Home > The Farthest Edge (Honey #2)(14)

The Farthest Edge (Honey #2)(14)
Author: Kristen Ashley

She let go his belt but grabbed his crotch again and squeezed.

His jaw went tight.

Oh dear.

That sure was pretty.

“This once, handsome, I’ll repeat myself,” she snapped. “Where. Is. Your. Truck?”

He jerked out his chin. “Last row, under the trees.”

She loosened the pressure but didn’t release him, smiling sweetly, and all fake, saying, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Of course, he made no reply.

She grasped his belt again and stormed through the gravel to the last row, well away from the warehouse, close to where she’d had to park but because she’d gotten there late.

She had no idea if he came late too.

She also didn’t care.

When they arrived at the last row, she thanked the heavens there was only one GMC SUV to be seen, and led him there, right around it, to the hood.

There she stopped, lifted a hand and shoved it with all her body weight into his chest.

He went back against the grill, lightly, but at least her shove wasn’t for naught.

She got in his space.

“Beep the locks.”

He stared down his nose at her.

She pressed closer, doing so pushing her breasts to his chest.

“You wanna ride the edge, Branch?”

He kept staring down at her.

She tossed her head toward the building they’d just vacated. “You think that’s riding the edge? That Domme taking a whip to you, out of her mind on junk, wasted? Is that what gets you off? Not the ‘lame-ass shit’ you think you’d get from me?”

He said nothing, just continued staring down at her.

She again cupped his cock and balls, hard, knowing from what she’d felt before what she’d find.

He’d been getting hard before. Now he was fully hard, straining against her hand.

So who was lame-ass?

She almost smiled.

She did not.

She pressed closer and tightened her hold.

“That’s not what gets you off,” she whispered, dragging the apple of her palm along the length of him. “And it’s not what you need.”

She couldn’t be sure but she thought she heard him drag in a breath.

She decided to go with that.

“You’ve been bad, baby,” Evangeline kept whispering, rubbing her palm along his still-growing dick, feeling his physical excitement start to throb between her legs. “And even big bad boys get punished, yes?”

He said nothing.

“Yes?” she pressed, verbally and physically.

“Yeah,” he bit out.

“Yeah what, handsome?”

He didn’t reply.

She gripped him, didn’t go lightly, and enjoyed the heck out of watching his jaw get hard again.

“Yeah, what?” she demanded.

“Yes…”

She waited for it, staring up into his eyes, but he didn’t give it to her.

He finished with, “Ma’am.”

Not “Mistress” as he should do (and he knew it).

He’d called her “ma’am.”

It wasn’t what she wanted or what she deserved, liberating him from that cesspool and simply being who she was.

But from him, she’d take it.

“Beep the locks, Branch,” she demanded, releasing him. “Then turn and put your hands to the hood of your truck.”

He hesitated, but only a second, before he dug into his cargo pants and pulled out the keys.

He beeped the locks.

She snatched the keys from his fingers and took a step back, crossing her arms on her chest, her baton still tucked with her purse.

He didn’t hesitate again.

He turned his back to her and put his hands on the hood.

When he’d done that, she went directly to the driver’s side, opened the door, threw her baton on the seat and pulled her purse down her arm.

She opened it and dug in.

She left the Mace where it was tucked inside.

The other things she brought with her (outside her ID, phone, cash and credit card) she pulled out, and shielded by the door so Branch couldn’t see, she tucked them into the back waistband of her trousers.

She then slammed the door, pocketed the keys and walked back to Branch, who watched her do this with a vacant expression on his face, but he hadn’t moved.

Evangeline did, settling in right behind him, and she didn’t delay in reaching around, finishing releasing his belt and going for the button and zipper of his pants.

She did this rough and close, her breasts brushing his back.

And she did it talking.

“I’m annoyed with you, baby,” she told him quietly. “Annoyed enough at you being naughty not to wait. You get your punishment here. Right here. Take a step back so you’re bent into the hood and spread your legs out.”

To her astonishment, he did as told immediately.

So she returned the gesture, rocking his hips to yank down his pants and boxer briefs, exposing his ass.

Tremors shot up the insides of her legs as his pants caught on his spread, solid, honed upper thighs.

She’d been taking so much in the first time she’d seen him naked, she hadn’t taken in just how fine of an ass he had.

But right then, in the moonlight, she saw it.

It was so beautiful, it could be pitch black and she’d simply sense its sheer perfection.

Nothing could make that ass better.

Not a thing.

Except the sapphire of her plug winking at her.

Which she was going to witness that night.

Fuck yes, she was.

Through the shadows between his legs she saw his balls high and tight, but full, and got a hint of the length of his cock, hard and heavy.

“Give me your ass,” she snapped.

Again, without delay, he tipped for her.

Her legs trembled.

God, God, God, she’d missed this.

The control. The hunger. The excitement. The wet gathering between her legs. The thrum at her clit. Her breasts swelling, nipples hardening. The gorgeous sight of a sub obeying. Ready to take what she had to give.

Moving for it. Tipping for it.

Asking for it.

Needing it.

How could she ever think she could live without it?

And God, God, God, taking him in, she’d never had the kind of beauty that was Branch being hers to do with as she wished.

Damn, but she wanted to sink down and bury her teeth in his ass, crawl under him and draw his sac in her mouth, grasp his dick and swallow it.

She didn’t do any of those things.

She positioned at his side.

Then she reached out.

And she spanked him.

Hard.

Fast.

Loud.

And she kept doing it, in quick succession.

She cracked his ass relentlessly, to the point she felt the heat and pain in her own hand.

But she didn’t stop.

When she noticed his legs were braced strong, he’d pressed his thighs out further, his pants biting in, she knew it was time.

So she kept at his ass, reached in front and grabbed his thick, hard cock.

She stroked, tugging down, holding firm, and watched his head fall back, his back arch, his ass tip up, his roughened jaw a line of granite in the moonlight.

God, what kind of beauty was this that was Branch?

She didn’t know. She’d never had it.

And, Lord help her, she could lose herself in it.

She kept stroking, and tanning his ass, as she asked, “You like being bad, Branch?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he ground out between clenched teeth, head still back, taking his spanking gloriously.

Getting off on it.

Yes, she could get lost in him.

She knew but asked anyway.

“You like being spanked?”

“Yes,” he pushed out.

“Have you been naughty enough to deserve more?” she demanded, still working him, cock and ass.

“Yes,” he grunted.

“Say it, Branch. Tell me you’ve been bad.”

“I’ve been bad, ma’am.”

Lord, beautiful.

“How bad, Branch?”

“I deserve more.”

Still working him, she forced it.

“Ask.”

He didn’t make her wait.

And his tone was low, almost hoarse, as he gave her what she wanted in more ways than one.

   
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