoped they’d have a time where they could take their time, fall into a prolonged scene and both enjoy the heck out of it.
And she’d wanted to do just that today.
That didn’t happen because she had a job where she sometimes had to work Sundays. And she presently had an annoying client who knew more than she did about real estate (not even close) because he had a dick (though she suspected with his behavior that member was not all that much to write home about). And last, he wanted precisely what he wanted without buying his own damned lot and building the fucking thing himself.
So she’d shown him three (more) houses that day instead of spending it with Branch.
Branch had been cool with that. Another thing that worked for them that he wasn’t noticing was that he was okay with her doing her thing the way she needed to do it and she gave him that same freedom.
He’d said he had things to do and to text him when she was heading home.
She’d done that, and within fifteen minutes, the time she was pulling into her drive, he’d replied, Be there in an hour.
So now the day was more than half done and she’d spent the first part of it being irritated to an extreme and the last hour of it changing her sheets, doing laundry and watering her plants.
Not what she’d wanted to be doing.
That being reddening a fine male ass, that ass belonging to Branch.
Therefore, when Branch strolled into her Arizona room, eyes to her watering can before they came to her and he quipped, “Let me guess. With your jungle, you’ve been at that near on since you texted me,” she was in no mood to giggle.
She was in the mood to bitch.
“Yes. And if the client I showed his fiftieth house to today, and I’m not sure I’m exaggerating that, doesn’t make an offer on something sometime soon, I’m going to take this watering can,” she lifted it, “and shove it up his ass.”
His mouth quirked and his eyes lit as he said, “You’re good with ass, baby, but not sure that’d feel all that great.”
She turned fully to him. “That’s the point.”
“Got that,” he muttered, eyes still alight, standing where he’d stopped six feet from her and crossing his arms on his chest.
“He’s driving me crazy.”
“Got that too,” he kept muttering.
“He works in tech sales,” she informed him, even though he didn’t ask, “although I have no earthly clue what that means, whatever it means, the only good thing about him is that he prequalified for a mortgage. But he also somehow knows every comp on every property within Maricopa County. Knowing this without looking a damned thing up, he can just rattle them off willy-nilly and, just to say, inaccurately.”
Branch said nothing.
She carried on bitching.
“And he’s absolutely definite on what a seller should have listed a house for and this is always at least thirty percent less than the listing. And he has clairvoyance for he also knows precisely what a seller will accept as an offer and that’s always at least forty percent below listing, which is insane. Though, I’ll add, he knows this but hasn’t offered dick.”
She took a deep breath as she watched his lips quirk again at her last, but she didn’t shut up.
“And, with all of that genius at his disposal, he’s also lived a past life as an inspector because all he has to do is glance at a roof and tell me the seller’s agent lied on the listing’s description. Because it isn’t five years old, it’s fifteen. And just to say, a, it’s illegal to lie on a listing and, b, this guy is in tech sales not roofing.”
“I see your day hasn’t been rough,” Branch noted quietly. “It’s been rough.”
She agreed to that with a sharp nod but didn’t let up.
“And by the way, he’s made it clear I don’t know roofing, and a variety of other things, all having to do with my job, a career I’ve been engaged in rather successfully for seven years, and you know, say, simply breathing, not because I don’t know roofing or how to breathe correctly. But because anyone with a vagina can’t possibly understand something that complicated, and yes, that includes the proper techniques of breathing.”
That earned Evangeline a thrilling scary look from Branch, which wasn’t thrilling because it was scary.
It was thrilling because Branch looked pissed, he was hot when he looked pissed, and that was mostly because he was pissed on her behalf because he clearly didn’t like a man disrespecting her.
“Usually, I love my job,” she declared, alas, too irritated to fully appreciate Branch’s pissed-on-her-behalf look. “I like houses. Mom and I would go to open houses on weekends back when I was in high school just because. She was a serial decorator. No room was ever decorated quite enough. So she went to get new ideas. For me, it was the houses. How they were laid out. The surprises you’d sometimes get. Imagining who lived in them. She wasn’t surprised I got into the business. But when I got into the business, it became more. It’s a thrill to be a part of finding someone a home, something that’s fundamental to living your life. And it doesn’t hurt if I sell enough that I make a good living.”
His gaze wandering the room they were in, going so far as to look over his shoulder into the family room, Branch remarked, “Woulda thought you were about the decorating.”
He was being funny.
And she thought he was funny.
That didn’t mean she didn’t snap, “Stop being a smartass, Branch.”
He looked back at her and his mouth quirked again.
She ignored that and shared something more he’d already got. “Today, I did not love my job.”
He finally became serious.
“You work too much, honey,” he said softly.
“I know that, Branch.”
“Said yourself you wanted to cut back,” he reminded her.
“I know that too,” she returned. “I just don’t know how to do that without losing a client or the referrals they could bring because I might want to cut back bu
t I still need to pay the mortgage.”
“Far’s I can see, you pay your mortgage and then some. Cut back a little on clothes, shoes and knickknacks, you could lose a client, especially a pain-in-the-ass one, and whatever referrals he might bring.”
“I don’t work hard not to be able to indulge in shopping sprees, Branch,” she declared to another lip twitch. “And I like knickknacks. They’re like physical memories.”
He was back to muttering when he replied, “That wasn’t lost on me.”
“You’re being a smartass again,” she warned.
“No, Angie, that actually wasn’t lost on me,” he returned.
The way he shared that, Evangeline fell silent.
“Cut back, honey,” Branch advised gently before she could figure out just what way he’d shared his last. “You got a pain-in-the-ass client, life’s too fuckin’ short to put up with his shit, scrape him off. You dig what you do but nothing in life is perfect all the time. Decide how much shit you’re willing to put up with when it gets shoveled your way and cut it off when it goes over that line. That’s a good way to protect your downtime because, even if you dig what you do, too much of it is never a good thing. And straight up, honey, if you protect your downtime, you’ll have a lot more patience when an asshole crosses your path and shovels shit your way.”
This was good advice.
And she was in the mood to take it.
But still.
“That doesn’t get me back my Sunday,” she pointed out. With you, she didn’t say.
“You’re right,” he replied, moved her way and took her in his arms.
Yes, he moved right to her.
And took her in his arms.
She stood there, shocked and unmoving, but even so, she felt those two things still loving the feel of him holding her in a way no words could express how perfect it was.
It was just that perfect.
And then Branch made it better.
Holding her close to his tall body with one arm, sliding his other hand up in her ponytail, he murmured to the top of her head, “What can I do?”
“I’m in a bad mood,” she shared, something else he definitely knew, curving her free arm around him, the other hand holding the watering can dangling at her side.
“Got that.”
Yes.
He got that.
And he didn’t balk, get impatient with her bitching or steer her in another direction because he didn’t want to hear it.
He’d listened, advised, come right to her and taken her in his arms.
But standing in his arms, in this new place with Branch that he instigated, progress between them that he walked across a room to offer her, she didn’t know how to proceed.
The part of their lives that was always a given from the very beginning should be the easy place to take him.
And a great way to burn off her mood.
But now with nearly a week with Branch where life was just life, they had the rest of their Sunday free, no work for her, no jobs for him, for some reason she felt shy in taking him there.
And more, standing in his arms, she wanted to do nothing but that. Especially since he’d put her right there, instigating something between them that was so precious, she wanted to hold on to it for as long as he was willing to give it to her.
“You want me to finish watering the plants?” he asked.
“I’m almost done,” she muttered into his chest, now loving the fact that he’d made that offer because it was sweet.
“You wanna finish watering the plants while I get you a glass of wine?” he suggested.
Now she loved that offer.
Even so, she mumbled, “I feel more like a shot of tequila.”
“You got tequila, I can do that. You don’t, I can go out and get some.”
Damn.
She’d been right.
So very right.
With each passing minute with him, she knew she wanted more of Branch Dillinger.
Even if it turned out to be just life and a whole lot of (really good) vanilla sex.
God, she hoped she could win their match.
If she didn’t …
It wasn’t worth contemplating.
Especially doing that standing in the warm sun streaming in through the windows of her Arizona room with his strong arms around her.
When she didn’t answer, just snuggled closer, his fingers fisted in her hair, gently pulling her head to the side, and he bowed his back so he could put his lips to her ear.
“You wanna tie me up and do dirty things to me?”
Now that was motivation to lose his arms.
“You in the mood?” she queried in return, wanting to be sure he was but unable to keep all the breathy out of her words because she definitely was.
Absolutely.
“The way you give it, you really asking that shit?” he shot back.
She tried to turn her head so she could get a look at his face but his fingers tightened in her hair, stopping her.
He trailed his lips down the neck he’d exposed then back up to her ear, where he whispered, “Love taking your sweet, wet pussy. But you need to know, I’ll likely always be in the mood for you to do the taking. You wanna get fucked, baby, I’ll fuck that rough day away. But you wanna do the fucking, I’m open to that too.”
Evangeline wasn’t going to make him offer again.
“Then maybe you should go upstairs, get naked and position for me, on your knees at the edge of the pillows, hands behind your head, facing the headboard, handsome,” she replied in her own whisper.
His arm around her slid down so he could cup her ass in his hand and press her into his hips as he ground into her body.
She felt his hardness against her belly.
It was safe to say he was in the mood.
“I’m down with that,” he shared needlessly.
She turned her head so her lips were now at his ear. “Just a warning, my big boy, there’s the matter of you being bad I’ll be having to see to.”
“Mm,” he murmured, the hum of it gliding down her neck and exploding in her nipples.
He was right.
Mm.
“Might be best not to make me wait,” she prompted.
She felt his teeth skim her earlobe before he replied, “Yes, ma’am.”
That, she felt in her nipples and below.
He let her go, gave her the heat through the ice-blue of his gaze and then he sauntered out of the room as casually as he’d strolled into it.
God, even just watching him walk made her wet.
Branch disappeared and she watched him do it, going so far as to lean to the point she almost fell over not to lose sight of him.
But when she did, she forced herself to finish watering her plants. She then forced herself to go to the laundry room, put what was in the washer into the dryer and then start a new load.
And only then did she walk upstairs to start what she should have been doing all day.
Sharing it with Branch.
* * *
Evangeline just wanted to look at him.
He was magnificent, tied to her bed on his knees, his arms stretched out to his sides, bound at the wrists by silk ropes held high on her bedposts, his legs spread wide, his cock hard, his balls bulging, his ass red from the few crops he’d already taken, the muscles of his back, ass and thighs on display.
Oh yes.
She could look at him like that for hours.
She could just look at him for hours, tied to her bed on his knees, cooking in her kitchen, ambling into her house from the grill.
But now her pussy couldn’t take just watching.
She needed to touch.
And other things.
So wearing nothing but a lacy black bra and panties, she walked on the bed on her knees and got close to his side at his back, running a hand flat down along his spine, feeling the warmth of his skin turn to heat at his ass.
“I’m afraid I’ve just broken
you in, handsome,” she whispered.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.
“I wanted to spend all day playing with you, Branch,” she admitted. “That means I’m going to have to pack a lot in in the time we have.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
No.
He was not.
Now.
Or, if she got her way, maybe ever.
“Good, baby,” she murmured, stroking his ass. “Now, I like it when you offer this to me.” She gave his ass a squeeze. “You’re going to take more from your crop. Be sure to tip for me so I’m sure you feel it.”
“You got it, Angie.”
He said the words and she felt his ass move into her hand as he carried out her order.
God, he was everything.
She moved back and grabbed the crop where she’d dropped it on the bed.
Then she went at him.
And she felt it drive up her pussy as he tipped for her, taking his crop, swaying forward with the blows, back to get more.
She gave it to him good and she gave it to him long but when the truncated grunt that surged up his throat shared he needed a break, as he swayed back, she didn’t strike another blow.
She shifted in the bed, took the folded-over tip, slid it to his crevice right to his hole and pressed in.
He pressed back.
That drove up her pussy too.
“Remember being bad, Branch?”
His tone was rough when he replied, “I remember, Angie.”
“You liked being bad, didn’t you?”
“Fuck yeah.”
She put on more pressure. “You liked making me say things, didn’t you?”
“Fuck yeah.”
She slid the tip of her crop up and down and said quietly, “I like making you say things too.”
He didn’t reply.
“How bad were you, Branch?”
“Bad.”
She took the crop away and struck him with it, harder than she’d been giving it to him.
She watched his jaw get tight as he swung forward then tipped back.