Medicine Man (Page 44)

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.