Cowboy Casanova (Rough Riders #12)(81)

“Face the TV.” He unearthed the fur lined handcuffs from beneath the couch cushion.

As soon as she assumed the position, he cuffed her.


Ben struggled to shimmy his sweatpants off over his erection. Once he had his clothes

off, he rolled on a condom. He said, “Turn around,” and crooked his finger at her.


He braced her shoulders as she straddled his lap. He buried his face in her neck,

searching for the honey-almond scent that drove him wild.


She shivered but didn’t try and squirm away.


Ah. Progress.


Using just his fingertips, he traced the line of her stubborn jaw. Caressed the corded

muscles in her neck. Traced the angle of her clavicle to the edge of her shoulder.

Every glorious indentation and plane. Then he followed the plump curves of her breasts

past those pretty pink nipples. He curled his hands over her ribcage and stroked his

thumbs over the soft, feminine swell of her belly and across that sensitive skin

between her hipbones. Sometimes he murmured verbal worship of these amazingly unique

female parts as his fingers explored, but tonight he wanted to concentrate on every

hitch in her breathing. Every reaction to his touch.


He already caught the scent of her arousal and his dick stood at attention, ready to

satisfy the call of her body.


Ben ran his fingers through her hair while he kissed her. Unhurriedly. She matched him

kiss for kiss. Never veering from his lead. Giving all of herself over to him.


In that moment she was wholly his. What a f*cking rush.


He’d intended to drag this out. Teasing those hot spots on her neck with his mouth

until she begged to come and then getting her off with his hand. But now? He just

wanted to f*ck her.


He released her hair and aligned his cock to the source of that fragrant wet heat.

Still feeding her deep soul kisses, he put one hand on her ass and urged her to lower

her pelvis to his.


Then he was sliding up into that sublimely tight, hot *.


Ainsley briefly broke her mouth free from his to gasp softly.


Ben pumped his hips up to meet her downward thrusts. Each deep stroke drove his need

higher. His need to hear her cry out. His need to see the pleasure on her face he’d

denied her yesterday. He latched onto the handcuffs, angling her body back. Then he

slipped his free hand between her thighs.


Her eyes opened and she groaned.



Using the wetness from her body, he rubbed his thumb over her clit.


She began bumping her pelvis against his hand, trying to get more friction. “Please.”


“No.”


Immediately her body stilled. Then she surrendered.


“Good girl.” After teasing her, reminding her who was in charge of her orgasms, Ben

quickened the motion of his thumb, increased the pressure on that plumped bit of flesh

and watched as Ainsley came unhinged.


She was a goddess, swamped with pleasure, her head thrown back, her silky hair swaying,

her kiss-swollen lips parted as she cried out, the pulse throbbing in her neck in

tandem with the pulse throbbing beneath his stroking thumb.


He drew out the climax, and only when she was spent did he drive himself over the edge.

Yanking on the cuffs chain, bowing her body backward so he could see his cock pumping

in and out of her. His fingers dug into her thigh when his balls lifted.