Cowboy Casanova (Rough Riders 12)

Cody nonchalantly cast a glance over his shoulder. “I gotta agree with Bennett on this, Murph. The woman is out of her element, and I’ll eat my f**king keg tap if she’s got any real experience as a Domme.”

“Better give us the basics on her,” Sully added.

The big man stroked his fingers through his long black beard and looked at each one of them in turn, but spoke to Ben. “I told you. Angel is a friend of Layla’s. She’s here to see if this type of club would be a good fit for her.”

“She’s been involved in other clubs like this?”

“According to Layla, yes.”

“If that’s the case, then where does her previous Domme experience come in?”

Murphy sighed. “I argued with Layla about this, especially after she told me Angel’s only Domme experiences were in a controlled setting where she…ah…paid the dude so she could be in charge.”

Silence.

“So you’re telling me this woman waltzed into my club, expecting to be given the gold stamp of approval because she paid some dude from a male escort service to let her boss him around for a few hours?” Cody asked tightly.

Murphy nodded.

“So much for being the master of your house.” Sully snickered.

“Layla assured me that Angel only wanted the Domme designation as protection; she didn’t intend to use it besides to observe.”

“That’s an even worse reason for bein’ here. She’s a poseur,” Ben said. “She ain’t gonna get any real idea if she can handle this, even on a casual basis, if she can’t be honest with herself about what she is.” For Christsake, she’d worn a freakin’ disguise to the club. “I’ll bet you each a thousand bucks she’s submissive.”

A bet no one took, because in six years, Ben hadn’t been wrong even one time.

Cody pointed at Murphy. “You know we can’t let her in the club if she ain’t gonna play. How the f**k did you ever agree to breaking that rule?”

“Let’s just say Layla has a helluva distraction technique and she asked at a…ah, a pivotal moment.”

Sully and Cody shook their heads.

“How many nights is she here?” Ben asked Murphy.

“Two. Why?”

“That’ll be enough. Get Layla to introduce me.”

“Only if you inform my little slave that pushing me to admit her friend to the club as an experienced Domme has earned her a hefty consequence.”

“Why do I have to tell her?” Ben asked.

Murphy motioned Layla over. “Because she’ll sass me. But she never gets away with mouthy behavior around you, Bennett.”

Layla sidled up to the bar. “A Bombay Sapphire and tonic and a cherry Coke.” Her eyes widened when she saw Ben adjusting a white bracelet on his wrist. “Bennett? You’re changing your status?”

“Only temporarily so I can fix your mistake.” He invaded her space and spoke softly. “You are in big trouble, Layla.”

“But why—”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know why.” He watched her gaze skate briefly to Angel’s table.

She dropped her gaze to her hands. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“You will convince Angel to play with me.” Ben fought a grin when he heard Layla mutter, “Shit. She is so f**ked.”

“Not as f**ked as you are, my pretty,” Murphy warned her. “You will do whatever Bennett demands to ensure your inexperienced friend doesn’t wind up in a situation we cannot control.”

She muttered, “I should’ve just given her a damn black bracelet.”

“Excuse me?” Murphy snapped.

“Nothing, Sir.”

“Murphy will decide your punishment for your coercion in getting your friend admitted to this private club under false pretenses,” Ben told her.

Layla shot Murphy a contrite look and he snorted. “Puppy dog eyes ain’t gonna get you out of the doghouse, woman.”

“Whatcha got planned for our wannabe Domme?” Cody asked Ben.

“Charm, tempt, seduce—convince her to let me be her submissive tonight.” He lifted a brow at Layla to get her butt moving.

“Putting your plan into play now, Sir.” She grabbed the drinks and flounced off.

“I better go help Trace and Riley set up for tonight,” Sully said, stepping away from the bar.

“Make sure room four is saved for me,” Ben said.

“Will do.” Sully disappeared through the side door.

Cody laughed. “You sneaky son of a bitch. You’ve picked a no-view room. Don’t want any of your fan club chicklets to see the almighty Bennett at a woman’s feet?”

Ben offered another cocky grin. “Make no mistake. She might think she’s giving the orders, but I guarantee I’ll be the one in charge.”

The first thing Ainsley noticed as Layla sashayed back was her strained expression. “Is everything all right? Looked a little tense up at the bar.”

“It was.” Layla sank onto the barstool. “See the buff guy with the dark blond hair?”

Ainsley nodded.

“That’s Cody. The bar owner. He asked about you.”

Her hand froze above her drink. “He did? Why?”

“Well, you’re not exactly inconspicuous in that wig. And you’re wearing a gold bracelet. So he asked me if you were a lesbian.”

She choked on her gin. “Why would he think that?”

“Historically in this club, gold bracelets are worn by men, because ninety-nine point nine percent of the submissives are female. Cody wondered if you were here to perform a public scene with another woman.”

“What?”

“He and the other guys—Doms—wanted to know if you had a specific time in mind for that performance so they could watch.”

“But…I’m not… I…can’t… I don’t like…”

Layla leaned closer. “I know that. So in trying to save your ass from, oh, having a woman willing to go down on you in public in front of a couple dozen horny guys, I told them you were choosy. So choosy in fact, that you might not find a man you want to play with at all tonight.”

She noticed Layla no longer wore that smug expression for pulling one over on them. “What else?”

“They reminded me of the club rule: if you pay, you play—regardless if you’re a member or a guest. No exceptions.”

“But you gave me this gold bracelet so I’d be top of the food chain, so I wouldn’t have to play.”