“How do you know it’ll get better? Have you had a dick in your butt?” she demanded.
Several booms of thunder rattled the windowpanes.
Ben sank his teeth into the skin at the base of her neck, feeling her tremble beneath him. “And what if I said yes? Would you believe I wouldn’t put a sub through something I’m not willing to have done to me?”
“I’d say that’s not an answer.” She hissed when he withdrew, resting the cockhead just inside the opening.
“You’re bein’ kinda mouthy for a woman pinned to a pool table with her Dom’s cock filling her virgin ass.” Ben slammed back in fully.
Ainsley gasped.
“You said you wanted this. You said take me. That’s what I’m gonna do. Take you. My way.”
Her fingers tightened beneath his as she braced herself.
Ben started fucking her. Slowly. Steadily. Trying to keep as much of their skin in contact as possible with each stroke. Despite the chill in the room, he was sweating. He whispered, “You feel so goddamn good.”
The wind whistled and shrieked. Sheets of rain pelted the windows.
He withdrew and plunged in deep, aware of Ainsley’s changed breathing pattern. Aware of her conflicting feelings of agony and ecstasy. “You like this.”
No response except for a grunt.
“Admit this was another of your dirty fantasies. Bein’ made to enjoy havin’ a cock in your ass.”
“Yes, okay? Happy now?” She bucked against him, which shoved his cock deeper into her glove-tight channel.
Ben chuckled. “Very happy, angel.” That’s when he fucked her hard. His hips slamming into her backside. His toes cramped as he used the inside ledge of the pool table to propel himself into her faster until he reached that point of no return.
He came in a head roaring rush.
She followed right behind him, her inner muscles clamped down as she humped against the pillow.
They stayed like that—sweaty, panting, sticky, spent—for quite a while.
What a great way to start their weekend.
Late Sunday morning Ben rolled over and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. “Hey, Quinn. What’s up?” Ben frowned. “That’s today? Shit. No. I forgot. Thanks for the reminder. I’ll be there in fifteen.” He hung up and headed straight for the shower. Then he grabbed his clothes from the closet.
“Where are you going?”
“I told Quinn and Libby I’d watch Adam and Amelia today. Usually my mom volunteers to baby-sit, but she’s outta town.” He buttoned his shirt. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, so make yourself at home. No reason to get up.”
“You expect me to wait here for you all day?”
“Like I said, I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”
Ainsley threw back the covers and angrily started gathering articles of clothing.
“Are you pissed off about this?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She held out her arm. A section of rope still dangled from her wrist. “Oh, maybe because we’d barely finished screwing, and you left me half-tied to the damn bed so you could answer your phone!”
Shit. He tried to catch her gaze but she stomped away. What was she trying to tell him by calling that last heart pounding, body-pumping bout of sex…screwing? It’d been more than that. It’d been freakin’ phenomenal.
“And then you gave me the impression that I was supposed to lie in bed all day and wait for your triumphant return.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Not in so many words.” Ainsley muttered as she yanked on her clothes.
“Something you wanna say to me? Instead of throwing me dirty looks and mumbling under your breath?”
“I realize I’m your sub. But I’m not some object like your saddle. Hanging around ready to be used when you need me, set aside when you don’t.”
Jesus. Did Ainsley really just compare herself to his saddle? And what the fuck was up with that “be used” comment?
She flounced to the bedroom doorway.
“Where do you think you’re goin?”
Ainsley deigned to give him a mocking look. “I’m going to the fucking opera dressed like this. Where do you think I’m going? I’m going home.”
“Like hell.”
“I’ve been here since Friday night. I need to check on my cats. Then I have to finish unpacking and wash clothes. All things I’ve neglected, because I have a life besides the one I spend bound for your pleasure.”
That smartass comment raised his blood pressure. “You trying to see how much hotter you can make the water you’re already in, sub?”
“No. Sir, Bennett, Sir,” she snapped off with military precision and notched her chin higher. “You told me we wouldn’t spend every waking minute together. We have this weekend. I think I deserve a furlough.”
And it’d been one of the best weekends he could remember, not that he could tell her that with the anger emanating from her like a poisonous cloud. Hey wait. Had she just compared the weekend to a…prison sentence?
“I’ve got a busy week, so I’ll call you. Or maybe you’ll call me when you need to practice your rope-tying skills.” She threw the rope at him and disappeared down the hallway.
Maybe you’ll call me when you need to practice your rope-tying skills? Oh hell no. That would not fly with him.
Ben heard the door slam. By the time he made it outside, her car was halfway up the drive.
Oh, little sub, you’ve just landed yourself in a whole passel of trouble.
Chapter Fifteen
Ainsley spent all day Monday on the phone with Chase McKay’s publicist and going back and forth with Steve Talbot, president of Settler’s First Bank. They’d come to an agreement about co-sponsoring the local event as a platform for Chase to announce his new charity. Steve’s attempts to cut National West out of the event entirely displeased Mayor Mark, who championed the idea of both banks providing a united front to the community.
So at the end of the day, she felt she’d accomplished something. So much of her duties as bank president were busy work. Seemed she spent her life on the phone.
Not that she minded. She’d taken the position because the regional manager assured Ainsley that the bulk of her job would be schmoozing locals into switching a portion of their banking business to National West. Ainsley could handle PR; it’s what she did best. She figured the event would show the locals that this bank was interested in investing in the community. In the next month she’d approach individual businesses, touting the benefits of diversifying their banking needs.
During her divorce, she’d needed a career change. Intrigued by the management end of banking, she’d taken over a small branch office in a low-income suburb of Denver no one else wanted to tackle. Determined to keep the branch from closing, she’d approached every business, big and small, in the three-mile radius, talking up the benefits of banking locally. She used the bank’s allotted community funds to resurrect small community events that were underfunded, but much beloved. She volunteered her time, which had a huge impact on convincing locals of her sincerity. The hard work, the unpaid hours of overtime, had paid off. In that year she’d increased that branch’s business banking operation by twenty-five percent and the personal banking business by thirteen percent. Quite a coup for a woman who’d spent the previous six years as a PR assistant.
Now here she was in Sundance, basically starting over again. With her PR savvy and Turton as the bean counter, on paper they looked like an unbeatable team to make this branch a rousing success from the get go. But in reality, Turton was bitter Ainsley had been awarded the job. And she still hadn’t figured out the best way to deal with him.
Jenny knocked on her door. “Sorry to interrupt, but there’s an extremely agitated woman pacing in the lobby. Turton tried to help her but she refuses to talk to anyone but the bank president.”
“I’ll be right there.” Ainsley set aside the stack of files, and stra
ightened her short suit jacket as she made her way around the desk.
But the agitated woman met her at the office door. “Are you the bank president?”
“Yes. I’m Ainsley Hamilton. What can I do for you?”
“Don’t treat me like an idiot, for starters.”
Okay. So she was testy. “I’d appreciate the same courtesy, Miss…”
The petite redhead looked up. Her large eyes were a pale shade of blue that made her pupils stand out. A striking combination, given the woman’s gamine features. “Sorry. I’m Joely Monroe.”
“Well, Miss Monroe, let’s talk in my office. Could I get you something to drink?”
“I don’t suppose you’ve got vodka?”
Ainsley muttered, “I wish. We’ve got coffee. Water. Hot tea?”
“Nothing, thanks.”
“Have a seat.” After they’d both settled, Ainsley said, “Is there a problem with your account?”
“I don’t have an account here. That’s the problem.” She jammed a hand through her hair, cut in an asymmetrical style few women could pull off. “My accounts have always been with Settler’s First. Not by choice, I assure you. But there is no bank in Moorcroft and I didn’t want to drive even farther to Spearfish to do my business banking.”
“Your business is in Moorcroft?”
“I have a medical practice. Small town doctor-type stuff, it’s just me and two nurses. Anyway, we’ve been having problems with our credit card machine. It locks up, and then it won’t generate reports. A big pain in the butt since so much business is done on that machine. Settler’s First installed the machine as part of their full-service banking promise. But any time it goes down, their advice? Unplug it from the wall for a couple minutes and plug it back in. When that doesn’t work, they claim it’s my Internet connection causing the problems, which it’s not. The machine has gone down fifteen times in the last month. And not once has anyone from that bank contacted me to see if the problem is fixed, or if they should show up and troubleshoot the problem if it isn’t. I’m tired of fighting with them. I’m tired of my office manager losing her mind on me because we’ve got thousands of dollars in transit every time the machine goes down. So I’m shopping for a new bank. But before I go to the trouble of changing accounts and telling Steve Talbot where to shove it, I’d like some guarantee that I’ll get decent customer service from this bank.”
Ainsley smiled. “We can do much better than decent on the customer service end. We’ve got a Denver-based IT team here on Wednesday. I’ll send them your way and they can check everything in your office, from the phone lines to the Internet service to the credit card machine itself. And if those guys can’t figure out the problem? They’ll find someone who can.”
Her eyes lit up. “Really? You’d do that?”
“Yes, assuming you open an account with us.” Or multiple accounts.
“Done. What now?”
“The usual boring bank stuff. You’ll have to fill out reams of paperwork, but it’ll be worth it in the long run, I promise.”
Doctor Monroe glanced at her watch. “It’s almost five o’clock. Don’t you banker types lock the doors at five?” She scowled. “I took off early today to address this problem with Settler’s First only to find out their lobby closes at four.”
“Happy as I am that your unhappiness with them brought you to us, I will point out our goal is to maintain more customer-friendly hours than bankers’ hours. Our lobby is actually open until six during the week and noon on Saturday.”
“So now that you’ve given me the spiel, lay the paperwork on me and I’ll get it to my office manager first thing in the morning. It’s kosher for her to swing in tomorrow and finalize everything?”
“Absolutely. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll grab all the paperwork you’ll need.”
When Ainsley returned to the office, the doctor gave her a curious look. “You haven’t lived here long?”
“A few weeks. I transferred from Denver.”
“I don’t see pictures of a husband or kids decorating your walls. You married?”
“Divorced. No kids.” Sort of a bizarre line of questions. “How about you?”
“Also divorced. No kids. And let me tell ya, that makes us a rarity in this area.”
“I haven’t had much time to meet many people or soak in the local color.”
She popped to her feet. “You have to eat, right? I’ll take you to a local favorite hot spot where we can chow down a juicy hamburger, split a plate of onion rings and sip a martini.”
“A martini? In Sundance?”
She smirked. “Lettie at the Golden Boot makes a mean lemon drop.”
“I’m in. Let me grab my coat and tell my vice president to close up. I’ll meet you there.”
It wasn’t like she had plans tonight anyway. Ben acted shocked that she’d gotten a little huffy with him. Probably not smart to compare herself to an old saddle—broken in and ready to be used when he wanted it, out of sight and out of mind when he didn’t.
There’s gonna be hell to pay for that crack, sub.
Ainsley whirled around like Bennett had whispered that in her ear. But she only saw Turton giving her the stink eye. She had to find a way to deal with that prickly man, but not tonight.
Ten minutes later, Ainsley slid into the booth across from her newest customer. Before she sipped the yummy looking martini, she confessed, “I have no idea what to call you. Doc? Doc Monroe? Joely?”
“Call me Joely. As proud as I am of my medical degree and my practice, it’s good to be reminded I’m more than just my occupation.” She raised her glass. “To faulty credit card machines.”
She laughed. “This is the only time I’m drinking to that.”
Joely was surprisingly easy to talk to. The woman definitely had opinions. They talked about college and places they’d traveled. Even after they’d finished a cholesterol-laden meal and switched to soda, neither was eager to leave. It’d been a while since she’d spent time with another professional woman she didn’t work with. Or who wasn’t in her circle of married friends.
“So what are you? About thirty-four?” Joely asked.
“Almost thirty-eight, and thanks for that, by the way.”
“No red-hot love affair you left behind in Colorado?”
“I was hoping maybe I’d find one of those here.” Ben’s face swam into her mind’s eye, and she shook her head to erase it.
Joely stared into her soda as she stirred the ice cubes. “There are a few single men. If you don’t mind younger guys. Or cowboys. Not a lot of professional types.”
Ainsley wrinkled her nose. “I’ve had my fill of those types. The problem I discovered with younger guys? They want marriage and a family.”
“You don’t?”
“No. I’ve never had that burning maternal urge.” She looked up, not knowing how Joely would respond to that. Most women didn’t understand. They always claimed she’d change her mind when she met the right guy. But she knew she wouldn’t. She’d accepted that about herself. Why couldn’t everyone else?
“I hear you. I’ve lived in this area for twelve years. So if I’d taken up with the first yahoo that asked me, I’d probably have kids by now. Probably be divorced again, and a stranger to those kids since I work all the damn time.” Joely gestured to the empty space between them. “This is the first time I’ve been out on a date in months.”
Now that Ainsley thought about it, it was pretty bizarre, Joely just asking her out for…holy crap. Had she said date? Was the doc…gay?
“You stiffened up, Ainsley, did I say something wrong?”
“You called this a date. It isn’t, right? Because you should know I don’t swing that way.”
Amusement danced in her eyes. “No, it’s not a date. Freudian slip, maybe. I’m not a lesbian. If I had to classify my sexuality, I’d say…celibate. And I’m damn tired of it. You know what bites about being the only doctor in a rural area?”
“No, what?”
/> “That I have to at least pretend to have a moral code. If I worked in a suburban hospital or practice, I could get away with having a different man or two in my bed every week. Heck, I could have that every day. But here? I have to be Dr. Sexless and Upstanding.” She cocked her head. “I haven’t heard you chiming in about forced celibacy since moving to the sticks.”
“There’s something to be said for hook-up sex.”
“Now I’m really jealous. You’ve only been here a month and you’ve already got a local hook-up whenever you want?”
“Joely?”
They both looked at the dark-haired woman at the end of the booth.
“Libby! What’s up?” Joely said, “Ainsley Hamilton, meet my friend, Libby McKay. Ainsley is the president of the new bank.”
Of course this woman had to be a McKay. “Nice to meet you, Libby.”
“Likewise. Are you the one who’s responsible for Chase’s event this weekend?”
“I sure am. We hammered out the final details today with Settler’s First. How are you related to Chase?”
“He’s my brother-in-law.”
Ainsley went very still. That meant this woman was Ben’s sister-in-law. Why that freaked her out was totally stupid, because chances were very slim Ben was anywhere around.
“Hey, Doc, good to see you.”
Then that deep voice that fueled her fantasies was right behind her.
“Ben. Fancy seeing you here,” Joely said.
“Poor Ben was roped into bringing me into town. Ginger and I haven’t had a chance to catch up with girl talk forever so we’re meeting when she gets off work.”
Ainsley didn’t miss Joely’s wistful smile that she hadn’t been included in Libby’s girl-talk time.
“It was no bother,” Bennett said keeping his eyes on Ainsley. “I had another matter I needed to tend to tonight anyway.”
Her heart raced. She’d probably be tending to her own burning butt cheeks before the night was over, if the hard look in his eye was any indication of his mood.
And didn’t that just thrill her?
“Ben, do you know Ainsley?” Joely asked.
Cowboy Casanova: Rough Riders, Book 12 Page 16
