The Cowboy's Babygirl: A dark cowboy romance

by Lee Savino

  I buttoned up fast and helped her to her feet, tugging her tight jeans back up.

  “Now, we’re going to go inside, have a hot drink, and you’re going to tell me the whole story, okay?”

  She nodded, seeming too stunned to do anything else.

  Chapter 8

  Carrie

  I sat on the couch, hands wrapped around a steaming mug of cocoa, waiting for Steele to come out of his bedroom. My ass was throbbing, and it hurt to sit down. But the pleasure of the orgasm he’d given me was still tingling inside me in little after-shocks. It was the first time another person had made me come, and it was on a whole other level from the ones I’d managed for myself. I was so glad Steele had been my first. That his rough-tender hand had coaxed a climax out of me.

  It meant nothing though; I knew that. When he found out what I’d done, he’d kick me out. Hell, he’d probably hand me over to the police himself. It was the kind of guy he was—principled. It was one of the things I liked about him. Or I would, in a different world, anyway.

  Steele emerged from the bedroom. The angular bones of his face seemed softer now—the fury of earlier gone out of him.

  He was carrying a blue wool blanket, which he put over my lap and wrapped around me.

  “Didn’t think it was time to get the winter stuff out yet,” he commented.

  The blanket smelled clean and comforting. I snuggled under it, trying to enjoy this moment—the last second in my life where I would feel safe.

  I felt sick at the thought of the change that I knew would come over him when he knew what I’d done. There would be no more cocoa and blankets and soft words. Just a prison cell and an orange jumpsuit.

  He sat down next to me, his eyes narrowed with concern.

  “Okay, tell me,” he said.

  I swallowed hard.

  “I-I …” I began. I took a deep breath, and started again. “My mom’s boyfriend—”

  I broke off again, hyperventilating. I couldn’t get the words out. I clapped my hand over my mouth.

  Steele took me by the shoulders gently. “He hurt you?”

  “Yes—no—kinda.” I closed my eyes, replaying that terrible scene.

  When I opened them again, Steele’s jaw was tight and his eyes were stormy.

  “Tell me what he did, little one.” His soft voice brought tears to my eyes.

  I shook my head, trying to free my thoughts. “He was always real flirty with me. But recently, it got worse. He started to touch me, making out it was an accident, but I knew he meant to do it. Little comments here and there, like what a heartbreaker I was, and how I needed to watch myself. A few times, I woke up and caught him in my room. He was just standing over me. But I knew he was planning something. I started keeping a knife under my pillow—” I broke off again, tears springing to my eyes.

  Steele took my hand and massaged my palm with his callused thumb. “Keep going.”

  “Then one night, he came into my room, and he didn’t just look at me. He pulled back the covers. I made out I was still asleep. But when he sat down on the bed beside me and put his hand over my boob, I grabbed the knife and stabbed him. Right in the guts.” I clapped my hand over my mouth to stifle my sobs. “I hated him so much,” I choked out. “But I’m scared I killed him.”

  Steele put his arms around me, and pressed my head against his chest. “There, there,” he murmured, rubbing my back in big circles.

  I stiffened in surprise. Steele wasn’t freaking out; he wasn’t disgusted by me. He was being… sympathetic?

  The shock of it released something inside me, something I’d been holding in tight all this time. My body shook all over as I broke into uncontrollable sobbing.

  And Steele let me. He didn’t tell me to stop crying. He just held me and let it happen.

  I cried for a long time, and when I finally lifted my head, I was embarrassed to see that I’d soaked the front of his shirt with my tears. “Sorry,” I muttered.

  “Let me fix that.” He eased away from me, went to the bathroom, and returned with a box of tissues. I was expecting him to hand them to me, but instead, he pulled one out and gently, gently dabbed my eyes and my drenched cheeks. Then he got a fresh one and held it over my nose.

  “Blow,” he said.

  I did as he told me, and he wiped my snotty nose as tenderly as a loving father would do to a child. It felt nice. Weird, but nice.

  “That’s better,” he murmured. He took me in his arms again and held me against his broad chest.

  I rubbed my cheek on the soft fabric of his shirt, and a feeling of comfort went through me.

  “And after that, you ran away? Tried to get as far away as you could?” he prompted.

  “Yeah. I just knew I had to go north. I didn’t think I’d be able to get to Canada, but I wanted to at least try. Then I met a sweet Swedish girl at a bus station in Utah. She told me about the Help Swap website, and gave me five bucks to use an Internet café. I found your ad—you know that part—and I decided I had to make it here.

  “I hitched a couple of times, and then I managed to sneak inside a truck, somewhere near the border, and I hid. The driver found me on the other side, but I ran.”

  Steele drew back and scanned my face. “You were very brave,” he told me.

  I puffed my cheeks out. “But what if I killed my mom’s boyfriend? I’ll get the death penalty.”

  Steele’s jaw twitched as he ground his teeth back and forth. “For your sake, I hope he’s not dead. But I’d sure like to get my hands on him myself. What state was he in when you left him?”

  “Bleeding and screaming on my bed,” I said. “But I didn’t hang around. I grabbed a bag, and ran.”

  “That piece of human garbage,” Steele muttered. He looked like he was about to get up and punch the wall. “What side did you stab him on?”

  I searched through my memory, recalling the way the knife had gone in easier than I’d expected. His scream. The blood welling up so fast—black and oozy in the darkness of my bedroom. My stomach turned over again. I’d already puked three times at the memory of the horror.

  “I was facing him,” I said, “so his left side.”

  “Good. Less chance you killed him on that side.” Steele scratched at his stubble. “I need to think about what to do.”

  Terror clutched at me again. “You mean, you’re thinking about turning me in?” I croaked.

  He shook his head. “No. I’m not an advocate of vigilante justice, but you did what you had to.”

  “I know he would’ve raped me. I could tell from the way he grabbed me that he’d already made up his mind.”

  “I understand.” He squeezed my shoulders.

  I lifted my head to look him in the eye. “I’m so sorry I lied to you before. I’m not a liar, usually. I just had to protect myself. And I was so scared.”

  His eyes crinkled at the corners; shrewd but kind. “I know you were. I saw that in you right away. I could tell something bad had happened.”

  “So you believe me?” I asked, desperate for him to know I was telling the truth.

  “I believe you, Carrie.” He gave me a long, serious look, as if he was turning something over in his mind. “And I’m going to protect you.”

  “P-protect me, how?”

  “Keep you safe here. From anyone who might come looking for you—if it comes to that.”

  I took a big breath. “Even the police?”

  He was silent again. “Even the police,” he said at last.

  I stared at him, knowing it was a lot to ask.

  “No one knows you’re here, right?”

  “Not a soul. I threw out my SIM right away.”

  “No one would expect you to have traveled north?”

  I gave a little laugh. “I’m sure no one expects me to have made it out of Texas.”

  “What’s this guy’s name?”

  I sighed. “Enzo Gutierrez. He’s a loser. He thinks he’s a gangster, but he just sponges off my mom.”

 
; “Any distinguishing features?”

  I listed all the tattoos and scars I could think of.

  Steele brought his lips to my forehead and planted a small kiss there. “Try not to worry, now, babygirl. I’m going to take care of everything.”

  “Everything?” I echoed.

  He stroked my hair thoughtfully. “I’m going to keep you safe; give you everything you need. All the care and discipline you’ve missed out on.”

  That word again… I gave an involuntary shiver.

  “And Enzo?” I mumbled.

  “Let me look into it,” he said in a tone I knew meant: don’t question me anymore.

  I trusted him. He was a grownup. Ex-military. A man who’d seen and done a lot in his life. He wasn’t a wannabe gangster like Enzo. He didn’t need to show off and try to look tough. His confidence came from his brains and maturity.

  Steele began to stroke my cheek, and when his thumb chafed my lower lip, I tilted my chin toward him.

  Suddenly, we were kissing again. It was more gentle than before, and I relaxed in his arms, relief radiating through me in waves.

  He believed me. There was no way he would kiss me like that if he didn’t.

  I still couldn’t believe this sexy, sophisticated guy was interested in me—a little girl from Nowheresville, Texas.

  But it was happening.

  Relief transformed into pleasure as his mouth possessed mine. Deeper and deeper he kissed me, his soft, firm lips drawing out my soul. Healing all my pain. All I could do was cling to him, dizzy and lightheaded.

  When his tongue touched against mine, a fire lit inside me again. I willed him to undress me, to touch me all over. But instead, he carried right on kissing me, holding me in his arms, all sweet and caring.

  Eventually, we drew apart. We were both surprised that it had gotten dark.

  “Stay right here. I’ll be back soon,” he told me. While he went to see to the animals, I stayed snuggled under the blanket, fizzy with relief and yearning.

  Steele was going to take care of me. He wanted me. These two thoughts twined around my heart until it bloomed, like a rose breaking out from a patch of thorns.

  I started to think about what had happened between us earlier that day.

  All firsts for me. All scary and shameful and exciting by turns.

  Steele pulling my panties down and whipping me. The shocking intrusion of his finger in my ass. The sight of his big, beautiful cock. Him coming in my mouth.

  When Steele had forced me to bend over the hay bale and expose myself to him, I’d almost wet myself in embarrassment. But then I’d heard the catch in his breath as he saw my private parts for the first time. A weird, squirmy bolt of arousal had gone right through me. The thrashing with the belt hurt like crazy but it was offset by the ache in my pussy, the knowledge of his desire for me.

  I’d been shocked when he slipped his finger inside me, probing my most private place like he owned it. I wondered if he’d do it again. If he’d try to do more than that.

  Surely his cock was too massive for that. Too massive for my mouth, even. I’d freaked out a little at the sight of it, knowing there was no way I’d be able to suck it good. I had no idea what I was doing when I put my lips on him. I was glad he was my first, though, and that I hadn’t sucked off some stupid boys behind the bleachers at school.

  I loved the sound he made when he came, the way he exploded on my tongue, all hot and salty.

  I wanted to please him so bad. To show him I wasn’t some inexperienced little girl.

  Even though I was.

  When Steele came back, he made us some food—beef stew with potatoes.

  “Just this time, you can eat on your lap,” he told me, with a kind look.

  When he’d taken the empty plates away, he held me in his arms again and we kissed some more. But, before long, my eyelids started to droop. He scooped me up and carried me up to the barn. With my arms wrapped around his neck and legs dangling either side of him, I felt like a little girl. I rested my head on his shoulder and let it happen. Let that drowsy, secure feeling suffuse my body.

  The chill of the outdoors woke me up a little, but when Steele carried me up the ladder, then deposited me in the warm bed, I soon got sleepy again. More than anything, I yearned for him to stay with me, to hold me in his big arms all night. But he kissed me on the cheek and left me alone.

  The last thought that crossed my mind before I fell asleep was: I’ve never felt so safe.

  Chapter 9

  Steele

  My chest ached for everything Carrie had been through. The things she’d told me knocked me sideways. Who did that to a girl? A girl asleep in her bed?

  After I’d put Carrie to bed, I paced around the house like a caged animal. The thought of that piece of crap touching her turned my blood to molten lava. He’d treated her like a piece of meat that was his for the taking. Thrown her in the worst kind of catch twenty-two situation—having to choose between getting raped, or potentially killing her attacker. I didn’t blame her for stabbing him. I had half a mind to track him down and stab him myself.

  It had taken her a lot to confess to me. The fear in her eyes as she’d told me had cut me to the quick. She was a good girl; a brave one. Now I understood her wildness, her flightiness a whole lot better. She’d had no one to protect her. She’d been alone all this time—all her life, really, by the sound of it.

  Well, I was going to look after her now. Do whatever it took to protect her, to make sure she never had to go through anything like that again. I made that vow to myself then and there.

  I sat up late on the computer, scouring the Internet. I used an IP blocker and went through all the news sites, searching her abuser’s name. But there was nothing. I searched the local news sites in Texas; I even went on the FBI’s wanted list. It was all a blank.

  The longer I searched and came up with nothing, the more relief I felt. I was no expert on violent crime, but surely if someone had been stabbed to death, there would be some record of it. Hopefully, he’d made it to a hospital and gotten patched up. Probably blamed it on gang warfare.

  I’d keep on checking the news every day, I decided. Reassure myself that no one was looking for Carrie. And in the meantime, I’d keep her safe here at the ranch. She deserved that. I was going to give her the care and security she so desperately needed.

  I was glad I’d given her some comfort today, eased away the tension in her shoulders, the terror from her eyes. When she’d finished confessing, she’d looked a lot calmer, like I’d shifted the burden away from her.

  I hadn’t meant to start kissing her again, but she was so soft in my arms, and that honeyed scent of hers was irresistible. I longed to take her to my bed, to sleep with her in my arms all night long. But she needed care tonight—and routine. There would be time for everything else later. I knew that as sure as an instinct. Just like one of my horses, I had to get her disciplined first, or I’d only encourage her in her wild ways.

  I only hoped, with a little control and a lot of care, she would turn out good.

  And then she’d never feel the urge to run away again.

  Next morning—before I’d even gotten out of bed—Carrie was instantly on my mind.

  What if she’s changed her mind during the night? Gotten spooked and left already?

  The thought brought an unwelcome jolt of adrenaline to my veins.

  But when I threw my clothes on and walked outside, she was already at the stables, hanging over Megan’s door, talking to her. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but Megan was paying attention, her little gray ears pricked up curiously.

  I strode over to Carrie.

  Then I stopped. After the way we’d been yesterday, I didn’t know how to greet her.

  But when she turned around at the sound of my approach, her face lit up with delight. She rushed over to me and threw her arms around my waist.

  My heart lifted so fast, it just about shot out of my mouth. I pushed my face into her tangl
ed but clean hair, and inhaled her scent. For no reason at all, I was laughing a little.

  “How did you sleep?” I asked.

  “So well. I feel like a new person. Thank you for everything, Steele.” When she tipped her head back to meet my gaze, her eyes were bright and clear, and I knew everything had happened for the good yesterday.

  “You’re very welcome,” I replied. I scanned her pretty, impish face—taking in her snub nose, freckles, and that pursed, ripe cherry of a mouth, and desire stirred in me. Her lips parted expectantly, and I was sorely tempted to dip my head and capture them in a kiss.

  But I didn’t.

  She was mine. I felt it deep in my bones. But we weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend. Nor was she my submissive. Not yet, anyway. She was so innocent, she probably didn’t know what BDSM was.

  Now wasn’t the time to teach her.

  I shoved my hands in my pockets, and told her I’d searched the Internet and there was nothing relating to her abuser so far.

  She gave a deep sigh of relief. “That’s so good to hear.”

  I drew away from her, and clapped my hands together. “Okay, go brush your hair, then let’s get to work.”

  She pouted a little, until I gave her a stern look, then she ran off to the bathroom.

  The sun came up bright and clear; and my mood expanded with it. It was a beautiful, crisp fall day, and I had Carrie to take care of. I’d never dated a woman so much younger than me; never really thought of it. But this thing between us felt right. Natural. What my subconscious had been seeking all along: a girl who had a desperate need for protection and discipline.

  I’d kind of assumed I was destined for a life of loneliness out here on the ranch. After Victoria, I never thought I’d find a woman who’d want to live out here with me. But was it possible Carrie could be that woman? From a place deep in my soul, I yearned for that to be the case.

  She came back from the bathroom, hair neatly brushed, hands thrown out to the sides clownishly. “Ta-dah!” she shouted.