Cowboy Casanova (14 page)

Ainsley stopped on the edge of the foyer. “Ah. Sure.” She passed him her trench. He hung it on a coat tree crafted out of some kind of animal horns.

She swiped her palms on her skirt, wishing she had pockets. Wishing she hadn’t come.

Why was this so awkward?

You’ve had kinky sex with this man. Dinner should be a breeze.

Then Ben was curling his hand over her jaw, gazing into her eyes. “You all right?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing here. I’m so…nervous.”

“Do you want to leave?”

“No.”

“Good. Maybe this will help.” Ben kissed her. Sweetly at first. Softly nibbling her lips while his thumb stroked her jawline. He patiently coaxed her to kiss him back. Once she opened her mouth wider, he dove right in, blowing all her circuits with a kiss packed with desire, laced with passion. Her head went muzzy and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

After an eternity of those soul-feeding kisses, he tilted her head back to string hot kisses from her chin to her neck.

Chills danced down her arms and neck and she sighed.

Ben chuckled, smooching her mouth one last time before resting his forehead to hers. “Better?”

“Yes.”

“What else can I do to put you more at ease?”

His concern touched her. “I’d love to kick off my shoes.”

“Feel free. How about a drink?”

“Sure.” Ainsley followed him to a built-in bar. “Wow. This is beautiful.”

“Thanks. Bombay Sapphire and tonic, right?”

Of course he remembered her drink of choice. “No, actually, I’ll take a soda. Whatever you’ve got is fine.”

“Comin’ right up.”

Ainsley checked out the rest of Ben’s house. Definitely masculine with the animal trophy heads lining the wall and the large room focused on the huge TV, pool table and other man toys. Her gaze wandered to the open kitchen outfitted with stainless steel appliances, mahogany cabinetry, a big picture window overlooking an incredible view of the rolling plains. An eat-in countertop separated the kitchen and conversation area, comprised of two leather recliners facing a wood stove with an antique trestle table centered between the chairs. Maple-colored wood flooring stretched from the front door, through the kitchen, living room and bar. The TV/game room had brown and gold-flecked Berber carpet that continued down the hallway. A hallway that likely led to Ben’s bedroom.

Did Ben have hooks and restraining devices in his bedroom? Or did he only indulge in that at the Rawhide Club?

“Here you go.”

She faced him. “You’ve got a beautiful home.”

“Took me six years to get it done. Definitely a learning experience as far as adding to my carpentry know-how, but it ended up being exactly what I wanted.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You built this place? By yourself?”

“Except for the plumbing and electrical and a few odds and ends. It’s a kit house. Kinda like Lincoln logs for grownups. I bought three kits and turned them into one house.”

“That makes it even more impressive.”

“Aw, angel, you’re gonna make me blush.”

Ainsley was pleased that he’d reworked her fake club name into a term of endearment. She watched as he poured himself a Coke. “Just because I’m not drinking doesn’t mean you can’t.”
Way to tell him what to do.
“Not that you can’t decide yourself whether or not you want an alcoholic drink.”
Stop babbling
. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He squeezed her forearm. “You’re probably starved. How about if we eat?”

She looked up right into those stunning blue eyes. She swallowed a girlie sigh. He really was delightful to look at. “Sounds great.”

He instructed her to sit at the counter as he set everything up. “It’s nothin’ fancy. Just chicken and potato casserole. A side salad if you want it.”

After they’d taken a couple of bites, Ben spoke. “Given the way we met, seems strange to swap life stories, but I reckon we oughta get the basics out of the way. So go ahead. Ask me anything.”

That was a loaded question. “You’re part of the McKay family ranching dynasty.”

“Dynasty.” Ben snorted. “I’m just a simple rancher.”

“So your main job is…”

“Cattle. Feeding them, breeding them, moving them, selling them. I work with my older brother Quinn on our section of the ranch. But we all help each other out if need be. Certain times of the year are busier than others. It ain’t a nine to five job, like bankers’ hours.”

She bristled until she realized he was teasing. “Funny, cattleman. Have you ever been married?”

“Nope.” He shot her a sideways glance. “You?”

“I was married for almost five years. Been divorced almost two years.”

“Kids?”

“None.”

“So what happened to bust up your marriage?”

Ben’s forthright manner was refreshing. “The things that made us compatible in the beginning of our relationship started to wear on me. My ex was set in his ways and didn’t understand why I wanted things between us to change. Luckily, I got out of the marriage before I became bitter, but I didn’t get out unscathed.”

His gaze hooked hers. “To be blunt, you wanted to experiment, sexually, and he wasn’t on board?”

“He was appalled. At one point he told me I needed counseling to deal with my
unhealthy
attitude about sex and my desire for deviant behavior.”

“What a fuckin’ idiot. I don’t need to tell you that you’re better off without him.”

“I get that he wasn’t a sexual man. For a few years I thought I was asexual, just like him, but I realized I wasn’t. The fear that I’d find myself sixty years old and regret choosing a man with a pension plan instead of finding real passion gave me the courage to end the marriage.” She pushed her food around on her plate. “His last shot at me? I was a sex addict, control freak, ball-buster. Which led me to believe I was a Domme. So now I don’t know what the hell I am.”

Then Ben’s hands were on her face. “What you are is a beautiful, sexy woman. Smart enough to get out of a situation that didn’t fit you. The real you.”

Her eyes searched his. “You really believe I’m submissive.”

“Yes. It’s not control you want, Ainsley. It’s freedom from control. Freedom not to have to micromanage every aspect of your life. Freedom to trust that your sexual well-being will be tended to by a man you trust. Freedom to feel instead of think.”

“You are the man who can get me to do that?”

Ben leveled that panty-dampening smile at her. “Oh yeah.” His hands fell from her face. “We’ll finish this conversation after we eat.”

The rest of the meal was quiet, except for the dogs barking. After he cleared the plates, he led her to the oversized corduroy couches. Ben plopped down beside her, and picked up her hand. “Tell me about your job.”

“That’s guaranteed to put you to sleep.”

He chuckled.

“I switched banking corporations during our separation since my ex and I had worked for the same company. Basically I started over.”

“So you go around opening new banks?”

“No. This was sort of a fluke. I turned around a branch office in Denver. When this job unexpectedly opened up, they offered it to me. I’m probably in over my head. And since this is a small bank in a small community, they expect me to have a community presence.”

He groaned. “A man could go broke supporting all the community causes.”

“Two words a banker doesn’t like to hear together:
go broke
.”

Ben turned his head, brushing his lips in front of her ear. “Does the stern bank president ever wear her hair up?”

Okay. That was an abrupt subject change. “Sometimes.”

“Would you jerk away if I put my mouth on that sexy sweep of skin between your hairline and your shoulder?” Ben blew a stream of air across her ear. “Would I have to pull your hair to take what I wanted?”

More shivers spread across her body. “I thought you said we’d just talk tonight?”

“We are talkin’.”

“So why does this feel like a seduction?”

“Because I am trying to get you to feel instead of think.”

Ainsley fought the urge to push him away as his mouth wandered over her skin. She’d never let a man know her weak spots, let alone hone in on them.

“I sense the fight in you, angel. Let. It. Go.”

Hot kisses seared her neck and she whimpered.

“Drop your head back on the couch.”

Ben’s voice had become Bennett’s. Demanding in that deceptively soft way that only increased its power.

She inhaled a deep breath and…obeyed.

Bennett nestled his mouth into the curve of her neck. Kissing her with tiny pecks. Flicking his tongue over the pulsing vein. Whipping her into such a frenzy that she didn’t notice his fingers inching up her thigh until his fingertips breached midpoint beneath her skirt.

When she tensed, he warned, “Don’t. Spread your legs.”

As soon as she complied, Bennett stroked her slit, while his mouth kept up the relentless assault on her neck.

Ainsley shifted her hips, wanting more contact.

“Be still,” he warned sharply, nipping her skin in admonishment.

Hard to be still when her whole body vibrated. When she already dangled so close to the edge. Which was ridiculous because he’d been touching her for like two minutes, tops. Over her panties.

“Stop thinking.”

Her breathing became choppier yet when Bennett’s free hand cupped her breast. The sensations of his mouth and finger stroking her, almost in tandem, were too good, too much, too intense, too intimate. She needed to wiggle free and find her wits.

“Be. Still.”

“I can’t. I’m too—”

Bennett sucked on that magic spot the same time he pinched her nipple hard. His thumb pressed against her clit and she detonated. Every pulse point in her body throbbed in time to the blood pulsing in her clit.

Ainsley lost herself then. Her mind became blessedly blank. When she raised her head, he withdrew his hand from under her skirt. He straightened her bra and blouse.

“You respond so well to me,” he murmured.

“Yes, you’re definitely a master at what you do.”

A harsh look darkened Bennett’s face. “I don’t have a playbook. I’m not thinking,
if I stroke her pussy fourteen more times she’ll cream on my hand
.”

Ainsley knew he’d intentionally used crude language to drive home his point. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. I meant you should have that designated Master title because…well, you are a master at this stuff. It’s a compliment.”

When she looked at him, Bennett was gone. Seemed strange to think of him as two separate personalities, but he really did have a switch that turned Ben, the easygoing rancher, into Bennett, the intense Dom.

“I ain’t gonna lie. I want more of that with you. I’ve been kicking this idea around all day.”

“What idea?”

“I want you as my submissive.”

He wasn’t joking. She narrowed her eyes. “I’ll never be a lifestyle submissive like Layla.”

“And I’d never demand that of you.”

“What would you demand?”

“Time alone with you. Conditioning you to learn to let go. Showing you how satisfying it is to entrust me to give you what you need. Proving this is what you’ve always wanted and who you are.”

“I don’t know enough about this lifestyle to commit to anything long-term, Ben.”

He gave her a considering look. “How about if you commit to it—to me—for one month?”

That was a workable timeframe.

“A month of you turning all control and decisions over to me.”

Her heart rate spiked. “I need to clarify that you mean all control and decisions…aside from my job.”

“I have no intent of controlling your career, Ainsley. That’s yours. Everything else would be mine. If you agree to this, we’ll skip the club scene for the month. Especially since I know you’ve no interest in adding exhibitionism or other players into the mix. No need to drive to Gillette when we both live in the same town, is there?”

“I suppose not.” Ainsley twisted her fingers together. “Can you give me a for instance on your ‘all control and decisions’ comment?”

Ben shook his head. “I set all the parameters when we’re alone together. I’m not looking to turn you into a slave to perform household chores, if that’s what’s put the wrinkle in your brow. I’m only interested in your submissiveness on a sexual level.”

“So I’d get no say in anything?”

“Sexually? No. If you can’t agree to that, well, there’s nothin’ else to discuss. Because that’s the basis of a Dom/sub agreement.”

No surprise he’d taken a firm stance. But was he offering her what she needed? Or taking what he wanted?

“I don’t expect you to make a decision on the spot tonight. I’ll give you a day to think it over.”