Crazy Bitch (Bitches and Queens) (13 page)

“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.

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 Hannah 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.

“Did you like that?”

“Are you kidding me,” Hannah
giggled breathlessly and then pulled Willow into her arms, “I’m fucking
ecstatic. I’m already planning my big coming-out party.” Her levity subsided as
she began to nuzzle Willow’s neck. “But…” she started as she pulled down Willow’s
pants, “…the other forty-eight point five percent of my DNA wants to fuck you
the other way. It’s a lot of temptation to resist.”

“You shouldn’t fight it,”
Willow said eagerly.

“No?” Hannah asked as she
hitched Willow’s leg high on her waist and slipped her cock inside her hot, wet
pussy.

“Definitely not,” Willow
readily agreed.

 Willow woke with such a start
she almost fell out of the bed. Her sleepy brain had a hard time comprehending
the situation at hand. She thought she had overslept until she heard Hannah softly
giggling beside her.

“What the fuck are you doing?”
Hannah asked.

“I thought I missed the alarm,”
Willow said as she fell back against the pillows.

“You did,” Hannah answered as
she pulled Willow close and nuzzled her neck. “And you’re fired.”

“Considering yesterday, that
joke isn’t funny,” Willow grumbled.

Hannah stretched luxuriously
behind her and then rested her long leg between Willow’s thighs. “I thought it
was,” Hannah kissed across her shoulder blades. Her teeth scraped against the
tender skin of Willow’s neck.

Willow scooted away. “You are
bound and determined to mark me, aren’t you?”

“Hmm,” Hannah murmured
ambiguously. “It occurred to me at two o’clock in the morning that I had
forgotten to tell Consuela that you would be staying over so I went downstairs
and made some blueberry muffins.”

Willow rolled over so she could
see Hannah. “You cook?” she questioned incredulously.

“Oh, I’m very domestic when I
want to be,” Hannah assured and then started to get out of bed.

Willow couldn’t help but smile
at her shyness. Since she was eighteen years old, Hannah had topped more
100
Most Beautiful
lists than she could keep track of yet she still wrapped the
sheet around her body like a strapless toga.

Hannah crossed the room and
returned a few moments later with a muffin and a cup of hot coffee. “If it has
gotten stale, I can brew a fresh pot.”

Willow sipped the rich brew and
then placed the cup down on the bedside table. “No, it’s good.” She only looked
down at the muffin in her hand suspiciously for a second before she took a
bite. She knew Hannah wouldn’t add any poisonous ingredients, but she was wary
of how it would taste. After all, Hannah had employed a personal chef. Spoilt,
pampered supermodels and domesticity wasn’t peanut butter and jelly. Willow
would have guessed Hannah didn’t even know where the kitchen was located let
alone ever stepped foot inside it, but the muffin wasn’t just good—it was
scrumptious.

When Willow’s eyes widened in
surprise, Hannah softly clicked, “I told you so.”

“Hannah, this is delicious.
When did you learn how to cook?”

Hannah waved her hand in
dismissal as she sat back down beside Willow. “I love all that stuff—cooking
and
cleaning. When I was a little girl, I used to watch reruns of all those old
fifties sitcoms,” she said, looking down almost shyly before looking back up
with an impish grim. “Sometimes I give the staff the night off and put on one of
my best dresses, heels, and pearls, and spend the evening vacuuming, dusting,
ironing, and cooking.”