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“Listen to me, Willow,” he says in an abrading voice. “It’s going to stay that way, your pussy. Do you understand? It’s going to stay all tight and small. No one is going to touch it, including me. This is wrong. The things I feel about you and the things you feel about me. It’s wrong. It’s unethical. We should know better. I should know better. This isn’t happening, okay?”
Despite his words, he grinds his hips into my pelvis, making me push back.
“I want it,” I moan, writhing and squirming.
“No.”
I jerk, almost jump over him, over his hot dick. “Please.”
“Willow, whatever this is, it isn’t real. All of this. It’s co-dependency. You think I’m saving you and I think I’m the only one who can save you. It’s all fucked up, all right? We can’t do this.”
“But you’re forgetting something,” I whisper, knowing it in the depths of my soul.
As much as I enjoy the fantasy of him curing me, of him being my medicine man, I know he can’t. I know in this life, the only person who can save you is yourself. I’ve been fighting to save my life ever since I was born.
I don’t need him to save me. I need him to kiss me right now. And touch me, possibly fuck me.
Oh God, yes, I want him to fuck me.
“What?”
“I’m the Warrior Willow. I can save myself.”
“Willow –”
I cut him off by smacking a hard kiss on his mouth, surprising him. “Shut up and kiss me.”
Smirking, I undulate against him and he growls, claiming my lips in a kiss. But I want more. So much more than a kiss, so I sneak my hand down and cup his erection through his pants, making him rip his mouth off mine and hiss.
I squeeze his length, feeling it throb in his pants. Maybe it’s oozing pre-cum, too. Like I’m oozing out my cream.
Maybe he’s hard but wet like I’m soft and drenched.
“What, are you going to jack me off?” he asks, all still and rigid, while his eyes are glittering dangerously.
“Maybe.”
He cocks an arrogant eyebrow. “I doubt your little girl hands will fit around my dick.”
I offer him a sweet smile as I get to his belt buckle. “Why don’t we find out?”
A muscle jumps on his cheek and I’m waiting for him to stop me. I’m waiting for him to grab my wrist and halt my movements. When he doesn’t do anything, only stands there, watching me, I get to work.
I’ve never opened a belt buckle before but how hard can it be? It looks pretty easy on TV. But paired with darkness and my over-eagerness, I fumble. A lot. And he doesn’t come to my rescue.
“You could help me,” I mutter, keeping my eyes glued to that stupid accessory.
“I think you can handle it.”
I look up at his dry but rough tone. “You don’t think I can do it.”
His gaze is hooded as he whispers, “I think it’s magnificent to watch you fight for it.”
His face is slashed with lust, painted, almost. I lose my breath at the sight of his sheer need. I lose my breath at the passion in his voice.
Simon Blackwood is such a contradiction.
He wants to save me, but he also wants me to save myself. He wants me to fight, and at the same time, he wants to protect me.
A unicorn.
He’s a unicorn.
Biting my lip and gathering all my strength against a rapidly falling heart, I focus on the task. Surprisingly, his scrutiny doesn’t make me nervous and within seconds, his buckle is open and his zip is undone.
My lips part as I reach in, under his boxers – why is it so sexy that he wears boxers? – and make contact with that hard flesh. It’s not difficult to find it; it’s there, sprung up and straight and so fucking hot.
I whimper as I palm the hottest, softest and hardest thing in the world: his bare cock. My whimpers are answered by his groan.
Both of our sounds are low and rough, and they reverberate through our bodies, somehow settling between us where my hand is touching his cock. There are flutters and tingles and heated pinpricks, and I grip him tight, making him shudder.
Simon leans forward, almost falling on me, and his head bumps against the wall, his mouth parted just under my ear. He grinds his forehead into the wood, and I rub my cheek against his stubble, trying to soothe him.
My eyes go to the rain-drenched window, the thunder, the chaos outside. The storm. But it has nothing on the storm on the inside.
He was right. My little girl hand can’t fit around his entire length. So I use both of them. I grip the base of his cock, thread my fingers around it, start pumping. Slow, erratic pumps. Unpracticed but I don’t think he minds.
