Hurt the One You Love

by Megan Hart

  "Jeremy? That nerdy gamer with the glasses?" Teresa stretched herself into another pose Simone wasn't even going to try.

  "Yes. Him. Five-nine, a hundred and forty pounds, and a nine-inch cock." Simone grinned. "I used to tease him that it was his secret weapon. His power-up."

  Teresa shifted a little. "I'd never have guessed."

  "Nobody did. And he knew how to use it, too." Simone smiled fondly, remembering, then shivered a little bit. "It was when my hair was longer, and he used to wind his fingers in it while we were watching movies or whatever. Just sink his fingers into my hair and tug, tug, tug. We were at that stage where just about anything he did to me got me all hot and bothered, but I wasn't confident enough to make the first move, usually--"

  Teresa laughed. So did Simone. She rolled onto her back to do some pelvic thrusts.

  "It's true!"

  "I have known you since we were twelve years old. I don't think you've ever been not confident to do anything," Teresa said.

  Simone smiled, but it quirked a little. "Yeah. Well. I'm not always."

  She thought of Elliott telling her he didn't want to see her again. It had taken confidence to go to his office, and look where it got her. She frowned, wriggling halfheartedly on the mat.

  "Screw that Elliott guy," Teresa said, knowing Simone well enough, as always, to figure out what she was thinking. "He's not worth it."

  "Ugh."

  "Hey! I mean it! If he can't appreciate how lucky he was that you even ever gave him the time of day, he's not worth it." Teresa shook her head.

  Simone laughed. "Yeah, he's really suffering without me."

  "I bet he is." Teresa gave her a knowing look.

  Simone had seen him in the lobby a couple times since that day, but she'd ignored him so fiercely there'd been no way to tell if he’d even been looking her way. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction, even if by denying him she'd also denied herself. She'd even rearranged her office to face her desk a different way so she wouldn't be tempted to spy on him in his office.

  "So. Jeremy," Teresa prompted.

  That was the way of conversation with good friends. It went around and around in a circle until you ended up at least somewhere close to where you'd started, even if it took a damned long time to get there.

  Simone laughed and shook her head, letting herself get lost in the pleasantly sexy memories. It had become so much a part of her that she hadn’t thought about it in a long time, this desire for pain. She and Tree, sweet Tree who’d been with the same man since eleventh grade, had never discussed it. Tree knew Simone was kinky the way she knew Simone had dark hair . . . it was a part of her.

  "He'd pull my hair and let his fingers run along the back of my neck. Over my shoulders. Touching me all over, you know? Driving me crazy. And so this one day, we're at his place, all his roommates are there, they're all playing video games, right? And the girlfriends are either hanging around trying to get their attention or in the kitchen making food, which you know, is so not me."

  Teresa laughed. "It probably wasn't really them, either."

  "Anyway, I'm playing along with the guys, and to give them credit, most of them aren't giant dickbags about it. Jeremy’s touching me all over, but totally sneaky about it. Pulling my hair. Tweaking my nipple. Sliding his hand between my legs every so often, you know? Getting me off right there in the middle of everyone, but nobody knew it." Simone shifted, glad for the thick sports bra that hid the fact her nipples were hard from the memories.

  "I bet someone knew it." Teresa chuckled.

  So did Simone, but the time to be embarrassed about it had long past. "Anyway, the soft little touches were driving me crazy, but it was the pinching that was making me lose my mind. Every time he did it, it was like a little spark got lit inside me, all of them gathering and making me hotter and hotter, until I thought I was going to explode. So then he tugs my hand, right? To get me to go with him into the bedroom, and we have to be fast because he shares that room with two other guys, right, and none of them have any concept of privacy. So we're in there and he's got his hands in my panties and he's fingering the hell out of me, and he's twisting my nipples, and I keep saying 'more, more, more,' and so he keeps going harder and harder. And then all of a sudden, just on the edge, I'm about to go over, and he . . ."

  Simone stopped herself, struggling to find the words adequate to describe how it had felt. She swallowed hard to keep her voice steady. She and Tree had shared a lot over the years, but . . . "I've never told anyone this before."

  Teresa smiled. "Keep going."

  Simone closed her eyes, remembering. "He smacked me across the face. And you'd think my first reaction would've been to punch him in the nuts, but I didn't, Tree. I fucking exploded. I mean, he smacked me hard enough to rock my head back--I'd have gone to my knees if he wasn't holding me up--and the pain was enough to make me see stars. Or maybe I was coming so hard I saw stars, I wasn't sure. All I knew was that nobody had ever hit me like that, and I knew I should've hated it, but I didn't."

  "Were you ashamed?"

  "No." Simone gave a breathless laugh. "I knew I was supposed to be. Or I was supposed to be angry at him. Something. But I wasn't. I loved it. And when I asked him what had made him do such a thing, all he could say was that he'd seen it in a porno movie and thought he'd try it."

  "Oh my god." Teresa laughed and shook her head as she manipulated herself into another set of poses. "What if you'd hated it?"

  "Right?" Simone punched the air, one-two-three, and burst into laughter. "What if I had punched him in the nuts or like, pressed charges for assault? It left bruises. Split my lip."

  "But you didn't."

  "I did not."

  Teresa shook her head. "You figured out that you liked it."

  "I did. And I guess I'd probably known it for a while, I mean, I don't remember it being a surprise. Other than how good it felt. And then I wanted to do it more and more, but we sort of stumbled around it, you know. Neither of us really had any idea how to go about it. And as it turns out, we didn't last much longer after that, anyway. But he was the first guy who helped me figure out what really, truly gets me off."

  "Think how sad it is for women who never figure it out."

  Simone nodded. "Yeah. Totally."

  "Wanna work on your core?"

  Simone groaned. "How about we drink margaritas and eat nacho chips instead?"

  "We could do that, too. Ed won't be back with the kids until closer to nine." Teresa grinned. "Sucker."

  Simone sat up, hugging her knees to her chest. There weren't many times when she envied her friend's life. Kids, husband, pets, house. But for a moment, something panged inside her.

  "You okay?" Teresa unfolded herself and stood in a fluid motion that emphasized her lean shape, unchanged even after kids.

  Simone got up, too, much less gracefully. She'd prided herself on trying to stay fit, but there was no denying that everything about her creaked when she got up. She steadied herself for a moment with a hand on the back of Teresa's armchair.

  "It's hard to find someone," Simone said.

  Tree frowned. "Is this about this guy again? This Elliott."

  Sudden, unbidden, and surprising tears burned in Simone's throat and her eyes. She blinked rapidly to keep them from falling. She cleared her throat, again struggling uncommonly to find the words to describe what she wanted to say.

  "Oh. Oh, honey." Teresa reached to hug her, and Simone let her. "Hey. Don't."

  "It's hard to find someone who gets it. Who gets what I like. And who likes it, too, without all the trappings and . . . and rigmarole. Without the bondage and submission stuff. And he gets it, Tree. He gets off on it, the way I do. And he's smart and beautiful and he smells so fucking good. And he's got this smile, Tree. He doesn't smile a lot, but when he does . . .it's amazing."

  "He sounds wonderful."

  "He is."

  "But he doesn't want to see you, honey."

  Leave it to Tree to
put it that way, all blunt and honest. It made Simone laugh, though. Because it was true.

  "And he's a dumbass," Teresa added.

  "He doesn't want me," Simone said quietly, letting herself feel the sting. "And it's not like I thought we were going to have this mad, wild love affair or anything like that. I wouldn't have cared if it was just sex."

  Teresa made a face. "Uh-huh."

  "It's not wrong, is it?" Simone couldn't stop herself from saying. "To hope?"

  Teresa hugged her again, holding her hard. "No, honey. It's never wrong to hope."

  Several margaritas and a plate of nachos later, everything should've felt better, but it didn't. Not really. Still, Simone left Teresa's house determined to not let the whole stupid Elliott thing get her down. Just because he was the first guy in forever who'd been able to give her what she liked and wanted and needed, what she craved . . . just because he was all that and a motherfucking bag of chips . . .

  It didn't matter.

  He didn't want her.

  At home, she took a long, hot shower and let herself cry, not so she could wallow, but so she could get over it. It wasn't the first time she'd been rejected. Wouldn't be the last. And, staring in the fog-filled mirror at her sopping wet reflection, Simone stuck out her tongue and crossed her eyes.

  She pushed her tits together, noting the cleavage she always had to work extra hard for. She turned to look at her butt, which was nothing to be ashamed of either, even if it could be rounder. Her belly was nice and toned although she had no core strength, at least compared to Tree's amazingness.

  "He's an idiot," she breathed into the mirror. "And he doesn't deserve you, anyway."

  She had to say it several times before she could convince herself, and even then it was a hollow victory. Idiot or not, Elliott Anderson had left a mark on her, deep enough to scar.

  In the bedroom she found a message waiting for her on her phone. Not from Elliott, which would've been too good to be true. Not from Aidan, either, which would've been less surprising but welcome, since it had been a long time since they'd spoken, and that conversation hadn't ended well. But it wasn't from either one of them, it was from a man whose voice she recognized only after a few seconds.

  "Hey, bébé," said the future governor of Louisiana. "I sure hope you're ready to party."

  Chapter 18

  Simone was going to be at this party.

  Elliott knew it, though he hadn't asked the future governor of Louisiana, whose name turned out to be Trent Boudreaux, if he'd invited her. He hadn't wanted to give the other man any inkling that it mattered. Because it didn't. Absolutely not.

  Drink in hand, Elliott stood in the corner of the living room in Trent's suite, absolutely not scanning the room for any sign of her. A couple blondes had passed by earlier, one of them giving him a significant look he thought meant he'd fucked at least one of them. When he hadn't done more than give her a single nod, she'd stalked off in a huff. Her friend had given him the death stare over her shoulder, but all Elliott did was shrug. Since meeting Simone, he’d somehow lost his taste for blondes.

  "Elliott. Buddy." Barry clapped him on the shoulder. "You ready to do some wheeling and dealing?"

  "You're the wheeler-dealer. Not me. I'm just the guy who knows how to use Google."

  "You could do it, if you wanted. Get you out of that boring estate-law business. Get you into some lobbying full-time. C'mon. You're the man." Barry grinned.

  Elliott had to laugh at that. In all the years he and Barry had been friends, the pattern had never changed. Barry baited and set the hook, and Elliott ended up doing all the fish gutting.

  "I'm a dotter of I's, the crosser of T's. That's all."

  "But you're fucking amazing at it." Barry looked serious for a moment. He leaned closer. "Look. This is an important gig for me. If I can guarantee this guy's support with these purchases, we'll be set for a good, long time. Get your game on, buddy. Game. On."

  With that, Barry gave Elliott's shoulder another painful squeeze and moved into the crowd. Elliott straightened. He was at this party for a reason, and it was not to see Simone again. It was to help Barry close this deal with that politician from Louisiana, as a favor to his old friend. That was all.

  "Well, hi. Fancy meeting you here."

  Simone wore a short black cocktail dress with a hint of purple shimmer in it that was echoed in her hair. She wore it slicked back tonight, reminiscent of the twenties flapper style, with a spit curl on each cheek. She smiled at him with lips the color of cherries, but the expression didn't reach her eyes.

  He'd fucked up.

  Big-time.

  "I thought you might be here." Barry might call Elliott smooth, but he was about as smooth as sandpaper.

  "And yet you came anyway? Wow. Total shocker." She rolled a shoulder and half turned from him.

  The motion exposed the creamy line of her neck and shoulder, bared by the strapless dress. He wanted to kiss her there. Bite.

  In all the times they'd spent together, brief as they'd been, there'd never been any uncomfortable silences. This one more than made up for that. It stretched on and on, and he realized she wasn't going to say anything until he did.

  Elliott took a long, deep breath. "Look. We seem to have had a misunderstanding. . . ."

  "Really?" Eyes snapping fire, Simone faced him. "Really. A misunderstanding. What part of 'I don't want to see you again, and I don't want you to come to my office' did I misunderstand? Because it seemed pretty fucking crystal to me."

  He winced. "No. That part was right."

  Simone sneered, but there was something else that upset him more than her clear disgust. The shimmer of tears in her eyes set Elliott back a step. He reached for her before he could stop himself.

  "Wait," he said, though she hadn't done so much as try to walk away. "Can we go somewhere and talk?"

  "No."

  Surprised, already touching her elbow to lead her someplace more private, Elliott stopped. "No?"

  "I have nothing to say to you."

  "But I have something to say to you," he told her.

  Simone tossed her head and shrugged away from him. "Too bad."

  And that was that. She walked away, head held high, and left him standing there to contemplate what a stupid bastard he'd been. To go after her would mean making a scene, and he almost did it . . . except Barry was there again, this time with that politician in tow, and Elliott lost sight of Simone in the party crowd.

  "Talk to me," said the politician.

  Trent Boudreaux. Twenty-eight years old, working for his daddy. Not married, but with an on-again, off-again relationship with one Miss Muffy Hedges, who may or may not have once thrown an engagement ring in his face during a late-night argument over another woman. Boudreaux had held a nice, solid seat on the Plaquemines Parish school board for two years, and was running for state senate. He had one DUI and a couple other misdemeanors that could be chalked up to youthful hijinks during college, especially once Daddy's wallet had come out to take care of it.

  All of this information had been gleaned from Elliott's Internet searching, all handed over to Barry to use as he needed. None of it surprised Elliott. The man in front of him, permanently tanned, constantly grinning, was every inch the typical politician, except for one thing. Trent Boudreaux had a soft spot for charity work. True charity work, not just for show. In addition to his college pranks and drunk and disorderlies, he'd spent several summers volunteering in Haiti to build orphanages and schools, as well as taking part in several local builds with a Louisiana organization that provided low-cost housing to families who helped with the labor.

  The connection made sense--why Barry wanted to get hooked up with this guy. Building supplies. Construction deals. And with the charitable aspect of it, it was one of the more honorable deals Barry had wheeled. It still left a sour taste in Elliott's mouth, if only because the amount of ass-kissing he suspected this guy was going to require more pucker than Elliott could muster.

>   Boudreaux had been talking for a few minutes about nothing much before he stopped and gave Elliott a long, hard stare. "Am I boring you?"

  "No. Not at all." Elliott stopped scanning the crowd for Simone and focused on Boudreaux.

  "How long have you known Barry?" Boudreaux tossed back the rest of his whiskey, the second by Elliott's count since they'd started their conversation. Not that it mattered; Elliott liked whiskey. He just knew how to handle himself in public. Trent waved over a server to give up the empty glass and ordered another. "Get you something?"

  Even if he hadn't made it a habit to curb himself in public, that was the last thing Elliott needed. Him swimming with whiskey and Simone in the same room. "No, thanks."

  "Barry. How long have you and him been buddies?"

  "Since college. Barry lived in the same dorm," Elliott said. "We were never roommates, but we stayed in touch even after graduation. Why? How long have you known him?"

  "Barry? Oh, he's my daddy's friend," said Boudreaux in that thick, sweet drawl with a grin to match. "He sure does like to talk, though, don't he?"

  Elliott laughed. "Yeah. He sure likes to talk."

  "She's out on the balcony, by the way," said Boudreaux. "That girl you're sweet on."

  Elliott didn't ask how Boudreaux knew how he felt about Simone. The man was smarter than Elliott had given him credit for. "So. Will you buy the stuff from Barry?"

  Boudreaux lifted his glass. "Sure. Why not. Will you go talk to that girl before the both of you burn this place down with the looks you're giving each other?"

  "I'm not giving her any looks."

  "No?" Boudreaux laughed. "Maybe it's just her, then."

  Chapter 19

  Simone never should have come to this party. She'd known it was going to be a bad idea the moment Barry had asked her. Even though it had been totally flattering to hear that the future governor of Louisiana had asked for her especially, and she'd only planned on being here long enough to make Elliott completely jealous.

  It hadn't worked that way. The moment she'd seen Elliott, she wanted to smack him across that perfect mouth. Then shove him onto his knees and make him use that mouth on her. Then smack him again. Or better yet, have him smack her.