Cowboy Casanova (Rough Riders #12)(5)

The incident reinforced Ben’s decision to keep the two halves of himself separate:

Bennett, the sexual dominant, and Ben, the laid-back rancher. The women who appealed to

Bennett would never find a permanent place in Ben’s life. Inside the club he never

spoke of his life outside the club.


One thing the incident hadn’t changed? The fact Ben liked sexual variety. He liked

devoting a few nights to a woman, figuring out what she needed, giving it to her and

heightening the sexual experience for both of them. He knew that’s why he excelled at

domination games: he didn’t get complacent. Or attached.


“Earth to Bennett. You still with me, man?”


Ben glanced up from his beer. “Yeah. Just thinking. Wondering what’s in store for me

tonight.”


“I’m so glad you asked,” Cody said behind him.


He faced his buddy who owned the Rawhide Bar. “Already planned something for me? I’m

hoping it involves a hot blonde and a pair of handcuffs.”


Cody snorted. “There’s a door upstairs that’s sticking, floor trim that’s come

loose, and a couple other things that are beyond my handyman abilities.”


“You been saving shit jobs for me so I’ll feel useful when I show up?”


“Fuck no. We all know you’re useless.” He and Sully laughed when Ben flipped them

off. “Seriously, I could use your carpentry skills.”


Ben drained his beer. “Let’s get it done before the club opens, so floor trim ain’t

the only thing I’m nailing tonight.”


Chapter Two


“What does one wear to a sex club?”


“Speaking as a submissive, I wear whatever I’m told to wear. Or more to the point,

what I’m told not to wear.”


Depressed by her dull clothing choices, Ainsley focused on her friend Layla. “But I’m

not a submissive, so am I supposed to adorn myself like a badass dominatrix?”


“Well, Miz Hamilton, did you bring a selection of latex and leather?”


“What do you think?”


“I’d be shocked if a bank executive openly admitted owning fetish wear.” Layla

smiled impishly. “Besides, the Rawhide Club is a private club, like the Elks Club or

the Moose Lodge.”


Before Ainsley could retort, Layla bounced off the bed and inspected the clothes

hanging in the tiny hotel room closet. “Don’t you have a corset?”


She doubted a girdle counted. “No.”


Layla rummaged inside her mini-suitcase and tossed out pieces of lingerie. “I have

exactly what you need to get appropriately dolled up.” She draped a red and black

polka-dotted push up bra over her shoulder, then a matching g-string, followed by a

lacy black peignoir and a red satin kimono.


“Isn’t it a little obvious I’m on the prowl for sex if I waltz in wearing my

underwear?”


“Girlfriend, what part of looking sexy to get you hot sex is confusing? That’s why

this club is in existence.”


“So it is a sex club.”


“Yep.”


Ainsley groaned and flopped on the bed. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she should’ve