Education of Simon Lane

by Red Rose Publishing

  “What’s going on Mills?” His words were harsh and held just the right amount of punch to disguise his true feelings, but there was no way he could silence his treacherous damn cock. It ached with need to be in her. Just as it always had, just as it always would. He was disgusted by the sensation, and as he had in the past, he wondered how he could still want her as he did. How many nights had he lain in bed, hating the knowledge that no other woman would do?

  “You already know. Lilly’s back. I’m afraid she’s going to ruin everything.”

  “That’s not what I mean. Honestly, what are you and Simon really up to? Why are you so intent on marrying him?”

  “We love each other. We get each other. We accept one another and we take care of each other. No one’s done that for us, and we’re doing it for each other.”

  “Okay, you’re not going to come clean with me, fine. I really couldn’t give less than a fuck, and forgive me for asking. Do what you want. Simon’s a big boy. It’s really none of my business, anyway. “

  “No it isn’t, is it?” she asked.

  “None. Do you want a drink or not?” Parker reached for the decanter of aged whiskey to refresh his drink. Maybe, he thought, just maybe, with Lilly’s return…with Simon out of the picture, maybe Mills might be his again. He paused midway filling his glass. The thought both excited and angered him. He shook his head, jarring the ridiculous notion aside.

  “What do you think of Lilly?” Millicent’s question snapped him from his trance.

  “I don’t.” His response was cold and deliberate.

  “Let me guess, you don’t like her, either.”

  “Oh, I like her just fine. I can honestly say that unlike most women, she’s not a liar or a cheat. Present company excepted, of course.”

  “Of course.” Millie stared angrily at him.

  “Well, do you want a drink or not?”

  “I’ll have a vodka martini, heavy on the vodka, and a bottle of ale or beer, something German. No, no better yet, I’ll have a Pabst Blue Ribbon.” She responded tightly.

  Parker gave Millicent an odd look. “So you don’t want the vodka martini?” he asked.

  “I most certainly do. Today’s been a bitch and a half of a day, and I need that martini, and of course the beer. Two hands, two lips, two drinks.” Millicent smiled brightly, playing the role of dizzy, dumb blonde to the hilt.

  Parker snorted, he actually snorted. Millicent responded to his disdain by looking at him incongruously. He quickly shifted his gaze to the mini refrigerator and slowly opened the door.

  “Pabst Blue Ribbon,” He shook his head, pulled a can out, and placed it on the bar top. “You’re lucky I still stock them.”

  Their eyes met, and he quickly looked away. Parker reached for the liqueur bottles needed to make her martini. It wasn’t luck that he kept her favorite beer in stock. Tonight wasn’t the first nor, in all likelihood, would it be the last time she showed up at his door. Millicent’s penchant for just dropping by was as normal as Parker’s conscious tendency to ensure that he was available to her when she buzzed his bell.

  If Simon only knew, Parker thought.

  “Would you like anything else?”

  “That’s it.” The cheeriness of her voice was way over the top.

  “You like fucking with people, don’t you.”

  “That would be your job.”

  “Whatever. How can you drink this shit?” Parker handed her the can of beer and watched, mesmerized, as she opened it. He held his breath when her lips parted and then closed over the opening. His balls jockeyed for a better position in the confines of his sweatpants.

  “It’s an acquired taste, and it keeps me grounded.”

  “You just like fucking with people.” He busied himself making her drink as he spoke.

  “We all have our cross to bear.” She laughed.

  “Funny you should say that. Simon and I had a conversation not too long ago, and he used the exact phrase.” He poured her drink into a glass and repeated his earlier question. “I’m going to ask you again. Why are you really here? Tell the truth this time.”

  “I didn’t lie the first time. I’m looking for Simon.”

  “Try again, Mills. We both know where he’s at—right where he belongs.”

  “Simon belongs with me.” Her voice was full of defiance.

  “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” He handed her the martini. Parker watched as she drank half of it in one swallow.

  “I had a meeting with her today. God that was a mistake.” She walked over to his sofa and sat down, crossing her legs slowly.

  Parker’s insides tightened. “Was the meeting her idea or yours?”

  “It was mine. In hindsight, it was pretty stupid.”

  “Try extremely stupid and naïve. What were you thinking?”

  “Obviously, I wasn’t thinking with my brain!”

  “You probably said all the wrong things. You’re not very good dealing with women. Besides Simon, that little quirk is something else you and Lilly have in common.”

  “As opposed to dealing with men?”

  “Now that you mention it, yes.” He laughed. “But seriously, it’s going to be tough competing with her. Lilly—like Simon—is like a kid who wants to do the right thing, but still a kid. The little fuckers do what pleases them in the end. And, as I am sure you’re well aware, Simon knows how to please. I’ve seen him in action. Of course, he’s not as good as me and —”

  “Your infamous mini me,” Millicent joked.

  “That’s why my little brain is called mini me. Size has nothing to do with it. No one can beat my little mini me.” They shared a laugh, and then silence and tension engulfed them.

  The easy companionable silence quickly turned to a funnel of emotions more basic. Millicent scooted closer to Parker, and he in turn reared back on the overstuffed couch and gazed straight ahead. Rather than picturing his mother as a means to kill his hard-on, he thought of Simon and the fact that he did not want to betray, again, his best friend with this woman. The very woman Parker craved more than his next breath.

  “She has something that she isn’t even aware she possesses,” Millicent said with spite and malice. “I’ve seen it in his eyes and in his voice. I’ve seen it in her eyes, too. I hate her.”

  “My advice is, do not underestimate her. Tell me what was said.”

  “You know, I think I had her until the end of our talk, and then I veered off course and went too far.” Millicent summed up the conversation in her elegant style. Parker listened as best he could, and watched her as stoically as possible. His emotions were contradictory when dealing with Millicent. With every fiber of his being, he believed that she was made for him.

  Every day without her killed him a little more, inside. He hated his feelings. She was everything he had ever wanted but would never have. How had he let her, the one person he loved most, get away? Listening to her now, and seeing how much she was hurting, made him yearn to be in the position to hold her, to love her the way he was meant to.

  But he had to protect himself.

  “You don’t love Simon Lane

  .”

  “It’s complicated…I…can’t fail again.” She squeezed his hand and he looked down to see their fingers partially intertwined. When had he taken her hand? Parker kneaded the soft flesh of her palm with his coarse fingers, enjoying the simplicity of the act, and then pulled away.

  “Unlike you and I?” he asked, desperate to end the intimacy they were on the verge of embarking on.

  “Unlike you and I,” she repeated. “I’m going to lose Simon aren’t I? I’m going to lose him just like I lost you.”

  “Let him go,” Parker advised. “You can do better than a man with strong ties to another woman. It’s a lose-lose situation. If you’re doing it to attempt once more to garner your parents blessing, it will blow up in your face in the long run. Eventually it will end badly—with or without Lilly.”

  Parker waited for
her to reply, to deny that so trivial a reason was behind her insistence on marrying Simon.

  “Jesus, Mills, that can’t be it! Tell me that what I accused you of years ago is not true. Tell me you would not go so far as to prostitute yourself for Mommy and Daddy’s approval”

  “Oh, let’s not go down that road, Mr. Crane. You’re the one with Mommy issues. My mother has nothing on yours. Your mother is the B in bitch.”

  “And yours caps it off with the H.” Parker’s hand shot out and snatched the glass from her. “Get out.”

  “I really hate you.” Millicent stood up and Parker followed her up.

  “Good. I don’t feel so bad anymore, knowing my feelings toward you are reciprocated.” His fingers locked around her upper arm and he hauled her against his body.

  “Let go of me!” She yanked out of his grip, lost her footing, and fell on the carpet. Parker knelt beside her to help her sit up; his hands traveled over her body making sure there were no broken bones. Hesitantly, they rested on her face and then were drawn to her hair.

  “Sorry,” he murmured. There were tears in her eyes, causing the groan that he had suppressed to sound out. “Sorry Mills, I’m…sorry.” He wiped away her tears and cursed his inability to not care. He cared more than he dared to admit—to himself, and definitely, to her.

  “One of these days, you’re going to believe me when I say leaving you was not simple. I didn’t make the decision lightly. It was the only choice I had, and then, when I thought we had a chance—when you divorced my cousin—it was too late. If I could change it, I would.”

  “It’s over now.” Why did she insist on this lie? She chose Simon, not him. Despite his efforts, she had made the choice. “There’s no going back, even if I wanted to.”

  “I wish you didn’t hate me so much.”

  “And if wishes were horses,” Parker murmured as he shut his eyes.

  “If only. That’s why I need Simon,” Millie said, and Parker felt her shift in his hold. He opened his eyes just as she turned away from him, but not before Parker caught a glimpse of a tear. One single tear, which she swiped feverishly away, coupled with the pain in her voice did him in. He brought his hand up and slid it under her hair, and clasped the back of her neck.

  “Why the hell do you care about him?” Parker demanded. He forced her head flush with his. Of its own accord, his other hand jerked upward, locking on her shoulder. Parker’s fingers bit into her flesh. He wanted to shake her, to make her see that tears for Simon were misplaced and hopelessly in vain. Simon loved Lilly.

  “Tell me why, Millicent. Why him? He doesn’t love you, Mills. He can’t love you. His life is Lilly and it always will be!” He covered her mouth with a brutal claiming; his tongue sought out her tongue. Parker loosened his grip on her neck and relief flooded through every aching mass of muscle in his body when she moaned with pleasure. Millicent’s submission was all he could think about; her submission was all he wanted.

  Damn her, damn him, and damn Simon Lane

  .

  Parker pulled back to catch his breath.

  Millie pressed her hand against his cheek causing him to wince. Her feelings were wide open to him. The look in his eyes was a mirror image of what he imagined his own to be—the sweetest kind of lust imaginable because love was driving the want. After all these years, all the nasty remarks and snide comments, it was still there. The love that never ended was still there. The love that had been consummated more times than he could count was still there.

  “We can’t keep doing this, Parker.” As she spoke her hands roamed his body with desire that matched his own. When she pressed her lips to his, when her tongue forced its way into his mouth and their tongues danced the familiar dance, when her fingers slid down the length of his back, maneuvering cleverly and without hesitation under his t-shirt, the lies between them disappeared. Nothing mattered to Parker except being inside her.

  Parker toppled her over, and like so many times before, worked the bottom of her dress up, latched onto her panties and pushed them down her accommodating legs. He arched his lower body to give her access to his throbbing dick. His Mills. The woman he loved to hate. Once she freed him, and her panties were completely removed he towered over her.

  “Does he make you come undone the way I do?”

  “You know he doesn’t.”

  “Answer me anyway…has he fucked you?”

  “No.” She whimpered beneath him.

  “You want me, don’t you?”

  “Yes…please…yes,” came her unguarded response, and he took her, burying himself to the hilt in one motion. He buried his face along her collarbone and she wrapped her legs tighter and sucked him in. He fucked her, hard and steady. Each forward motion, each jarring thrust, every whimper and growl and moan of pleasure was greeted with the same in turn.

  Somewhere between hiking her dress up to her waist and the tortuous motion of her fingers grasping the side of his pants, Parker had the unwelcome thought that this was bound to happen, had always been, always would be, and it was wrong. This is a mistake he thought, but it was too late. She whimpered into his mouth and cupped his balls. He was helpless. He was helpless to her. Her kisses were the sweetest this side of the Mason Dixon line. He could live in the crevice of her mouth. It was home.

  She was his home.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Simon slammed his palm against the door one final time. His fingers spread wide and splayed across the barrier, with his palm flat, covering the peephole. Dejected, he lowered his head against the door. He stood like that for a moment and then pushed himself away, taking several steps backward until his body connected with the wall.

  “There’s my answer…so much for divine signs from God.” His father was probably smiling down in Hades, having one hell of a laugh at his son’s expense. “You win old man, you win. You miserable old goat.” He cursed his greatest enemy.

  “Time to go…hell, will I ever learn?” Simon propelled himself forward. “You’ll never learn.” He spoke bitterly, mimicking the husky drunken sound of his father’s voice. The squeaking of her door stilled his movement. Staring straight ahead, his heartbeat raced, and time miraculously stood still the moment his eyes locked with hers.

  Lilly.

  “I just wanted to talk…for a minute. I came by just to talk,” he stammered and waved his hand in surrender.

  “Come in, Simon.” Lilly held the door open and stepped aside. Afraid she might change her mind, Simon vaulted across her threshold. Lilly closed the door and leaned against it with her hands behind her back. She wore hip-hugging black flannel pajama bottoms and a matching sleeveless cotton t-shirt. Her hair was bound together in a ponytail and her face was free of makeup. Reacting to his scrutiny, she shyly touched her hair.

  “I wasn’t expecting company.” Her voice was breathless. Simon’s eyes slid from her face to her neck, dropping further down to her breasts. His breath caught as he observed the lift and fall of her chest and the indention in the material from the hardening of her nipples.

  “Don’t look at me like that.” Lilly rested her hand just below her ribcage.

  “Sorry,” he stammered.

  Once more, she nervously smoothed her hair back and then ran her fingers from the back of her neck to just under her chin. She folded her lower lip under the upper, released it, and then swiped the tender flesh with her tongue. Simon remembered the feel of her tongue caressing his cock while her fingers fondled his balls.

  He moaned as the memory slithered through his mind, so vivid and real. It sent a shiver down his spine. In his mind’s eye, Simon visualized the sight and his body came alive with feeling—the utter delight of her lips pressing against his engorged flesh, the rush that seized him while spilling his hot cream down her throat. Simon’s eyes narrowed as he pictured her tongue darting out, swiping her lips, then the corner of her mouth, removing all evidence of him from her face.

  “Cut it out, Simon. I mean it. Or get out.” Lilly didn’t ye
ll or scream at him, in fact, her voice was extremely calm and she was extraordinarily composed. “You said you came to talk.” Lilly didn’t move as Simon advanced on her; instead, she held his gaze with her own.

  “Follow me.” She stepped away just as he reached out for her. Lilly walked past Simon and led him into the living room. “Have a seat Simon. Let me turn this down.” She veered toward the stereo system.

  “Leave it.” He watched her pause and then smiled. “Still a fan?”

  “Always. However, Miss Lennox has served her purpose tonight.” Her response was incredibly soft spoken. He widened his gaze, but of course, with her back to him, she didn’t see the questioning stare. “I have a mixed disc here somewhere…classic soul, straight Philly, and a track or two of Memphis soul. Your favorite sounds, right? I remember I used to joke about your taste in music.”

  “Yeah.” He laughed nervously. “Sunday afternoon was Beer and Blues Sunday.” He expelled a long drawn out sigh while she rifled through the scattered discs. His heart pounded, and sweat broke out on his forehead.

  “Lord, the sad, sad songs you listened to.”

  “It was all about —” he began.

  “— the lyrics.” She finished his statement. “The words and the truth they conveyed.” He smiled at the first track that filled the room.

  These arms of mine...

  “Otis Redding.” Simon shook his head and could not help but smile as Otis spoke the words Simon couldn’t. Call it self-preservation coupled with fear; he did not want to risk having the welcoming atmosphere go south.

  He balled his fists, which were jammed in his pants pocket, and then flexed his fingers. He held his breath, afraid to utter another word lest he say the wrong thing and break the magical moment. Life had never been this easy, this simple. Where was the drama he had expected?

  “Bring back memories, Simon?” Smooth, so smooth and sexy and everything he had wanted. Six feet away stood his better half. Simon battled the urge to close the space between them. He swallowed audibly and locked his gaze on her. The best Simon could muster was a nod.