She’d do it.
“I won’t, because unless that happens under mutually agreed circumstances, you’re not going.”
It was then he tipped his beautiful lips, touching them to hers, at the same time wrapping a strong hand around her neck.
She froze.
And against her lips he demanded, “Promise me or I walk out that door.” He gave her neck and ribs a squeeze. “Don’t hate me when I’m gone, baby. I can’t have you the only way I’ll have you when I’m gone knowing I did that to you. So promise me.”
He played dirty.
She could too.
She gentled her hold on him and gave him the truth.
Because he wasn’t going anywhere.
“I won’t hate you when you’re gone, Branch.”
He studied the look in her eyes before his forehead rolled against hers with his nod.
She took him back to her earlier subject.
“So, are we agreed?”
“We’re agreed…” He let his fingers drift along her jaw before he dropped his hand to curl his fingers at her hip and he tensed them in as he finished, “ma’am.”
Game on.
She closed her eyes, slid her lips to his ear and stroked his hair.
“Sit on the couch, Branch, and get comfortable. I want to finish watching this episode.”
He slid a hand into her baby doll tee, ran a finger under the waistband of her faded jeans from spine to hip and he replied in her ear, “Yes, ma’am.”
Yes, he was going to play dirty.
But she could play dirty too.
If the game was worth winning, she could do anything.
And without knowing how she knew, deep inside her heart she still knew Branch was worth winning.
She lifted away, letting go, and stepped away so his hands would drop.
They stared at each other another second before he straightened from the armchair and did as he was told.
Evangeline grabbed the remote and moved into the couch.
Not in her corner.
She laid on her side, settling her head on Branch’s thigh at the juncture of his hip.
He didn’t hesitate to put his fingers in her hair, gliding it off her neck, then back, stroking.
It felt amazing.
Yes, he was going to play dirty.
She hit “Play” on the TV and muttered, “I’m farther than you got but you’re going to have to suck it up.”
“I’ll live,” he muttered back.
She grinned, curled her hand in front of her on his thigh and watched the program.
He stroked her hair, played with it for a while, and finally, he let his arm rest along her side, fingers trailing lazily on her hip.
She let him settle in, she waited until she felt him relax, and she gave it more time, enjoying being like this, on her couch, with him.
But eventually she moved her hand to his fly, unzipped him, and feeling the relaxation leave as his thighs and abs tensed all around her, she dug her hand in, pulled his dick free, adjusted her head and slid him, soft, into her mouth.
She sucked.
He hissed, “Fuck.”
And he grew.
She sucked harder.
He grew more and his fingers at her hip pressed in.
She laid there, pretending to watch the TV with his now hard cock in her mouth, sometimes sucking, sometimes rolling her tongue around.
He remained tense around her, his fingers digging into her flesh.
The episode ended and she dug into his fly again, his hips flexed and they didn’t relax because she cupped his balls, squeezed and sucked.
“Jesus, fuck,” he bit off.
She released him quickly and rolled to her knees in the couch, hand to his stomach, and looked into his eyes.
“Playroom, Branch. Naked, and drape yourself belly to the horse. I’ll be in, in a minute.”
He stared at her as she pushed away from him and sat back on her calves.
Then he angled out of the couch, tucked himself in his pants and sauntered through the family room, the kitchen.
“The key is on the hook by the door,” she called out just in time.
Without breaking stride, he nabbed the key from a hook that was behind the door and then he walked right out.
Damn, he was hot even doing that.
Four days ago, Evangeline had readied the playroom for when they were supposed to be playing in it, so all was prepared.
She’d had it all planned out, including her outfit, which didn’t include the tee and loose-fitting hipster jeans she was wearing.
Or the underwear, that wasn’t her worst, or her best.
So she dashed up the stairs, pulled off her clothes, exchanged underwear and decided to pull the same clothes back on.
It didn’t matter anyway. It wouldn’t take long before he wouldn’t notice at all what she was wearing.
She started to dash back to the stairs, but stopped herself and walked calmly down them, grinning at herself as she did.
Oh yes.
Branch Dillinger had no clue.
She slipped on her flip-flops by the door, grabbed her keys and locked the door after she left.
She could see the light from the playroom eking through the firmly closed slats of her plantation shutters.
And she forced herself to take her time walking the short distance between house and studio.
She stood outside, hand on the handle, and took a breath, two, four, six.
She had to make this good.
And then, when she had him ready, she had to make it the best.
On that thought, she opened the door.
She was always excited to play.
She was always exceptionally excited to play with Branch.
But seeing him naked, ass to the door, draped over her high sawhorse with its wide, padded bench, his cock still hard and hanging low between his spread legs, his balls beautiful, heavy and tight, she felt a drench of wet hit her panties and a weakening of her legs.
She sorted herself out, closed and locked the door, slipped off her flip-flops and moved to the dresser to drop the keys on the top and gather what she needed.
She nearly stutter-stepped when she saw, on top of the dresser right in the middle, her jewel.
He hadn’t worn it to her.
But he’d brought it with him, to leave behind, or to offer her to again stake her claim, she had no idea.
It didn’t matter.
It was hers.
But it would always only be his.
She put the keys down and moved to the front, side of the horse, where she saw him lying with his cheek to the blue leather of the padded bench, his gaze on her.
She got close and crouched so she was eye to eye.
“Okay, baby, tonight, you don’t get to talk. You can grunt. You can groan. I like your noises. But no words, yes?”
Heat drifted into his eyes as she spoke and he replied, “Yes, ma’am.”
She nodded and continued, “In a second, I’m going to start your preparations. I want you to put your arms and legs along the legs of the horse. Do that now.”
He shifted as she’d asked, though he was mostly in that position already, at least his arms were dangling down the front legs of the horse. His legs weren’t spread that far apart.
Now they were.
“Excellent,” she breathed.
Having watched him position for her, her attention came back to his face.
“No moving. You won’t be able to soon, but no moving until I make that so.”
She saw the flash in his eyes at the hint of what he’d be getting but other than that, nothing.
She’d get something.
She’d get everything.
Because she was going to take it.
She touched her finger to his nose, his lower lip, his chin, then she lifted up and moved to the dresser.
First, she started with the oil. She smoothed it all over, massaging it into his flesh, taking her time, doing this to soothe him and herself, break them both in, only begin to build the burn.
When she had him oiled and glistening all over, neck to shoulders, down his arms, back, hips, ass, thighs, calves, ankles, the entirety of his delicious body gleaming and glorious, she went behind him on the horse.
She oiled his cleft, not inside, and decided it was time to get serious.
Liberally dosing her hand, she massaged his sac, watching his chin dip into his shoulder, his eyes close, and feeling his feet roll up.
“My big boy’s balls are almost as pretty as his cock, almost as pretty as his ass,” she whispered.