Medicine Man

“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.

“Keep them on your princess feet. Don’t fucking lose them,” he commands before putting his mouth directly on my pussy and making all words die on my tongue.

I don’t even get the time to appreciate the whole kinkiness of him putting on my bunny slippers and calling me a princess again. The whole wrongness and rightness of it.

I arch my back as he takes a swipe of my core, trying to move away from his hot tongue because I’m so sensitive and sore. But he grabs hold of my bare ass cheeks and keeps me in place. His mouth stings my swollen and bruised parts, but he’s also managing to soothe them.

He’s lapping and licking, breathing on my most sensitive part, which is rendered tight because of the lack of space on the chair and the fact that my thighs are almost squished together due to the waistband around them.

When his fingers dig into my ass and he grabs a fistful of flesh, pulling it apart, I bite down on the leather. Its sour taste hits my tongue as Simon digs deeper into my channel. He’s licking my hole, going around and around, and I’m leaving indentations of my teeth on the leather writhing against his tongue.