I should be nervous, I know. He’s not exactly painting a very pretty picture. I don’t want to feel anything in my stomach.
But then again, if it’s him, I don’t mind.
Except…
“Have you done this before?” I ask, disgruntled.
Something about that makes his lips twitch. “Not with a virgin, no.”
The way he says the V word, like it’s a curse, makes me want to smack him in the head. What does he think virgins are? A different species, from another planet? Born and bred in captivity?
I wiggle over him, accidentally rubbing his dick over my pussy. Or maybe not so accidentally. Maybe I did it on purpose because I’m so fucking horny.
“I asked you for it, didn’t I? I can handle it.” I hover over his lips and whisper, “You being in my stomach. I’ll be as good as any other woman you’ve fucked.”
He’s silent for a beat before finally, finally pushing back against me.
“You won’t be.”
My heart breaks a little at his statement.
At his confidence.
But I don’t get to voice it because he changes direction and goes to the wall. The wall I pointed out to him.
My back hits the brick just as he mutters, lowering me to the ground, “You’ll be better and that’s the whole fucking problem.”
At first, I can’t believe he said that, but then I can’t help it; I smile.
He growls, though. “Stop making things difficult, Willow. Or I’ll leave right now.”
I shake my head. “Sorry.”
He goes down on his knees then, taking my pajamas and my panties with him. That was so sudden that I don’t have the time to prepare or do anything but gasp.
“Simon, I don’t –”
My speech cuts off when he snaps his eyes up. “You asked for it, didn’t you?” At my small nod, he swallows. “So, I’m doing it. But that’s it. From here on out, it’s my show. You’ll do as I say. Because if I get even a little bit of indication that this is hurting you in any way, I’m going to stop.”
I fist his hair. “No, okay. I won’t say anything.”
“Good.”
I bite my lip and my stomach clenches at the sight of him on his knees. The top of his dark, messy-haired head reaches my heaving breasts. But his face is bowed; he’s looking at my pussy and I curl my toes at his intense stare.
Simon pushes my top up, dragging it across my trembling stomach with his splayed palms. His touch is so possessive, so rough and so tender at the same time, and I breathe really slowly, really carefully to absorb everything.
“The first time I saw you, you were on your knees, picking up the pages of your book,” he whispers, his eyes on his own hands as he watches them tug my nightshirt up.
I remember that. I remember that so well. I hated the idea of him. Another jerk of a doctor. Another man with a God complex who would mess with my life.
He did mess with my life. He still is. But in a very good way. A very, very good way.
“I couldn’t see you that way. I have no idea why. I didn’t even know your name. I hadn’t even seen your face. I just…” He watches my stomach as it slowly comes into view. “I just knew. That you didn’t belong there. On your knees.”
I press my lips together, trying to keep my tears at bay. They are happy tears though. So happy.
Such a strong longing grips me. It’s almost like panic. What if this doesn’t work? What if he can never lose his demons? What if after seven days all of this is over?
I can’t believe I’m freaking out like this. When I’m half naked in front of him and he’s about to do things to me. Delicious things.
But then Simon presses a soft kiss on my trembling stomach and all my negative thoughts go poof. He sucks in the flesh, nipping it with his teeth, making me moan.
He lets the spot go and looks up, at last, his hands under my heaving breasts. His breaths are wild, and every inch of his expression has been washed over by lust. “You really are a snow princess.”
His thumbs caress the undersides of my tits and my hips roll off the wall, trying to get closer to him, to his touch. My nipples are sore, poking through my shirt.
“Right now, I don’t feel like a snow princess,” I admit shakily.
“Yeah, what do you feel like?”
“All hot and burning up.”
With a lopsided smile, he pushes my top up even higher, exposing my breasts to the night. My back bows and my hands find his neck, latching on.
“Where?” he asks. “Where do you feel hot, Willow?”
“M-my breasts.”
He covers them – my heavy, horny, achy tits – with his hands. “Does that make it better?”
As much as I love his touch, it’s making everything worse. It’s making me even hotter. “No.”
Simon kneads the flesh, before rolling my turgid nipples between his fingers. “How about this?”
I swallow, clawing at his neck. Good thing I don’t have sharp nails right now or I’d draw blood with how tightly I’m holding him. “More. Please, more.”
His puff of warm breath is a chuckle and I arch my hips again. I want something. I want him. My channel is pulsating with so much need. It’s like a fever.
“Maybe I should do this.” Letting go of my nipples, he gathers my mounds, massaging them, making me hiss and grit my teeth. It’s like he’s touching all my pleasure points at once and it’s so good that I can’t even take it. My body is short-circuiting.
Then he presses my achy flesh together, making a valley.
“Isn’t that what you do, Willow? In your bed? When you think about me? You press your tits like this and imagine me fucking them?”
He brings my breasts together, only to pull them apart. Over and over. Slowly, methodically. Every push and pull sends sparks down to my core. There’s a heaviness that’s growing inside my stomach.
I tip my face up to the ceiling. “Yes.”
Then I feel something that makes me moan and steals my breath all at the same time. I whip my gaze down and find Simon at my breasts. His mouth is puckered and latched on to the underside of it. He’s sucking the skin as he would suck on a nipple and I whimper out his name.
He looks up, smirking, all the while making a meal of my breast.
“Tastes like your mouth. Tart and sweet,” he growls when he’s done.
But turns out he’s not done, because he takes a swipe of my nipple with the flat of his tongue.
Swipe, swipe, swipe. Suck.
God, he’s sucking my nipple so good.
“Simon…”
I feel his shirt against my bare stomach, my naked thighs. I want to grind against the cloth, so he knows how wet I am for him. So fucking wet and creamy.
Slowly, Simon makes his way down, pressing soft kisses on the center of my chest and my belly.
My entire body tightens when he reaches the top of my core. He grasps my thighs with his hands, forcing me to keep them open, like he knew I’d try to close them.
I wouldn’t, though; I’m shaking with nervous energy. And I can’t deny that I’m a teeny, tiny bit freaking out with him so close to my nether parts.
No man has ever been this close to them.
“Simon, please. I think… I –”
He’s looking at my pussy, bared and unshaved, as he asks, “You want me to stop?”
“No.”
“Then shut up.”
The words are a relief more than a command. Like he didn’t want me to say no. Despite my nervousness, warmth pools in my chest.
Simon noses the top of my cunt, smelling my damp curls, and I have to shut my eyes now. I can’t… I can’t look. It’s too erotic. Too out there.
Although I can feel, and I can definitely hear.
His chest shudders with a groan. He’s cursing. It’s like a chant as he rubs his nose, his parted lips on my skin. He hasn’t even gotten to the main part yet and I’
m already on the verge of falling.
My thighs are damp with both sweat and my cream. My pussy won’t stop leaking. I’m making more and more of it and I would’ve pushed him away if I were able.
I’m not.
I’m not able to push him away at all. All I can do is bring him closer. Put my hand on his shoulder, fist his shirt and tug him ever so close.
“You’re breaking your word already, Willow,” he groans.
I open my eyes and the dark ceiling comes into view. Somehow, I lower my head and look at him.
What does he mean? My word about not making things difficult? How did I break it?
“H-how?” I ask his head. “What did I do?”
“You don’t have to do anything,” he mutters.
My heart’s in my stomach. Actually, my heart is where he’s looking at me and it fucking skips a beat when I feel his breath, hot. Right in the center of my core.
I jump so much that he has to band an arm on my lower stomach to keep me in place. With his other hand, he opens my pussy. I feel his fingers parting my lips in the shape of a V and I would’ve have said something about it because frankly, that’s just so strange and new and dirty, if he hadn’t gone and taken a lick of my exposed flesh.
“Oh…”
He does it again and again, until he’s swirling his tongue at my entrance. He sucks in my clit, swallowing it, and I almost dislodge his arm from my jerky movements.
Moans are threatening to burst out of my throat, but I know I can’t. I know I can’t make a sound. As it is, my heavy breaths are echoing around the room, along with his low grunts.
So I push the fabric of my nightshirt inside my mouth and bite down on it, trying to tame my wild sounds, against the electric shocks he’s delivering me with his tongue.
Simon doesn’t notice any of this. He doesn’t notice how I’m trying to contain myself. He’s busy eating me the fuck out. Making me go crazy with want and hunger.
I go on my tiptoes, my calves and thighs completely clenched, when he takes his arms off from over my stomach and lifts me up with his palms under my ass. His mouth gets buried in my cunt and I grip the back of his head, biting the fabric of my nightshirt harder.
His tongue is hot and vicious as it slaps against my clit and my tight little hole. With each breath he growls, sending puffs of hot air into my channel, making it clench.
The day he kissed me, it felt like he was sucking off my illness through my mouth. Tonight, it feels like he’s doing it through my hole. He’s making me better by eating out my cunt.
Then his tongue enters inside me and I’m done.
I come like I’ve never come before. I’ve completely left the ground, arching against his working, sucking mouth as I clutch him to me. My face is upturned, and my neglected breasts are throbbing like my climaxing pussy.
I want to scream. I want to shout. But my detonation has to be silent because we can’t get caught.
In the midst of my world getting flipped, Simon lets go of my tender, swollen flesh, and comes up to his feet.
I don’t have time to catch my breath or stop shaking when I’m heaved up again, my spine sliding up on the wall, and Simon’s breathing over my mouth, smelling like the rain.
Smelling like me.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers thickly, and then I feel like someone has stabbed me with a knife, and I stop breathing.
I think I’ve died.
And I’m not happy about it. Not at all.
I didn’t want to die tonight. I wasn’t even thinking about it. I was only thinking about him. About the fact that I’ll finally feel it. I’ll have finally given myself to a man I was born for. Never mind that it’s happening at a psych ward and he’s my doctor. Never mind that we can get caught and so far, we’ve been very lucky.
Never mind all of that.
But now I’m dead and I can’t breathe; there’s so much pain.
Or maybe it’s all in my head.
Because I feel it. I feel him inside me. I feel the fullness. I feel him inside my stomach, and I feel him over my mouth.
I’m alive. I can feel things.
His mouth is locked with mine in a kiss. He’s kissing me. Hotly, slowly. His taste is on my tongue, mixed in with my tart juices. Cocktail of rain and lime and musk. I have to admit I like this cocktail much better than the one made of Prozac and lithium.
Simon breaks off from my mouth and I notice his lips and his jaw glistening. “You okay?”
I swallow, thinking, hoping that I look the same, all wet and shiny. “Y-yes.”
“This was the only way. Like ripping off a band-aid.”
I’m panting, sting laced in with my every breath. “O-okay.”
He shuts his eyes for a second and through the fog of pain, I see his strained features. The sweat rolling down his forehead, his sharpened cheekbones. The taut tendons of his neck. I feel him throb inside me. Maybe his heart fell too, like mine did when he entered me and now it’s beating where we are joined.
I wipe the sweat off his forehead and he opens his eyes. There’s a war in there. War between lust and restraint.
“I feel it,” I whisper.
“What?”
“You. In my stomach.”
He jerks slightly at my words and so do I. The pain flares for a beat before dulling to a throb.
“Does it hurt too much?”
“A l-little.”
He grits his teeth. In anger. In remorse.
And then, he goes to fix the pain. He thumbs my clit, playing with it, juicing up my pussy.
Moaning, I ask, “Am I tight?”
“Yes.”
His thumb is making me restless. “Tighter than all the other women you’ve had?”
At this, anger flashes through his features. His body shudders and he widens his stance, all the while trying to keep still inside me, all the while making my channel cream for him. I get the feeling that he wants to move, only so he could punish me for this question.
But obviously, he won’t.
He’s him.
A drop of sweat rolls down the side of his cheek. “We’re not talking about this.”
I wipe it off, raking my fingers down his scalp, making him groan in pleasure. Then, I begin to unbutton his shirt and he shoots me a dark look, his hand on my clit goes still.
“Why not?” I ask.
“Because it’s irrelevant.”
I’m down to his fourth button when I look up, moving slightly on his dick, making him hiss. “Then why were you with them in the first place?”
He growls when I circle my palms over his chest. God, he’s sweaty and hot and his muscles bunch up under my touch. It’s like I control them. His heart is booming, and I can feel it. It’s like I control it too.
“Biology,” he clips as I trace my fingers up and down, trying to memorize him.
I sink my hands in his dark chest hair. “This isn’t biology?”
“This is fucking madness.”
This time I definitely feel the shakes roaring through his body. His restraint is turning me on.
Fuck pain. Fuck everything. I want him to move.
I peek up at him through my eyelashes, feeling all kinds of reckless. “Am I so tight that you wanna move?”
His dick throbs again and the feeling of fullness increases.
“Yes.”
“Then move.” I rock against him and he groans.
“Stop. You’re gonna hurt yourself.” His arms almost vibrate with his control and he grips my ass tightly, trying to keep me still.
“I won’t. You made it all better when you were playing with my clit.” I shake my head, undulating against him again. “I want you to move, Simon.”
He drops his forehead over mine. “I’m trying to give you time to adjust to my size.”
“I’m totally adjusted.”
He chuckles lightly, and I feel his stomach clenching. I’m about to say someth
ing else to convince him when I hear the noises.
And laughter.
I freeze and so does he.
The sounds are walking closer. Footsteps and a muted conversation.
I press my palm over his heart as my breathing quickens. Someone is walking down the hallway. Someone is walking toward us, toward my room.
Simon’s staring into my eyes, his arms bunched up under my butt, keeping my trembling body from falling off. But his breaths aren’t erratic and choppy like mine. They are calm. I don’t understand it.
How can he be calm?
I clutch him tighter, winding my arm around his neck and grasping the collar of his half-opened shirt.
What if they take a peek inside my room through the window on the door and catch us together? I know we aren’t in their direct line of vision; that’s why I chose this wall but still.
What if they take me away from him? I’ll fucking scream this place down. I’ll claw and scratch at anyone who dares to take me away from him.
Not now. Not when I’ve felt him inside me. When he’s still throbbing and my restlessness is still there. I still want him to move. I still want to move.
My eyes are filling with water, the closer they get to my room. I bite my lip and keep staring at him, all still and silent and afraid and horny.
But then he moves, making me jerk.
I widen my eyes at him. His face is unforgiving and harsh as he moves again, flaring my lust even more.
“No, Simon,” I protest in the barest of whispers, shaking my head.
“Why not?” he says, slowly starting a rhythm, keeping me locked between the wall and him. “You said you were adjusted.”
“P-please.” I clench my eyes shut. “We can’t make a noise.”
He shifts on his feet and I hear a creak. It’s as loud as a siren and my heart is in my throat. I’m so terrified. But even my fear can’t mask the pleasure. It’s slowly spreading through my limbs as he pumps in and out lazily.
“Maybe we should.” He kisses the side of my mouth. “Maybe we should call them, yeah? They’ll stop this madness.”
“No. Please.”
My face is buried in his neck as I rock back against him. I can’t help it.
Medicine Man Page 22
