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Simon doesn’t mind though. He keeps kissing me. He keeps pounding into me, his thighs smacking against mine, his chest breathing wildly over me.
When he breaks the kiss, I open my eyes and look into his intense gaze. It is equal parts lust and desperation. Sweat beads on his forehead, and his jaw is clenched.
Slumped on the back of the chair, completely submissive under him, taking his pounding, I whisper, “I kept my slippers on my princess feet for you. L-like you told me. Won’t you come for me, Simon? Please come in my princess pussy.”
“Jesus Christ…”
His eyes clench shut and his words trail off on a groan. His hips jerk and twist in a final thrust and he fulfils my wish.
He comes for me.
Even though he’s wearing a condom and I can’t really feel the wetness of his cum, I feel the heat of it. I feel his chest vibrating and his stomach clenching over my back. I feel his random jerks and short thrusts as he straightens up.
Panting, he withdraws his cock from inside me and gathers me in his arms, bridal style. I nuzzle my nose against his warm throat, feeling all kinds of sleepy. I feel like I’m floating on a cloud, on a rainy, fluffy cloud and he’s with me.
Simon takes me to the washroom inside his office and sits me down on the marble counter. I watch him with heavy lids as he takes care of the condom and straightens his clothes.
When he’s done, he cups my cheek and makes me focus on him. “How many days, Willow?”
He doesn’t have to tell me what he means. I already know. I come down from my high and with a hurting heart, I tell him, “Six.”
Letting go of my face, he gives me a somber nod and wets a tissue in hot water. Then, he cleans me up, my pussy and thighs.
Every second that passes with him cleaning me up, putting me to rights, I feel like he’s telling me something.
Only I don’t know what.
All I can do is hope that I find out before these six days are out.
Every day, he asks me how many days are left before The Goodbye.
And every day I think that maybe today he’ll say the words that I hear every time I look at him. But it doesn’t happen.
It doesn’t happen five days away from The Goodbye.
On this day, my mom calls me and tells me that she knows about Lee Jordan. She finally went to my school to get the information of the guy because of whom I jumped, and they told her that they don’t have a student by that name.
She asks me why I’ve been lying to her. Why didn’t I tell her about my struggles, about my thoughts? She says she wants me to stay at Heartstone. She says that if I’ve been lying for so long, then I need a longer time to get better.
“You need to fix this, Lolo,” she says, crying. “How do I trust you now? How do I know that you’re telling the truth?”
I cry, too. I explain it to her. I explain my struggles and how I didn’t want to worry her, but she doesn’t listen.
By the end of it, I’m a sobbing mess.
And that’s how Simon finds me, walking out of the phone room, my eyes swollen and red. A couple of nurses find me in this state as well. He tells them he’s got me and ushers me inside his office, locking the door.
“What happened?” he asks, frowny and alert.
I try to hold on to my composure and not be a bawling baby in front of him. But the thing is that I want to be, and I know I can be. I know that. I know I can cry in front of him. Not because he’ll be my hero and solve all my problems. My problems are not solvable, but I know he’ll get it. I know he’ll listen.
“Nothing.”
“Willow.” His eyes track the line of my tears and his voice becomes even tighter. “What happened? Why are you crying?”
I wipe the salty water off. “I talked to my mom.”
My words make him move and he almost charges toward me in agitation, heaving me up in his arms. He marches over to the windows first – it’s raining so no one is outside, but we can’t take any chances – and closes the blinds. He walks with me to the couch, settles down with me on his lap and asks me what she said.
I tell him everything. I tell him how my mom finally knows about Lee Jordan and all the lies. I was going to tell her. I wanted to be there to break the news. And now, she’s all upset.
“I’m so stupid,” I whisper in his neck, crying. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I shouldn’t have lied. But I got so panicked. And she was so sad, Simon. She thought it was her fault that I jumped. So I made up a story. She’ll never forgive me. She’ll never get over it.”
