Finding Willow (Hers)

by Dawn Robertson

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Copyrights

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from This Girl Stripped

  About the Author

  Excerpt from Welcome to Sugartown

  FINDING WILLOW

  Copyright 2013 Dawn Robertson

  All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the Author. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Finding Willow is dedicated to all those who continue to support me despite wanting to quit on a daily basis.

  To the haters and the critics for making me a better writer.

  To the bloggers who have helped put me on the map!

  S&M's Book Obsession, Seductive Romance Reviews, Mean Girls Luv Books, Amber’s Reading Room, Stephanie’s Book Reports, and SO many more… If I forgot you specifically I will make it up to you!

  To the authors who inspire me.

  To my family for dealing with me.

  To Uncle Si for making it on like Donkey Kong.

  To My Little Pony.

  Shoutlines Designs, Rachel Mizer, Sarah Daltry, Brandelyn Harris… have they cued on the music to kick me off stage yet?

  To my mom for giving birth to me.

  To my sister for inspiring me to live.

  To all the hot bikers in my life.

  TO ALL THE READERS!

  Every last one of you!

  I love you all!

  -Rock on!

  Nearly eleven years ago

  I look down at the crying newborn lying on my naked chest. It’s warm, wet, covered in blood, and screaming, but I’m not bothered. This is my baby. This is the baby I have grown in my body for nine months. This is the baby I nurtured. I love it. I could never hate my own baby, despite the circumstances through which it was created.

  “Merry Christmas! It's a girl,” the nurse exclaims while they rub the baby’s tiny body down. They scrub all the fluids off of her. Her cries turn into little whimpers and soon, she is rooting for my breast. Finding it with ease, she starts to suckle and, for the first time in my life, I feel love. I love this little girl more than life itself. I love my daughter. I love Willow.

  As she nurses, I examine every feature on her plump little face. Her lips are full, her cheeks are chubby and squishy, a small dimple graces the right side of her face, and, as her eye lids flutter, I can see the smallest bit of blue leading me to believe she has her father's eyes.

  Her father.

  That fucking sack of shit.

  All those years ago, I’d thought I loved Blue James, my best friend's older brother by thirteen some odd years. He was the bad boy everyone swooned over. I always thought it was a rite of passage to crush on your best friend's brother.

  I always assumed he wanted me, and only me, because of the way he had touched me for so many years. The memories I would never shed. The feel of his rough hands exploring my tiny body. It went on for years.

  When I was sixteen, he came on to me as a woman for the first time. I never realized his love for me as a child was overstepping boundaries. We used to mess around, but I always stopped it before it went too far. I was a virgin, and nobody knew I was completely in love with his little sister, and my best friend, Seven. She was my everything. My entire world. No matter what happened, she was there for me. I just wanted to explore a man as much as I explored Seven.

  When Blue discovered that there was more to my friendship with his sister than met the eye, he took what he wanted. He claimed his territory. He took my virginity.

  He didn't ask or plead. He raped me. Took something I would never have given him. He led me to believe it was my fault. I’d led him on, and a man so much older than me had needs. I couldn't mess around with him without finishing him off. He was the first man I’d been with, and the only man for a long time.

  Now, the result of our on-again, off-again tryst lies in my arms, nursing at my breast. I want to cling to her, never let her go. However, in two days she will no longer be my baby. My parents, along with Blue’s, found a couple in a neighboring commune to adopt her. My Willow is going to live with strangers. Newcomers to this way of life. It breaks my heart even to think about it, but I can’t raise her. Neither can her father. And, while he might technically be an adult, I am still merely a child.

  She deserves a fair chance at life, not the careless, nomad existence I was raised with. That is all I’d ever be able to provide.

  I run my finger along her cheek and continue to admire her features. She is the epitome of perfection, and I find it so hard to believe that I made her. She’s a piece of me that I will love forever. I keep telling myself I agreed to give her up out of love. I just wish I would finally start to believe it.

  The two days fly by in a blur of baby cuddles and visiting parents. Each time they visit the hospital, I hate them a little more. I hate that I can't pick up the phone and call my best friend, because the truth of the matter is that she has no idea I even had a baby. I never told her I was pregnant. She would worry. She would leave behind her dream of college, and a career. I just couldn't do that to her. She means far too much.

  Blue never came. He never showed up at the hospital. He never met his daughter, his own fucking flesh and blood. I thought I’d hated him over the years, but now I know my feelings back then were nothing compared to the way I absolutely detest him now. How could you be so uninterested in your own child? But then again, he’s just like his parents, and my own: selfish. The apple really didn't fall very far from the tree in his case.

  My mother appears in the doorway, and a strange couple stands next to her. I know it’s time. Time to let them take my baby. Time to let go of my dream of a happily ever after.

  The couple is older, in their early forties maybe. The woman has a warm and tender smile as she cautiously follows my mother. I cling to Willow, holding her tight against my chest. My engorged breasts ache. My stomach feels deflated. My soul is on the verge of being gutted.

  Everyone in the room is smiling, but me. Because I am the only one who is going to lose out.

  “Star, this is Raine and Jeff Driscoll,” my mother introduces us, but I don't look up from Willow's beautiful pouting face. The woman steps closer. That’s when I notice her striking green eyes. They are warm and loving. I know that look, because it’s the look Seven has given me for the longest time. My defenses start to come down, because in my heart, I know Willow will be taken care of and loved, unlike me.

  I slowly place a kiss on her newborn forehead and pass her to Raine. I don't want to watch them leave with her.

  I swing my legs off the side of the hospital bed and creep across the room to the bathroom. I lock the door and turn on the shower. The tears come as soon as I hear the click of the hospital room door.

  My baby is gone, and I will never see her again.

  I cry harder and harder.

  I made a mistake. I want her back.

  It’s too late. She is gone.

  Ten Years and so
me months later

  “Oh, yeah. Right there.”

  I squirm under her touch. Her tongue runs over my clit and a shock sails through my body. I’m on the brink of orgasm. Her soft fingers reach up and pinch my puckered nipple, and that’s all I need. “Mmmmmm, baby. So good. So good. Oh, your mouth is perfection on my cunt.”

  My orgasm crashes over me in waves of pleasure. Her mouth continues working my wet pussy, licking up every drop of my release. Her green eyes look up from between my legs. God, she is gorgeous, I can't help but think. What the fuck is her name again? Brooke? Paige? Shit, I think it’s Tammy? Oh, well. I'll just go with a generic term of endearment. You can't go wrong with that.

  “You like my cunt, baby?”

  Her moan vibrates against my nipple as her mouth trails up my body. “Fuck me, Star,” she whimpers against my skin, and that is all the encouragement I need. I reach for the strap-on lying unused on the bedroom nightstand, and I strap it between my legs. I slide down her body until my mouth is flush with her perfectly waxed pussy, and I lick up and down her folds before positioning the rubber cock at her entrance.

  I run the tip of the dick up and down her lips, teasing her clit, before finally plunging deep into her.

  “Oh God!” she gasps in between her throaty moans. “Right there! Yeah, baby! That's the spot!”

  The harder I fuck her, the more the strap-on rubs my aching clit, and the more my body is ready for release again as I take out my fucked-up life on the pussy of this twenty-one-year-old extra in my latest film. The more I think about her, the more I realize she’s me, seven years ago. Using sex with anyone and anything to get out of her own head for a couple hours. I can't even hate her, because I am doing the same thing at the moment. But damn, she is a fucking fantastic distraction.

  “You like that? You like it when I fuck you?” I whisper into her ear, and I feel her body start to shake under my touch. Her mouth opens and scream after scream exits as she gasps for air in between each shout. One last thrust into her, and my swollen nub sets me off. I collapse against her gorgeous set of tits, and I feel content for the first time all day.

  I roll off of her, reaching for the robe beside the bed. Without making eye contact, whatever her name is slips back into the barely there black dress she had on when I picked her up after filming and struts out the door. She doesn't look back. We both knew what we came here for, and we got it.

  As my body still recovers from the aftershocks of the orgasm, I sprawl out across the lonely king size bed. Maybe one day someone will stay the night?

  I'm at a loss in life. I look over at the nightstand next to my bed; it’s strewn in shit. Cell phone, condoms, lube, my journal, Hostess cupcake wrappers, a couple empty bottles of soda, and, of course, an empty Gray Goose bottle. I love vodka. If you drink enough of it, life goes away. The memories disappear. The pain subsides. That is, until the alcohol isn't enough.

  That’s typically when I start snorting coke. A line here and there never killed anyone. It takes away the pain that the vodka won't. Yeah, I’m fucked up. My life has been fucked up, ever since the first time he touched me.

  That first time, I was eight, and afraid. My parents left for a night full of partying, sticking my best friend, Seven, and me with her older brother, Blue. It wasn't anything we weren't used to growing up. In fact, our parents were rarely around at all, so we just grew used to it.

  Seven had fallen asleep, leaving me with the twenty-one-year-old man. Looking back, who would leave a man that age watching two little girls? Big brother or not, it wasn't right. My story proves that.

  We watched some Disney movie, sitting side-by-side on the couch together. I didn't notice the bulge in his pants, but then again what fucking eight-year-old little girl would even look at a man's crotch? I wasn't naïve. I knew what sex was. Only because our parents were so whoreish about it, though. Kind of like I am today. I could have lived an entire lifetime blocking out all those memories. Which I did for almost a fucking decade. Until I decided therapy would be smart. Hypno-fucking-therapy. I'm just glad I don't remember shit else.

  “Star, I want to show you something,” Blue said as he reached into his pants.

  “What is it?” I asked innocently. My attention drifted between his movements and The Little Mermaid. I really liked Ariel; her bright red hair made her so unique. I was blonde, like a lot of people. I wasn’t unique. I didn't stand out.

  “Look, Star.”

  His words were gentle, soft almost. Blue had never been this nice to me or to Seven. That was when I noticed. He didn't have any pants on. They were gone.

  His... his... oh my! His boy parts were in his hand.

  “Look, honey,” he cooed at me. “Why don't you touch it? Don't be afraid, Star.”

  That’s how it all began. Acceptance. Love. A misplaced need to be cherished by another person. I didn't know until years later that what he was doing was horrible. It was bad. It was something no one should ever do to a child. Fucking ever. But it happened to me, and it tainted me for life. I was a carefree little girl until Blue ruined me, and still continues to ruin me to this day.

  Maybe I’m just as fucked up as everyone says I am, because I let him in my life. And when he calls, I willingly fuck him with everything I have.

  I don't think I will ever know why, but I do know that what he did to me is exactly why I chose to make a career out of fucking.

  “Are you even listening to me, Star?”

  My manager rambles off something about a new film that Lovestruck Entertainment wants me for. I scroll through my phone, typing out a text to Paisley, my baby sister.

  Sup Kiddo

  I miss my sisters. Over the years, we’ve all drifted too far apart. Paisley lives in Florida, and Journey still lives in Woodstock under the thumb of our parents. She’ll probably never leave.

  I continue to ignore my manager, Katy, as she drones on about the new porno.

  “Star, you aren't listening to a damn thing I’m saying!”

  Okay, so now she’s pissed and has my attention. I’d be lying if I said I didn't think she was hot when she gets pissed off. Her bright blue eyes and pouty lips pull me in, even while she’s yelling at me. Today she looks like your run of the mill school girl. Short black skirt, white button down shirt, hell, she would be perfect with pigtails. Instead, her red locks sit on top of her head in a messy bun with a pencil sticking out of it.

  “Sign me up.”

  I wave her away and she pushes down her black cat-eyed glasses and I continue texting. Paisley replies with an extravagant story about some sexy biker she hooked up with for Biketoberfest in Daytona. I wish she would’ve just gone to college like Seven. She could have taken over the world with her impressive intelligence, instead of slipping into the same nomad lifestyle we were raised in. The sad part is, none of us will ever be able to give it up completely. As much as I despise it, it’s all I’ll ever know.

  “What is going on with you, Star?”

  I'm strung out; that’s what’s wrong. Coke isn't cutting it anymore, and as much as I want to turn to harder shit, I just can't.

  “You need to go to rehab again, Star, don't you?”

  This is typically what it comes down to. It sounds like a good idea. Maybe I could actually keep my shit together this time around. Doubtful, though. What bothers me the most is the fact that Seven will be disappointed in me. Everyone else's opinions can suck a fat dick.

  “Yeah, Katy. I think I need to give it the good ol' college try again. Maybe I can get it right this time?”

  I push a strand of hot pink hair out of my eyes and stand up from the chair. My jeans used to cling tightly to my ass, but now, the curve of my butt is disappearing. The blue My Little Ponies shirt clings to my D cup breasts, something I’m glad the drugs haven’t started to take from me.

  “Don't forget you’re filming this weekend,” she reminds me. Glory Hole Queens, starring yours truly. The joys of my job.

  My phone beeps and I expect it to
be Paisley. Instead it’s Evan. My ex. The ex who walked out on me because I made out with my best friend in front of him. I thought guys were supposed to like that shit? Instead, he flipped in a jealous rage. For once in my life, I’d finally thought I found someone to love me, but he only loved me when we were fucking like rabbits. Everything else was just added baggage that he didn't want to deal with.

  I shouldn't have fooled myself into thinking anything with an investment banker would work out. You can't turn a whore into a housewife, right?

  Want to get together tonight?

  I really should say no, but I don't want to. Maybe we can fix the mess of a relationship we had? I’m a glutton for punishment because I know how this will end. But I text him back anyway.

  Sure, meet me at Seven's at 8. I'm staying at her penthouse while she is away on business.

  If he says no because of the Seven factor, I am done with him. There is no way I’m cleaning my own penthouse tonight so I can entertain him.

  My mind drifts back to Seven. I haven't heard from her all day. I know I’ve been trying to avoid her since the whole Evan breakup thing, but she’s never this quiet. A series of disasters flies through my overactive imagination. I picture her dead somewhere in London. Her plane crashing over the Atlantic. Her private driver killing her in a fiery car crash. Fuck! Make it all stop!

  The phone vibrates again, and I pull up Evan's reply.

  See you at 8.

  “Hello, Star.”

  I damn near jump out of my skin as I turn to match the face to the voice. A voice I don’t want to hear. A voice I certainly don’t expect to hear in the lobby of Seven's building.

  I find myself face-to-face with Blue. His dark eyes are encircled with pain. He’s aged horribly, and his dreadlocks are gone, replaced by a shaved head. The tattoo on his neck is visible, a shooting star with the quote, “forget what hurt you in the past.” Hysterical, considering our history.