I do it over and over. Pump him up and down between my tits. Lap up his cream with my tongue, suck on his head like candy. My throat, my jaw, my chest, my entire skin smells of him, is saturated with his cream.
And my vision is filled with him, horny and aroused, shuddering and groaning.
A second later, he takes over. He pushes my tits in his big hands and hugs his own dick with them, tighter, moving up and down. His knees are bent as he pumps himself between the channel I created for him. I rake my nails on his thighs, on his clenching ass, all the while staring up at him, at his turned-on face, his furrowed brow and harsh, mean mouth.
I see him tremble massively, his fingers tugging on my nipples as he comes. Quickly, I close my mouth around the end of his cock so I can swallow his cum. It’s musky and spicy and thick.
After we’re done, he pulls me up gently, cleans me up, putting my clothes back on me. He looks at me like I’m so precious. It makes me wanna blurt out all my feelings for him.
He kisses my entire face and asks, “How many days?”
I stare at his sweaty, beautiful chest before looking deep into his eyes. “Four.”
I want him to say something. Anything. Give me some indication of the future.
Say it, Simon. Say something.
He doesn’t.
His lips are sealed, and his nod is grim and tight.
Neither does he say anything when we meet in the hallway by Beth’s office the next day. He’s staring at the same pictures.
Now, I understand why these photos depict the happiness instead of the crude and gritty reality. It’s because they are a beacon of hope. This place can be dismal and lonely, and that’s why these photos are meant to shine.
I get it now.
I stand by him and say the same thing I said a long time ago. “Interesting photos.”
He faces me, and I look at him with hope. Maybe today he’ll tell me about his dad. Maybe after all this time, I’ve showed him enough. I’ve showed him that I trust him and no matter what it is, my faith in him won’t go away.
But when he speaks, his words aren’t what I want them to be. “How many days?”
“Three.”
He nods and walks away.
***
Two days before The Goodbye, there’s a storm outside. Rain batters and beats this Victorian building, and everyone is cooped up inside. The girls are in the TV room, like most of the patients. I, however, am in the library.
I still can’t believe Beth ordered all these Harry Potter books based on my suggestion. Like, wow. An entire shelf has been dedicated to my favorite series of all time. I need to thank her before I leave.
I’m standing by the shelves, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince in my hands, when Simon walks in. Ever since we met in the hallway yesterday and I thought he’d talk to me about his dad, my heart has been heavy, and I have to really focus to not let it show.
Smiling is the key.
So I do that. “Hey, Dr. Blackwood.”
I’m aware that the nurse is right here, sitting at the desk in the front with a book of her own.
He walks closer, watching me in that thorough way of his. I hope he doesn’t find out that my feelings are in turmoil. That every night this week I’ve gone to sleep crying.
“Beth ordered all these books for me. I think Josie told her all the times I complained about it,” I tell him, hugging my copy to my chest.
He doesn’t look at the books, keeping his focus on me. “Maybe she did.”
I swallow, my throat filling up with things I want to say. Things I want to ask. Maybe I should let go of my stupid vow and ask him directly. Maybe he’s waiting for me to ask him.
But I don’t get the chance because he reaches out and takes the book from my hands, like he usually does when I’m hugging them for strength. Perhaps he does it because he doesn’t want me to hide from him.
“Half-Blood Prince,” he reads off the title. “I’ve never liked Harry Potter. Actually, no. It’s a lie. I did like it. I was jealous of the characters. Jealous because they all had magic. They could make things happen just by drinking a potion or flicking a wand.”
Oh my God.
Is he telling me?
Is my patience going to pay off? Does he finally realize he can trust me?
I go still. Like, completely still. I’m afraid to breathe, to blink. To make any sudden movements that might spook him.
Although I do cross my fingers and my big toes inside my bunny slippers.
“My mom made me read the first three when they came out. Well, she wanted to read them herself. I was there for the company. I just kept going after that.”