Buttercup (2 page)

Primal need pulsated through his groin and his balls ached with tension-clenching
spasms that slammed through his gut. He endured. Buttercup had more in store
for him than this tease. He would wait. It didn't matter how insufferable the wait
would be.

“If’in you do, miss me that is, you have to say it, Sil. Those is the rules
between you and me. Those is my rules,” said Buttercup.

“Stop your games, doll. You know I do. Why else would I return here after
all this time?”

“Why indeed? Why you come here, Sil, to your own peril, is a mystery to
me. Care to say the truth?”

“What do you know of truth?” Silvio snapped. “You condemned me when
you chose a lie over the truth.”

“I condemned us both, don’t you’ know? I condemned us to your dreams,
to these false moments where we is free. I'm sorry for that, sugah, but you and I
don't exist. You know that, don't you?”

There was an explosion of drunken laughter behind him. His head turned,
eyes seeking the unknown, fearing carnies with sticks and knives coming for him.

Instead he saw two Joe’s walking just outside the opening of the tent. Silvio
relaxed. It was to be expected that his private show could soon be raided. No red-blooded man should pass on Buttercup’s hoochie-coochie performance. Still they
strolled on, unaware.

Buttercup chuckled.

His head snapped around. Was she reading his thoughts?

A delicate whimsical tune went through him. Buttercup hummed through
a sweet melody. It was a sensual stroke to his bruised pride before she shook her
feather-covered ass at him once more. She giggled again with girlish glee. She was
in no hurry, but Silvio was. Time was short. The mean giant of an Indian they
called Lone Wolf guarded her from the white boy townies thinking she owed them
more for their money. He was nearby. If Silvio got caught, he’d lose his scalp and
his hide. The carnies lived by their own rules, and the number one rule was no one
touched Buttercup. He broke it once; tonight he’d break it again. So would
Buttercup.

“Miss me?” she asked in a soft pained voice, as if his inability to respond
was her torture. Try living in a jail cell for four solid years with lungs full of dirt
and grime from busting rocks. Try wishing for a do-over, for a chance to save
Jelly’s life, to claim her as his, and be his own man. She had no idea what torture
was or why that one night in her young arms so many years ago got him through
it.

“Sil…I waitin’ to hear you say it. Do you miss me?”

“I miss you,” said Silvio.

“Aw, sugah, of course you do.” Buttercup cooed.

Slender hands slipped through the part in the curtain drawing them open.

Buttercup’s emergence siphoned the air from the tented room. Seeing her again
was a surge to his being, to his manhood. He swallowed the sweet air she brought.

His eyes absorbed the simplest of detail. Her skin. He loved her skin. It was
flawless, pecan brown brushed bronze under the dim lights. She glistened as if she
bathed in the sun. Her face. How many nights had he seen that face in his dreams?

Too many to count. A heart shaped face with large round brown eyes, high
cheekbones and a delicate yet wide nose. Her face was framed by a wealth of dark
unruly hair, bushy like a lion’s mane. It sported a yellow flower, pinned one side
up, with its stem tucked in the mass of curls. She smiled, and those full sensuous
lips of hers spread to reveal even teeth. Most carnies were missing a few.

Buttercup crossed the short distance from the curtain to the edge of the
stage on her toes. Amusement shone like dark diamonds in her eyes. When Silvio
shifted forward in his seat, she winked and acknowledged the erection bulking
between his legs. Silvio was right. She wore nothing except a belt of leather
adorned with long black and white ostrich feathers cinched to her shapely hips. She
shook those curves of hers and bells chimed. Music played with every step she
made. Silvio’s eyes lingered on her breasts. Being a mouthful, they were plump
and medium in size. They bounced lightly when she moved, dark large areolas with
hard nipples. Beauty like hers should never be covered. In fact, he was going to
make it a rule once he stole her away from the carnival. No clothes. Ever.

Silvio rose. “Buttercup, Buttercup, Buttercup…doll. I should kill you for
what-cha done to me.” He stopped before her, his hard gaze unmoved by the
defiant one he met.

“Will you?” she asked. A hint of mockery tainted her concern.

Silvio traced the tip of his index finger along the vein that ran from her big
toe to the center bone in her foot, barely visible beneath her flawless skin. Her feet
were small, delicate, and soft with perfect toes. Did she walk on clouds everyday?

His touch was purposefully slow, like his roving gaze. It climbed her toned legs,
stopping at the nest of dark curls covering her sex. Such a sweet jewel lay hidden
between the folds. Nothing in life tasted or felt sweeter than Buttercup. He’d tried
to replace her. He tried them all. He had bedded the whore, the virgin, the widow,
all in vain. He could never convince his heart that the passion they once shared
was just in his head.

“It’s taken me a long time to find this carnival, to find you again. But like
I told you,” he said lifting his stare, “I would.”

With unabashed curiosity, she blinked her thick lashes at him. The wide-eyed innocence shining through her soulful brown irises was nothing more than a
smoke screen. The last time he’d been with her, it had nearly cost him his life. He
was different now. It wouldn’t go down how it had then.

“You don’t fool me, Silvio. You came for me. You a crazy one to think ya’

could.” Buttercup lowered, right before him, balancing on her toes with knees bent.

She put a hand to the scruff darkening his jaw. Silvio couldn’t help but admire the
sweet promise between her parted thighs, imagining the taste and feel of her moist
fragrant essence, now up-close and on display. He had a helluva imagination,
thanks to her. His hand rubbed up her ankle and continued. He caressed the back
of her sculpted body to her soft thigh. He longed for her touch; he turned his face
into her hand and pressed a kiss into her delicate palm.

“If Tiny find you, he’ll pump you full of hot led,” she warned. “Lone Wolf
find you, he’ll take your scalp while you still alive fer sure. If you still running,
Silvio, why run here? They gon’ kill you.”

“Not if I get them all first.”

“That’s foolish talk. I ain’t worth it. Doncha’ hate me for what I done?”

Silvio’s eyes lifted up to hers. All his life, he was told he wasn’t worth a
piss. This he could accept. But even he, a hooch runner turned outlaw, would
confess that she was worth ten of him. He didn’t say so. Couldn’t find the words.

Somehow Buttercup knew, downplayed her value, and seduced unsuspecting men
to do her bidding. He would need to be careful with sharing just how much love he
had kept in the cold storage of his heart, next to his thirst for revenge.

Buttercup eased down on the stage, hands at her side. She crouched before
him with her knees parted. Silvio moistened his lips. She sat. With a dancer’s
grace, she lifted one leg, dropping it to his left shoulder. Hooking it around his
neck, she drew him forward. He didn’t need the guide. Silvio knew what he wanted
and where to find it. Buttercup sighed. She lowered to the dusty platform. Her
lashes fluttered shut, and her nails clawed up sawdust over the wooden planks of
the platform. She lay before him, exposed, ready, inviting. He could delay himself
no longer. What should he taste first? The tip of his tongue eased from his parted
lips for a sample. Her skin was warm, salty, and tangy with adrenaline spiked
perspiration. Silvio ran a moist trail over the soft flesh between her inner thighs.

Her feminine scent drew him by the nose, intoxicatingly rich and natural. He
could bury his face in her sex for eternity.

Buttercup exhaled, lifting her hips to put the lips of her quim in his face—

darker skin folded over a damp pink center. Silvio griped the ring of her belt-skirt
and dragged her down an inch or two lower. He pushed to the backs of her raised
thighs, driving them as far back as it would go. The feathers that tickled his nose
and cheeks were a meaningless distraction. Ooh how sinful she was! He craved
more. He seized the moment to show her how much, parting the lips of her vagina
with both fingers to run his flatten tongue from her hole to her clitoris with a
single lick. The ripple of her reaction came with a sudden shudder of her clenching
buttocks. He made wicked forays with his tongue.

“Aaah…” his sweet Buttercup exhaled.

Silvio inhaled her. Buttercup was as sweet as the flower she was named for
and as addictive as he remembered. He was gone now. He deep kissed her below
her pretty curly mound. He continued to lick and suck until she thrashed and
whimpered. Her feminine wiles were like a jolt of electricity through him, driving
him onward.

She was his. She gave herself up to the sizzling delights with the bucking of
her hips. She was his. Silvio had to press his palm flat to her pelvis to keep her
down. His lips and tongue drowned in her essence. Buttercup aided the best she
could. She gripped the tops of her knees to keep her thighs parted.

“Ooh Siiiiiilllll,” she choked out in a sob. He felt her convulse with tremors
from another pending climax. He made love to her with his tongue and sucked her
engorged bud, thrilling himself as well as her. The juicy morsel quivered and
swelled in his mouth. She cried out through her release. An instant before his brain
dissolved into mists of pure passion, a thought surfaced: what if they were caught?

He was most vulnerable there. It was too risky. The Indian, the Carnie boys, the
coppers chasing him, and his gang could run in at any moment. He licked her once
more and dragged himself away, savoring the taste of her on his lips.

Buttercup’s bottom lip quivered like her core. She looked up at him through
the shadow of her long lashes. “Whatcha go and stop for?” she weakly groaned.

Her head lifted from the stage. Her breasts jiggled, covered in a slick sheen of
sweat. Each perky mound glistened as if sprinkled with stardust. He touched his
cock again in his pants, battling the urge to take her there on the spot. The
prolonged pause lengthened between them. He tried hard to decide on what next.

Her lithe lush body was still shuddering in the aftermath of her climax.

She waited, pleading with her eyes for more. Silvio broke. He swept her up
into his arms. He climbed the short steps of the stage and went through the part in
the curtain from whence she came. Buttercup nuzzled her face in the nook between
his neck and shoulder. Behind the curtain to the back of the show tent was a small
changing place. She moaned sweetly in his ear, holding on to him. He soon spotted
it. A cot awaited the hooch dancers after their show. If he ever caught her pinned
down on it with another man, giving up what was rightfully his, there’d be hell to
pay. But what had she done in the six years he was gone? He forced the doubt of
her faithfulness away. She was his. Only his.

Silvio repressed the knowledge of the changes his mind secretly catalogued.

Buttercup was different than in the past, but she was a girl of barely seventeen and
he was a kid himself. He paid it no mind. They both had changed. His mind was on
one thing. Reclaiming what was taken from him prematurely. Silvio gently placed
her on top of the unsophisticatedly fashioned mattress. She stretched her arms
above her head and shook her hips at him. The jingles and fluffing of the feathers
were wildly stimulating. Silvio smiled. No words passed between them.

Silvio fingers nervously fidgeted with the ties to the belt of her exotic skirt.

He tugged it from under her and then tossed it aside. She was nude, complacent,
but her smoldering gaze wasn’t. The first time he saw her she gave him that look.

Like kerosene oil on a raging inferno, her beauty incinerated his sensibility. Not so
tonight. Tonight he knew and would do everything as planned. Silvio yanked
down his suspenders and undid the front of his pants to get on her quick. His
hurried actions left her giggling, but when he rubbed his erection down in her
delta, parted her legs, and shot his cock through her tight hole in a single thrust,
her body shuddered in surprised delight.