She finally whispers, “I want you too, Greg. You have no idea how much.”
Even though my jeans are around my shins now, I roll to my side and return my fingers between her legs, easily sinking them into her. “You’re fucking wet.”
I want to feel and hear her orgasm, knocking Ali’s and even Hadley’s out of my head. As I rub, Simone begs, “Don’t make me come yet.” Definitely doing something right.
Leaning into her, I kiss her as I keep fingering her but slow it some. My dick pushes against the bottom of her stomach. She shifts and I pull out my fingers, wondering what she tastes like. But before I try to find out, her hand goes to my dick, pushing down some until I’m against her pussy. I pant, “Fuck. This is torture.”
“How bad do you want me?”
“I’m going to blow my load all over you if we keep doing this.” I’ve been there before.
Her left hand buries into my stiff hair, and she smiles. “Like how you blew your load in your room after you saw me naked? Jesus Christ, Greg. Listening to you... I wanted you to fuck me then.”
Hearing that, I close my eyes as she teases the tip. Desire boils me alive, taking over anything else. I groan, “I can’t take this anymore. Where’s the rubber?” She picks it up and waves it in her hand. “I need to take off my jeans.”
Before I can sit up, Simone drops the condom on the bed and pushes me onto my back, pinning me with her upper body. Her bare tits rub against my shirt, and her nipples carve into it like broken glass. When her hands go to my wrists next to my head, my heart hammers. She whispers, “I knew you wanted it. I told you that you’d beg for my pussy. Now you can’t escape. You’ll be the one screaming.” She giggles, but nothing is funny. With her words, pinning me to the bed, and with my legs trapped in my jeans, like a tidal wave, panic demolishes the dam and drags me into the darkness below.
“What’s a matter, Greg? Can’t escape?”
Dizzy, I slurred, “Tasha? What’re you doing?”
“You don’t like getting your cock sucked? It sure looks like you want it.”
I squinted through the blurriness. But I clearly heard the laughing. Felt the mouth.
“Slow down, Brent. Save some for me. I’m the one he wanted, so I’m riding this big cock to the finish.”
As I did then, I urgently plead, “Get off me.”
“No. You’re all mine.” Simone laughs against my neck and then straddles me. She strokes my shaft against her pussy, moaning with more giggles. All I hear and see are those voices. The laughing. The helplessness. And now it’s happening again. I’m trapped. My thundering heart screeches to a hard stop.
“I said to get the fuck off me!” Frantic, I throw her off, and she bounces onto the bed while I spring off it, tugging up my underwear and jeans.
“Greg!”
My fingers shake as I tuck myself in and zip up my fly. I don’t bother with the button or the belt. When I grab my wallet, Simone smacks it out of my hand, yelping, “What the fucking hell?”
With pain choking me, I can’t speak. I try again for my wallet, but she jumps off the bed, blocking it altogether. “Fucking answer me! Did you just come here to see how much more you could torment me?”
I swiftly reach around her nakedness for my wallet, but she grabs my arm, and I jerk away from her. “Goddamn it, Greg Rodwell! You son of a bitch! That’s exactly what you did! You wanted to torture me all over again!”
“I don’t.” That’s all I can manage. She doesn’t know fucking torture.
“I trusted you, asshole! I took another chance on you because I thought you really wanted me this time! I’m such a damn idiot!” Simone looks down at herself, and she hurriedly snatches the small blanket at the end of her bed to cover herself up. After that, her tears are swift and vicious. “Oh, my God!” she wails into the blanket.
Finding some of my voice, I hoarsely argue, “And I was right not to trust you. You fucking trapped me. Set me up.”
She raises her head, sniffs, and then squeals, “Set you up? Trapped you? How? What did I do for you to hate me? I’ve done nothing but help you! I was a great friend to you! How can you even say shit like that to me? You just wanted to dick me around, hoping to get a good laugh out of it? Just to piss off my brother? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Every fucking thing!” I scream, digging my hands into my unbending hair. My tears are also swift and vicious. In front of Simone, I cry. The breathless kind where it’s uncontrollable. The kind where you gasp for air, or you’ll pass out.
Simone’s anger immediately disintegrates, along with the rest of my sanity. “Greg. God. What...? What happened to you?” She steps toward me, but I take two steps back.
“Don’t touch me! Fuck!”
“Tell me!”
“Goddamn it, Simone! Torture? You think you’re tortured? Do you want to hear how I let a guy suck my dick while others watched? Do you want to hear that? Hmm? Or would you rather hear how I let a girl fuck me right after him?”
Anger flares her again. “What the hell does this have to do with right now? I don’t want to hear about who you had sex with after what you just did to me! Is this more torture?” Again, she mocks me.
“It wasn’t sex! They fucking drugged me and held me down!”
Simone gasps, now panicked as I traverse the edge of a cliff, knowing I’m about to fall off. “Greg? Someone raped you?” The shame on her face is more than I can take.
“No! Don’t call it that!” Shaking my head as I cry, I struggle for more air, with the dam finally breaking.
Still wrapped in a blanket, Simone follows me in her room as I aimlessly pace. I can’t stay still. She gently says, “Okay. Were you forced into doing that?”
Sniffing, I turn around, almost knocking her over. I want to strangle her for yanking this confession from me. I was never telling a soul. But I’m so tired of fighting my ghosts. Alone. And even if Simone mocked me, I can’t hide my pain anymore. Through strangling sobs, I say, “I was 18. Night of graduation. At a friend of a friend’s house. Some classmates were there. I liked this girl. She found out. Thought I was a geek. A loser who needed to be taught a lesson. Someone spiked my beer. I passed out. I woke up and this guy... He...” My throat is tight, but I rasp, “Jesus Christ! I couldn’t stop him!”
“Did you tell anyone?”
“Who in the fuck was I going to tell? Huh? Being a man, I was supposed to be able to fight them off! But I couldn’t move because my limbs were heavy lead! And because a supposed friend held down my fucking arms! I had no control over my body! None! I even had an erection I didn’t want! How could I defend that? And they were damn minors, Simone! The four of them were only weeks or months from 18, but still! I was a goddamn legal adult! But I couldn’t stop kids from trapping me! While I cried, they laughed at me! They mocked me for not being strong enough!”
“Greg, they attacked you!”
“If a guy is hard, he isn’t really a victim, right? So, it was my fault! I must’ve wanted it!”
Simone cries, “No, you didn’t!”
With my hands still in my hair, I blink through the tears and see Simone still clutching the blanket to her naked body. Her face is red and wet. “I was a virgin. I didn’t... Until Shasta... I... Fuck.”
I chickened out with Hadley that night in the parking lot, not just because I was a substitute for Wilder, but because I didn’t know how to have sex. I was suddenly scared she’d figure it out, and it’d be that one time she laughed at me instead of with me. My sex education and experience came from that basement and porn, not from any relationship.
“I’m so sorry,” Simone shakily tells me between her own sobs. “Does Hadley know?”
Horrified, I whisper, “No. Don’t tell her. Jesus. You can’t tell anyone. Especially her.” Hadley thinks I lost my virginity to a girl named Jenna. She doesn’t exist.
“Never. But you should talk to a professional about it.”
Dropping my hands, I’m in her face. “My parent
s are goddamn psychologists! How do I tell my head-shrink dad a guy blew me and I apparently liked it? Christ! He’d lecture me about how I need to come out of the fucking closet! My sister teased me to no end about me liking boys, even though she had no idea what happened! I questioned everything about myself! I’m not gay! You have no fucking idea what it’s like! So, don’t tell me who I need to talk to, Simone Garrison!”
“He wouldn’t do that! Those monsters hurt you, Greg! Your body... That was a physiological response that happens with fear, trauma—”
“Shut the fuck up! I’m not telling my parents! I shouldn’t have told you! All you did was use me for a laugh!”
“What are you talking about? I wasn’t laughing at you! I was happy being with you!” She reaches out to me, but I haul myself out of the way as I fucking bawl again.
“I shouldn’t even be here!”
“I want to help you! I know your parents would help you too. They love you.”
I spin around, incensed. “What the hell do you know? You’re just a stupid college kid who fucks guys like Ricky Tesco and violates guys like me!”
As if I scorched her with a blowtorch, Simone’s entire body flinches, and when she speaks, her breath is shaky. “None of that is true. Why are you lashing out at me? I care about you.”
“Don’t go feeding me more fucking lies, Simone! I can’t believe I fell for your bullshit! And if you were smart, you’d know I was using you!” I lie, going for total destruction since Simone just crushed me. “It was all about your reputation and how fast you’d spread your damn legs! Record time! So, you know zilch!”
With her visibly trembling, the blanket falls, exposing the tit I had in my mouth minutes ago. My stomach churns, thinking of how she laughed at me soon after. Trapped me. Exposed me. “No, Greg! You don’t mean that!”
“I don’t? Really? You’re no different from that whore Shasta! Or those fucking kids in that basement 10 years ago!”
Simone gawks at me, stunned, but her tears keep falling. I want to apologize for everything I said, no matter what she did to me. Saying those things is not who I am.
Apparently, tonight, it is.
And I don’t say anything. Instead, she gapes at me, no longer with pity, but new contempt, which makes me cry more. She tearfully says, “I thought you were a nice person. A close friend. I thought we had a mutual trust. I thought you cared about me enough not to believe rumors. To defend me, not offend. But no. You were going to fuck me, believing I’m a whore, but still stuffing your dick into me anyway.” She sniffs, wiping her nose on the blanket. My first instinct is to hold her, but I won’t. “But what do I know since I’m just a stupid kid, Rod?”
The icy way Simone calls me that name twists at everything already warped inside me. I back further away from her, and between a new round of sobs, I mutter, “Shit. Just... I fucked up.” Since Simone is out of the way, I grab my wallet. “Jesus.”
On the way out of her room, I seize the beer off her dresser, needing something to wash her from my mouth. I hear Simone yell for me while I tear down the stairs and straight to my truck. Once there, I chug a mouthful of beer, swish it, and then spit on the cement. I fling the empty bottle to the metal trash can along the sidewalk, and it crashes sharp and loud.
Nobody fucking understands how much this has changed how I live. I can’t even accept a drink from someone I know without seeing it being poured or watching the drink the whole time. Aside from most of my family, the only person I trust to have an open, unguarded drink around is Hadley. I did make an exception when Hadley and I danced while Morgan and that jock itch watched us. For one, Morgan didn’t know I was going to be there, so not much forethought of her drugging my drink. Second, after dancing with Hadley the way we did, I fucking needed the alcohol.
Opening my door, the piercing, fresh pain of what just happened with Simone chokes me, and I hold onto the open door of my truck. She ripped out my goddamn beating heart. I wanted her. I fucking felt things for her. They were sudden, real, and terrifying. But she never wanted me. I’m a joke to her. Just like I am to everyone else. She not only wanted to use me and saw my fear as a punchline, but she broke the dam. I was never going to let what happened to me see the light of day. Saying all that mean shit to her was a necessity. I wanted to hurt Simone just like Hadley for not wanting me for me. Whoever that is now.
Why can’t I be loved? Just for one measly, fucking day if that’s all I get. Even if it’s pretend.
Rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hands, before backing out, I look up to Simone’s bedroom window. How could I have been so dense? How did I get it so wrong?
Glancing at the dash clock, I hang a left out of the parking lot, not going home. I need the one person who doesn’t judge or mock me and is by my side when I need it, even if it’s not always the way I need it.
SIMONE
The couch cushions have become my newest perch amongst the chaos surrounding me. Evaluating the mess of moving boxes, packing paper, and my life scattered on the floor, I sigh against my hand, pouting. I’ve never been the woe-is-me type. But I can’t eat, sleep, or think. Yet, none of them are new things for me. I’ve been suffering for a while now. It’s only recently become worse. All because of a fucking man.
And I have my brother to thank for that.
Since Finn brought him into my life, I’m a changed woman. All I want to know is what he’s doing, and with whom he’s doing it. For the past year, I’ve even sworn off sex. All for such a fucking dumb reason: I don’t want to cheat on him. Stupid, yeah. We’re not together, and he’s off banging whoever, whenever. I tried hooking up with an ex-boyfriend once last summer, but I stood him up because I was nauseous, thinking about being with anyone else.
So, it’s been no sex for me, unless I count my hand or vibrators getting me off in place of him, especially being around the object of my desire more during softball season. I’m regularly buying batteries. I even resorted to having the rug pulled out from under me—all waxed off since I’m down there so much. Yeah. It’s that serious. But it’s easier, and it feels so fucking good. I just wish it were his fingers touching me instead of mine.
It’s gotten so bad that one time I stayed in my car a little longer before practice, watching him walk around, pick up a bat, and lean against the fence. Mundane shit, but hot as fuck. Even parked across the street in the dirt lot, I sent my hand into my underwear, and five seconds later I was moaning his name as I came on my fingers in my car, still perving on him from afar.
It gets worse.
On the day of our last game, he looked particularly hot in his jeans and team shirt. I was so wet I thought I peed my damn pants. In my car, I again had my hand in my sweatpants, but I had to cover my lap with a jacket, go slower, and keep a relatively straight face since more people were hanging around for the game. I fucked myself again in public, imagining it was him inside me. With Finn and I having different fathers, I had to borrow some Wilder courage or stupidity. Right afterward, I touched this guy with that hand. That only made me cream all over again.
I even tried to grab his attention with how I dressed. Since I wouldn’t see him for a while after our last game, I tripled my effort. I wore flirty pigtails, my sexiest perfume, and my tightest sweats. He didn’t notice.
I cut my damn hair. Only then did he notice something about me, which only lasted three seconds.
Why haven’t I told this guy how I feel? Just put it all out there? Because I’ve tested the waters. He’s not given one indication that he’s attracted to me at all. He only sees me as Finn Wilder’s little sister, no matter how often I fling myself at him.
For that reason, thinking about him only upsets me more, especially since the bar fiasco. I saw that woman standing close to him at the pool table. Even Hadley was worried.
A knock on the door boots me from my own pity party. Who in the hell could that be this late? Only a handful of people know where I live now.
Going to the door, I flip the curtain as
ide, hopeful, but when I see who it is, I’m disappointed and somewhat perplexed. Turning the locks and opening the door, I sigh. “Oh. It’s you.”
“Well, thanks, girl. I’m happy to see you too.” Ricky shuts the door and follows me into the living room.
Turning to him, I ask, “I thought you were at the Halloween party?” I cross my arms underneath my boobs, remembering I’m only wearing a pink camisole underneath my white T-shirt. So, no matter what I do—hide them behind my arms or leave them hanging out to dry—I’m in an awkward situation.
“I was. Suit?” He motions to his dark blue get-up. The last time I saw him in a suit was Finn and Hadley’s wedding last year. His unruly dark hair is tamed into a boring style, which isn’t Ricky’s norm.
“Is that an actual costume or did you just come from a funeral?”
He laughs, shaking his head at me. “I’m Richmond’s newest star sportscaster. The current one became a cop. So weird.” Ricky touches my arm. “Come on, admit it. I fit the part a thousand times better than big brother. Don’t you think?”
Distracted, I mumble, “Sure. Nice.”
“Damn. Don’t get all hot and bothered for me or anything.”
“Double nice.” Holding my breath, I say, “So...”
“So...”
I impatiently glare at him. “Don’t dick around with me, Tesco.”
Again, Ricky laughs. “Your mouth...” He licks his lips, staring at mine, and I hug my arms tighter around me, suddenly feeling naked. “Fine. What do you want to know?”
“Was he there?”
“Maybe.”
Now that I know that, I’m glad. Then sad. “Oh. Was he there with someone?”
“No.”
“What was he dressed up as?”
“Nothing really.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Here. I took a picture as I was leaving. He didn’t see me do it.”
I take the phone, and when I see him, my heart flutters. And then it drops. He’s so hot, and he doesn’t even know it. I hand the phone back to Ricky. “Thanks.”
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