We Were One Once Book 1 (11 page)

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 this down and lick
her nipples. She’s sensitive, pushing into me more, gasping and
moaning as I bite down. My tongue runs back up her neck to her
mouth. She always tastes so sweet. Both my hands get lost in her
mass of hair.

She yanks her jeans off,
and I see she’s without underwear again. I smile, pulling my own
pants and boxers off just as fast. Her hands are on me before I can
straighten back up. Her nails scrape against my chest, down the
muscles of my stomach. I hiss and tense, but she stops quickly with
both hands wrapped around my hard cock. I suck in a breath at her
strong stroke up and down. My eyelids lower; I’ve pictured this,
imagined being with her again.

I open my eyes. She smiles
up at me, and I have a hard time keeping a straight face with her
expert touch on my dick. I push both her shoulders back hard
against the wall. She only smiles more. Damn, she’s perfect. Before
I can react or make a move, she jumps up like I’m a tree she wants
to climb. Without missing a beat, I grab her ass to catch her
against me, pulling her open as her legs wrap around my hips. Her
hands grab onto my neck, and she leans her face into mine. “Fuck me
as hard as you can, Trust. I can take it. I need you, baby.” Her
voice is deep and longing. Her lust matches mine. I don’t give a
shit if she’s thought of me or not. I’ve pictured fucking her in
every position. She’s my fantasy come true.

Pushing inside her is easy;
she’s wet for me. I hold her against the wall and pump into her as
hard as I can. Her legs and arms squeeze me tighter. She bites down
on my chest. I only feel her pussy clamping down on me harder with
each push in and out. I’m moaning out loud with her. When she
starts to come, she knocks her head against the wall, screaming and
arching into me more. I yank her hair and force her head back
further, biting her neck and feeling her scream against my lips. I
let my own loud cry out when I come deep inside her.

I let her body slide down
mine, pulling out of her as our breathing slows. I give one last
tug of her hair, one last bite to her lower lip, before pulling
away completely. She stumbles a little on our pile of clothes, not
picking anything up as she heads towards the bedroom.

I leave my pants and boxers
on the floor too and head into the kitchen for something to drink.
There’s not much to choose from, just water or beer. It’s early,
but I grab a beer and take it with me to follow her into the
bedroom.

The cleaning service must
have been here recently. The place is more picked up than when I
snuck in. Her clothes are more neatly piled at least. I walk around
to the bathroom and find Grace touching up her makeup. She’s still
in only her bra and open shirt though; her ass cheeks are just
visible as she leans forward. She smiles at me in the mirror, like
it’s the most natural thing for us to be here, almost naked,
together. I put the beer down next to her and go to the
toilet.

Some women are touchy about
this, a guy taking a piss in front of them. Grace acts like it’s
nothing; she even hums to herself. I close my eyes for a second,
enjoying the release and the sound of her sweet voice—low and
dreamy.

“What the
fuck
is going on here?!” I
didn’t hear the guy come in. Apparently, Grace didn’t either. It’s
not the boyfriend but his brother. He’s glaring between Grace and
me. Her look of pure shock makes me laugh, but it does suck to be
in this situation sans pants and with my dick hanging limp over a
toilet. I try to make the best of it and finish pissing at
least.

Grace turns back around to
the mirror, giving a cool and composed look to the brother. “What
are you doing here, Josh?”

Josh takes one big step
towards Grace and whirls her around to face him. He looks her up
and down, but she stands like a perfect depiction of stony beauty,
one that could only be described by Greek mythology. No mere mortal
would be able to withstand her icy stare. I think about getting in
between them but only continue watching her. She shows no shame, no
shyness, no flinching at his obvious rage. There’s no attempt to
cover her nakedness. She’s clearly not afraid of him, so I decide
to hang back.

I don’t move when he grabs
her arms and shakes her. “You fucked this guy?!”

Her look remains the same,
even with the bobbling of her head. He finally stops but keeps his
hands on her. “You’re a fucking whore!” He spits this at
her.

And she laughs, with her low
thick laugh, “I thought
that
was obvious!” So I was right the first time; she
did fuck him too.

He pulls back and slaps
her, with the back of his right hand, straight across her mouth. I
watch this, still not moving. I’ll put a stop to it in a minute,
but for now, I want to see what she does. It’s a rare opportunity
to see another man hit her, to see how she reacts to such an
obvious attempt to dominate her physically.

She slowly brings her face
back up to his and licks her lip. No fear, no anger, no pain—it’s
almost her impassive look. We’re both watching her closely. “That
will be the last time you get to do that to me, Josh. Hope you
enjoyed it.”

I’ve had enough of this
fuck touching what’s mine. I flush the toilet. Josh turns to me,
and Grace quickly springs out of his reach. I only smile, waiting
to see if this idiot will actually make a move on me. He seems to
decide that, even in my undressed state, he shouldn’t try it. I’m
quite a lot bigger, in height and build. He turns his head to Grace
instead. “Get rid of him and come right back here.”

I laugh but wait for Grace
to reply, just to see how she reacts to his lame attempt again. She
only shakes her head, a small smile on her face. She really is
beautiful—a cat ready to pounce, a girl ready to laugh, a woman of
infinite possibilities, all breathtaking.

“I think
you
should go, Josh.” I say this
quietly, only a little hint at a warning, an even smaller hint at a
laugh. I lock eyes with Grace and smile at her as he turns his head
back to me. I don’t flex. I don’t even tighten my hands into fists.
It’s best to stay relaxed and open until your opponent makes a
first move.

He does, but it’s only to
turn to the door and throw one more look at Grace. “Then get your
shit and get the fuck out of here.
Before
my brother gets
home.”

We stay looking at each
other, her look blanking, until we hear the front door slam. She
breaks the stare first, moving back in front of the mirror and
looking at her face. I walk out to the front and put my pants back
on but return to the bedroom quickly. Grabbing the bag from the
corner, I throw her clothes inside; most everything fits. I grab a
gym bag from the closet and empty the contents onto the bed, making
room for the rest of her shit.

She hasn’t moved from the
mirror, applying a little makeup to the side of her mouth slowly. I
have her clothes from the front and throw these at her when she
turns to me. “Get whatever you want from here. We’re leaving.” I
expect her to say something, put up a pretense that she’s not going
anywhere, but she only nods and slowly puts her things into a
bag.

She’s a strange girl. I
can’t get a read on her again. She’s not showing remorse, no shame
or guilt. She’s not even sad, just doing it. Just doing as she’s
told? No. It can’t be that simple. She didn’t respond to the
brother with any sort of submissiveness, even though it was obvious
he thought she would when he tried to order her around. So
she
was
submissive
with him before but not now.

I chose her last year
because she was so withdrawn, so sheltered. She was so broken as to
be a challenge. Could I take a broken girl and break her again,
remake her into what
I
wanted, not what she already was. She
was
definitely submissive then, to
everyone and everything, like she didn’t want her existence to
leave any impression at all.

But the girl I’ve seen
since has been the opposite. Mostly. She’s been brazen and bold,
confident and cold. Any hints of natural submission have been
squashed. She’s been a pendulum, swinging from one extreme to the
next. This is a different extreme; she’s resigned and completely
pliant.

When she has her bag
filled, she turns to me and doesn’t move—like she’s waiting for
instructions, like she’s completely at my command now. And this
pisses me off. I grab her arm in a tight grip, knowing I’m leaving
bruises on her arms. “Come on.” She doesn’t resist at
all.

I grab both the bags of
clothes in my free hand, not letting go of her arm, squeezing a
little harder even. When we get to the front door, I stop her from
opening it by yanking her back to me. She doesn’t make a sound,
only looks up at me with the same resigned look. “Leave your keys.”
She fishes them out of her purse, not even trying to get loose from
my hand. She leans over to a table and puts them on it
quietly.

I keep my grip on her all
the way down and out the building. We don’t say anything. I walk
her this way the two blocks to my car. She never even tries to
speak or move away, not even when I dump her bags in my trunk, not
even when I shove her down into the passenger seat and slam her
door, not even when I get into the car and drive her
away.

I wanted today to be the
start of something more between us, but this is not how I pictured
it. I’d imagined making her an offer to jumpstart her modeling. I’d
wanted to give her a golden carrot of some sort, entice her to come
to me, get her to
want
to come to me. I’d made a plan to slowly knock down all her
resistance and make her completely submissive to me, not drag her
away like a whipped bitch from a pile of shit she made on the
floor.

I haven’t done anything to
make her this submissive, and it’s really starting to piss me off.
I realize that I don’t even know where I’m heading. I pull over and
turn off the car. I don’t want to take her back to my apartment,
not like this. I want to dump her ass on the side of the road and
keep going. She remains sitting quietly with her fucking makeup bag
still on her lap, her hands still at her sides.

“Do you have somewhere to
go, somewhere to stay?” I know the answer already.

“No.” Her voice is flat.
It’s not weak, but it’s not her usual sensual deep either. I turn
to look at her. I know she’s lying to me. Why? She has two
apartments in her name. So why tell me she doesn’t have anywhere to
go?

“Shit.” I hiss under my
breath through gritted teeth and start the car again. Goddamn shit.
I need a minute to think, and I can’t do it sitting in my car on
the street with fucking zombie girl. This is what obsession gets
you! Grandfather’s voice mocks me in a way he never did in real
life.

Seattle: Miles
Vanderson

“Yes, Ingrid. That will be
all for tonight.” I dismiss the servant, watching as she avoids
knocking her head on the dining table as she stands.

“Good night, Mr.
Vanderson.” She gives a quick bow of her head before bolting out of
the room.

I don’t bother zipping up
my pants as I also stand and retire for the night. Ingrid’s
ministration to my needs was efficient, perhaps not very creative
or good, but hopefully it does the job to help me relax
somewhat.