Medicine Man (Page 54)

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.