Free We Were One Once Book 1 by Willow Madison Page A

and
muscled, soft and feminine, the briefest moment between mature
angles and soft childhood captured in one body. I couldn’t take my
eyes away from her. I knew I should. I knew I should have broken
the spell, but I didn’t want to. So I didn’t.
    Then she walked the few
steps towards me that it took to reach my chair. She lowered
herself in one fluid movement again. She knelt at my feet and put
her head against my knee, facing the fire once more. My fingertips
were covered by her dark hair, and I moved my hand to stroke her
head, to run my fingers through her wild mane.
    She didn’t speak. She
didn’t cry more. I didn’t speak. I finally stopped petting her, and
we sat still together like that for I don’t know how
long.
    Without any indication, she
stood quickly and picked up my hand, the one I had held against her
head only a second before. She raised my fingers to her mouth and
kissed the tip of each finger lightly. Her lips were soft and made
me smile and frown at the same time. I know I moaned when she put
my thumb in her mouth. When she licked and sucked, her mouth so wet
and warm, I let out a low, soft moan for the duration. When she
stopped, her eyes never leaving mine, she lowered my hand back to
my knee. Then she left the room.
    I didn’t care if a maid
walked in, or even her mother or my father. Right then, I relieved
the pressure on my cock, making a mess of myself in my underwear. I
rubbed and pulled myself, imagining her tongue, her lips, her eyes.
I didn’t care that it was wrong to think of her. Wrong because she
was only fourteen. Wrong because she was my new stepsister. Wrong
because I was twenty and only visiting for Christmas break. Wrong
because my father would never allow me back if he knew. I didn’t
care.
    I still don’t.
    Gillian showed more of
herself to me after that first meeting. Slowly, I peeled her layers
away, though always in secret. It was another year before we made
love in front of this fireplace for the first time. It was a year
of strange discoveries, heartbreaking and exciting
discoveries.
    I open my eyes again, the
memories lost. The flames burn brighter with my tears.
    Gillian, my love, why did
you choose to run from me?

San Francisco: Simon
Lamb

    “This is me.” I already
knew this but keep it to myself. The doorman opens for us and
stares at me, then Grace’s ass. I let her lead the way, liking the
view of her too. When the elevator doors open, a woman holding a
small dog moves to the side to let us on with a polite smile. I
push Grace back against the elevator wall and grab her hair to hold
her for a rough kiss, loudly banging her head. I can see the woman
watching us in the mirrors or trying to act like she isn’t anyway.
Grace doesn’t give a shit; she grabs my shoulders and holds me
harder against herself. When it’s her floor, she shoves against me
to free her mouth and loudly says, “This is us.”
    I let her go and follow her
out, giving a small polite nod to the woman. Public displays of
inappropriate behavior are a favorite hobby of mine—a cheap thrill.
Grace’s too, it would seem.
    She already has the door
open by the time I step behind her. I grab her arm so she can’t
move too far into the apartment, but she’s on me even before I can
pull her back. Her chest slams into me, hand reaching into my hair
and pulling my face down to hers by my ear. I wince as her nails
dig into the back of my head.
    I bite her lower lip to get
her to stop. She licks her tongue out, running it over my teeth
instead. I let go, and so does she. I shove her against a wall, and
we’re both breathing hard. Our eyes rape each other. I’ve missed
seeing her, missed having her, and she’s equally hungry for
me.
    I step into her body, but
she puts her hands on my chest to stop me. I look down at her
hands, and she rips my shirt open. A button flies off. We both
laugh. I yank her shirt open in return. Her small tits are high and
beautiful in a red laced lattice bra. I shove