The following is intended for mature readers due to sexual
situations. Feel free to skip this chapter if smut
biscuits aren’t to your liking.
Actually, it’s purely romantic about 1200 words into the chapter, so
you’d be safe to read until things go south…quite literally. Smut lovers can carry on until the sweet end…
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It’s nearly midnight. I’m lying here in the silver blue moonlight, wide
awake and listening to the sound of my own breathing. That and a lonesome coyote in the distance,
who sounds a little bit like I feel.
Guess I’ve been sleeping so much lately that it’s finally caught up with
me.
Matt hasn’t made it back
from Cimarron yet. Maybe that’s another
reason I can’t sleep. Worry for
him. I know I’ve got no call to be
anxious. He’s been taking care of
himself for a good long while now. But I
can’t help it. We’ve been together, day
in and day out, through rain and flood and sickness… It feels unsettling to be separated from him after
all this time.
I didn’t quite know what to do with myself
today while he was gone. I did sleep an
awful lot, which is part of my problem now, I suppose. I read a little more of my aunt’s diary
sitting out in the yard with Big Sam at my feet, breathing in the scent of
burgeoning earth and fresh, clean country air.
Enjoying the splendor of delicate spring flowers sprouting up in little
patches around the bare yard and well-fed, red-breasted robins searching
tirelessly for worms in the damp soil.
And I made Doc very
happy indeed when I managed to eat some of Isom’s biscuits and gravy for
breakfast and then chicken and dumplings for lunch. A patient getting plenty of rest and food are
two things that please Doc enormously. I
managed to come to the table to eat, too.
I enjoyed listening to Doc and Isom banter like old friends, and, best
of all, Isom told me wonderful stories about my aunt and uncle when they lived
here together on the ranch.
I think Solomon and
Océane must have been very much in love, and my heart aches with missing them,
in spite of the fact that I never even knew them. But it is a very great relief to think that
my aunt found such contentment with Solomon after so many years of living in an
unhappy home, physically abused and mentally tormented, and then forced to
prostitute herself in order to live on her own.
It removes some of the heavy burden on my heart, although Matt continues
to reassure me I should not feel responsible for my mother’s and aunt’s unhappiness. But I think it is only human nature to look
back and second-guess ourselves. How
could I have been so blind? What could I
have done to help? I will always wonder
what I could have done differently.
But now I’m tossing
and turning in the rumpled bedclothes.
And listening expectantly.
Listening for Matt to return from speaking to Irving Hepley about coming
out here and meeting about the will and my uncle’s ranch and what I’m going to
do with it all.
And then I wonder if Matt’s
been missing me, too. Probably not. Men aren’t so sentimental as women. He hasn’t given me a second thought, I’m
sure. He’s probably relieved to get away
for a while, truth be told. I sigh resignedly
and listen as a noisy mockingbird pierces the quiet with its insistent
melody.
I always find it
strange to hear such exuberance in the dead of night, when everything is
supposed to be fast asleep. But the
mockingbird sings his song, quite enthusiastically, for anyone who will
listen. I wonder if he’s singing to his
mate. Do mockingbirds mate for
life? No, I think that it’s swans who remain
forever devoted to one another. I read
that in a magazine once, and the fact struck me as lovely and hopelessly
romantic.
Suddenly, I hear the
doorknob turning. The hinges give their
tiny creak as my bedroom door opens just a crack and the brim of a cowboy hat
pokes through. “Matt!” I whisper across
the room as loudly as I dare. I don’t
want to waken Doc.
The moonlight is so
bright, I can see his animated expression as he smiles his infectious smile
with those perfect, straight, white teeth.
He looks over his shoulder, then slips through the door, closing it
noiselessly behind him.
I sit up and greet him
with pure delight I can’t hide. “I
didn’t hear you ride up!”
Matt’s deep voice
rumbles even as he whispers, “What are you still doing awake?” But he appears to be very pleased that I
am. He stands with his back against the
door and removes his hat, holding it over his heart.
“I couldn’t sleep.” I just look at him standing there in the
moonlight, and the sight of him takes my breath away. He’s so beautiful. Maybe you aren’t supposed to describe a man
as beautiful, but I think he is. He
reminds me of those lovely Greek statues I’ve seen in books, just complete perfection
of form. I love to look at him. But tonight he’s got that vest on I wish he
wouldn’t wear so much. It hides his
flawless wide shoulders that taper down to a narrow waist and then on to a
backside that is so round and firm that I have to fight sometimes to keep my
hands off it, and it makes me blush as I think about it. I am glad the light is dim in here and he
can’t tell what I’m thinking about. What
would he think of me?
His next words are so
quiet I nearly don’t hear them. “I
missed you today.” My heart gives a
little leap and I can’t believe he’s been missing me, too.
I throw the covers off
my legs and scoot over to sit on the other side of the bed, closer to him. “You did?”
His admission has made me giddy.
I feel like a sixteen-year-old with her first beau. Not at all like a full grown woman with a
shady past. But I feel like Matt Dillon
has changed me. He’s made me new again. That’s how I feel anyway.
Matt walks closer and
hangs his hat on the bedpost. He looks
down at me and my heart skips a beat.
From this close I can look into his beautiful eyes, usually clear blue,
but shining and pale here in the moonbeams reflecting into my bedroom. His eyelashes are so lush and long, fringing
his lovely eyes, and his gaze is so earnest and loving right now, it makes my
chest hurt. He murmurs, “I’ve gotten
used to having you around all the time, Kitty.”
I take a deep breath
and reach for his hand just a little bit shyly.
“Me too, Cowboy. I didn’t like it
today with you gone.”
Giving a resigned sigh,
my sweet cowboy kneels on the floor in front of me. He places his hands on my thighs and I can
feel his heat through my nightgown. He
just gazes quietly at me for a while and then reaches for my braid. Untying the ribbon that holds it, he threads
his fingers through until my hair is loose and flowing over my shoulder. Scooping up a handful, he strokes the silky
tresses over his cheek and lips, then kisses my mouth very softly.
I think, this is what
it feels like to have somebody love you, to cherish you. I don’t believe I’ve ever been cherished by a
man in all my born days. I look into his
beautiful eyes and I can see clear down into his heart. I know that Matt Dillon cherishes me. Just his eyes tell me that.
I give a shuddering
sigh at his touch, and he is looking down at my bare knees where my nightgown
had shimmied its way up my legs when I slid across the bed to be closer to
him. He leans over and kisses the soft
skin on the inside of my knee, and I shiver in response. “You smell so good, Kitten,” I hear him
whisper hoarsely. He pushes my nightgown
up just a tiny bit higher and he kisses my inner thigh, his tongue darting out
wetly. I gasp as he advances, but I don’t
stop him. I am aching for his touch,
like a parched traveler making his way across the desert. If I don’t feel Matt’s hands on me, I think I
will die.
He pushes the filmy
material above my waist and slowly leans over and places his lips on the curls
of my mound, inhaling deeply, kissing softly.
My breath comes quickly now. He
wraps his hands around my bottom and pulls me forward, to the edge of the bed,
and spreads my legs carefully apart. His
sweet, breathtakingly handsome face turns up towards mine and he asks quietly,
“Can I kiss you here, Kitty?”
I can barely breathe
at this point. I’ve never let anyone
touch me like this. It sounds funny, I
know, me being a working girl like I am, but there are things I won’t do for
money with all those awful men who pay me for my services. And this is one of them. No one ever touches me like this. No one ever kisses me here. Some things are sacred.
But now I’m trembling
so and I can feel my bared female flesh throbbing with desire for Matt’s
attentions. I think I want him more than
I’ve wanted anything in my entire life.
“Yes…” I whisper and my voice sounds tremulous even to my own ears. Warmly, lovingly, he kisses me on the lips
again, his fingers trailing over my unbound hair, and then his dark head eagerly
dips low over my center.
My breath quickens as
he pleasures me, and I can feel his full, sensitive lips humming devotedly
against my already dripping folds. Blood
rushes between my legs, and I feel heavy and enflamed. As I begin to shake, Matt attentively lays me
back on the tangled sheets. Then I can’t
believe I’m letting his do this to me, but he spreads me wider so that he can
reach every inch of my thrumming sex, every nerve ending, every sweet
spot. I can hide nothing from him.
I can feel exquisite
tension climbing and building inside of me, and Matt places one hand on my
mouth gently to quiet my passionate cries.
I can’t help it. I feel out of
control. I’ve never been so exposed, so
vulnerable before. I am giving myself to
this gentle, loving man, utterly and completely.
I tremble harder and
harder, until I can’t hold back any longer.
I think Matt can feel it too, and he clamps his large hand over my mouth
as I cry out in complete abandon, my back arching as inner muscles I didn’t
know I had contract divinely within me.
My vision blurring, the full moon seems to swell and explode before my
eyes. I feel wetness gushing between my
legs and I lay weakly, trembling like a leaf, breathing hard, and I can barely
hear him whispering, “My sweet, sweet girl…” as he ardently laps at me with his
tongue.
Tears leak out of the
corner of my eyes, dropping heavily onto the mattress below. My core continues to thrum and shake and
pulsate and I can’t move, not for the life of me. Matt finally kisses his way up my quivering legs
and belly. He kisses my flushed cheek
and kisses my burning eyes and asks quietly, “What’s the matter, honey? Why are you crying?”
My voice comes out
softer than a whisper, “I love you so much, Matthew Dillon. That’s why.”
Affectionately
nuzzling my sweat-sheened neck, he strokes his hand low on my belly and lets it
rest there, and I know he can feel my body still trembling and my muscles still
contracting in response to his passionate kisses between my legs.
Matt murmurs in my ear,
his warm breath gently stirring my hair, “I love you, too, sweetheart. I love you, too.”
tbc
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