Cowboy Casanova (Rough Riders #12)(24)

“Problem?”


“No. I just… No problem at all.” His leather vest came off first. Followed by his

western shirt. He grumbled something as he toed off his boots, but she was too busy

gawking at his near nakedness to pay much heed.


Heaven help her, the man had one of those chests. Broad, muscular, masculine perfection

with just the right amount of chest hair. Ainsley’s eyes followed that trail of dark

hair down his torso to the top of his jeans. She watched as he unhooked his belt.

Watched as he popped the button loose. Watched as he slid the zipper down. Held her

breath as those Wranglers fell to the carpet. Holy mother of all saints the man had the

largest dick she’d ever seen outside of porn. She finally chanced a look at his face.


Bennett managed a tight-lipped smile. “Like what you see?”


“I’m sort of half-scared by it, if you wanna know the truth.”


“I haven’t gotten many complaints.”


“I don’t imagine you have.” She sauntered forward. Her eyes snared his. Then her

fist closed around his girth and she squeezed.


He hissed.


Ainsley stroked the hard, heated flesh. “Tell me what you like.” He sucked in another

sharp breath when her thumb swept beneath the cockhead.


“I like that. But…”


Her hand didn’t stop moving, her eyes never wavered when she asked, “But what?”


“But I’d rather f*ck you. I’d rather watch you get off again.”


Something about his response seemed rehearsed. Something about the too-bright look in

his eyes told her that he wasn’t used to being manhandled. Which made sense, if his

reason to switch to submissive was to feel pain. His submissive role tonight wouldn’t

be the same as other times.


She rolled to the tips of her boots and pressed her lips to his. “As delighted as I am

by your selfless sentiment, Bennett, it’s not your decision, is it?”


A tiny flare of anger replaced the pleasure in his eyes. “No.”


“No what?”


“No, Ma’am.”


“Good answer.” Ainsley angled her head to feel his downy chest hair brush her cheek.

She nuzzled his pectoral, breathing in his warm, earthy scent. He groaned when her

questing mouth found his nipple. She licked the disk, dampening the hair around the

hidden tip, using her teeth to tease the tiny nub as she increased the stroking motion

of her hand.


“God. Dammit.”


She upped the tempo, switching to shorter, harder strokes.


“Ah f*ck.”


“Stop swearing at me.”


“Sorry it just feels so… Shit, it feels so f*ckin’ good.”


She smiled against his chest. “Tell me how close you are.”


“Embarrassingly close.”


“Why are you embarrassed?”


“Because my stamina is usually… Christ, do that again.”


“This?” Her middle finger slipped between his damp balls on the down-stroke. “Or

this?” Her thumb traced the wet edge of his cockhead above the sweet spot on the

upstroke.


“Both. God! Dammit.”