Key To Her Heart Ch. 08
Keywords: Ch., 08, To, Heart, Key, Her,
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"*Author's note...I'm glad you are all enjoying this story. Your emails and comments have been wonderful. I have a soft spot in my heart for Dillon, he's based on someone I knew once, a long time ago. I guess I like the whole Hunter clan. For those asking for Brett's story, I'm hoping that will be next, if you aren't tired of my Hunters yet. Let me know?
Oh, by the way, Brett is a Hunter through his momma, she didn't marry Brett's daddy and gave her son her name.
Thanks to SweetWitch for her help and her friendship, she's been a source of strength for me and I can't thank her enough. Thanks to all of you for your support and your votes. They also mean more to me than you could know. And now, on to the story:"
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"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Rylie couldn't control the heat and anger in her voice any more than she could control the trembling of her hands. Marriage to Dillon would be hell. It would be worse than hell because he didn't love her. She couldn't stand the thought of watching him day by day, seeing the disillusionment and then finally the hatred in his eyes. "I'm not going to marry you, Dillon."
"Yes," he growled, anger finally coloring his tone, "you are."
"No," she snapped in almost the same tone as his, "I'm not. So get it out of your thick head now." She turned to walk away from him, planning to go into her bedroom and finish packing, to get out of here before she broke down again.
"Rylie, don't walk away from me," he steamed, grabbing her by the arms and yanking her back against him. He leaned down, his arm wrapping around her slender waist. "You are not walking out of here, you might as well get used to that idea now."
"Dillon," she whispered, her voice lethal. "Don't make me shoot you. I will if I have to." She heard him snort and it was the final straw. With a move that was almost too quick for him to see, she slammed her heel, still clad in the half boots she'd worn to Michigan, down on top of his sneaker covered foot.
Pain, fast and fierce, had him bending down, cursing. Before he could do anything else, she slammed back her elbow, catching him just below the ribs and gouging deep. As soon as he let her go, she turned, grabbing his arm and swinging him around until she got his arm up behind his back, holding on to just his thumb and bending it backwards. "I don't feel like being manhandled today," she growled. "That means, hands off!" She let him go just as quickly as she'd grabbed him, stepping back as he spun around.
"Oh Princess, you really didn't want to get rough with me," he snarled, his temper making him see red. He reached out, grabbing her arms, moving just in time to catch her knee on his thigh instead of between where she'd been aiming at his balls. Pulling her against him, he dug his hand into her hair, tugging her head back until she was looking up at him. "I won't hurt you, Rylie, no matter what you do to me. But we are going to talk, whether you want to or not."
She stared up into his handsome face, a small voice arguing inside of her, making her want to scream at him, to tell him that he was hurting her now. If only she could make him realize that. But she couldn't. She could only protect herself, protect her child. "Are you done?" she asked him, her voice suddenly devoid of any emotion.
Dillon felt himself become lost in the rich blue of her eyes, hearing her words almost as an after thought. "Am I done? Not even close, sweetheart," he muttered, bending his head, his lips feathering across hers with a touch so light she almost couldn't feel it.
He lifted his head, staring into her eyes, trying to see what she was feeling. His hand came up, touching her cheek, brushing against the satiny texture of her skin. Then he lowered his head again, his lips coming down hard against her, his mouth taking hers with a passion that had her gasping.
She could have fought against him if he'd brutalized her lip, if he'd hurt her arms or grabbed at her body. She could have gotten free if he'd only hurt her in some way. But instead, his lips turned passionate and strangely tender, coaxing her mouth open, slipping his tongue between to duel with hers. His hand gentled in her hair, his fingers rubbing against her scalp, making her want to purr with the sensual play of his touch.
He kept her spell bound with his kiss, kept her lost in him with the sweeping stroke of his hand and the rush of erotic sensation that only Dillon had ever been able to make her feel. With a groan, she admitted defeat, her hands sliding up his chest, her fingers tangling in the length of dark hair that fell across his shoulders, feeling like satin in her hands.
"God, Rylie," he moaned against her lips. "Why do we fight like this?"
Her heart beat heavy in her breast, her blood rushed through her veins, making her feel more alive now than she had before. His scent filled the air around her, spicy and musky, filled with that special heat that made it Dillon's. It made her head spin, had her grasping at his shoulder, moaning into his mouth.
"I don't know," she whimpered, pushing at the shirt he wore over the top of a tee shirt, hiding his gun. "Maybe because you're so hard headed." She moaned softly against his mouth. "I want you naked," she growled, yanking at the clip that held his hair back. "I want you in my bed," she breathed, the words an imitation of what he'd said to her in Michigan.
"I want you under me," he groaned, tearing his lips from hers to bury them in the soft skin of her throat, breathing in her scent as his hands roamed with lustful intent over her soft curves. "God, it feels like forever since I've had you."
He dragged her shoulder rig off, tearing at the tee shirt she wore and ripping it in the process of trying to get it over her head. Her laughter was rich and seductive, teasing him as she heard the sound of shredding cloth.
Dillon filled his hands with the temptingly soft flesh of her breasts, running his thumbs across the hard points of her nipples covered in little but lace. They puckered even more under his touch, seeming to swell and become so sensitive, she couldn't stop the gasps and moans that left her mouth. "Oh, God," she cried out, her sex moistening, her inner core fluttering as if he stroked her there.
"Tell me you want me," he ordered, his voice hard as he stared down at the lovely mounds of flesh he caressed. "Tell me you need me."
"I do," she moaned, her hands dragging his head back down so that she could reach his mouth. "Heaven help me, but I do."
He lifted her gently into his arms, cradling her with infinite care as he stalked into the bedroom, his gait purposeful. Pushing aside the suitcase that he would make sure she never used to leave him with, he laid her upon the bed, following her down, his lips roaming across her breasts. With one finger, he pushed aside a lace cup, his mouth latching on to her nipple and suckling with avid purpose.
Rylie arched her back, her body going up in flames of need as his tongue lapped against her nipple. Cries left her mouth, desire that had her hands tunneling into the silky soft strands of his long hair, holding his head against her. He moved enough to pull down the other cup, his hard fingers taking the taut bud and rolling it, listening to her cries of ecstasy.
"I could make you come just like this," he groaned, amazed at the way she responded to his touch. "Do you want to come, Rylie?"
"Y...yes," she whimpered, her hips moving, thrusting up against the air as if searching for something to rub against. The center seam of the jeans she wore pressed maddeningly into her, giving just the slightest of pressure against her straining clit, only making her want more.
Her hands grasped at his shirt, yanking handfuls of soft material up his lean body, exposing tanned skin and thick muscle until she could get to his heat. Her fingers flexed against him, kneading his skin like a kitten, mewling as he suckled more of her flesh into the hot wetness of his mouth. "Dillon!" she cried out, that fluttering in her core turning into spasms that led to more until she came, her body almost convulsing under him.
His growl of pleasure sounded in her ear as he raised himself up, his mouth finding hers. "You're hot for me, aren't you Rylie?" he whispered, his tongue playing with hers, rubbing against it.
She refused to answer, rolling him to his back upon the bed, tearing his tee shirt off of his shoulders where it had been bunched. She crouched over him, eyeing him like she was starving and he was her next meal. Her hands slid over his taut flesh, caressing his heated skin, her fingers trembling. She yanked at his belt, pulling it free, her fingers barely able to undo the buttons of his pants, slipping inside to trace the long ridge of his shaft.
Dillon's head arched back on the pillow, his body went rigid under the almost timid touch of her hand. He cursed as sensations that seemed long denied, cried out inside of him, wanting her with a desperation that made him feel feral. His hands clenched in the bunched up duvet cover, his hips lifted as she dug her hands into them, pulling down on the waistband.
Rylie tugged until his jeans were around his thighs, his hips covered by the thin taut fabric of his shorts. They tented up in front, the size of him making an impressive bulge. Sighing, she licked her lips, reaching for the waistband of his shorts to slowly tug them down, exposing him to the cool air.
His cock, freed from its prison of denim and cotton, slapped against his stomach, the tip glistening with the evidence of his need. Rylie straddled his knees, her breasts brushing against his bare thighs as she moved closer, her tongue peeping out to barely brush against his straining shaft.
"Oh God, Rylie," Dillon growled, his head up, watching as she stared at him. Her blue eyes almost seemed to glow, her skin was flushed, her hair mussed from his hands, he'd never seen her more beautiful.
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Keywords: Ch., 08, To, Heart, Key, Her,