That shocked his cousin. “Wait. Are you a member?”
“Guest.” Dalton’s face heated as it did every time he thought about how he’d reacted after seeing something he hadn’t understood. “Look, Ben, that’s the most humiliating thing I’ve ever done—calling your brothers and staging an intervention about your sex life. Not even walkin’ out on my own wedding holds a candle to that boneheaded moment in my life.”
“You gotta know that’s been over and done with for a long time.” He sipped his beer. “So the club must’ve made an impression on you if you’re still goin’ there…six years later?”
“The place—the whole situation opened my eyes. So a few months after you resigned from the club, I went in and ended up talkin’ to Layla.”
Ben’s eyes narrowed. “What did she say?”
“Nothin’ about you or Ainsley. That wasn’t why I went in. I wanted to understand more about that lifestyle choice ’cause it was pretty f**king obvious I didn’t have a clue.”
“And? What’d you learn?”
“More than anything I learned different strokes for different folks.”
Ben choked on his beer and Dalton laughed.
“Got ya there, cuz.”
“Smart ass.”
“Eventually I learned there ain’t no one-size-fits-all sexual playbook. I stopped in and I took in scenes, figuring I’d try them out in the privacy of my own bed. I assumed once I had the right sex moves down I wouldn’t have to try so hard with women. I’d be a killer lay.” Dalton shook his head. “Jesus. This is really embarrassing to admit, so just tell me to shut the f**k up and we can go back to kitchen remodeling.”
Ben shook his head. “Keep talkin’.”
Dalton chugged most of his beer. “Without goin’ into specifics, I’ve been in some pretty f**ked up situations with women over the years. I never quite…got it. Hell, I even hooked up with a lesbian for a while so she could teach me about women. Didn’t work. I think she knew less about what women wanted than I did.”
Ben chuckled.
“I’m not qualifying this, but I never participated in any activities at the Rawhide. Not out of fear, or worry about bein’ judged.”
“Then why abstain? It is a sex club.”
“Because when it came to sex I’d always acted first and didn’t consider the results of my actions until it was too late.”
“When did you come to that realization?”
“After Tell and Georgia got married in Vegas. Hot women were coming on to me only because they thought I had money. When I got back home, I realized women were coming on to me because my last name was McKay. Or some women were avoiding me because of my shitty reputation as a wannabe player.” He felt like such a f**king pu**y talking about this shit with his cousin Bennett, legendary Dominant.
Ben leaned forward. “I’m not judging you. Anything you tell me stays between us, okay? And it seems to me you need someone to talk to.”
“Probably.” Now that Rory was in the picture, he didn’t want to screw this up with her. “So I needed to rethink my entire approach to women, to sex, and what I wanted out of it. That’s why I went to the club a couple years later again.”
“So what did you learn about yourself?”
“I’m more tolerant than I believed I could be. Watchin’ some of those scenes just reinforced my stance that I’ll never use a flogger on a woman, or a whip, or a strap.” A shudder of revulsion rolled through him, though he tried like hell to repress it. “I doubt I’d even be interested in playful spanking.”
“Why not?”
Dalton shrugged. “Just not my thing.”
“That ain’t all of it, Dalton.” Then he pulled out the Dom voice. “Tell me.”
First time he’d heard that tone from Bennett. He sighed. “If I tell you, you gotta understand I’m not lookin’ for pity.”
“Now you’ve got me concerned.”
Where in the hell did he even start this? Better to just barf it out upfront. “Casper…used to beat me with a strap. Started when I was seven and ended after I got bigger than him. He did it in private and embarrassment kept me from telling anyone. Every time Casper lit into me with that leather, he recounted all the things wrong with me and what I’d done wrong, so it was physical and verbal abuse.”
Ben stayed quiet for several moments. “Christ, Dalton, is that why you freaked out when you saw me usin’ the whip on a member in the club?”
Dalton couldn’t meet Ben’s eyes. “Yeah. The only experience I had with any type of beating was forced, so I didn’t understand why someone would want to get whipped. Nor did I understand that not all people who wield the whip are sadistic bastards. I associated any hitting with shame and the strong preying on the weak.”
“I need another goddamned beer,” Ben said and took out two bottles, passing one to Dalton.
“I wondered if Uncle Charlie had used the ‘spare the strap, spoil the child’ philosophy on you or your brothers.”
“Nope. But I can see why you’d think my former whip expertise stemmed from dealing with childhood trauma.” He pointed his beer bottle at Dalton. “Kinda like you used to act out by getting into all them dust ups with any guy who looked at you crossways.”
“I had a f**ked up need to prove I could defend myself—probably why I instigated half of the fights.”
“The only time I remember my dad raising his hand to one of us was when Chase was five. He ran out in front of the tractor when Dad was picking up hay bales. Dad jumped outta the cab so fast, grabbed Chase by one arm and spanked the living crap out of him. Me’n Quinn were shocked. Then Dad knelt in the dirt and got right in Chase’s face. Talked to him, hugged the shit out of him and made him sit in the cab with him for the rest of the day. Which was the worst sort of punishment for Chase.” Ben paused. “Your brothers didn’t know when it was goin’ on?”
Dalton picked at the label of his beer bottle. “One night after too many shots of Jagermeister I told Tell about Casper’s random whippings when I was a kid. Shocked him because Casper used to smack me in front of them sometimes and Tell thought that’s all there was to it. Sounds fun, don’t it?”
“Not even remotely.” Ben seemed to chug half his beer. “Your mom wasn’t aware of what was goin’ on in her own house?”