Matt and Kitty's Love Story

This story is intended for mature audiences due to language and the vivid depiction of a consensual adult relationship. This fic is for my top secret technical advisor and chief muse. She gives me all her best ideas for free.

"Drumming"

There's a drumming noise inside my head
That starts when you're around
I swear that you could hear it
It makes such an almighty sound

Louder than sirens
Louder than bells
Sweeter than heaven
And hotter than hell

Florence and the Machine, Lungs c2009

I am so heavy in your arms. So heavy… Can't keep my eyes open. You're careful not to hurt the fresh knife wound in my chest as your strong arms lovingly support me. I gasp helplessly, feeling myself slipping and finally falling… falling…bright lights filling my unseeing eyes. Matt, are you still there holding me? Don't let me go, Cowboy. Please hold me tightly…

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Two hours earlier…

"You bitch! You stole my money!" Eustace Horatio Johnson was sweating profusely and trembling with anger, fueled by too much cheap whiskey and too few greenbacks left in his pocket.

Kitty Russell held up a conciliatory hand and laid down her cards, pushing gracefully away from the poker table in a swish of black-beaded, green silk taffeta. "Now, wait just a minute, Mr. Johnson. I don't appreciate…"

"I want my money back now!" Johnson's eyes were wild as he jumped up, overturning his chair. "You cheated me!"

Sam Noonan was instantly on alert. Out of the corner of her eye, Kitty could see him reach unobtrusively behind the bar for the shotgun he kept stashed there. Sam hissed to Louie Pheeters who stood nearby, "Quick! Go get the Marshal!"

"Cheated you?" Kitty tried to reason with the infuriated man as she stood and spoke calmly, "See here, mister, I won fair and square. These other men here can tell you, I always…"

"No, dammit! I need that money back now!" Eustace Johnson drew a glinting knife from his belt and quickly wrapped his arm around Kitty's neck, yanking her tightly against his grimy, perspiring body. "And I'm gonna take it." He pressed the blade menacingly against the tender décolleté above her low-cut evening gown as she grimaced in pain.

"Miss Kitty!" Sam cried, hauling the shotgun from beneath the bar and aiming a bull's-eye at Johnson's head. The remaining saloon patrons hastily parted like the Red Sea between them.

Johnson's eyes grew wider as he tightened his grip around Kitty's neck and jerked her closer against him. "I wouldn't do that, barkeep. You might hit this purty little woman here. Pick up that money for me, bitch, and put it in my pocket."

Kitty awkwardly stretched to reach for the cash on the poker table, blindly stuffing it into the man's pocket. "There…satisfied?" she breathed. "Now take your money and go."

"Nuh-uh…you're goin' with me, bright eyes…" he grinned malevolently at her. "I know what to do with a cheatin' wh..."

"Hold it right there!" Matt Dillon stood just inside the swinging doors with his six gun drawing a bead right between Eustace Johnson's eyes. Johnson gritted his teeth and pressed the knife harder into Kitty's soft skin, making her cry out when the razor-sharp blade drew blood.

Matt Dillon's voice was cold as ice, "Let the lady go, mister."

"Lady?" Johnson laughed. "This here red-headed whore is comin' with me. She's my ticket outta' Dodge. So don't you follow me, lawman, if you don't want me to slice her up real good."

Matt's voice dropped to a deadly low tone as he began, "I said…" Steely-eyed, his gun hand never wavered as he cocked his pistol and warned quietly, "…let the lady go."

"No!" Johnson hissed. "She's the only thing that's gonna' get me outta here alive!" He squeezed her throat tighter and Kitty gasped for air. "Besides, this little woman is a fine one, ain't she? I'm gonna have me some fun with her, yes, indeed." He snickered and shifted the knife, dragging it down her torso until it lay near the junction of her legs. "I'm gonna' get me a piece of this."

Kitty's eyes grew wide at his words and she looked into Matt's gaze for the briefest instant. Then she rammed Johnson with her elbow with all her might, forcing him to release her as he groaned and clutched his stomach. She made it only two steps away when Johnson snatched her arm again. As he dragged her back towards him, she heard a shot ring out. Eustace Johnson instantly fell dead with Marshal Matt Dillon's bullet between his eyes.

Kitty quickly stumbled away from the body and stood staring at Matt. He replaced his pistol into his holster and walked up to her. They briefly embraced, her eyes mutinously filling with tears she refused to let escape, and he patted her back soothingly for a few moments. But, wary of curious eyes all around the room, they stepped apart. Matt murmured in her ear, "I've got to take care of things here." He pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket and placed it against the bleeding cut on her chest. "I'll shut this place down for the night. You go on upstairs, Kitty." He looked into her brimming eyes, then down at the blood stain seeping through the handkerchief, and promised, "I'll send Doc to tend to you right now, but I'll be back later."

She nodded mutely, afraid to speak for fear the tears would begin.

Matt squeezed her fingers comfortingly, then guided them carefully over the handkerchief, applying pressure, before reluctantly releasing her hand. He turned to find someone to help him take Eustace Horatio Johnson's now lifeless body to Percy Crump's. Kitty turned and slowly climbed the stairs to her room, alone.

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"It's just a flesh wound, honey. I think I can close it up with only a coupla' three stitches, by golly."

That's what Doc told me in my room later. I'd taken off the green silk dress, ruined by my own bloodstains, and sat on my bed in my underthings while Doc busily stitched me up.

"You think it'll leave a scar, Doc?"

"No…I don't think so." He dabbed at the shallow bleeding wound with some fresh cotton wool. "You'll be fine, Kitty. Just keep the cut clean."

I took a deep breath. "Can I take a bath?"

He looked at me curiously.

"I feel…" I couldn't meet his eyes. "…dirty."

"Sure, that shouldn't be a problem. Just take care with the stitches. I'm gonna leave some powders for you in case it gets to hurting." He patted my shoulder and cleaned the wound one last time with something that stung my skin.

I tried not to wince. "Thanks, Doc."

"You want me to tell Sam when I go downstairs to haul some water up here for you?"

"Yeah, I'd appreciate that." I smoothed the petticoats over my lap and reached a tentative finger toward his needlework.

"Ah, ah, ahh, young lady. Keep your hands off that. Try and keep it dry, but after you take a bath, bandage it up with this." He dropped a roll of bandages on the table and scrubbed his face wearily. "Call for me if you need my help, but I think you've watched me bandage up enough patients to…" His voice trailed off and his eyes locked with mine. Doc suddenly reached for me and hugged me tight, taking care not to touch my new stitches. His voice was strained, "I sure am glad you're alright, young lady."

"Thanks, Doc, I'm glad too." I smiled so that I wouldn't cry and hugged him tighter, threading my fingers through his wiry gray curls. He sighed heavily and let me go at last. Then he put on his hat, grabbed his black bag and headed out the door. I sat alone on my bed.

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I hold my breath and slide completely under the warm bath water, rinsing that man's filth off of me. I feel violated, even though he hadn't molested me. But every place his hands have touched feels dirty. I lie suspended, floating under the surface of the water for as long as I can hold my breath, then sit up, gasping for air.

Matt, where are you? I need you. I'm pretty good at being a tough broad and holding myself together in a crisis, just like tonight, but sometimes, I'll admit, I get the shakes when the dust settles and it's all over with. Matt always holds me tight and makes me feel better. What I really need right now are his big, comforting arms around me, telling me everything will be all right.

Tonight was a close call. I didn't like the feel of that lowlife Johnson's knife against my skin, his wretched body pressed to mine, his breath hot on my neck. I shiver involuntarily and sink back down into the warm bath.

I lie back against the end of the oversized metal tub and try to think reassuring thoughts about Matt instead. I wonder where he is right now and if he is thinking of me. I let water trickle through my fingers and think back to the time we took a picnic to the river, supposedly to go fishing, but I can tell you that not much fishing went on that day. It was not long after I'd become half-owner of the Long Branch, and Matt and I had become lovers at long last.

I'd worn my prettiest, frilliest dress of cornflower blue with a matching blue parasol, and, once we were safely out of town and away from prying eyes, we'd ridden seated close together in a buggy from Moss Grimmick's stable across the prairie to the riverside. Matt had gotten out his fishing poles and sat by the edge of the water, pretending to watch his line, but I could feel him watching me instead while I spread a quilt on the grass in the shade and placed the picnic basket nearby.

Suddenly, Matt was standing behind me, his hand wrapped around my waist, whispering in my ear, "Take your dress off, Kitty."

My breath hitched in my throat. I didn't turn around, but slowly unbuttoned my dress and let it drop to the grass while he stood silently behind me. We were so in love with each other's bodies in those days; we couldn't get enough of each other. It was a rare occasion that we didn't take advantage of even a few stolen minutes alone together to make love. Today was to be no exception.

Matt stepped around me and went to lie on his side on the quilt, propped on his elbow. He looked earnestly up at me, saying, "I want to watch you undress, Kitty." He pushed his hat back on his forehead with his index finger and waited patiently, his blue eyes warming my skin even beneath my frilly underthings.

Without thinking, I removed my remaining clothing, infinitesimally slowly, piece by piece, taking my sweet time. Matt's eyes never wavered, drinking me in until I felt my center become molten with desire for him. I could see his reaction to me as well; my eyes glanced at the front of his pants momentarily, but then returned to his intense gaze as I stripped completely naked for him. I'd learned that he liked my hair down best, so lastly I raised my arms above my head to remove the hairpins binding my red curls. I let them fall down my back, shaking them out for his eyes only.

"Come 'ere…" he breathed, reaching out an arm to me.

I walked closer, a small smile curving my lips, goose bumps rising on my skin as a breeze from the river wafted over me, but more than that, in anticipation of what Marshal Matt Dillon had in mind for me. I lay down on my side opposite him, my posture mimicking his, as his crystal blue eyes scorched a path over my body.

With his free hand, he traced the curve of my waist and hip and down my thigh as I closed my eyes and gave in to the sensations washing over me. His rough, calloused hands were a delicious sensory counterpoint against my smooth, tender skin. He continued to touch and caress my bared body, his hands moving hungrily over every part of me, kneading and massaging until I gave a shuddering sigh and let my head drop back limply against the quilt. When his lips joined his hands in pleasuring me, I thought I might shatter into tiny little pieces.

I had never before let any man touch me or kiss me the way Matt Dillon did. No man had ever taken the time or patience to love me like he did. He was so gentle and kind, a giving lover, and I felt cherished, worshipped even. Matt's skill at lovemaking easily pushed memories of Cole Yankton and all the clumsy, paying customers from my unfortunate past to the farthest recesses of my mind. I only had room in my heart, and my life, for my sweet cowboy.

"Your turn," I whispered to him as I started unbuttoning his shirt, flipping his hat playfully off the back of his head. Without further ado, he stood and shucked his clothing, quick as a wink. I smothered a grin as he hurriedly lay back down beside me, a sweet, lazy smile on his face. I kissed his chest, and slowly slid my hand downward, following the masculine trail of hair to his heated, silken shaft. I stroked him long and slow, over and over, until I knew by the sounds he was making that he was close.

Then I wrapped a leg over his waist, and he placed a gentle hand in the small of my back, drawing me urgently to him. We joined together as one, rocking back and forth, back and forth, kissing feverishly until our lips were swollen and wet, and our passion was spent.

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Haunting mental images of Eustace sliding his knife down my body make me shudder. I stare at the bathwater as it drips from my fingertips, and wonder again: Where are you, Matt? I need you right now.

Sometimes I wonder to myself what he ever saw in me. A saloon girl, forced to earn my living through unsavory means. The memory of Eustace Johnson calling me a red-headed whore tonight reverberates hatefully in my ears. I sink lower into the tub and cover my face with my wet hands. What must Matt have thought of me in the beginning? But, in spite of it all, we had become friends right from the start. Matt was always good to me, even before we became lovers. He overlooked my faults and saw what was inside.

And he and Doc helped me get out of that bad business for good. I'd saved and scrimped for years to be able to afford half-interest in the Long Branch, so I wouldn't have to invite those awkward, pawing, lascivious strangers up to my bed. But when Matt found out my plan, he and Doc insisted on loaning me the last little bit of the money so I could go ahead and buy it immediately. He wanted me to quit taking other men up to my room right then and there. That's when I found out Matt Dillon wanted to be the only man in my bed. I was surprised to be sure. We'd been close friends for years. I don't know what made him decide to take our relationship further. I'm just awful glad he did.

I lean my head back into the water to rinse the soap from my hair, thinking of the first time we'd ever made love. I'd been surprised at his prowess, wondering where a nice boy like Matt had ever learned to... Ah, well…I really don't want to know that now, do I? But I had let Matt touch me and kiss me in places no man had ever before. He made me feel so desirable, not just for the quick poke all the men who paid me were after. Matt knew how to love a woman, body, heart and soul.

I bite my fingernail at the memory and then lie back in the tub. My throbbing woman's flesh is yearning for Matt's touch, and my hands tentatively touch my breasts just like he would, my thumbs circling my aching nipples until they jut forward. My hands slide down my wet belly until they reach the juncture of my thighs. I touch myself there like I know Matt would. My eyes drift closed, and I pretend that my hands are his. My breath starts to come more quickly and I hear a small sound escape my own lips. No more than a whisper… Matt, I need you…

"I'm right here, honey."

I start and look behind me. Matt is sitting on a chair, legs crossed, watching me quietly.

My face flushes hot. "Matt Dillon, I can't believe you…"

He stands lazily, striding up to the tub and pushing his Stetson back on his forehead. "Can I help you with something, little lady?" He grins down at me and drawls, "I live to serve…"

"Oh!" I huff and stand straight up, water streaming off me. I wrap my arms around his neck and press my body against him, heedless of getting him soaking wet. I bury my face in his neck and inhale his comforting scent of horse flesh and gun oil and male sweat, and I murmur, "I missed you, Matt."

"Obviously…"he grinned.

"Oh…" I sputter. "You…" In exasperation, I nip his plump bottom lip softly.

"Ow…" he laughs, wrapping his arms around me, caressing my wet bottom until my belly is burning insistently, slow and low.

I tiptoe to whisper in his ear, "Get in here with me, Matt."

A small groan escapes his lips. "I can't, honey. I've got to…"

"Please, Matt." I shiver involuntarily at the memory of Johnson's grip around my neck, his threats of what he wanted to do to me. "Don't leave me now. I need you."

He looks into my eyes, searching for something that he must have found. Because then he reaches for his hat, tossing it on the chair. I sigh in relief as he peels off his brown vest, and I help him unbutton his blue shirt and pants. Sitting back down into the water, I watch as he strips off the rest of his clothing and reach out a steadying arm when he splashes into the big tub with me. He settles with a groan against one end, and I appreciatively nestle my body between his legs and lean back against his big, comforting chest with another grateful sigh.

"Hold me, Matt."

Kissing my shoulder warmly, he responds by wrapping his long arms tightly around me, careful not to hurt my injured skin. I touch my lips to his forearm and close my eyes as I lay my head back against him, listening to his drumming heartbeat. "Mmmm…" I hum, contented at last.

"Kitty, honey…"

"Yes, Matt?"

"I don't want you dealing at the Long Branch anymore."

"What?"

"I mean it, Kitty. I don't want what happened tonight to happen ever again. Dealing is a dangerous business. All it takes is one ornery, liquored up cowboy…"

"But, Matt…"

"No 'buts', Kitty Russell. You mean too much to me..." His voice breaks and he squeezes me tighter. "I don't want to lose you that way."

"Alright, Matt..."

His voice holds more than a hint of surprise, "You mean it?"

"Yes, Matt, I mean it. I won't deal cards anymore."

He combs my long, tangled, wet hair away from my ear with his fingers and whispers, "I love you, sweetheart."

I raise my hands behind my head and wrap them around the back of his neck, turning my head to kiss his cheek. "I love you, too, Matthew Dillon."

I see his eyes sweep over my body appreciatively as a deep hum reverberates from his lips. He takes the opportunity to skim his dripping hands over my upturned breasts, caressing and kneading, his thumbs working their magic on my rosy peaks until they are straining against him.

Matt knows I crave the sensation of wet skin against wet skin, the feeling so deliciously sensuous it sets me on fire. He trickles water on my body and ardently strokes my arms, my thighs, my belly and breasts until I'm ready to beg for release. I moan passionately, lifting my knees and spreading my legs in invitation.

"Oh, Kitty, you're my sweet girl…" he murmurs as his hands slide slickly down my belly to tangle in the curls of my wet mound, long probing fingers slipping between my pulsing, swollen folds to eagerly pleasure me. My back arches against him and I feel his lips curving into a smile against my cheek, a low covetous rumble emanating from his chest. He likes doing this for me.

I gasp when his fingers at last slip inside my heated opening, caressing me within. I turn my head to the side to nuzzle my face into his neck and whisper breathlessly, "You're so good to me, Matt."

"Only because you deserve it, honey." He touches me again in a secret spot that only he knows about, and I cry and grip his shoulders. He soothes, "Does that feel good, sweetheart?" He continues touching me and loving me with his tireless hands until I'm nearly senseless.

Then I can feel my belly tightening. "Now, Matt…" I rasp. "I need you inside me now." As I grip the sides of the tub, I am so hot and aching and ready for him, and it wouldn't take much to push me over the edge right now.

He easily lifts my hips through the water and buries his shaft inside me, slow and easy, from behind. I feel sweat trickling down my temples and between my breasts as my body adjusts to his size. He takes me gently, like softly rolling waves on the water, careful not to jostle my injured chest. I move over him and over him, and then I tighten my inner muscles on his hard length in an intimate embrace. He gasps in surprise and within seconds, I feel him come hotly, grinding his hips into mine until his fire is quenched. Then he holds me tightly, so tightly, one hand reaching down in front to tenderly fondle my heavy sex. I feel myself sliding closer to the edge with every caress of his fingertips, every murmured whisper of "Come for me, Kitty…" My head feels light, but my body feels so heavy with unreleased passion.

I am so heavy in your arms. So heavy… Can't keep my eyes open. You're careful not to hurt the fresh knife wound in my chest as your strong arms lovingly support me. I gasp helplessly, feeling myself slipping and finally falling… falling…bright lights filling my unseeing eyes. Matt, are you still there holding me? Don't let me go, Cowboy. Please hold me tightly…

End

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