Evangeline felt like crying.
She did not.
“I have too. Twice,” she shared. “Once on a family vacation when I was in high school, and again with a girlfriend one summer when I was in college.”
Branch’s hand lifted her nightie over her ass so he could start to circle the skin at the small of her back with his fingers, but he didn’t answer.
“When you were there, did you have an English breakfast?” she queried.
He nodded. “But I still got no clue what an Evange-English breakfast is.”
“Did you like English breakfasts?” she pressed.
“Sausage, eggs, bacon, hash browns, mushrooms, beans and toast, not sure what there is not to like.”
She grinned at him. “Then trust me. You’re gonna love your first Evange-English. I love them so much, sometimes I have them for dinner.”
“I trust you, baby,” he murmured, staring at her mouth. His gaze lifted to hers. “What’s after breakfast?”
She rested her torso on his to get closer. “What do you want?”
He shook his head. “Thinkin’ my babe took the day off to spend it with me, she has plans.”
“I’ve never had a whole day with you, Branch, and I have to admit, that thought was so good, I couldn’t get past the Evange-English.”
His fingers drawing on the small of her back drifted to curl around the top of her hip as his other arm lifted so he could cup the back of her neck and he noted, “Thinkin’ you got a better imagination than that.”
“Mm,” she mumbled.
“A whole day, babe,” he prompted.
“I picked breakfast,” she whispered. “You get to pick what we do next.”
His arm around her back tightened as he slid her up his chest and his hand at her neck pulled her face closer to his.
And his eyes dropped again to her mouth when he whispered back, “Anything I want?”
She kept up with the whispering. “Anything.”
“Then want my babe to take her time doin’ dirty things to me.”
Of course he’d want that. His safe place. Their safe place. Where their connection was assured.
But that meant he wanted their connection.
She’d give him that.
Absolutely.
But she’d also give him more.
She hoped.
Starting with an Evange-English.
“We can do that,” she breathed.
His eyes lifted to hers. “My choice?”
“Anything you want, handsome, I’m in a good mood so I’ll give it to you.”
“Then feed me, Angie. And after, I’ll tell you what I want you to give to me.”
“You got it, Branch.”
She made to roll over him in an effort to get to the other side of the bed, which was closest to the bathroom.
She accomplished the rolling-over part only to be rolled to her back and find herself kissing Branch.
She was not a morning kisser. She always worried her breath was awful. Worse, his would be.
But she didn’t mind morning kisses from Branch because Branch always tasted like Branch, warm and rich and amazing, and he took the kiss deep and made it long so he must have liked her taste too.
When it was over, Branch did the rolling, giving her no choice but to go with him because he pulled her there, out of bed, setting her on her feet.
She tipped her head back. “I’ll brush my teeth, go make coffee and start breakfast.”
His brows drew together.
“In your nightie?” he asked, like that was outlandish.
“Do we have a reason to get dressed today?” she asked back.
His face relaxed. “Fuck no.”
She leaned into him. “Then yes, baby. In my nightie.”
He stared at her a second, his eyes moving over her face in a manner that made her think he was going to do that for ages, studying her, memorizing her, before he abruptly turned her toward the bathroom and swatted her ass.
“Then get moving, babe. Been existing on road food nearly a week. Dinner last night was your usual awesome but I’m nowhere near topped up.”
He was nowhere near topped up.
She hoped he never was. Never quite full of her cooking. Never ever full of her.
Still, she muttered, “I aim to please,” as she strolled to the bathroom.
“A skill you got in spades,” he muttered back.
She entered the bathroom smiling.
She couldn’t stop.
And she hoped he didn’t give her reason to.
Not for a long, long time.
* * *
“Okay, I’ll say it, never had a better breakfast than the ones I got in the UK, but you kicked an English breakfast’s ass.”
Branch was sitting opposite her at the table in the window of her kitchen. She’d ordered him to plant his backside there as she’d set his coffee mug on the table the minute he’d sauntered into the room wearing the lounge pants she’d bought him weeks before (and she’d been right, he rocked those pants, totally looked better in them than Stellan).
At first, he’d looked like he’d balk at her order. They’d never eaten there, across from each other, with nothing like the TV to ease the way, divert attention.
But he’d gone for it. And as his reward, she’d bent and kissed his jaw after he’d sat down and before she rounded the counter to get back to the kitchen.
And anyway, she was armed and ready so he wouldn’t retreat back to a former position, become uncomfortable, get awkward.
The weapon she pulled out to accomplish this was chattering.
She told him about the movie she’d seen with Felicia.
She told him that she’d sold Mira’s house, Trey’s was getting good interest and she predicted a sale soon, but they’d both found a place they wanted, they’d put in an offer and it was accepted.
And as she set his plate in front of him, piled high with buttered toast, hash brown on top, fried egg on that, sautéed mushrooms on that, covered in baked beans and sprinkled with sharp cheddar cheese—an Evange-English—she told him about her night at the Honey. That she’d contacted them to renew her membership. And she went deeper into the conversation she’d had with Stellan about Sixx.
That was where they were when she sat down across from him.
He’d started tucking in at the same time he remarked, “If Lange wants a challenge, that woman will give him one. Like I told you before, she’s stone cold.”
“I trained under her, honey, she’s good people,” she replied.
His eyes came to hers. “I don’t doubt you, Angie. But in a playroom, shit leaks out. I’ve seen them both work. Lange is about sugar and spice, liberal on the spice. She’s about fire and ice, very liberal on the ice.”
“That’s a good analogy,” she murmured.
“What I’m saying is, they don’t sync in more ways than they’re both Dominants.” He shook his head and turned his attention to his plate, scooping up some of his Evange-English and lifting it, but before putting it into his mouth, he finished, “Man takes on that, might be biting off more than he can chew. Lange never struck me as someone who likes to bang his head against a wall.” Then he took his bite.
“Can I tell you something and you won’t tell Olly?”
He looked to her, chewed, swallowed and replied, “Definitely.”
“He was in love with Amélie. Stellan, I mean.”
“He didn’t hide that from Olly, babe,” Branch shared surprisingly. “My boy didn’t like it much when things started with Leigh. But he’s in a place he feels more magnanimous about the situation so Leigh and Lange had been giving each other a wide berth, but that’s ended, and Olly’s cool with it.”
So that was what the thing was that Leigh and Stellan had that was making them distant.
“That explains the arrogant smile Olly aimed at Stellan when we were watching them in their playroom,” she observed.
“I’m thinking a whole lot o
f other things make his night when she’s at him, Angie. But know for fact, Lange takes in the show, Ol fuckin’ loves it. It’s like spiking a ball after a touchdown with the defenders standing around, but a fuckuva lot more in your face.”
“I’ll say,” she murmured.
Branch’s lips tipped up again.
Taking that in, it felt much better than her Evange-English filling her belly.
And Evangeline mentally spiked her own ball.
“The point I’m trying to make,” she went on, “is that Stellan does want a challenge. He also wants to find his queen. And he’s a snob so only the best will do.”
Branch looked back to his plate, digging in. “He’s a solid guy so I hope he finds that.” He took his bite, chewed and swallowed, before he again gave her his gaze and warned, “But baby, don’t get too wrapped up in that for your friend. Like Amélie, and probably times a thousand, Sixx likes her toys on their knees and Lange is not a man who finds that a comfortable place to be.”
She quirked him a grin. “It’s not meant to be comfortable, honey.”
His lips just quirked, but his eyes were serious when he returned gently, “I still think you get me.”
She nodded and returned her attention to her plate. “I do.”
Conversation flowed from there and Evangeline watched closely without letting on she was, but she saw no indication that Branch hadn’t settled in, comfortable at her little table by her kitchen window, eating breakfast with her.
Now he’d said what he’d said about her kicking an English breakfast’s ass and she saw from his plate that this was no lie.
She looked to him. “Glad you enjoyed it.”
“You could probably feed me coconut and I’d like it,” he replied.
She perked up but tried not to look like she was perking up.
“You don’t like coconut?” she asked.
“Hate it,” he answered.
And there was more everyday stuff from Branch.
She rejoiced.
Silently.
“So noted,” she muttered, going back to her plate, still struggling with not smiling, or more to the point, whooping with glee. “It’s hard to improve on perfection, but it wouldn’t suck if I could add English sausage and black pudding,” she noted.
“You score an English sausage or black pudding in Phoenix, babe, and you don’t tell me where you found that shit, it’ll be me doing the spanking.”
At that, she allowed herself to throw him a smile.
He took it with a warm gaze and focused again on his plate.
She continued to eat.
She did this until she realized they’d fallen into silence.
When she did, she lifted her head quickly, her mouth open to fill the silence, keep him occupied, keep him with her, but seeing him, she snapped it shut.
Because he was finished eating, leaned back in his chair casually, long legs stretched out in front of him, elbow on the arm of the chair, mug of coffee up, eyes aimed out the window.
Her throat closed and tears gathered behind her eyes.
Even though she wanted to take him in, memorize him at ease in her kitchen looking out the window, she swiftly returned her attention to her plate and concentrated on eating before she lost it and had to find a way of explaining why she was suddenly crying, sitting in the sun with him, eating breakfast.
She only looked up again when she had it together, which was when she felt him move.
He picked up his plate and came to her, bending over her to touch his lips to the top of her hair.
God, he was killing her.
“You get done, baby, just put the dishes in the sink,” he ordered. “You cooked, I’ll clean up. I’m gonna go get the things you’re gonna need.”
She tipped her head back and nodded, scared if she spoke what her voice would reveal.
He bent deeper, brushed her lips with his and straightened away.
She watched him walk to the sink, and since it was at the counter that delineated the seating area from the kitchen, she smiled at him while he rinsed his plate.
Then she took up another forkful of food and turned her eyes to the window as she chewed it.
It was working.
It was working.
Please, God, let it be working.
She felt Branch leave the kitchen and she drew in a deep breath.
Then she forced herself to take her time and finish breakfast.
After she was done, she left her dishes in the sink.
* * *
Evangeline wasn’t sure if in the future she’d again allow Branch to pick their dirty activities.
Of course, standing beside her couch, seeing him on his knees over a towel in the seat, his arms tied behind him at the wrists, his forehead planted on the cushions, a dark blue silk gag around his mouth, his ass in the air, his cock hard, balls full, it wasn’t like he didn’t look amazing.
He totally did.
But he always totally did (though, having him trussed and offered up for her, it was arguable, but that might be the best look he had, or at least in the top twenty).
There were a great many things she could think to do to him in this position and they might include what he’d asked.
But it wouldn’t be just what he’d asked.
Still, she’d given him permission to choose.
So she had to go with it.
It’d be awesome, she was sure.
She just hoped he was up to keep going after, so she’d have a chance to get creative.
She smoothed a hand over his ass, down his flank and then entered the couch on her knees between his calves.
And seeing him before her, hers to do with what she wanted, Evangeline couldn’t help but get into the swing of things.
So she bent.
Digging her nails into the back of his thigh, she then dragged them up and murmured, “So fucking amazing, all that is you offered like this to me.”
She put both her hands to him, sliding them flat over his arms where they were bound behind him, then up the sides of his spine. At his shoulders, she spread them out, curling them around, running them down the outsides of his biceps, along his forearms and gliding them down. She slipped one over his ass, through his cleft, and cupped his balls.
“I’ve neglected my paddles,” she whispered, lightly squeezing.
She felt his thighs tense around her and that feeling hit her pussy.
Okay, perhaps this wasn’t as unimaginative as she’d thought.
“Tie you just like this, see how much you can take.”
She dipped down, grasping his cock and stroking.
He made a noise behind his gag and she ordered, “No moving, Branch.”
His body stiffened.
She kept stroking.
“Paddle you. Get your ass red for me,” she went back to whispering. “Then make you stay still and milk you until you blow for me.”
She continued stroking him until she felt the effort it took for him not to move with her.
Only then did she let him go, slide her hand back over his ass, to the small of his back. Her other one joined it and she moved them back up, over his bound arms, his back, to his shoulders, going down with them until her breasts and hair brushed his back.
She braced herself with her hands in the couch on either side of him and ordered, “You hold for me.”
He grunted behind his gag.
She took that as his acquiescence.
So she put her lips to his skin, trailing them down his spine. She kissed the flesh above his bound wrists, both of them, liking more than a little bit the sight of his strong, calloused, square-fingered hands tethered for her. She touched her lips to the small of his back and then slid out her tongue, gliding it down, to the top of his cleft, and just a bit farther.
Branch’s big body trembled and he made another noise behind his gag.
She slid her tongue back in and grinned.
Her big boy liked being eaten out.
/> He hadn’t asked for that.
When his Mistress was in a good mood, he’d have to learn to be more thorough in his instructions.
She lifted away and reached to the coffee table to grab what Branch had brought.
If it was anyone else but Branch, she’d have a discussion with him about his selection.
The cock was huge. She wouldn’t be able to play with his ass for days.
But he wanted it.
And she knew he could take it.
So she prepared it, doing this far more liberally then she would normally, and she was normally liberal with the lube.
She also coated her fingers with it, running them along his cleft, up and down, then in.
She heard his suppressed puff of breath when she continued to press the gel from the tube to her finger working inside him, preparing him, adding a finger, going deep.
His ass cheeks were clenching, his thighs tense, his hands in fists when she slid her fingers out and took hold of the toy.
“You’re going to take my cock now, baby,” she cooed.
He didn’t move or make a noise, just remained offered to her in front of her on the couch.
She licked her lips, aimed her gaze at his ass and positioned the toy.
Okay, yes.
He knew what he was doing.
Evangeline understood just that as she shifted closer. The palm of her hand against the end, placing her pelvis against that, she put pressure on and watched him open for her, his fingers flexing then again fisting. Smooth, slow, she gave him more and watched his head come back, planting his chin in the seat. And then she heard his low, stifled grunt as she took her time and seated herself deep.
God, God, he was amazing.
“Ready to get fucked?” she asked breathlessly.
He put his forehead again to the couch and tipped his ass only slightly.
Oh yes.
Her Branch knew exactly what he was doing.
Fingers wrapped firmly around the rim, with her hand and her pelvis, she started fucking him.
His head jerked back again, chin to the seat, and he took it, his body straining, quivering, his deep grunts muted. His hips began to tip, welcoming her thrusts, as muffled noises came from behind his gag, words she couldn’t make out, mingled with the grunts he couldn’t bite back while taking and seriously getting off on his fucking.