Buckle Up, Buttercup

  Buckle Up Buttercup

  A Cowboy Romance

  Gigi Thorne

  Copyright © 2018 by Gigi Thorne

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Design: Mayhem Cover Design

  First Edition

  Contents

  1. Beau

  2. Winnie

  3. Beau

  4. Winnie

  5. Beau

  6. Winnie

  7. Beau

  8. Winnie

  9. Beau

  10. Winnie

  11. Beau

  Epilogue

  Who is Gigi

  Also by Gigi

  1

  Beau

  "Can we have a lap dance for my friend?"

  I groaned and covered my eyes with my palm, shaking my head as I laughed out loud.

  "Please don't," I begged my friend Malcolm. "I'm really not in the mood."

  "Whyever not?" he grinned wickedly, motioning for a girl to come over. "Just look at her, Beau."

  I raised my gaze to the girl in question, and my eyes nearly popped out of my head.

  She was five feet ten of gloriously tanned skin, luscious blonde waves and green eyes that sparkled in a way I never knew existed. The second I lay my eyes on her, I was a fucking goner, and my excuses dried up on my lips as I stared at her, feeling like she was a mirage.

  "He speaks, I swear," Malcolm joked, and I swallowed thickly. "He's just a little shy."

  "That's alright," she drawled, and her voice made my cock twitch in my jeans, desperate to be brought out and played with. "What's your name, handsome?"

  "Beau," I finally managed to get out. "Beau Harris."

  "Nice to meet you, Beau, Beau Harris," she giggled.

  Fuck me, her laugh was infectious and melodic as fuck, and I couldn't take my eyes off her. I was falling head over heels at a strip club. I couldn't help myself. She was enchanting, her voice mesmerizing, her little outfit leaving nothing to the imagination.

  She wore a black and pink ensemble, a corset that pushed her luscious tits up high and together, a pair of frilly panties that looked sheer from the back, and fuck-me over-the-knee boots with a little pink garter that made me start sweating. Yet somehow she looked innocent as all fuck, her eyes wide as they wandered over me. Suddenly a thought struck me, and before I could stop myself, I'd spoken out loud.

  "How old are you?" I demanded. "You look young. Too young to be here."

  Her eyes glazed over and she looked away, obviously upset.

  "I'm eighteen," she finally said. "Actually, it's my birthday today."

  I didn't know or care whether this was a line she fed every one of the patrons of the strip club, but I didn't give a shit either. All I wanted was to grab her, throw her over my shoulder and carry her the fuck out of that place. She didn't belong in a seedy club. She belonged in my fucking bed, with my head between her legs, devouring her sweet little cunt while she writhed beneath me.

  "Is that so?" I drawled out, my eyes going over her scantily-clad body.

  She looked away, blushing lightly as I got my fill of her pretty appearance.

  "So how about that lap dance?" Malcolm cut in, waggling his eyebrows. "You game, beautiful?"

  She giggled and raised her eyes back to mine.

  "I'm not doing lap dances," she admitted. "I can get somebody else for you..."

  "No," I replied sharply. "You're waitressing or dancing tonight?"

  "Dancing," she replied in a whisper, obviously embarrassed by the fact. "I go on in fifteen minutes."

  My hands formed fists at my side and I let the anger wash over me.

  I didn't want her fucking dancing on the stage, grinding on the pole, strutting her stuff down the catwalk. She was too good for it, and I didn't want anyone else's eyes on what I wanted to be mine. Jealousy cut through me like a knife, mixed with a strange need to see her dance.

  "What's your name?" I asked next, and she stared into my eyes, her green gaze glittering.

  "Buttercup," she admitted. "My stage name. I'm not allowed to tell you my real name."

  "You will," I reassured her, and she shook her head at me with a grin.

  "You don't give up easily, do you?" she asked me, and I smiled back.

  "Never," I told her. "Especially not when it's this important."

  "Buttercup!"

  We both turned our heads to the source of the voice. A large, brawny man with a shaved head stood to the side, his arms crossed and his eyes resting on Buttercup. He looked pissed off, and my instincts to protect her kicked in.

  "That guy giving you trouble?" I asked in a half-growl, motioning towards him. "I can help you out."

  "That's my boss," she smiled sweetly. "I think I have to get ready to go on stage. I'll..."

  Her eyes danced over mine, making my cock throb in my jeans.

  "You'll see me later," I finished for her, giving her a wolfish grin.

  She blushed and grabbed her tray before rushing to meet the guy. I watched, mesmerized, as he scolded her and she looked down at the floor. I wanted to punch the scowl off that guy's face. What a piece of shit.

  "Someone's got a crush," Malcolm laughed out loud, and I gave him the death stare. "Calm down, cowboy! I sure as fuck won't touch her. Got my eye on someone else."

  "Good for you," I muttered, clapping him on the back.

  The whole reason for us coming to the strip club was Malcolm's recent breakup with his high school sweetheart, Brenda. They'd been dating for years, but Brenda apparently decided she wanted to try out life in the big city - leaving my best friend hanging. I wanted to hate her for it, but a part of me understood what she was dealing with.

  I was born and bred in the small town of Cherryvale. My family owned the biggest ranch in the city, employing several villagers to help us out. I was an only child, and since I was a kid, my parents raised me to take care of the ranch. And I loved it - lived for the farm work, educated myself on everything that could help us grow bigger, and loved working with both animals and people.

  Until three years ago, when tragedy struck.

  My parents died in a car crash coming home from the first holiday they'd taken in years. I was twenty-three when it happened, and in an instant, my world changed forever.

  "Earth to Beau," Malcolm waved his hand in front of my face. "Your girl's about to go on."

  My attention switched back to the catwalk with a pole standing front and center. The music had changed to something low and seductive, and my blood pulsed through my veins with excitement and the need to see her dance. I didn't give a shit whether there was anybody else in that strip club. Tonight, Buttercup would dance for my eyes only.

  The music got louder and she appeared on stage to loud whoops and cheers from the audience.

  She looked incredible in a new outfit, a skin-toned sheer catsuit that clung to her luscious body, covered in silver rhinestones. Her hair was pulled up, the long blonde waves tumbling down her back from a high ponytail clipped in place with a silver metal clip. Her lashes were thick and black, and her green eyes glittered as she shyly came out on the stage.

  She wasn't very confident, but there was a sexiness to the way she moved, almost self-consciously starting to dance, her hips swaying with the music as she touched her hands to her front. It was fucking erotic, mesmerizing, and I couldn't take my eyes off her barely clothed figure. Her eyes found mine, timidly but desperately latching onto mine as she came to stand front and center, leaning down to throw her head back. It was as if she was
dancing for my eyes only, but as I looked around the room, I realized everybody was looking at her. She danced like a pornstar and acted like a virgin. I couldn't get enough.

  Even Malcolm was leering, and I smacked his shoulder, making him look at me.

  "Soooo-rry," he mouthed, rolling his eyes.

  It wasn't enough, though. And neither was just watching Buttercup on stage, dancing and showing off her gorgeous little body. She was mine, and I didn't want anyone else looking at what I was about to claim in my own name. My fists tightened and tightened, my nails digging painfully into my palms.

  I didn't want them watching her. I didn't want her parting her legs like that. I didn't want those men leering. Fuck, I didn't want anyone to see what she was about to show them.

  I got up.

  I felt her eyes on me as she danced, drinking me in while her body twisted in ways that made me want to fuck her silly.

  I didn't give a shit who tried to stop me. I needed to get her the hell off that stage before she started taking her clothes off.

  Taking long steps filled with purpose, I reached the stage. I hauled myself up on the piste, already feeling everybody's eyes on me and not giving a damn. Buttercup's eyes were on mine, and there was no missing the hint of a smile playing on her face as I grabbed her by the waist, pulling her against me. Her body was shivering, scared and trembling with anticipation. My hard cock pressed against her stomach and I wanted nothing more than to take her right then and there.

  "Hey!" Buttercup's boss growled at me. "Get your hands off her."

  "What do you say, Buttercup?" I grinned at her. "You leaving with me or staying here?"

  Her eyes danced over my features, panicking slightly as she tried to make her decision.

  "You," she finally managed to get out. "I'm coming with you."

  "Perfect."

  I picked her up and she shrieked as I threw her over my shoulder, ignoring the patrons of the strip club protesting loudly. I carried her right off the stage and past her boss who snarled at me.

  "You're not going anywhere," he told her with a growl.

  "She quits," I told him with a shit-eating grin. "She dances for me alone."

  Buttercup giggled as I got her the fuck out of there.

  Once we were in the parking lot, I let her down gently, her waist small and her hipbones brushing against my fingertips as I lifted her off my shoulder. She was at my eye-level now, her lips inches away from mine, desperate to be kissed, to be taken.

  "I just lost my job," she whispered, and I grinned.

  "I'll get you a new one," I promised her. "I'll take care of you."

  "You don't even know me," she said gently, and I stared at her plump, luscious lips. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

  "Why do you think?" I ground out. "I want to kiss those fuckable lips, darlin'."

  "Do it," she managed to get out, and before the words had fully left her lips, I'd pressed my mouth to hers, claiming her in a long, sensual kiss that made shivers go down my spine.

  She tasted like peaches and cream. I couldn't get enough. I bit her bottom lip, gently pressing my tongue into her mouth while she gasped at the sudden intrusion. But I didn't let her recover, and her sweet little gasps turned into moans as I claimed her pretty mouth. She was still wearing her outfit from the stage, and the rhinestones glittered in the moonlight. I tugged on the fabric, desperate to ger her out of the little outfit, naked and into my bed.

  She started kissing me back, gentle nips at my mouth, desperate little attempts to get me to stay next to her, kissing her mouth like she needed it to survive.

  "You taste so fucking good," I muttered against her lips. "You coming home with me, Buttercup?"

  She hesitated, her body stiffening under mine as I pressed my cock against her.

  "I..." she whispered. "I really shouldn't."

  "Your choice," I told her, moving my lips to her neck and leaving a trail of kisses all the way down to her collarbone. "Whatever you want, darlin'..."

  "Fuck," she whimpered, obviously torn over her decision. "Please..."

  "Please what?" I demanded, biting the gentle skin on her throat. "Say it, darlin'."

  "Take me home with you," she finally whispered. "I want to be yours."

  "You don't have to say that twice," I growled, and she giggled as I grabbed her, pulling her into my arms again and walking her to my pick-up. "You're mine now, Buttercup..."

  2

  Winnie

  "You don't even know my name."

  He looked over at me, his lips quirking up in a smile.

  He was undeniably handsome. Taller than me by at least a foot, shoulders so broad you could rest the weight of the world on them, not just my own problems. His strong jaw was covered by dark stubble, and his dark eyes sparkled as he looked at me. He had a crew-cut, his hair cut short. But it didn't take away from his looks, instead just accentuating how devastatingly handsome he was.

  I kept glancing at him as he drove, his strong hands resting on the steering wheel. I couldn't keep my eyes off him, and he seemed to notice, grinning at me wickedly as he drove down the deserted highway.

  "Maybe you should tell me your name then," he suggested, and I looked at my hands clasped in my lap. "I would really love to know."

  "Ask nicely," I taunted him, and he gave me a surprised look before laughing out loud.

  "Okay," he finally said. "Buttercup, darlin'... Will you pretty fucking please tell me your name?"

  "It's Winnie," I managed softly, and his hand came to rest on mine as he looked at me, taking his eyes off the road for a split second.

  "A pretty name for a pretty girl," he remarked. "Winnie, darlin'. I like it."

  I blushed just as he pulled onto a dirt road, the ride getting a bit bumpier.

  "Is this where you live?" I asked, trying to get a good look at our surroundings.

  But it was dark outside and I could barely make out a thing.

  "A little further ahead," he muttered, taking his hand off mine.

  That's when the dangerousness of the situation really hit me. I'd willingly gotten into a car with a complete stranger. For all I knew, he could be untrustworthy. But then again, everybody in the club had seen me get out with him. If this was where I died, at least people would know who to blame...

  Looking at him, I kind of doubted he was a serial murderer, though. There was something deeply charming about the man, something that stirred a fire in the pit of my stomach and awakened a hunger I didn't know had been there.

  "What are you looking at, darlin'?" he drawled out just as we pulled up in front of an enormous estate.

  "This is where you live?" I asked, gasping at the sight of the huge building. "Who owns it?"

  "I do," he replied, and there was more weight to his words than before as if there was an untold story behind it all.

  Perhaps it was a story for another day.

  He pulled up in front of the ranch and helped me out of the car, once again lifting me up and making me squeal before setting me down on the ground.

  "Well, darlin'," he growled. "I'd love to give you a tour, but I must confess I have something else on my mind right now."

  "What's that?" My own voice was barely above a whisper, and butterflies of excitement fluttered in my stomach.

  "I'm sure you can guess," he got out before grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the house. "Come on. There's only one room I want you to see right now, Buttercup."

  I ran after him, a permanent smile on my face as we ran through the house. I barely got the chance to notice our surroundings before he pulled me up the stairs and into the master bedroom, a gorgeous room with a huge bay window overlooking the moonlit property behind it. The window was open and the curtains billow in the breeze, and suddenly, I was hyper-aware that it was just the two of us in that room, Beau and me and the expectation of what we were about to do heavy in the air.

  He advanced on me, hungry lips finding mine and enveloping me in a kiss that promised eve
rything I ever wanted would come true.

  "Wait," I whispered against his lips, and he pulled back, eyes locked with mine. "Please, I have to tell you something first..."

  "Fuck," he groaned. "You don't have a boyfriend, do you?"

  "No!" My eyes widened in surprise. "Of course not. Do you... Do you have a girlfriend?"

  "No," he replied firmly. "There was somebody a year or so back, but things are over. Good enough for you, darlin'?"

  "Yes," I whispered, refusing to meet his eye.

  "What's wrong?" he asked me, reaching out and tipping my chin back which forced me to look at him.

  "Nothing," I smiled brightly, pretending it was all okay. "It's nothing. Kiss me, please."

  What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him... Right?

  His lips met my mouth again and we kissed desperately, almost savagely as our hands tore at our clothes. There were so many things I wanted to know, so many questions on the tip of my tongue, but none of it seemed to matter at the moment. All I could think of was his tongue in my mouth, his cock needily pressing against my stomach as he pulled me against him.

  "I need you naked," he groaned against my lips, and my body responded, desperately pressing itself closer to him. "I need your clothes off right now, darlin'."

  He reached for me, his hands sliding over the smooth fabric of the catsuit I was wearing with rhinestones gleaming in the darkness.

  "Why don't you let me slip out of this," I whispered. "Where's the bathroom?"

  "Alright," he said, reluctantly letting go of me and pointing me toward the door leading into the en-suite. "Don't take too long, darlin'... I'll get fucking impatient if I don't get to have my hands on you as soon as possible."

  I winked and blew him a kiss, rushing to the bathroom and leaving the door ajar, loving the dangerousness of the situation.