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.
But obviously, he won’t.
He’s him.
A drop of sweat rolls down the side of his cheek. “We’re not talking about this.”
I wipe it off, raking my fingers down his scalp, making him groan in pleasure. Then, I begin to unbutton his shirt and he shoots me a dark look, his hand on my clit goes still.
“Why not?” I ask.
“Because it’s irrelevant.”
I’m down to his fourth button when I look up, moving slightly on his dick, making him hiss. “Then why were you with them in the first place?”
He growls when I circle my palms over his chest. God, he’s sweaty and hot and his muscles bunch up under my touch. It’s like I control them. His heart is booming, and I can feel it. It’s like I control it too.