Medicine Man (Page 57)

I jerk out a nod. “Yes.”

“Yeah? Tell me.”

My fingers dig into his arms at his tone. Like he thinks I really am naïve. He thinks I don’t know anything about the world and it’s his job to educate me. He’s really teaching me worldly things.

I don’t know why this turns me on so much. But it does.

Gasping, I begin, “If y-you come inside me and fill me up with your cum, I can get pregnant.”

The P word makes me both horny and scared. I’m so confused by my reaction. The only thing I should be feeling is fear. I should be scared of getting pregnant. I shouldn’t be getting wet.

Simon brings his hand to cup my cheek. “Do you want that? Do you want to get pregnant, Willow?”

At last, I feel the right emotion. Fear.

My eyes widen, and I shake my head, almost violently. “No. Never. I don’t…”

Simon frowns, his sexual haze leaching out of his eyes as he studies my reaction. “You don’t what?”

Swallowing, I grip his shirt. “I don’t ever want to get pregnant. Not ever.”

He moves away, causing me to let go of him. He’s all serious now as he scrutinizes me. “Explain.”

I huff, blowing at my bangs.

What just happened?

I’m hot and horny and so fucking afraid at the same time. I huff again.

I’ve never really thought about getting pregnant. I mean, come on. I’ve only had one boyfriend and until last night, I never even had sex.

Unlike other girls, I daydream about death, not giving birth to new life.

But as soon as Simon uttered the word pregnant, I knew. I knew it in my heart that I’ll never have babies. I can never have them.

“Look at me, Simon. Look at where I am. I have to take meds, do therapy to be normal. Not that I’m ashamed of it. I mean, I’m trying not to be. I’m learning. But I can’t have babies. Ever. What if my baby turns out like me? What if I curse her with my illness.” I sweep my bangs off my face. “I can’t do that to her. I –”

“Willow,” he cuts me off with a black frown. “Shut the fuck up.”

And I do.

Simon crosses his arms across his chest. “You’ll have babies.”

“What?”

“Not now but when the time is right. And you won’t think about cursing them because it’s bullshit. There’s nothing wrong with you. I’ve said it a hundred times before and I’m saying it again, you’re a fighter. There’s nothing wrong with being a fighter. You’re not less than anyone. If anything, you’ll teach them to be like you. You’ll teach them to fight. Am I clear?”

My eyes have welled up and my throat is full of one and only one emotion: love. For him.

As if the pills weren’t enough? He has to go and do this.

Seriously. If I wasn’t in love with him, I would think he’s being cruel by being so… nice.

I nod wordlessly.

“Excellent,” he clips and produces the pill in front of me from out of nowhere. “Even though, I didn’t come inside you. We’re not taking any chances.”

Dutifully, I open my mouth and he puts it on my tongue before giving me a drink of water. Then he sets the glass aside and flicks the bangs out of my eyes, wiping the tears that have escaped off my cheeks.

God, I’m such a mess. Such a giant, sniffling mess.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“For what?”

“For ruining your plans.”

He eyes me, still tucking my wayward hair behind my ears. “My plans.”

I nod, clutching his shirt and bringing him in for a hug. I put my head on his chest and swing my legs to and fro. “You wanted to have sex with me, but I ruined it by crying.”

His laugh vibrates his chest. “What makes you think I wanted to have sex with you?”

Shifting away, I look up at his smiling face. “Why did you close the blinds?”

“There’s too much sun.”

“There’s not. You locked the door, too.”

“Too much noise.”

“That’s such a lame answer.”

I glance down at his dick again. It’s straining against his pants. I wouldn’t call it all hard but it’s half-mast, making a liar out of him.

“Your dick is getting hard,” I tell him, squirming on his desk, watching his erection getting to its full height.

“It’s biology. If you keep staring at it with your bratty eyes, it will get that way.”

I give him those bratty eyes. “I wanna suck it.” He flinches at my declaration and I keep going. “But I won’t ask you for that. And you know what else? I won’t be begging you to fuck me, either.”

“You won’t?”

I pout. “No. Because if someone wants to fuck me, then he should have the courtesy to tell me that himself. I have pride, you know.”

Finally, he stops smoothing down my hair and starts playing with the seam of my lips. “That’s good, Willow. Pride is good. One of us should have that.”

I try to press my thighs together but can’t. Because he’s between them. I end up squeezing his hips.

“You don’t have it anymore?” I ask, puffing out those words on the pad of his thumb.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have my pride, Willow, because I feel like a man on death row. Begging for life. Begging to live one more day. Begging to fuck you one more time.”

Winding my arms around his neck, I arch my spine. “What’d you do to get on death row?”

“Took your virginity. Made you sore. Made you bleed.”

He looks like he’s imagining it, making me bleed. I’m imagining it too.

Maybe it wasn’t the ideal situation or the place to have sex for the first time. But it was perfect for us.

This is where we met, at Heartstone. This is where I accepted myself and this is where I gave myself to him. I wouldn’t change a thing about last night or any of it.

I place a soft kiss on his lips. “Yeah. You did make a mess on me.”

Growling, he smacks a hard kiss on my lips, his fingers getting buried in my hair. “Then there’s no hope for me, is there? I should be fucking hanged for dirtying up the snow princess.”

I shrug. “Maybe you can live one more day. Maybe you can make it up to me, for making me all dirty and sore, so you can fuck me again.”

As soon as I say the words, he slides me off the desk and carries me in his arms. It makes me realize once again how small I am compared to him. How tiny and delicate, and how he can pick me up and put me wherever he wants me.

In this case, it’s the brown leather armchair.

He makes me put my knees up there and grab the arm with my sweaty palms, leather sagging under my weight.

I twist and look back. “Simon, I –"

He’s behind me, large and looming. His shoulders are jerking up and down with his ragged breaths as he looks up. “I know what you need.”

He goes to work on my yoga pants. He pushes them down and down, until they band around mid-thigh, leaving my ass bare and exposed. Despite the embarrassment that he can see everything in the daylight, my entire behind, I breathe in the first sigh of relief. If he’s rearranging my clothes, that means I’m one step closer to getting fucked.

And that’s all I care about right now.

Simon goes down to his haunches and I feel him sliding something on my feet. My toes wiggle and I realize it’s my bunny slippers. I must have lost them somewhere along the five feet to the armchair.