Cowboy Casanova (Rough Riders #12)(88)

a dildo. Probably not even a finger.


Demand to know what he shoved up your butt.


No. Be compliant.


Bennett chuckled. “You are bein’ a model sub. Avoiding punishment by doin’ what you

’re told without arguing or without questioning me.” He slapped her ass. “Let’s see

how long you can keep it up.”


The swat didn’t hurt; it merely caught her off guard because it jiggled the thing in

her butt.


“You’re wearing the butt plug until I take it out.” He trailed his finger down her

spine, between her butt cheeks, over her tailbone to jostle the object. “Whatcha think

about that, sub?”


“I’m not supposed to think.” She tacked on, “Sir.”


He laughed again. “Good answer. Come on. Let’s shoot a game of pool.”


Pool? With her bending over the table and that…thing poking out of her behind? No way.

“You’re joking, right?”



That penetrating blue gaze sharpened. “You might learn more about the difference

between discipline and punishment tonight after all.”


Ainsley plastered on a smile. “Would you like me to chalk your stick?”


The crotch of Ben’s jeans was strangling his cock.


He hadn’t expected to get so turned on by Ainsley’s competitive streak. Her cocky

attitude.


He suspected she’d downplayed her pool abilities when she’d challenged him to the

best two games out of three. But as soon as she started shooting, he realized the woman

was a novice. He’d hustled enough games in his youth to be considered a pool shark. He

’d easily won the first game without taxing himself.


His amusement morphed into lust during the second game. Watching her naked body

contorting to try a shot. So he’d been biding his time. Keeping the Dom hovering in

the background, pacing like a caged tiger for the opportunity to pounce.


And there it was.


Ainsley scratched on the eight ball. Which didn’t faze her in the least. She beamed at

him. “Did you catch that awesome shot?”


“Uh-huh. But, angel, you still lost.”


“What? No. I got the black ball in.”


Jagged spikes of lightning flashed outside the windows. Thunder boomed. The wind

whistled through the house with enough force to shake the rafters. Hard drops of rain

pelted the skylights above the pool table.


“Yeah, but the cue ball can’t follow the eight ball in. It means you scratched. Which

means I win.”


An ominous crack of thunder echoed.


Her eyes widened. Her delicate fingers tightened around the pool cue. “We still have

one game left.”


Ben shook his head. “I’ve won two. The third game is pointless.” He let his

predatory gaze roam up her body. “And I’ve got a much better use for the pool table.

”


The lights flickered.


“You wouldn’t.”


“I would.” He stalked her until her butt met the edge of the pool table, ignoring the

elements battling outside his house, focusing instead on the elements raging inside

him. “Don’t move.” He plucked the cue from her hand and returned it to the cue rack.