Defend Me from My Friends

Chapter Three: Who Was Your First?

POV: Kitty

My appreciation to LadyofDodge for allowing me to refer to Jazziel, a character she created in another story.

Kitty shook her head as Glenn Cantrell spun yarn after yarn of their youthful exploits, unable to keep from smiling as she watched Matt flush redder with each revelation his old friend shared. Even though she doubted the complete veracity of most of the tales, she still could not help but be drawn to the adventures of a young Matt Dillon. Over the years, Matt had shared bits and pieces of his youth with her, usually during a few rare moments of vulnerability after they had shared their love in the privacy of her room, but there were large clouds of mystery still about him, and she yearned to hear more that would fill in the blanks about how an apparently undisciplined youth had somehow evolved into the upstanding, noble man they all knew.

"He wuz a gangly fella, not as solid as he is now, but he stirred up a good bit of interest among the gals every place we landed." Cantrell raised a brow suggestively. "I think they all wanted to be the one to – initiate him, so to speak."

Despite her amusement with Cantrell's tales, Kitty found herself more than a little uncomfortable with the idea of Matt and another woman, even if it was a much younger and less experienced Matt whose first youthful taste of pleasure came at the ministrations of a common whore. What did it matter, she reminded herself. Yet, somehow, it did.

"Glenn," Matt warned, his cheeks flaming red, his eyes glaring.

His old friend laughed, but it wasn't as easy as before once he got a good look at the marshal's expression. "Well, they tried, anyway," he added hastily, "but none of 'em ever got ennywhere. Matt was a little more, uh, particular than th' rest of us, I s'pose."

It was silly, she knew, but Kitty felt relief flood her heart. She knew Matt was certainly not inexperienced before they met. And she – well, she'd rather not think about her prior experiences. Matt never held those against her, but sometimes she wondered what it would have been like to lose her own innocence at his loving touch instead of –

"What brings you to Dodge, Glenn?" Matt asked suddenly, his intentions transparent.

Amusement fell from Cantrell's face, and he sat up straighter. "Well, that's somethin' I figure you and me might talk about in private." He threw a questioning glance toward Kitty and added, "If we could."

Smoothly, she looked at Matt and nodded toward the closed door to her office. His gaze didn't leave hers, and she fancied that she saw him remembering other times they had stolen away to that office, times that didn't include anyone other than themselves.

"Okay," he agreed finally, breaking their mutual memories with obvious reluctance. Sighing, he pushed up from the table. "Thanks, Kitty. Glenn?"

Taking his cue, the other man also rose and, picked up the saddlebag he had brought into the saloon, and nodded to his hostess. "Mighty grateful, ma'am," he offered, touching a finger to the brim of his hat.

As the two men disappeared behind the door, Kitty took a few seconds to contemplate this latest old friend of Matt's. From her experience with those, she had decided that Matt was just about the only one who had escaped the temptations of those wild days – and least in the long run. She hoped Glenn Cantrell had, too, but something about the man touched an uneasy nerve.

A half hour later, she was wiping the bar when they emerged, Cantrell empty-handed, smiling and jovial, Matt reserved and contemplative. She frowned, recognizing the expression furrowing that handsome brow.

"Thank you, ma'am, for your hospitality," Glenn told her. "Guess I'd better head ta bed 'fore I git myseff into more trouble."

"Good night," she said graciously. After all, he was a friend of Matt's – despite the obvious differences between the two men.

Matt stepped up behind him, any previous irritation unapparent. "I'll see you tomorrow, Glenn."

"Sure." With one last glance her way, Cantrell headed out the doors. Kitty attributed the lust in his eyes to liquor, but decided Glenn Cantrell would bear careful watching, not that she would mention it to Matt. He had enough former friends who brought trouble. It was a miracle he'd escaped from that life and gotten on the right side of the law. But as soon as she had the thought, she realized that right had been deep inside Matt Dillon's character from birth, no matter what detours he'd made on his way there.

"Matt – " she began.

But he re-set his hat on his head and said, "I guess I'd better be doing my rounds."

She dropped it, for the moment at least, especially when she saw the wince, read the stiffness in his stance, and decided that his muscles needed a little relaxing before bedtime.

"I'll walk you to the door," she volunteered, ignoring Doc's knowing smirk.

The smile Matt gave her made her forget about the physician's teasing. "Okay."

They paused at the swinging doors, and Kitty darted a look back to make sure no one could hear her offer. "Come on back by after your rounds, Cowboy. I'll treat you to – a drink."

The interest that sparkled in his eyes excited her. So did the low, sensuous tone his voice assumed. "A drink, huh?"

"Or two."

He drew in a quick breath at the thinly disguised come on, and she had a fleeting thought that he might actually kiss her right there in front of everyone. But even as he moved forward he caught himself, and she had to be satisfied with the heat in those beautiful eyes and the unconscious way he licked his lips.

"I'll, uh, I'll see you later, Kitty," he promised, nodding and touching his hat before he stepped out into the street.

Yes he would see her later, she decided. He would, indeed.

XXXX

Kitty drew in a deep, satisfied breath and snuggled against the warm body that lay next to her, burrowing her head against the broad chest, draping her arm across the hard stomach. Already half asleep, she let her fading thoughts linger on what Glenn Cantrell had told them that afternoon, how he painted a picture of a young man, listing toward the wrong side of the law, aimless and searching. But underneath the wild tales, she also imagined an inner goodness, a soul that treasured life and ached for justice, even as he tried to find it.

She figured that she probably knew more about Matt Dillon than anyone else, but occasionally, she wondered how much he actually wanted her to know, wondered what he had never shared with her, even though they had shared almost everything with each other – certainly everything physical. Through the years, she had heard things as he twisted restlessly in sleep, things that no one should ever have to hear, things that no man should ever have to experience. She didn't think he realized how much she knew, even when he jolted up in bed, a cry on his lips, sweat running down his face, soaking his chest, and she eased him back down, soothing him with gentle words and tender touches.

More awake now, she thought back to Cantrell's comment about the women wanting to "initiate" Matt, and she knew she had to ask, even though she wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer. "Matt?" she asked quietly, her fingers toying with the light spread of hair across his chest.

"Mmm?"

"Who was your first?"

"Huh?"

"Your first – you know. Who was it?"

He grunted slightly as he shifted to look down at her. "I'm not sure what you – "

"Woman. Your first woman. You know who my first – man was."

A long pause answered her. Then he breathed out softly, "Cole Yankton."

"Um hmm. You know my secrets. Seems only fair I know yours." It was meant as a tease, but she figured he heard the seriousness behind her words. "Glenn Cantrell was saying that there were lots of women who wanted to – "

"It wasn't one of Cantrell's – well, one of his – "

"It would be okay if it was," she allowed, although she didn't really feel that way. "After all, it was a long time ago."

"It was a long time ago, Kitty. And I wasn't with Glenn at the time. I was giving honest work a go as a drover."

"A drover? You?"

He laughed. "I figured out pretty fast that wasn't the life for me."

"How long ago was it?" Curiosity pushed through her deference.

He pushed himself up against the bed frame, urging her along with him so that her head lay on his shoulder as he let his long fingers trail up and down her smooth back. After a moment, he sighed. "Seventeen years."

"You were sixteen, then."

"Barely." He grinned. "It was my birthday."

"Your birthday?"

"Umm hmm."

"Some present."

"Yeah." From the wistful sound of his voice, she surmised it really had been quite a present.

Hesitantly, she asked, "Was she – was she a – "

He shook his head. "No. She worked in a cantina, but she wasn't – I wouldn't have – " He stopped abruptly. "I didn't mean – "

But she shook her head, knowing what he was saying. "She was a Mexican girl, then?" Somehow that surprised her, even though she knew Matt grew up in Texas.

"Jazziel," he remembered, smiling slightly.

She tried to soften the sharp pang in her stomach, knowing she had no right at all to be jealous. "Were you her – first, too?"

"No. She was eighteen." A smile curved his lips. "An older woman."

Kitty smiled with him.

"But I don't think she was all that experienced, either. Still she sure knew a lot more than I did." He chuckled at a memory. "Which didn't take much."

"I happen to know you're a quick study, Marshal," Kitty allowed. "I'm sure you caught on fast."

The chuckle grew to a rueful laugh. "Fast is right."

Kitty laughed with him, envisioning a gangly, eager, and – she was certain – shy teenager experiencing the pleasures of the body for the first time. She suddenly wished she had been that Mexican girl, wished that instead of Cole Yankton, Matt Dillon had been the man to bring her the first fruits of love.

But maybe she really didn't. After all, even though they were both still young when they met, they had seen enough of the world to be secure in their abilities and enter into a relationship that did not rely solely on physical intimacy – although that part was pretty damn good, nevertheless.

"She was patient," he said softly. "And kind. And she, uh, she taught me a few things."

Intrigued, Kitty asked, "What kinds of things?"

He reached down to let his long fingers brush between her legs, and she sucked in a sudden breath as he slid between her creamy folds, still slick from their earlier lovemaking, thumb just barely flicking across the hard bundle of nerves. She arched toward him, the electric sensations shooting through her. Letting his two middle fingers probe deeper, he bent to take a distended nipple gently between his teeth even while his thumb applied more pressure to its sole focus. Moaning, she writhed beneath his touch, her body screaming for more, and he gave her more until she threw her head back, seizing with the release.

Heart pounding, she sucked in deep breaths until she felt she could move again, and let her eyes flutter open to find his expression a sensual mixture of passion and pride. "Oh," she groaned, "I will be eternally grateful to Jazziel."

Matt chuckled. "You know, though," he said, turning them so that he knelt over her, "I've learned a few more things since then."

"You have?" she murmured.

"Uh huh." Flashing that mischievous grin that she loved so much, he asked, "Want me to show you?"

She most certainly did.

TBC