He pushes back, his cock almost bursting out of his pants, poking into my tiny hole. “You what? What do you do?”
My neck can’t support the weight of my head anymore. So it drops down against the wall. The dark ceiling is flashing in and out of my vision; I’m so turned on. “I play with myself, then. I touch my clit and put my finger inside me. But j-just one finger.”
I feel him grazing the column of my throat with his nose as he grinds his erection into my core.
“Yeah? Why just one?” he growls.
His question coats me in embarrassment and I shut my eyes, biting my lip and shaking my head. Simon doesn’t let me escape though. His hand in my hair moves to my chin and he forces me to look at him.
“Why?” he asks, again.
Swallowing, I tell him, a flush covering every inch of my body. “B-because I don’t want to stretch it out. I want to keep it tight and small for you.”
In this moment, I’m so aware of him and how old he is. How experienced and mature and commanding. Whereas me? I’m so young. Hardly been kissed once or twice.
I wonder if he thinks I’m too childish.
It’s the truth though. I’ve never put more than one finger inside me. I’ve been terrified to. Maybe this is why. For him.
Maybe it wasn’t random. Nothing about me and nothing about him is random.
“Have you been…” I clutch the collar of his shirt. “With a lot of women?”
His jaw ticks. “Why?”
“I know you said you don’t have anyone special but…” I shake my head, wanting to look away from him, but I can’t. Wanting to sound more mature than this, but I’m so wracked by jealousy, all of a sudden. So wracked with the unfairness of the fact that I met him so late in his life.
“But what?”
“Did you go on a date with her? With Josie?”
He studies me, his lips parted like mine. Maybe he’s remembering that day like I am. When I told him to not go. When I asked him out. It seems so long ago right now.
“No,” he replies.
It makes me smile but it makes him angry, my smile, and his grip on my chin tightens. An expression flashes like lightning across his face and he asks, “Is it? All nice and tight?”
I blush at his words. “Y-yes.”
“Fuck.” His hips jerk, his shaft hitting my clit. “Fuck…”
His curses make me moan, make me move against him, against that hard part of him.
“Listen to me, Willow,” he says in an abrading voice. “It’s going to stay that way, your pussy. Do you understand? It’s going to stay all tight and small. No one is going to touch it, including me. This is wrong. The things I feel about you and the things you feel about me. It’s wrong. It’s unethical. We should know better. I should know better. This isn’t happening, okay?”
Despite his words, he grinds his hips into my pelvis, making me push back.
“I want it,” I moan, writhing and squirming.
“No.”
I jerk, almost jump over him, over his hot dick. “Please.”
“Willow, whatever this is, it isn’t real. All of this. It’s co-dependency. You think I’m saving you and I think I’m the only one who can save you. It’s all fucked up, all right? We can’t do this.”
“But you’re forgetting something,” I whisper, knowing it in the depths of my soul.
As much as I enjoy the fantasy of him curing me, of him being my medicine man, I know he can’t. I know in this life, the only person who can save you is yourself. I’ve been fighting to save my life ever since I was born.
I don’t need him to save me. I need him to kiss me right now. And touch me, possibly fuck me.
Oh God, yes, I want him to fuck me.
“What?”
“I’m the Warrior Willow. I can save myself.”
“Willow –”
I cut him off by smacking a hard kiss on his mouth, surprising him. “Shut up and kiss me.”
Smirking, I undulate against him and he growls, claiming my lips in a kiss. But I want more. So much more than a kiss, so I sneak my hand down and cup his erection through his pants, making him rip his mouth off mine and hiss.
I squeeze his length, feeling it throb in his pants. Maybe it’s oozing pre-cum, too. Like I’m oozing out my cream.
Maybe he’s hard but wet like I’m soft and drenched.
“What, are you going to jack me off?” he asks, all still and rigid, while his eyes are glittering dangerously.
“Maybe.”
He cocks an arrogant eyebrow. “I doubt your little girl hands will fit around my dick.”
I offer him a sweet smile as I get to his belt buckle. “Why don’t we find out?”
A muscle jumps on his cheek and I’m waiting for him to stop me. I’m waiting for him to grab my wrist and halt my movements. When he doesn’t do anything, only stands there, watching me, I get to work.
I’ve never opened a belt buckle before but how hard can it be? It looks pretty easy on TV. But paired with darkness and my over-eagerness, I fumble. A lot. And he doesn’t come to my rescue.
“You could help me,” I mutter, keeping my eyes glued to that stupid accessory.
“I think you can handle it.”
I look up at his dry but rough tone. “You don’t think I can do it.”
His gaze is hooded as he whispers, “I think it’s magnificent to watch you fight for it.”
His face is slashed with lust, painted, almost. I lose my breath at the sight of his sheer need. I lose my breath at the passion in his voice.
Simon Blackwood is such a contradiction.
He wants to save me, but he also wants me to save myself. He wants me to fight, and at the same time, he wants to protect me.
A unicorn.
He’s a unicorn.
Biting my lip and gathering all my strength against a rapidly falling heart, I focus on the task. Surprisingly, his scrutiny doesn’t make me nervous and within seconds, his buckle is open and his zip is undone.
My lips part as I reach in, under his boxers – why is it so sexy that he wears boxers? – and make contact with that hard flesh. It’s not difficult to find it; it’s there, sprung up and straight and so fucking hot.
I whimper as I palm the hottest, softest and hardest thing in the world: his bare cock. My whimpers are answered by his groan.
Both of our sounds are low and rough, and they reverberate through our bodies, somehow settling between us where my hand is touching his cock. There are flutters and tingles and heated pinpricks, and I grip him tight, making him shudder.
Simon leans forward, almost falling on me, and his head bumps against the wall, his mouth parted just under my ear. He grinds his forehead into the wood, and I rub my cheek against his stubble, trying to soothe him.
My eyes go to the rain-drenched window, the thunder, the chaos outside. The storm. But it has nothing on the storm on the inside.
He was right. My little girl hand can’t fit around his entire length. So I use both of them. I grip the base of his cock, thread my fingers around it, start pumping. Slow, erratic pumps. Unpracticed but I don’t think he minds.
“Fuck…” Simon curses, again.
His puffs of breaths under my ear, on my throat, are making me achy, achier than ever. It’s making me sweaty as well. A drop of perspiration slides down the side of my cheeks. But I don’t know if it belongs to him or to me. Our sweat, our skin seems the same, in the near darkness.
Even though I can’t see his erection clearly to gather its nuances, I still know that the top of his dick is rounded and hot. And so smooth. It’s wet too. There’s a line bifurcating it and the more I thumb that delicate spot, the wetter it gets.
“You’re leaking too. Like me,” I whisper and to show him what I mean, I bring his erection to my core and rub it along my pajama-covered slit. I moan at the sensation of his naked shaft rubbing against my clothed pussy. It’s hitting my clit in
just the right way. I think I can come like this, moving over him, jacking him off.
His shuddering chest hollows out and I’m afraid he’s stopped breathing. But then, he pushes out a large breath, fluttering the stray hair stuck to the line of my neck. “Use it to lube me up.”
I stop, my fingers flexing around his cock. “What?”
He raises his head, his eye so close to me that if it were day, I would see myself reflected in the depths of his gaze.
“You want to jerk me off. Then I want you to lube me up with your cream.”
Before I can comprehend what he means, he uses one hand to heave me up against the wall, securing me, and with the other, he shoves the crotch of my pajamas to one side, taking my drenched panties along, and baring my pussy.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
“Taking what you made for me.” He nips at my lower lip as his fingers swipe along the seam of my core.
“Oh God.” I shiver, my eyes clenching shut, my hips twisting.
He’s touching my pussy with his finger, slanting up and down my wetness. Almost slipping, actually, with how soaked I am.
I’m embarrassed.
God, I’m so fucking embarrassed at the fact that I haven’t shaved down there in ages. They don’t let us. Either you have to do it under supervision or you don’t do it at all. I chose the latter and it’s only hitting me now, as his fingers flick through my damp curls.
“Christ,” he curses, thumbing my clit, sending shooting sparks through my blood. “It’s making me insane how soft you are. You’re the softest thing I’ve ever touched. All innocent and pure.”
My embarrassment melts away at his words. I might even be smiling in the darkness; I can’t be sure.
My own fingers slip around his dick as it throbs and a drop of pre-cum slides down. Then I stumble upon loose skin around the head of his cock. I gasp as I touch it. It has to be the most delicate thing in the world. Like a bundle of silken threads.
“You are so soft, too.”
He chuckles. “There’s nothing soft about me, Willow.” Then, “Wrap your hands around my cock. Tight.” He waits for me to obey him. “And smack it against your pussy.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Do it,” he commands.
I do, albeit awkwardly. I tap it against my bare cunt once. Twice. Moaning.
“Harder,” he grunts.
I do it harder, writhing my hips every time it hits my clit. “Oh God…”
“Good,” he praises. “Now, put it in the middle of your tiny slit.”
I look up to find him watching my hands between us. I place him so that the lips of my core are hugging his girth. It makes him twitch and press his thumb on my clit.
“L-like this?”
His hips pump, slicing his dick through my slit like it belongs there. “Yeah. Just like that.”
“God. Simon… this is…” I moan as I begin to move as well, my wet, sticky hands coming off his dick and gripping the side of his shirt.
We both rock against each other, my cunt stretched around his cock so tightly. I whimper, my eyes clenching shut. I wish I could keep them open and see it. I wish I could watch as he thrusts his hips in a rhythm, pumping, the head of his dick hitting my clit.
My pussy is clenching, fluttering with every slide. It’s juicing up, probably preparing itself for that massive shaft that keeps working it. My pussy is hungry. I’m hungry.
He’s so close. That part of him is so fucking close and yet, it’s so far. I wish he would put me out of my misery.
I wish he would put it in.
He’s right there. Right there. The head of his erection could so easily slip inside my hole. I know he won’t though. I know it.
I somehow know him, even without knowing anything about him.
But one day. One day I’m going to make it happen. One day I’m going to make him fuck me.
For now, this has to be enough.
I’m buzzing with the way his dick is moving up and down, pumping. It’s both shocking and electrifying, his bare, most intimate skin rubbing into mine. My nails dig into his sides as I hold on to him and twist in a perfect rhythm.
Grind, grind, grind.
It’s so sticky and messy, the way we are thrusting against each other. My night shirt has ridden up and is bunched around my waist. His clothes hang haphazardly from his body.
If it were not for our raging breaths and the rain outside, we would hear the sounds of our own slippery arousal. As it is, I can feel his pre-cum dripping over my pussy, my bare lower stomach, and I feel myself making a mess of the tails of his shirt and pants.
The musky smell rises around us. A mix of him and me. Just the fact that we’re so entwined right now and hot and brimming with life and lust and all these feelings that I don’t know what to do with, makes me come.
My moan gets swallowed up by Simon.
Although he curbs my sounds, he can’t curb my shivers. My shakes. The earthquake inside me. My sweaty, buzzing limbs are trembling with a power I haven’t felt before. It feels like this is my first orgasm.
And it is. With a man. With Simon.
It goes on and on and it would scare me if not for him, holding me, placing tiny kisses on my lips. As I come to, I kiss him back. Our tongues mate and our teeth clack. I suck on his mouth like he was sucking on mine that day, trying to cure me. I do the same to him. I try to suck off all his demons and set him free.
Maybe I’m doing it, releasing him, because a second later, he comes too.
Simon lurches, and I can feel the beginnings of a pained moan in his chest. Actually, it starts up in his tight, spasming stomach and I think he’s going to roar. The sound of his orgasm is going to be super loud, louder than the rain outside.
So I keep kissing him. I keep sucking on his mouth and absorbing his explosion on my tongue. It’s like being struck by lightning, and I spasm right alongside him.
He’s tight but shaking. His cum is flying everywhere, getting on my stomach, spraying on his shirt.
When it’s over, we pant against each other’s mouths. Simon doesn’t let me go, however. He puts back my pajamas, covers my shuddering pussy with such tenderness that I want to cry. Though you wouldn’t find the evidence of that softness on his face.
It looks grim.
“Simon –”
“Don’t,” he clips.
He balances me with one arm and with the other, jerks his pants up and closes his zipper, leaving his belt hanging around his waist limply. Then he gathers me in his arms and carries me back to bed.
He bends and lays me down as I stare at him but he doesn’t return my regard.
Simon is ready to turn away and leave, and I grab hold of his wrist. “Kiss me goodnight?”
He works his jaw back and forth. “Go to sleep, Willow.”
“Please?”
Sighing sharply, he leans over me and kisses me on my forehead. My entire body smiles at his tender lips. Before he can move away, I grab his collar and stop him. “You can’t be perfect all the time, Simon. Perfect is super boring and a lot of pressure. It’s okay to give in.”
When he goes to say something, I kiss him hard. “Good night. Hope you sleep well.”
I let him go, then.
But as he’s about to open the door, I can’t resist adding, “You can jack yourself off, if you want. But promise me you’ll say my name when you come.”
His back goes all rigid and he bows his head. A second later, he mutters, “Just fucking go to sleep.”
I go to sleep, smiling.
Days spent on the Inside = 35
Days left to spend on the Inside = 7
Days in which to woo the ice king = 7
I’m going to woo Simon Blackwood.
Yes. I’m going to woo the ice king. Me, the snow princess.
I smile, staring at the ceiling in the early hours of the morning. Who said only kings can woo? A princess can woo a king
, too.
I’m going to woo my king. Well, because he won’t do it himself. Something is holding him hostage. A demon or a dragon. Something that runs in his veins right alongside his blood, like my illness runs in mine. Only his demon isn’t a diagnosis.
So I’m going to slay it, whatever it is. I’m determined.
And happy.
The thing is that I hardly ever wake up with this much energy. This will to smile.
Knock, knock, knock.
I stop smiling and look at the wall. Flimsy and thin. The wall that carries all the sounds across.
“Hey,” I say, turning on my side, watching the white plaster with apprehension.
“Hey.” Renn’s voice floats through.
Okay, so I know that what happened last night was risky as hell. I know that. Those fifty-six minutes between hourly checks weren’t foolproof. Anyone could’ve walked in. Anyone could have walked down the hallway, taken a peek through the small window of my room and would’ve found Simon and me, rubbing up against each other.
I know that. I know we got lucky.
I also know that the wall separating me from my neighbor is thin, wooden. As in, so thin and wooden that even whispers carry across. Thank God I’ve got the corner room with the stairs on the other side, so I only have one neighbor to contend with. And even though it was raining and storming last night, there’s every chance Renn has heard something.
But she would never say anything. I’ve only known her for thirty-five days and still, I know it. I know she’s my BFF. And when I leave here in seven days, I’ll take all these memories and friendships with me.
“Sleep well last night?” she asks casually.
Even so, I’m a little apprehensive. Not of the fact that she might tell someone but of the fact that she might think less of me.
I clear my throat. “Yes. You?”
“Pretty amazing.” She turns on her side, as evident by the rustling. “So it was crazy last night, wasn’t it? With the rain.”
Medicine Man Page 19
