He added more lube to the stretched anal opening and coated his cock. He couldn’t watch the head of his c**k breaching that tight pink pucker, but he could feel the mind blowing contraction of the muscle as pushed his shaft in without pause, until he was balls deep in that untried channel.
She reared up.
He pushed her flat to the table with his body, curling his hands around hers on the edge of the pool table. “Jesus. You’re so f**king tight.” His mouth brushed her ear. “It’ll get better.” He canted his pelvis, slid out a few inches and then back in.
“How do you know it’ll get better? Have you had a dick in your butt?” she demanded.
Several booms of thunder rattled the windowpanes.
Ben sank his teeth into the skin at the base of her neck, feeling her tremble beneath him. “And what if I said yes? Would you believe I wouldn’t put a sub through something I’m not willing to have done to me?”
“I’d say that’s not an answer.” She hissed when he withdrew, resting the cockhead just inside the opening.
“You’re bein’ kinda mouthy for a woman pinned to a pool table with her Dom’s c**k filling her virgin ass.” Ben slammed back in fully.
Ainsley gasped.
“You said you wanted this. You said take me. That’s what I’m gonna do. Take you. My way.”
Her fingers tightened beneath his as she braced herself.
Ben started f**king her. Slowly. Steadily. Trying to keep as much of their skin in contact as possible with each stroke. Despite the chill in the room, he was sweating. He whispered, “You feel so goddamn good.”
The wind whistled and shrieked. Sheets of rain pelted the windows.
He withdrew and plunged in deep, aware of Ainsley’s changed breathing pattern. Aware of her conflicting feelings of agony and ecstasy. “You like this.”
No response except for a grunt.
“Admit this was another of your dirty fantasies. Bein’ made to enjoy havin’ a c**k in your ass.”
“Yes, okay? Happy now?” She bucked against him, which shoved his c**k deeper into her glove-tight channel.
Ben chuckled. “Very happy, angel.” That’s when he f**ked her hard. His hips slamming into her backside. His toes cramped as he used the inside ledge of the pool table to propel himself into her faster until he reached that point of no return.
He came in a head roaring rush.
She followed right behind him, her inner muscles clamped down as she humped against the pillow.
They stayed like that—sweaty, panting, sticky, spent—for quite a while.
What a great way to start their weekend.
Late Sunday morning Ben rolled over and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. “Hey, Quinn. What’s up?” Ben frowned. “That’s today? Shit. No. I forgot. Thanks for the reminder. I’ll be there in fifteen.” He hung up and headed straight for the shower. Then he grabbed his clothes from the closet.
“Where are you going?”
“I told Quinn and Libby I’d watch Adam and Amelia today. Usually my mom volunteers to baby-sit, but she’s outta town.” He buttoned his shirt. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, so make yourself at home. No reason to get up.”
“You expect me to wait here for you all day?”
“Like I said, I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”
Ainsley threw back the covers and angrily started gathering articles of clothing.
“Are you pissed off about this?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She held out her arm. A section of rope still dangled from her wrist. “Oh, maybe because we’d barely finished screwing, and you left me half-tied to the damn bed so you could answer your phone!”
Shit. He tried to catch her gaze but she stomped away. What was she trying to tell him by calling that last heart pounding, body-pumping bout of sex…screwing? It’d been more than that. It’d been freakin’ phenomenal.
“And then you gave me the impression that I was supposed to lie in bed all day and wait for your triumphant return.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Not in so many words.” Ainsley muttered as she yanked on her clothes.
“Something you wanna say to me? Instead of throwing me dirty looks and mumbling under your breath?”
“I realize I’m your sub. But I’m not some object like your saddle. Hanging around ready to be used when you need me, set aside when you don’t.”
Jesus. Did Ainsley really just compare herself to his saddle? And what the f**k was up with that “be used” comment?
She flounced to the bedroom doorway.
“Where do you think you’re goin?”
Ainsley deigned to give him a mocking look. “I’m going to the f**king opera dressed like this. Where do you think I’m going? I’m going home.”
“Like hell.”
“I’ve been here since Friday night. I need to check on my cats. Then I have to finish unpacking and wash clothes. All things I’ve neglected, because I have a life besides the one I spend bound for your pleasure.”
That smartass comment raised his blood pressure. “You trying to see how much hotter you can make the water you’re already in, sub?”
“No. Sir, Bennett, Sir,” she snapped off with military precision and notched her chin higher. “You told me we wouldn’t spend every waking minute together. We have this weekend. I think I deserve a furlough.”
And it’d been one of the best weekends he could remember, not that he could tell her that with the anger emanating from her like a poisonous cloud. Hey wait. Had she just compared the weekend to a…prison sentence?
“I’ve got a busy week, so I’ll call you. Or maybe you’ll call me when you need to practice your rope-tying skills.” She threw the rope at him and disappeared down the hallway.
Maybe you’ll call me when you need to practice your rope-tying skills? Oh hell no. That would not fly with him.
Ben heard the door slam. By the time he made it outside, her car was halfway up the drive.
Oh, little sub, you’ve just landed yourself in a whole passel of trouble.
Chapter Fifteen
Ainsley spent all day Monday on the phone with Chase McKay’s publicist and going back and forth with Steve Talbot, president of Settler’s First Bank. They’d come to an agreement about co-sponsoring the local event as a platform for Chase to announce his new charity. Steve’s attempts to cut National West out of the event entirely displeased Mayor Mark, who championed the idea of both banks providing a united front to the community.