Hannah lay down beside her and was unnaturally still for a long moment before expelling a ragged-sounding breath.
“Do you hate me, Willow?”
“Do you want me to?” Willow answered with a flat question.
“No,” Hannah said.
Her voice sounded quivery, as if she was crying. Willow was only half-tempted to turn around and see if she was, but she didn’t really want to know so she remained motionless. If Hannah was crying, Willow figured it was just part of the game—the game she never once agreed to play and had yet to be explained the rules.
“I’m sorry, I overreacted,” Hannah sniffed. “I told you it was my first time.”
“Oh my God, Hannah,” Willow snarled. “Even if that was true, people lose their virginity every day without going ape shit.”
“I’m not like everybody else.”
“I’m sorry,” Willow hissed sarcastically. “I forgot—you’re Hannah Fairbanks. What was I thinking?”
“I’m not talking about my career,” Hannah cried. “I’m talking about the fact that I’m a hermaphrodite. I have spent my entire life trying to conceal what I am, and now you know. It was a bad moment, but you fucking promised me you wouldn’t fall apart.”
“A bad moment,” Willow growled as she finally rolled over to face Hannah. “A bad moment? You destroyed everything I’ve worked on since November. You stole a section of my life. And you dare to call that a bad moment?”
“Yes, it was a bad moment,” Hannah affirmed as she reached for a tissue from the bedside stand. “I fucked up, and I’m sorry.”
“Oh well, I guess that makes it better,” Willow retorted flippantly as she closed her eyes.
“No, it doesn’t—because you don’t understand.”
“I don’t want to understand. At this point, it wouldn’t make a difference,” Willow said.
“Don’t say that,” Hannah cried. “You have no idea how it feels to be so certain about who and what you are only to realize it is a lie every time you see yourself without clothes. I despise that part of myself. For a moment, I hated you for seeing the truth. I wanted to punish you for seeing as I am, but I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Willow kept her eyes closed, shutting Hannah out. She didn’t want to let her in once again. Everything about Hannah’s voice sounded so different, yet familiar, and then Willow remembered this was the Parisian Hannah, not the high-fashion supermodel, but the commonly attired sightseer. Last night, Willow had caught glimpses of her underneath the controlled, polished veneer. Now, here she was back in her full glory. Willow couldn’t help but question the timing. Did Hannah somehow know that this unguarded, vulnerable side was the part that attracted her the most? If so, was this just part of the game?
Tortured and confused, Willow didn’t know how to proceed, although she could accept Hannah’s words as truth. Never having experienced any gender-identity issues, as she knew she was a woman and had all the necessary parts, she understood how that might be confusing, but Hannah’s imbalance went beyond the surface. There was more to the story, and Willow knew she couldn’t be a pawn in a game she didn’t understand without losing a piece of her soul.
“What is the game, Hannah?”
“The game…” Hannah started unsteadily, “…started a long time ago. I was born in a small town in Siberia. I know nothing about my either of biological parents other than the fact I was surrendered to the state at three days old. Sometimes I tell people that my mommy was a whore because it was true about many of the other children in the orphanage. She may have been, I don’t know. Or, more than likely, they took one look at me, couldn’t figure what I was, and gave me away.”
“My name was Sasha then, and I lived there until I was seven years old. I was always separated from the other children. I had my own room, my own bath time. The other children realized there was something wrong and didn’t want anything to do with me. Some of the workers were very cruel and called me an it.”
“And then one day a young, glamorous couple arrived from America. I couldn’t understand a word of what they said, but when the translator told me, I think I must have fell in love with them because they were the first people in my entire life that had ever called me a little girl. New daddy said that they had searched all over the world, and that I was the perfect little girl. They took me to their beautiful home in Austin where I had a playroom filled with dolls. Everything was so enchanted, like living a fairy tale, until new daddy wanted to start taking my picture. I didn’t like the kind of pictures he took, but whenever I cried, new mommy would scream and rage. She would throw away all my toys, and say I was a horrible, selfish little brat. Whenever I was very stubborn, she would take my clothes and put them in the litter box so I would have to go to school smelling like cat urine. Whenever the school officials called her in, she was all smiles and charm. She said that they were doing their best, but I had abandonment and social issues because of my time in the orphanage. They always believed her, too. Eventually, I would give in and let new daddy take my picture.”
“After a few years, I discovered that new daddy belonged to secret club of perverts, and a few of them were so taken by my photographs that they offered money to see me in person. I had to let them look at me naked and fondle me because if I didn’t, new mommy would threaten to kill me. I think that is what she always wanted to do. She never wanted me, and by then she didn’t love new daddy either. She was a horrible, miserable drunk.”
“One of the perverts was a photographer from New York City. Unlike the others that wanted to touch me, he just wanted to take my picture. I started to take off my clothes, but he stopped me. He said he didn’t want a picture of my crotch. It was my face he was after. A few weeks later, he came to my school. He told me he had found an agent that wanted to represent me. I left that very second, before they could stop me. I didn’t come home until after they had been murdered.”
Hannah paused in her story to look over Willow and found silent tears streaming down her cheeks. She reached out and tried to wipe away the tears but new ones slipped from her closed lids. “Why are you crying?” she whispered.
Why was she crying? Willow was crying because she realized just how fucked up Hannah truly was. No amount of hearts and rainbows would ever fix her shredded psyche. She was irrevocably broken. Willow was crying because she knew despite all of that she was falling in love with her. She was crying because she recognized that no matter how badly she wanted to stay, Hannah would, in all probability, push her away, and when it happened, Willow wouldn’t be whole again.
Willow opened her eyes and caught Hannah’s hand. Holding it against her cheek, she asked, “Did you murder them?”
Hannah blinked in surprise. “No, I already told you I was away at the time.”
“Hannah, you can tell me the truth.”
Hannah swallowed before answering, “They were evil people. Both of them. If they couldn’t have me, they would find someone else. Prison wasn’t enough.”
“The game?” Willow questioned. “You never stopped playing with dolls, did you?”
Considering all she had confessed, Willow shouldn’t have been surprised, but she was when Hannah admitted, “No, I haven’t.”
“New mommy said it wasn’t normal for a girl my age to keep playing. My only regret in leaving was that I hadn’t been able to bring them with me. My career skyrocketed almost from the moment the plane landed in New York. I hadn’t even been there a week before I was being booked for cover shots. Pierre Andre, the photographer, and my agent, Margaret Harper, were both fabulous in helping me adjust and find an apartment, but I was only sixteen. I didn’t know people recognized my name, let alone my face. One day I went to a toy store, and I was suddenly surrounded by this crowd of strangers. It scared me so I called Margaret as soon as I got home. When I told her what happened, she started berating me, asking me what on earth I was doing in a toy store. I was being marketed as a young adult, not a child model. I didn’t go back, but I fel
t very alone without them. After I had been in the city for a few months, I was invited to this ultra-posh, museum exhibit opening. I spent the evening chatting with this very lovely woman, Lindsey. At the end of the night, she gave me her business card. It turns out Lindsey was a high-end prostitute who was readily available for a variety of pleasures. A few nights later, I called her up. She came over and let me play, and after she left, for a while, I didn’t feel so alone. Over the years, I’ve hired numerous prostitutes, and occasionally I’ve met women elsewhere. Sometimes they turned into long-term arrangements.”
“Why did they end?” Willow questioned.
“They always wanted more than I was willing to give,” Hannah said.
Sex, love—Willow assumed Hannah’s dolls wanted the whole package. After being dazzled by Hannah’s undivided attention, it was easy to understand why these women fell in love with her. Magnetic, charismatic, beautiful beyond words, even at her worst Hannah was a temptation. At her best, she was irresistible.
“Did you want me to be your next doll?” Willow asked.
“In the beginning, yes,” Hannah admitted.
The idea of being molded into some soulless plaything was inherently revolting. Trying to maintain a clear perspective, Willow sat up. Crossing her legs, she reached for the pillow and held it against her chest.
“But I knew it wouldn’t work before our first interview,” Hannah said as she sat up beside her. She tentatively reached out and stroked Willow’s spine. “Your portfolio was very revealing. I knew you would never be a doll, but it didn’t matter. I just wanted to be with you.”
Willow glanced over warily. “And now?”
“You have to ask,” Hannah said with a shy smile. “I asked you to run away with me in Paris. Isn’t it obvious? I fell in love with you, Willow.”
Willow’s eyes drifted shut, blocking out the onslaught of tumultuous emotions. Thrilled, ecstatic—how many people lived their whole lives just wishing to hear those words once, spoken by someone who truly meant it? And Hannah was earnest, Willow had no doubt. Almost from the start, Hannah revealed she had a thousand pieces of her personality, like the most precious cut diamond, each surface so filled with shine and glitter it almost burnt the eyes. In that moment Willow knew, felt with her whole being, Hannah was utmost sincere, but what did it mean? It was like asking a person born blind to describe the greatest piece of art; their interpretations would no doubt be very different. Beyond anything, she felt fear.
“I’m afraid,” Willow whispered.
“Of what? Of me?” Hannah asked incredulously. “I swear I will never hurt you again.”
Frantically, Hannah crawled over and then sat on her knees in front of Willow. She reached for her face, but Willow pulled her hands down and held them steady in front of them. “Willow, please,” Hannah begged as fresh tears filled her eyes. “It was a mistake, a very bad mistake, and I’m sorry, but people fuck up all the time. Did Kate tell you what Sam did? He left her dying in the hospital to snort every drug known to man for four months across two continents. And if a bitch like her can forgive him, surely you could forgive me?”
“I’m not Kate.”
“Thank God for that,” Hannah declared dramatically through her tears as she pulled her hands free and brought them back to Willow’s face.
“I don’t know what you want from me.”
Hannah scooted closer. Resting her forehead against Willow’s, she whispered against her lips, “I just want you.”
“Hannah,” Willow moaned softly in denial.
“Please, Willow,” Hannah punctuated against her mouth.
Chapter 14
Willow remained very still as she breathed Hannah in. Her soft lips fluttered against her mouth. She tried to deny it. The very last thing she wanted, or needed, was to get sucked into the middle of Hurricane Hannah. The forecasters had been spot-on, the evacuation orders given. Standing on the edge, she was only a few scant heartbeats away from the point of no return. Then she felt her tongue lick softly against the seam of her closed mouth, and Willow was lost. Giving in, Willow surrendered to all of Hannah—her beauty, her ugliness, her savaged soul, knowing that she could never escape unscathed.
Once Hannah felt Willow’s resistance falter, she pulled her in her arms. With Willow’s arms and legs wrapped around her waist, Hannah stretched out her legs. Although she wanted to savor the moment, she couldn’t get her out of the pajamas fast enough. Frustrated by her impatience, she ripped the final buttons apart. The shirt was eagerly tossed to the floor. Finally, she could touch her, feel her silken flesh. Reaching between their bodies, Hannah palmed Willow’s breast. Her rosy nipples grew hard as she circled them with her thumbs. Pulling her lips away, Hannah began kissing down the column of Willow’s neck.
Willow, just as fervent, worked the buttons on Hannah’s nightshirt. Once it was gone, her hands explored Hannah’s back, her shoulders. “We don’t have to do this like last night,” she whispered.
Hannah pulled back to look at Willow. Her breath was coming as a series of heavy exhales and inhalations. “You don’t want to?” she questioned.
“Oh no, it’s not that,” Willow quickly denied. “Last night was wonderful. You were fabulous, but if it makes you uncomfortable, there are other ways we could make love—if you wanted to explore your other side.”
“Hmm,” Hannah murmured as she moved closer and dipped her head to taste Willow’s collarbone. Looking up, she flashed her electric blue eyes. “You want to fuck me.”
“Maybe,” Willow said. “I could, if you wanted me to.”
“As intriguing as your offer is, and believe me, I’m very intrigued, I am, or was until last night, probably the most sexually repressed person on the face of this earth, and I don’t own any dildos.”
“I don’t need any toys,” Willow said confidently.
“Is that so?” Hannah questioned with a laugh and then grew serious. “It won’t go away. I tried once, you know.”
Baffled, Willow leaned back this time. “What are you talking about?”
“After I made my first million, I went to most renowned gender assignment clinic in Europe. I passed all the tests with flying colors—except one. The chief psychiatrist didn’t feel I was emotionally stable enough to consent for the procedure.”
“I wouldn’t…” Willow flustered. “I mean, I would never…well, what I’m trying to say is that I would never want you to do something to your body unless you were doing it for yourself. I know you hate that part, but I think it is just as beautiful as the rest of you.”
“Even though it makes me part man?” Hannah asked.
“I don’t think of you as any less of a woman than I did last night or the day before,” Willow answered. “You’re more like a lesbian with a built-in strap-on.”
“So, I’m a lesbian now,” Hannah giggled.
“Well, you will be when once you let me fuck you. Unless, you’re afraid of being shown up by an intern?”
“You’re very confident of your sexual prowess.”
“This ain’t my first rodeo,” Willow said cockily as she adjusted herself on Hannah’s lap.
Reaching for her face, Willow opened her mouth against Hannah’s lips and drew her tongue inside. Leaning into the hot, wet kiss, she gently pushed Hannah back onto the mattress. She took a long moment enjoying the taste and feel of Hannah’s tongue before licking her way down towards her breasts. For a woman with an inordinate amount of testosterone coursing through her veins, her breasts were very lovely and full, if not somewhat disproportional with the rest of her long, lean form, but Willow thought they were perfect. They looked perfect, tasted even better, and, best of all, were incredibly sensitive. Even the lightest lick had Hannah peeling herself off the mattress as she arched up for more.
Not wanting a repeat of last night’s freak out, Willow reached for Hannah’s hands and placed them on her pajama pants. While Hannah peeled them off her long legs, Willow explored her navel with her tongue. Once Hanna
h was settled once again against the mattress, she looked up and met her stare.
“What do you want me to do?” Willow asked seductively.
Hannah smiled lazily and then purred, “You’re the one that threw down the gauntlet, cowgirl.”
Willow winked before she scooted down. Her fingertips sashayed back and forth down a line from her belly bottom to the top of pubic hair, which was the very same platinum shade as the hair on top of her head. Against her alabaster skin, it almost appeared white.
“I thought all blonds were brunette down below,” Willow whispered against her thigh.
“Not all,” Hannah murmured. “I’m one hundred percent natural, never been bleached or altered.”
Hannah’s cock was beginning to swell to life, but Willow dipped her head lower, ignoring the growing appendage. Just below, her tongue reached up into the folds. With her hands and mouth, she explored and discovered the hidden, wet, slippery entrance. Hannah was so unbelievably tight she could only fit her pinkie finger inside before she heard her gasp.
“Does this hurt?” Willow asked, concerned.
“No.”
“Do you want more?”
“Yes,” Hannah moaned.
Although she wasn’t inexperienced, this was certainly all very new to Willow. She very much wanted to give Hannah pleasure here while avoiding her hard cock. Selfishly, she didn’t want to ignore it. Last night, it had felt beyond wonderful inside her, unlike anything she had ever experienced before, but this was important to Hannah. Unfortunately, Willow wasn’t quite sure how to do this without a clitoris and with Hannah’s pussy being so tight, she might not be able to find her G-spot, if she even had one, but she persevered. Patiently, she slowly stretched her tiny cunt, and after several long moments realized she must be stroking some magic spot because Hannah’s hips began to sway and rock. Feeding fuel to the fire, Willow’s fingers began to dance in an undulating, erotic rhythm, and Hannah, soon after, screamed, “Fuuuck!”
When she climbed back up, Hannah was looking at her with a silly grin.
Crazy Bitch (Bitches and Queens) Page 9
