Medicine Man (Page 45)

“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.