Cowboy Casanova: Rough Riders, Book 12

by Lorelei James

  “Yes. No. Maybe. Fuck, I don’t know. This makes no sense to me.” Dalton paced to the back of the room and jammed a hand through his hair. “I don’t get it. Why?”

  Ben dropped into the chair. “You think I can explain it enough to satisfy you? I recognize that look in your eyes, Dalton and that is the reason I don’t broadcast this. Here at the club I find women who are looking for the same thing.”

  “Lookin’ to get their asses whaled on?” Dalton sneered.

  “Sometimes.”

  “So you’re tellin’ me this private club is a real freak parade.”

  “This place is no more a freak parade than the Golden Boot, where you troll for pussy every weekend.”

  Dalton took a belligerent stance, arms crossed over his chest, feet braced wide. “Wrong. This ain’t normal.”

  “You’ve never tied a woman up during sex?”

  “Ah. Sure. Who hasn’t?” Dalton shifted his stance, then his eyes. “So I oughta be afraid the next step will be shackling a woman in chains and beating on her in front of a room full of strangers?”

  He sank into the closest chair. “This is pointless.”

  “Does your family know?”

  Ben shook his head.

  “They should. Maybe they can get you some help, cuz, ’cause this is seriously fucked up.”

  He thought he’d conquered the fear of being outed to his family. But the idea of his brothers and parents staring at him, with Dalton’s same judgmental eyes, made him physically ill. His voice came out a hoarse whisper. “You gonna take it upon yourself to tell them?”

  “I don’t know. But you can’t deny the reason you haven’t told them is because you know it’s wrong.”

  Now he had to worry that Dalton would blab to the entire McKay family.

  “Look at yourself, Ben. Sitting there holding a whip, a whip that you used on not one, but two women tonight. And you’re tellin’ me I’m the one with the problem.” He shook his head. “It’d be funny if it wasn’t so sad.” Dalton stormed out.

  There was the game-ending blow. It’d been ages since he’d felt such a wash of shame. Since he’d felt like an outcast. And then he topped off those failings with the fear that no decent woman—like Ainsley—would ever love him because of his tendencies. Hidden fears that smacked him in the face today from his cousin’s accusations.

  Ben remained in the room a long time, emotions warring. He fingered the beautifully made whip. Device of torture? Instrument of pleasure? His supposed expertise gnawed at him. He’d honed his skills on cattle. What would his family say if they knew he regularly used it on people? On women? Would they be ashamed? Should he be ashamed?

  So Dalton hadn’t been totally off base.

  Ben felt raw. Used. Confused. Lonely. As much as he’d broadened Ainsley’s horizon, she’d broadened his too. He glanced around the room. He felt nothing. No pride, or excitement or anger. No anticipation for what might be in store for him for future nights with future subs. He just wanted to go home.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Ainsley dreamt of Bennett every night. Images so vivid she couldn’t tell the difference between fantasy and reality until she woke up alone.

  After last night’s dream she’d leapt out of bed and stared out the hotel window across the freeway to the Denver skyline. She’d hoped she wouldn’t dream of him here, as she had the last two nights in her bed in Sundance.

  Wrong.

  Which begged the question: were her regrets about her decision haunting her?

  Yes.

  But there wasn’t anything she could do about it. She was miserable. Trying to stave off the dreams that left her feeling bereft, she drank four strong gin and tonics at the hotel bar before she stumbled back to her room.

  But not even booze kept him from overtaking her thoughts.

  A rough-skinned hand brushed her forehead and she shot straight up in bed. She couldn’t see anything it was so dark. “Who’s there?”

  The echo of heavy breathing was the only response.

  She scrambled backward, even when she recognized the warm, earthy scent of her dominant’s aftershave. “What do you want?”

  A deep, male chuckle. “You know what I want.”

  That initial spike of fear faded. She shouldn’t be surprised he’d taken it upon himself to make her bedroom stranger sexual fantasy a reality.

  Or was this a dream? It was so vivid, the sound of his feet shuffling on the carpet. The scent of his skin so close she could taste his sweat on her tongue. The way her body was wound tight with anticipation whenever he was near.

  “I’ve been watchin’ you. I know what you do when you’re alone in your bedroom.”

  “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Do you know how many times I’ve watched you jerk up your nightgown and reach for your vibrator? You grab a couple of your favorite naughty books. You’ve used them so many times the pages fall open to your favorite scenes. I know which scenes get you hot,” he said, much closer to her than he’d been. “Which scenes make you turn that vibrator on high. Which scenes made your pussy dripping wet.

  “You imagine yourself trussed up. Subject to a man’s whim, maybe his to mercy, but always to his pleasure. However he wants to fuck you, in as many positions as his greedy, depraved brain can create, as many times as he can get it up.” His hot breath stuttered across her ear. “But here’s where your fantasy is mine. Here’s where the dream becomes real. Because this man, this dream lover, wants to prove he can be the man to give you what no man ever has before.”

  She blurted, “What are you going to do to me?”

  “Make you scream.”

  Ainsley shrieked when his strong hands gripped her ankles and she was flipped onto her belly. Her arms were jerked together behind her back and cool metal circled her wrists.

  Then his mouth was by her temple. “Be still. Be quiet or I’ll gag you. Understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “On your knees.”

  Heart racing, she scooted back, focusing on the feel of her cotton sheets against the side of her face as her shoulders were pressed into the mattress. Metal grinding on metal sounded above her head. Then her arms were lifted off the small of her back. “What’s that?”

  “To ensure you cooperate. If you fight me I’ll pull this chain and it lifts your arms until I get your attention.” Her Dom’s familiar touch floated down her arms, and his breath drifted across her nape. His callused fingertips traced her knuckles and fingers as he tested the tightness of the cuffs. His touch was efficient, but tender. Insistent, but elusive.

  He was a study in contradiction tonight.

  Why wouldn’t he let her see his face?

  He stroked and teased. When a thick finger smeared cold lubricant into her asshole, her heartbeat sped up. She sucked in a sharp breath when an anal plug breached the ring of muscle. She involuntarily clenched around it.

  His hands caressed her ass. Then he delivered a hard smack on each cheek, growling, “Mine. Every part of you is mine tonight. Say it.”

  “I’m yours.”

  “I’ll fuck any part of this body I want to.” The coarse hair of his calves brushed the inside of hers as he moved in behind her. He draped his warm body across her back, his weight pushing her chest deeper into the mattress. Panic filled her. She was trapped. She thrashed. A simple gentle touch on her neck stopped her frantic movements.

  “Stop. Remember you’re safe with me. You’re always safe with me, Ainsley.”

  She turned her head but she couldn’t see him.

  Isn’t that what you wanted in your fantasy?

  No. I want to see him. I want to know it’s him.

  Then his big, capable hands squeezed her breasts. His fingers twirled, tugged and tweaked her nipples. Between the squeezing, the pinching and her complete immobilization, her breath was coming in short bursts of air that left her light headed. She started to drift into her floaty headspace.

  His hand floa
ted down her belly and his fingers traced her clit. “I wanna get you off like you do when you’re alone in your bed.” He stroked, working one, then two fingers inside her. Plunging deep, knowing exactly how much pressure to exert to keep her whimpering for more. To make her pussy moisten and swell for him.

  Just as she could almost taste that sweet climax, he withdrew. She groaned, turning her head to wipe the sweat gathered on her brow. To try and see him. “Please.”

  The bed wiggled. “Maybe you’d rather get off with a vibrator.”

  “Your hand is fine.”

  “You sure?” A loud mechanical buzz sounded next to her ear. “Because I found this on your nightstand.”

  “I didn’t plan to use it. I swear.”

  “Such a liar.” He nibbled on the back of her neck, sending a shudder through her. “I think you planned to give yourself a little treat before you fell asleep.”

  “No.”

  “Let’s see how this works.” He’d lubed up her rabbit vibrator; the cool silicone easily slipped inside her. He turned on all the moving parts at once—a total blitz on her senses. She’d already teetered on that elusive point and this would kick her right over the edge.

  When he started pinching the tender skin on the inside of her thighs, she tried to close her legs against the intense pleasure.

  He hissed, “Don’t deny yourself this. Don’t lie to yourself that you don’t like what I’m doin’ to you.”

  Why did that feel so good? Was she a masochist for craving more of that pain?

  Light pinches on her thicker folds of skin gave way to smaller, faster pinches. As she spiraled closer to orgasm a line of liquid heat shot from those pinpoints.

  “Oh. Please.”

  He flipped the vibrator on high, holding it in place. The phallus spun inside her, hitting her G-spot every third rotation. The plastic cage around her clit stopped vibrating at random intervals and stayed steady. That tingling, buzzing sensation tormented every nerve ending in her body. Her sex, her nipples, even her skin throbbed. She forgot how to breathe, how to think, she could only focus on that desperate need.

  “Lemme hear you come.” One last hard pinch on her inner thigh and Ainsley unraveled. Her pussy muscles clamped down around the vibrator, increasing the intensity of the pressure against her clit. A long wail poured from her mouth.

  She fell flat on the mattress, after he withdrew the vibrator, her body trembling violently. She closed her eyes, vaguely aware of the gentle tugging of the plug from her ass. She wanted to beg him not to leave, but her tongue and lips weren’t responding.

  Chains rattled and she was rolled to her back. She couldn’t make her eyes open. Her arms were useless. A determined pair of hands pushed her thighs apart. Hot kisses seared her belly. A warm mouth followed the edge of her ribcage and outlined the lower swell of her breasts. Soft suckling and delicate licks on her nipples brought about her contented sigh.

  His mouth snared hers in a kiss as he eased his cock inside her, filling her with one smooth stroke. Realizing just how boneless she was, he brought her legs around his waist.

  When his cock nudged her cervix, her lower half bowed off the mattress.

  His lips clung to hers with sweet, sweet kisses. “I need to feel you wrapped around me like this. Let me have you. Let me have you like this forever.”

  Ainsley managed a soft, “Yes,” and arched her neck for him in a show of full submission.

  Then his weight disappeared from her body. His scent vanished. She opened her eyes and found herself alone. “Bennett? Where are you?”

  His voice came out of nowhere, but it was everywhere. “Gone.” A ghostly breeze drifted across her face. “Too late. I’m already gone.”

  Ainsley woke up sobbing, “No,” over and over with an acute sense of loss.

  She threw back the covers and patted the mattress as if she’d find Ben there.

  But he wasn’t.

  And that’s always when she woke up.

  Chapter Thirty

  Late Sunday afternoon, Ben had just racked up the balls to shoot another game of pool—by himself, how pathetic—when his dogs started barking. By the time he reached the door to check out the ruckus, he was looking through the door into his brother’s faces. Quinn, and Chase, with Gavin behind them. And off to the left, Dalton.

  He had a bad feeling about this. He quieted the dogs. “Did someone die?”

  Quinn shook his head and came inside.

  Ben asked, “Did I forget I was throwing a party?”

  Chase shook his head and came inside.

  “Is this about the sale of the Wetzler place?” Ben asked.

  Gavin shook his head and came inside.

  But Ben blocked Dalton from coming in. “Did you do this?”

  Dalton gave him a somber look. “Yes.”

  “Who else did you tell?”

  “Just them.” Dalton shouldered past and Ben let him.

  No words were exchanged as outerwear was discarded. Everyone wandered to the TV area instead of the bar.

  Ben’s heart thundered in his temples. He felt his cheeks burning as he joined them, sitting in the chair furthest away from his family.

  “So, Dalton, you gonna tell us why we’re here? And why you think Ben needs an intervention?” Quinn asked.

  Dalton wiped his hands on his jeans. When he realized the action hinted at nerves, he folded his arms across his chest. “Ben’s never been one to talk about the women in his life. He’s always says that a gentleman never kisses and tells, which never rang true for me, because all guys brag on the chicks they’re banging. Then I couldn’t remember the last time I saw Ben out at the bar or heard about him on a date with a woman. I thought it was weird he drove to his buddy’s bar in Gillette. That made me wonder if Ben was gay and hidin’ it.

  “That also made me wonder if the bar in Gillette was a gay hangout, especially since not one person in our family has ever been there. After the bullshit with us not getting the Wetzler place, and the rumors I’d heard from Jenny that Ben was involved with the president of the new bank, well, I suspected if he was gay he’d slept with her just to get a loan.”

  Dalton had a high opinion of him.

  “I call bullshit on that, Dalton,” Chase snapped. “Ben ain’t the type of guy to use women and discard them.”

  “That just shows how much you don’t know about him. See, I went to the Rawhide Bar Friday night. Dropped Ben’s name and I was escorted to a different door. A private club. A sex club. But the thing I saw that knocked me to my knees? My cousin using a whip on not one, but two different women. Women who were tied up so they couldn’t get away. These woman begged him to stop and he didn’t. He just kept hurting them.”

  Ben studied his hands in the silence.

  “That’s why I called you guys. Ben’s out of control. He’s got a problem with violence against women. I know a violent streak runs in the McKay family. Brandt struggles with it. Kane and Colt deal with it by beatin’ the shit out of each other. I figured Quinn had it in your family. Makes me sick to think Ben’s had it all this time and we didn’t notice. Add in the kinky sex stuff I saw? And it’s all kinds of wrong. We need to intervene and get him away from that kinda behavior. We need to help him.” Dalton finally looked at Ben pleadingly. “If my dad, who’s been a binge drinker his whole life, can admit at his age that he’s got a problem, I know we can find a way to help you.”

  He’d be touched by Dalton’s concern if he wasn’t so fucking mad. If he wasn’t so fucking mortified he’d have to look his brothers in the eye and admit, yes, part of what Dalton said was true.

  Ben expected silence as his brothers tried to process Dalton’ accusations.

  But Quinn started to laugh. His older brother, who defined restrained, laughed so hysterically tears rolled down his face. He laughed so hard he doubled over on the couch. He’d look up at Dalton, then at Ben, and cackle, giggle and wheeze with laughter.

  Not the reaction Ben had predicted.

&n
bsp; Finally, Quinn calmed down. He wiped his eyes. He addressed Dalton, who’d taken a seat during Quinn’s laughing fit. “I understand your concern, okay? I don’t know how I would’ve reacted seein’ Ben in that situation. But you’ve taken it totally out of context.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “So you ever been to a bar or a club in a big city like what you seen in Gillette?”

  “That don’t matter. This ain’t about me.”

  “You’re laying all Ben’s secrets bare. I’m expecting the same thing from you.”

  “Fine. Whatever.”

  “You’ve lied about how many women you’ve fucked, haven’t you?”

  Dalton squirmed. “Huh-uh.”

  “Come on, Dalton. Admit bein’ a McKay sometimes makes you feel you’ve gotta live up to that man-whore reputation,” Quinn cajoled. “You ain’t the stud you pretend to be are you?”

  Took a solid minute, but Dalton blushed and shook his head.

  “How old are you again?”

  “Twenty-four.”

  “You’re awful damn naïve,” Chase answered. “I wish you’da told us your suspicions besides the vague Ben needs help and he’s too proud to admit he has a problem line that got us to haul ass to Wyoming.”

  “Wait,” Ben inserted. “Dalton didn’t tell you guys anything?”

  Gavin said, “No. Just that it was urgent and Ben’s brothers needed to intervene.”

  Ben wasn’t sure which shocked him more; that they’d all come, including Gavin, or that they hadn’t questioned why they should come.

  “Why aren’t you guys takin’ this seriously?” Dalton demanded. “It’s some heavy shit.”

  Quinn lifted a brow at Ben. “I’m sure you would’ve preferred to keep this quiet as you have for years, but given the circumstances, you wanna explain? In plain terms so Mr. Naïve over there gets a decent grasp on it?”

  “I’m what’s called a sexual dominant. That means in sex play, I’m in charge. But in order to be dominant I need a submissive. A submissive chooses to give herself, her body, her will, to the Dom. A Dom does not take what isn’t offered. There isn’t rape. There isn’t torture. At least not in my scenes. I don’t expect my subs to be lifestyle subs twenty-four/seven. I’m a Dom strictly in sexual situations.” He gave Dalton a pointed look. “With women.”