Even though they’re coming closer and closer and my heart’s beating like it might give out any second, I can’t stop this. I can’t stop the goose bumps, the fullness. The friction.
God, when he slides out and comes back in, I see stars. I feel the spark.
I’ve never felt this way before. Everything is heightened. My sense of smell. My ears. My sense of touch, taste. His skin tastes salty with sweat and probably lust and I can’t help but lick the side of his neck, his taut vein.
He does the same. He licks my throat, smells my skin just under my ear, as he keeps stroking me with his dick, grinding against my clit.
I’m burying all my moans in his flesh, and it’s a good thing because just then, we hear the loudest laugh.
They are here. They’ve come. Why else would they be walking this further down the hallway if not to come into my room? Mine’s the last one on this floor, located in a corner.
A tear rolls down my cheek and I hug him with everything I am.
Strangely, he hugs me back.
It makes me cry even more. It makes me move against him even more. He does the same. His strokes are faster than before. Like he wants to get his fill of me, use me up before they take me away. My pleasure shoots sky-high and so does my need to moan, make a sound.
God, please. Please, don’t let this be the end.
I suck on his neck, drink down his flavor. Even though my eyes are shut tight – I can’t look – my ears are on alert and my pussy is juicing up over his cock.
Any second, I expect them to open the door.
Any second now…
It doesn’t happen.
Nothing happens.
They keep walking, whoever they are. They laugh and talk, and their footsteps recede. They were just passing by. That’s when I remember the stairs by my room. They were probably headed to them. Not to me.
For a second, I can’t believe it. I can’t believe we’ve been given a reprieve. That we got lucky again. It’s okay. We’re safe.
We can do this.
He can fuck me, and I can fuck him, and no one has to know. Not tonight. Not right now.
Through my tears, I’m beginning to smile when Simon moves away from me. The pressure of his heavy chest easing off my breasts makes me hiss. It makes my nipples tingle.
Unlike me, Simon isn’t happy. He’s mad and he palms my ass and heaves my thighs over his waist. That shock of a movement makes me lose my breath. It also makes me grind my clit on his pelvis.
“This is fucking insane,” he thunders, and letting go of my butt, he clutches my face. “Do you know what would’ve happened if we’d gotten caught?”
I grab his wrists, tears still streaming down my face. “I would’ve taken all the blame.”
He pumps his cock into me, jerking me up the wall, and my mouth falls open on a silent moan. “No. I’m to blame. Me. I’m fucking you, aren’t I?” Another vicious jolt of his hips. “It’s me inside you.”
“Yes. B-but I… I can’t… If they…” I sob, almost bursting with pleasure and all these pent-up emotions and adrenaline.
It’s embarrassing. The way I’m crying and moaning. But I can’t help myself. It’s like I’m jam-packed with every little thing that I can feel. Every little thing a girl can possibly feel during her first time, and I don’t know what to do about that other than expel it through my sounds and the water in my eyes.
He gets it, this man. Who’s claiming every inch of me with his dick.
“Shh… it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here…”
Simon breathes over my mouth, shushing me, all the while grinding his hips into my clit as if digging out my juices from the furthest corners of my body, my soul. He drinks down my tears, licks them up as he pumps into me, slowly replacing my bursting emotions with himself, his reassurances, his presence, his cock.
My body goes loose, my thighs slipping off his waist as my heart hammers in my chest, but he pulls me up. He doesn’t let me fall and he doesn’t stop fucking me.
His deep, deep thrusts make my body jiggle. My tits bounce and I’m getting closer and closer to climaxing. His legs are bent, and his thighs hit my ass with every thrust. I hear a slight slapping sound every time he bottoms out, and even though it’s loud, I can’t fault him for that.
Those sounds let me know that a part of him is inside me. Those sounds let me know that he’s fucking me like I wanted him to and we’re shaking this entire castle – this psych ward slash the Victorian monument of love – with our passion, our lust.
Simon catches my mouth in a kiss. And it’s as if I was waiting for exactly this because I fall apart. Once again. Though this time he’s inside me and I feel my channel clenching over his rod. I feel his chest breathing against mine. I feel his heartbeat.
And then I feel him come.
I feel him pulsating for a second before he pulls out and comes on my pussy. He paints my curls with his cream and that makes me come some more, slumped against him.
His stomach clenches with every splatter of his cock and he groans, gripping the base of it, slapping it against my slit, making me writhe with the residual tingles.
When the storm passes and he stops coming, I hug him like he’ll disappear.
“Please, please don’t say it,” I whisper in his ear.
“Don’t say what?”
His whispers sound tired and lazy, making me want to shower him with kisses. “Don’t say it was a mistake. Please.”
He goes all tight and stiff and I’m sure he’s going to say it nonetheless, breaking my overly-emotional heart. But all that comes out of his mouth is, “I won’t.”
I thought that would be a relief, but it isn’t. It only means that he won’t say it, but he’ll think it. My heart squeezes painfully, as he moves and carries me to the bed.
He lays me down like he did yesterday. But unlike last night, there’s a lot more damage that we’ve done. His shirt is half undone; I can see the outline of his muscular chest, those springy dark hairs that make me bite my lip. His cock is half-mast and peeking through the zipper of his pants.
Something about that is just so sexy.
I get a sudden flash of him in his house, all naked and sweaty, post-sex with someone. With me. I can’t imagine him with anyone else. Didn’t he say other women were irrelevant?
I so, so want that flash of a vision to come true. Maybe it will. Maybe next week, when I’m Outside, I can go to his house. We’ll make love on a bed and we’ll be as loud as we can be. He’ll pick up my shorts from the floor and the boards won’t creak. He’ll slide them up my legs like he’s doing right now and put his blanket on my body, instead of the one I have here.
I want it so much that my stomach clenches with longing.
I watch him straighten his clothes with watery eyes. And then I watch him getting closer, leaning over me.
“Go to sleep,” he whispers, kissing my forehead.
“Seven days.”
He stares at me. “You’ve been waiting for it. What was it you said to me exactly?” He thinks about it. “If I were half as good as they say I am, I’d see the error of my ways and let you go.”
I did say that to him and I feel like such a fool now. For so many reasons. “I was an idiot.”
“No, you’re not. But it’s good.” He swallows. “That it’s almost here.”
“Yeah. I’ll miss this place, though.”
I’ll miss you.
“I don’t want you to.”
“You don’t?” I hate how small my voice sounds. How lonely.
He studies my face and I try to keep it blank. I might be failing, though. “No, I want you to get out of here and never come back. I want you to live your life and I want you to fight. Because you’re a fighter, Willow. A warrior.” Then, “And don’t ever go to a fucking bar to pick up guys.”
“So where do I go to get them?”
He hates my question, or at least that’s what I think
it means, his flared nostrils and the vein on his temple.
I’m waiting for his answer with bated breath. Even my heartbeats are suspended. Maybe he’ll say it now. Say something, anything that will give me an indication of what the future holds for us.
“Nowhere,” he says, and I widen my eyes. “They’ll flock all around you once you go to college.”
Simon leaves then, and I smother my face in the pillow and cry.
“Are you looking forward to getting out?” Josie asks in our session next morning.
Not really.
“Um, yeah. But, well, I’m going to miss you guys,” I say, shifting in my chair and feeling a twinge of discomfort between my thighs.
I look at my lap, covering my face with my loose hair. I’m pretty sure I’m blushing. I’m definitely throbbing. Between my legs, in my chest, in my stomach.
It’s like he’s still in there. Stroking, pumping, making me his.
“Aww. We’re going to miss you too. But you know, you’ve made such progress, Willow. I’m so happy to see that. I think you’re ready. Just always remember, you’re not alone. That’s the key.”
I meet her eyes at this and clench my fingers together. “But I’ll always have bad days, right?”
Her smile is sad. “Yes. I want to sugarcoat it but I’m not going to. Unfortunately, therapy or meds, they don’t cure depression. Nothing will cure it. But they can help ease your burden. That’s the best you can hope for. That’s the best anyone can hope for, Willow. Life is…”
She shakes her head, searching for words, I think. “Life is long. I know people say life is short, and in some ways, it is. But it is too long if you’re living it alone. Don’t hesitate to ask for help. Don’t think that you’re weak just because you stumble. Everyone stumbles. Don’t isolate yourself just because you have to take a pill every day. You’d be doing yourself a disservice. Live your life the best you can and ask for help. People aren’t made to live their lives alone.”
I nod, blinking back tears. I agree with her. We aren’t made to live our lives alone. Not me.
And not him, either.
It makes me want to tell him. I want to tell him what I feel. Maybe it will give him courage to say the same. Or at least spill his secrets.
Or maybe it will make him push me away. Which I really can’t risk because I only have six days with him.
Gah. Why does he have to be so complicated?
We spend the rest of our session talking about all the things I’ll be doing once I’m Outside. We talk about Columbia and my scholarship and how afraid I am of losing it, of failing at college. Studies have always been hard for me but somehow, I managed to snag that scholarship award. But now I’m afraid. Again, she tells me that I can always ask for help with my courses and it’s okay if I struggle. She believes in me. She knows I’ll pull through.
When I’m done, I make my way to the rec room and try to focus on reading. But I still feel him.
In fact, I feel him so much that I don’t feel anything else. Not when Hunter comes to me with the meds. Not when Roger and Annie say hi to me as they pass me by.
It becomes so bad, my absent-mindedness and my need for him, that I almost go searching for him.
But I won’t.
First of all, I overheard one of the nurses say that he’s on a conference call. And second of all, I don’t want to hunt him down. I want him to hunt me down. I want to see if he’ll find ways to see me.
If he’ll come for me.
I’m praying for it. Because if he does, then maybe he does feel something for me. There’s a teeny tiny light at the end of this dark tunnel.
A moment later, I see it. The light.
It comes in the form of a tall man, with polished wingtips and hands thrust inside the pockets of his dress pants. My eyes travel up and up, until I reach his face. His beautiful, carved face.
As much as I have come to love the cloak of darkness, I find that I love the day more.
I see his features clearly. I see the strength of his shoulders. The softness of his mouth he has been kissing me with, or rather driving me insane with. I see his tapering waist that I’ve been wrapping my legs around. It looks and feels like a slab of rock.
“Willow,” he murmurs, tipping his chin at me.
His eyes flick up and down my face, as he takes me in and my loose hair, like he’s doing the same thing, absorbing me in the daylight. He lingers a little bit on my chest, probably reading my t-shirt. Today, it says: “Beware of the love child of a Disney Princess and Hermione.”
“Dr. Blackwood.” I nod, trying to keep my voice less breathy and more unaffected. Not sure if I managed it, though. Swallowing, I try again. “Is your meeting done?”
“Have you been spying on me?”
I can’t help the slight smile that overcomes my face. “No. The nurses were talking.”
He accepts the answer with a nod. “Yes. Just.”
So he did come looking for me as soon as it was over.
Thank you, God.
“I see you’re not playing poker,” he comments in a casual voice.
I glance at the table across the room where the whole gang is playing poker – the girls, Tristan, Roger, Annie, and Lisa. Despite looking pale and gaunt due to The Heartstone Effect, Tristan is shooting his signature smirk at Renn and she’s ignoring him, blushing like crazy. They asked me to play too, but I refused.
“I’m not interested in poker anymore,” I say, looking back at him. “Besides, I wasn’t very good. I always lost.”
He frowns, albeit slightly. “That’s because you weren’t taught well. There’s no magic to poker. It’s all very scientific.”
At this, my smile becomes a grin. Gosh, how much have I smiled ever since I came out here to Heartstone. Ever since I met him. Probably a million times.
He’s still jealous.
“Maybe you should be the one to teach me, you know. All the ways of poker and…” I trail off, throwing him a smirk of my own. “Other worldly things.”
He stares into my eyes for a few beats, his gaze intense and full of something secret and crackling. When he’s done with his perusal and making me squirm in my seat and waking up all the sore muscles, he says, “Can I see you in my office for a second?”
I sit up, alert. “Uh, right now?”
The look he gives me hits me right in my belly and the sore muscles of my thighs and ass. “Yes.”
And then he steps back and leaves, or rather strides out of there. How does he do that? Pack so much sexual energy and authority into one word: yes.
I watch him go. He’s probably expecting me to follow him right away.
And I will.
I know I will follow him. There’s no other choice.
Be cool. Be cool. Be cool.
It’s dangerous and reckless to see him in his office in broad daylight. It’s practically setting ourselves to be caught.
I stand up from my seat, nonetheless.
He was right. It is madness. But madness is us. The rest of everything is inconsequential. Besides, I only have six days.
As I walk toward the door, my eyes catch on someone. Beth. She’s on the other side of the room and I have a feeling that she’s watched our conversation, Simon’s and mine. She saw that we were talking to each other. I wonder if she saw the intimacy there. The familiarity.
Is there any familiarity, though? Did we change in ways we don’t even know about?
My heart pounds and I expect her to walk over to me. Stop me, maybe. But she throws me a smile before going back to the nurse she was talking to, or rather, supposed to be talking to.
Feeling an immense amount of relief, I leave, and a minute later, I’m at his door, knocking on it.
He opens it before I can even finish that knock and I almost barge in. The room appears dark, darker than usual. And I realize it’s the windows. The blinds on them are closed, cutting off the daylight, throwing the room into
shadow.
It ratchets up my heartbeat.
He closes the door and I hear two clicks, instead of the usual one. One of the door closing and the other of it being locked.
Locked doors. Such a luxury in a place like this.
Our rooms don’t have locks. We don’t get the privilege of it. I know it’s for our own safety but still. It doesn’t make it any easier.
No sharp objects. No privacy. Life interrupted.
So then, how did my life start in a place like this where all lives go on pause? How did it happen that I found everything I’ve been looking for on the Outside, here on the Inside?
It’s him.
This man with gray eyes and dark hair, who just locked the door and who also closed the blinds before I got here. Who came for me as soon as he was done with his meeting. Who found ways to find me. And who’s staring at me with such frustration and desire that all my thoughts are about one thing.
I want to kiss him.
Yes, I want to kiss it out of him. His lust and his agitation. I want to taste it. Taste the flavor of it, of him on my tongue.
I want to suck him off.
My gaze falls below his belt.
“Stop staring at my cock, Willow,” he warns.
And of course, I do the opposite. Doesn’t he know me by now? I glance at it again, and I swear I see it lurch inside the confines of his pants.
“Your pants are too tight,” I tell him sweetly, trying to act like it’s not a big deal. “I thought so the first day I saw you. They show off way too much. And I think I just saw it move. You know, FYI.”
My comment makes his eyes smolder, and he begins walking over to me in slow, predatory steps.
Bad move.
Such a bad move on his part if he doesn’t want me to stare at his dick.
I can’t help it. When he walks, his pants stretch against his muscles and my eyes automatically go to his thighs. His powerful, powerful thighs, and well, his powerful cock.
The reason for all my dreams and discomfort.
Simon comes to stand in front of me. “Maybe the it is too big for my pants. You ever thought of that?”
Smirking, I shake my head. “Maybe the ego is too big for your head.”
Medicine Man Page 23
