Cowboy Casanova - Lorelei James [49]
“You’re awful quiet,” he remarked as his thumbs followed the line of her spine.
“I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to speak.”
Ben stilled. “Why would you think that?”
“Because those are the Dom’s rules in books I’ve read.”
“What books?”
“The ones that deal with…BDSM.”
To some extent, he hated the way the term BDSM was thrown around as much as he disliked the casual use of the word Master.
“Have you read any of those books?” she asked.
“Fiction? Or nonfiction?”
“Either.”
“Nonfiction. When we first went to the Denver club. One of the owners saw that we were clueless bastards and took pity on us. He gave us a stack of material to read so we knew the differences between what we wanted as dominants and what was expected in certain Dom/sub relationships. And I’ll admit, even from the start, I’ve been on the side of the fence where dominance is used as a sexual tool to heighten sexual experiences. I’m not into debasing a sub by using a cage or a pallet to sleep on or a shock collar. Or extreme pain games. Never been tempted by bloodsport or knife play or piss play or even breath play. If I knew subs who were into that stuff, I’d avoid them. But I’ll admit it’s practically nonexistent at the Rawhide anyway.” He rubbed a spot at the base of her neck. “So the subs don’t speak because they’re gagged or something in these books?“
“No. A sub isn’t supposed to speak unless asked a direct question by her dominant. And in scenes, the sub isn’t supposed to cry out in pain or in pleasure unless the Dom permits her to.”
Ben tamped down his temper. “Have I ever said you can’t talk?”
“Umm. No.”
“Think I’ll ever forbid you from speakin’ your mind?”
“No.”
“I might take issue if you argue with me about something I tell you to do, but I don’t expect monk-like silence from you.”
“Oh.”
“And this isn’t a scene,” he said testily.
She lifted up and looked over her shoulder at him. “It’s not?”
“No. Christ. I’m giving you a massage.”
“Why?”
“Why am I giving you a massage? Because I wanted to put my hands all over you. And you acted nervous. I thought it’d calm you down.”
Ainsley continued to stare at him.
“What?”
“You confuse me, Bennett. This confuses me. The variances in the different types of Dom/sub relationships…”
“Hey, there are no rules for us besides the ones I set—with your input. I suspect this will be a learn as we go thing for both of us.” He lightly slapped her ass. “Face back on the mattress, so I can finish.”
From that point on, Ainsley was vocal.
“So tell me more about these BDSM books you read. What things you read in them that turned you off.”
“You’re more interested in what I didn’t like than what I did?”
“I’m pretty confident I can figure out what you like.” He pressed his thumbs onto a knot beside her right shoulder blade.
“Oh. I like that. You hit it. Right. On. The. Money.” Another sexy moan of delight. “You have magic hands.”
“Tell me one sex fantasy that ain’t in a book.”
Ainsley didn’t answer.
He stopped the massage. “Tell me or no more magic fingers.”
She groaned and said, “Fine, I have a stranger fantasy. It’s dark. I wake up and notice him in the shadows. I’m freaked out and then he starts saying all these sexy things. How he’s whacked off imagining how it’d be to touch me. How he knows what I sound like when I climax because he’s watched me touching myself. He does all sorts of sexy, naughty things to me and then he just leaves and I never knew who he was.”
Ben kissed her temple “See? That wasn’t so bad.”
“I’d hate for you to think I’m the boring banker type with no imagination.”
His chuckle vibrated against her neck. “The last damn thing you are is boring. So tell me more about these books. Specifically what you don’t like.”
“I don’t like the master and slave mentality of the BDSM relationships. Where