Cowboy Casanova - Lorelei James [47]
“When he deems you ready for his cock, he’ll gently ease inside you, looking in your eyes. He’ll keep up a steady pace, asking you the entire time if it’s okay. He’ll try to remember to kiss you as the momentum builds and he fucks you faster. You won’t demand he slow down and see to your needs before his. You decide you’ll let it slide this first time. After he comes, he’ll pant in your ear how good it was. You’ll tell yourself it was okay. Even if you don’t believe it. Even if you have a sense that something was missing.”
Ainsley stared at him. “And there’s something wrong with that scenario?”
“Yes, goddammit, there is, because that’s not what you want. That’s the type of sexual encounter you’ve had your whole life.”
Her haughty look vanished.
“Now imagine having sex with me.”
She licked her lips.
“You know it’s not that civilized with me. Sex with me is raw, dirty and demanding, but you’ll never feel there’s something missing because I will see to your needs above my own. Every. Single. Time.”
“So you’re more of a giver than a taker?”
“Don’t get me wrong, I take plenty. But never at your expense.”
She softly said, “Then my answer is yes. One month.”
Relief flowed through him.
Ainsley scooted from the booth and Ben followed her outside. He admired how respectable she looked in a form-fitting gold-colored business suit, and he couldn’t wait to thoroughly muss her up. “Be at my place right after work.”
“So this is strictly clandestine between us?” she asked. “No public outings in Sundance?”
“Nope.”
“Well, I don’t believe we’ll spend all of our time together naked.”
“Don’t bet the bank on that.” Ben tipped his hat and strode away.
Chapter Twelve
Ben hated putting his dogs outside. But if he wanted to use all the rooms in his house with Ainsley, curious sniffing dogs would put a damper on that real fast.
He wasn’t a pacing kind of guy, but he beat a path from his kitchen to the bar, through the game room, to his bedroom and back to the living room. He rarely had a case of nerves, but he definitely was feeling them tonight.
Way to act like a confident Dom.
Finally, Ainsley knocked on the door.
Gone was the bank executive. She’d dressed in a long-sleeved T-shirt the color of summer grass, jeans and puffy, down-filled vest. She wasn’t carrying an overnight bag.
“Hey. Come in. Did you eat?”
Ainsley shook her head. “Nervous stomach. I wasn’t sure…”
“If I’d make you strip the instant you walked in and we’d go at it in the foyer?”
“To be honest, yes.”
Ben took her hands in his. “Ainsley. I wanna get to know you. All sides of you. Not just how you respond to me when you’re nekkid and trussed up.”
“That’s a relief.”
“For me too.”
“Why?”
“Performance anxiety.”
She laughed softly, naturally. “I doubt you’ve ever suffered from that in your life.”
“There’s always that first time. Now, I’ve gotta make an embarrassing confession.” Ben hung his head. “I’m addicted to Wheel of Fortune. Most nights I eat supper in front of the TV so I can get my fix.”
“Well, that changes things between us dramatically. Because I’m more of a Jeopardy fan myself.”
“That’s because you have way more brain power than me, smart girl.”
“Because you’re just a simple rancher, right?” she teased.
“Yep. So how about if I fix us a bowl of popcorn and you can snicker at me as I try to guess the puzzles?”
“Sounds good. You need help?”
“Why? Do you think I’ll burn it?”
“No. I just want to make sure you pour extra butter on mine.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. “If your goal is to keep me off balance, it’s working.”
They settled in front of the TV. Ben thought you could learn a lot about a person by how they ate popcorn. The quiet munchers? Reserved in life. Loud crunchers? Enjoyed everything with gusto. Eating a single kernel at a time? Very methodical. Piling on extra butter, extra salt and extra seasoning? A hedonistic bent. So it’d pleased him to