Medicine Man (Page 52)

“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.