Medicine Man

Feeling an immense amount of relief, I leave, and a minute later, I’m at his door, knocking on it.

He opens it before I can even finish that knock and I almost barge in. The room appears dark, darker than usual. And I realize it’s the windows. The blinds on them are closed, cutting off the daylight, throwing the room into shadow.

It ratchets up my heartbeat.

He closes the door and I hear two clicks, instead of the usual one. One of the door closing and the other of it being locked.

Locked doors. Such a luxury in a place like this.

Our rooms don’t have locks. We don’t get the privilege of it. I know it’s for our own safety but still. It doesn’t make it any easier.

No sharp objects. No privacy. Life interrupted.

So then, how did my life start in a place like this where all lives go on pause? How did it happen that I found everything I’ve been looking for on the Outside, here on the Inside?

It’s him.

This man with gray eyes and dark hair, who just locked the door and who also closed the blinds before I got here. Who came for me as soon as he was done with his meeting. Who found ways to find me. And who’s staring at me with such frustration and desire that all my thoughts are about one thing.

I want to kiss him.

Yes, I want to kiss it out of him. His lust and his agitation. I want to taste it. Taste the flavor of it, of him on my tongue.

I want to suck him off.

My gaze falls below his belt.

“Stop staring at my cock, Willow,” he warns.

And of course, I do the opposite. Doesn’t he know me by now? I glance at it again, and I swear I see it lurch inside the confines of his pants.

“Your pants are too tight,” I tell him sweetly, trying to act like it’s not a big deal. “I thought so the first day I saw you. They show off way too much. And I think I just saw it move. You know, FYI.”

My comment makes his eyes smolder, and he begins walking over to me in slow, predatory steps.

Bad move.

Such a bad move on his part if he doesn’t want me to stare at his dick.

I can’t help it. When he walks, his pants stretch against his muscles and my eyes automatically go to his thighs. His powerful, powerful thighs, and well, his powerful cock.

The reason for all my dreams and discomfort.

Simon comes to stand in front of me. “Maybe the it is too big for my pants. You ever thought of that?”

Smirking, I shake my head. “Maybe the ego is too big for your head.”

He bends down, all menacing-like. “Are you done making inconsequential comments?”

“Maybe.”

He smiles slightly, which makes me tingle a little bit. He reaches out and takes my book from my hands. And before I can protest, he throws it at the leather couch we’ve been standing by.

“What –?”

“Are you experiencing any discomfort? Any soreness?”

I shiver at his question. Every sore spot, every ache flares to life. Just by him asking about it in such a frank, almost clinical manner. Just by him looking at me like that. From top to bottom. His eyes lingering everywhere. On my lips, my throat, my chest, stomach, the juncture of my thighs. He travels down and pauses at every curve and every valley.

I might as well be not wearing any clothes. He might as well be touching me with his hands.

“Wh-where?”

It’s a legit question. I’m actually sore everywhere below the waist.

“Anywhere. Everywhere.”

“Well, a little. I mean, in my thighs and butt.” I’m compelled to explain, “I’m not very athletic.”

“I’m aware.”

I frown at him. “How?”

“I’ve seen you trying to touch your feet. Or was it the ground?” His lips twitch. “It was quite informative.”

I gasp and slap his chest, remembering that day outside when Renn roped me into doing stupid yoga stuff with her. It was also the day he kissed me.

Still, I say in my snottiest voice, “It’s called downward dog. And it happens to be very difficult. One of the more advanced yoga moves.”

“Is that so?”

No, I’m lying. But whatever.

I sniff. “Yes.”

Simon throws me a lopsided smile, before tipping his chin to one of the chairs. “Sit.”

I narrow my eyes at him, trying to figure out what he wants. But of course, I can’t.

Slowly I amble to the chair, but at the last minute, I change my mind and boost myself up on his desk. I sit at the edge, my eyebrows up in a challenge, my legs swinging back and forth.

His gaze is challenging too as he approaches me and fits himself between my legs. Then he leans over me and my back arches at his proximity. Still eyeing me, he picks something up from the desk.