Hurt the One You Love Read online

  Elliott looked into her eyes. He cupped the back of her neck and pulled her close to him for a deep, lingering kiss that took her breath away. "No. Never. Tell me how it feels."

  He walked her back toward the bed, where he settled her on the edge of it. He pushed her legs open and knelt between them. He ran a thumb over her damp panties and pushed the silk to one side, exposing her.

  "It hurts. But everything is centered there, now. In my nipples. Like everything in my body, my blood, everything, is all flowing into my nipples."

  "Not here?" He flicked her clit. Then pinched it lightly.

  Simone groaned, head falling back as her hips shifted forward. "That feels good, too."

  "And this?" He smacked her clit sharply.

  Laughing, gasping, Simone managed to say, "Yes. Oh. God, yes."

  He tugged a little bit on the clothespins, one at a time, as he slid two fingers inside her. Simone went molten. She writhed. When he bent to flick his tongue along her clit, she shuddered. Her cunt bore down on his fingers, and she thought she was going to come, but he stopped moving just before she did.

  "Tell me what you want, Simone."

  "Oh, fuck, Elliott, I want you to fuck me."

  "You want to come?"

  She gave another breathless laugh. "Yes. That, too."

  "I want to make you come," Elliott said, reaching to tug again at one of the clothespins, then the other, until Simone let out a low, guttural shout. "From this."

  When he withdrew his fingers, she let out a frustrated whimper. "Evil."

  Elliott gave her a half smile, tilting his head to study her as though he wasn't sure just what to make of her. "You are so beautiful, Simone. You know that?"

  Her first response was to say 'of course.' To play along with him, to keep up the front of self-confidence. But something in the way he'd said it brought emotions surging into her throat stinging the backs of her eyes, and she nodded, silent.

  "I've been with a lot of women," he began, and at her snort, he kissed her quiet. "None of them liked . . . this."

  Another tug on her nipples had her writhing and moaning. "I fucking love it."

  "I know you do. And I want to give it to you. I want to make you come so hard," Elliott murmured, "you won't be able to stand for a week."

  All she could do was smile.

  "Tell me what you want," Elliott said. "Tell me what to give you."

  Simone got up from the bed and went to his dresser. Curled in the top drawer was his collection of belts. In leather. One black, one brown. A blue belt of some webbed fabric. That wouldn't do. She took the black belt, feeling the smooth leather in her fingers. She smelled it, closing her eyes at the scent.

  She brought it to him. Held it out. Elliott took it, looking at it with narrowed eyes.

  "You don't have a cane or a whip or a flogger," she told him. "But this will work."

  She turned and put her hands on the edge of the dresser, a highboy that stood nearly as tall as him. She spread her fingers wide apart. She looked at him over her shoulder.

  "When fingers are spread apart, I'm ok. If I need you to ease off, I'll close them. Like this." She demonstrated, then gave her head a tiny shake. "I won't need to close them."

  She turned around. Elliott snapped the belt between his fists. He drew in a short breath.

  "You sure about this?"

  "I want it, Elliott. I want it from you."

  He let the leather slide down her back. Simone breathed. Waiting for the pain. Everything about her felt swollen. Ready. Waiting. Her clit pulsed. Her cunt ached, empty without his fingers or cock inside her. She pushed her ass back toward him a little, spreading her legs to show him her wet panties.

  "Don't use the buckle," she told him with a laugh, her eyes closed, head bent.

  "I haven't beaten a woman with my belt before, Simone. That doesn't mean I don't have any clue about how to do it."

  She breathed a shuddery, drawn-out sigh. "Ah. Porn?"

  His laugh answered that for her. "Shhh."

  She hushed.

  She waited.

  This moment, before the real pain came, was always both the best and the worst. The rising anticipation. She forced herself not to hold her breath. Not to tense. She forced herself to be patient, though that had never been her nature.

  The first smack was too soft. She'd have laughed aloud if she hadn't been sure that would hurt his feelings too much. He ran a hand over her back, as though testing the mark he'd left, and that sent another spate of shivers all through her.

  "Tell me why you like the pain," Elliott said, and hit her.

  Hard.

  "Oh, fuck," she said. "Oh, because . . . because . . ."

  Again.

  "Because when it hurts all I can think about is that!" Simone cried. "And when all I can think about is that, everything else falls away and I can get lost in feeling good...!"

  Again the belt came down on her bare skin, and Elliott may never have beaten a woman with his belt before, but he sure as fuck knew how to go about doing it just right. Over and over, each blow placed just a little lower than the first, though he stayed far away from her lower back, where hitting her kidneys would've done more than make her hurt for a little while.

  The pain built until she thought she couldn't stand it anymore, but there was always just a little more that she could take. Every so often, Elliott paused to pass a hand down her back, as though testing the welts. And then, once, he kissed her shoulder where it hurt particularly bad.

  She gasped at the pressure of his lips on flesh gone so sensitive all it took was the brush of his mouth to send a fresh wave of pleasure pain through her. His hand slid between her legs. Fingers inside, though not touching her clit, and he didn't move them. Not even to stroke in and out of her.

  "I want to feel it when you come," he told her.

  "Kiss me there again."

  He did.

  She came. Hard enough to weaken her knees. Yes. Hard enough that her fingers slipped and scrabbled on the edge of the dresser when she almost fell from the force of it. Turning her, Elliott caught her up and found her mouth with his. He kissed her hard enough to bruise her lips while his fingers stayed deep inside her, and she came and came and came.

  Trembling, breathless, feeling a little woozy and sick, Simone shook in his arms. She clung to him and wept, not from fear or pain, but from simple, sheer release. Elliott scooped her up and carried her to the bed, where he sat down and cradled her on his lap.

  Simone tucked her head against him, letting herself come down from all of it. His cock had softened, though when she shifted on his lap it gave a flattering throb. She reached between them to stroke him as best she could.

  "I want you to feel good, too," she whispered.

  Elliott tensed for a second. Then gave an embarrassed laugh. "Um."

  Surprised, Simone pushed away a little to look at him. "You . . . did?"

  "You were so sexy," he told her, not looking her in the eyes.

  She took his chin in her hand and turned him until he met her gaze. "Elliott. Did you come in your pants when you were beating me with that belt?"

  He smiled.

  She smiled, too, and kissed him. Then she let him hold her close while neither of them said anything else.

  Elliott woke to full daylight and the smell of coffee and bacon. His sheets had tangled around his feet, and he tossed around in bed for a moment or so, disoriented. Wincing at the ache in his shoulder muscles, everything from last night--hell, it had been only a few hours ago, really--came back to him. He sat straight up in bed.

  "Shit," he said aloud. "Simone."

  She was downstairs wearing the dress she'd worn when she’d showed up on his doorstep, but over it she wore one of his dress shirts, half unbuttoned and tied at the waist. Her wet hair lay sleek against her head, and she turned a fresh scrubbed face toward him when he came into the kitchen.

  "I'm making some breakfast. You know you have like, nothing in your fridge, right