Turning Point Club Box Set

by JA Huss

  “I don’t know if I want to play another fucking game,” Quin says.

  “Who says it’s a game?” Bric replies, making my hand squeeze Quin’s growing cock. “It’s a ménage à trois. A family of three. Well, four,” he corrects. “But the baby belongs to all of us, right? We made her. The three of us. We don’t need a test to tell us that.”

  Bric begins to unbuckle Quin’s pants. He leans into my neck and whispers, “Take off his shirt.”

  I look at Quin, who stares down at Bric’s movements, then looks up at me with more lust in his eyes than I can ever remember. I stare into him as I reach for his tie, loosen it, and then slip it over his head and drop it to the floor.

  Bric stands up. Quin’s gaze tracks him as he tugs on my over-large t-shirt until I lift my arms and he slips it off. I have no bra on, so Quin’s eyes immediately go to my breasts. They are fuller than they used to be. Round and perfectly shaped. Quin just stares as Bric begins to undress himself. The jacket, the tie, the shirt—all come off as I unbutton Quin and hold his shirt open to reveal his muscled chest. I place the palm of my hand on his chest, flat against his beating heart, and look up to find Bric hovering over us, ready to move forward.

  I have had sex with both of them many times and it’s always Bric who makes the first move. But this morning he waits for Quin. There is a moment when I know for sure Quin will put a stop to it. Everything will end, they will leave, I will go on my way to Jackson Hole, and this opportunity will disappear.

  But then, like he’s reading the fear in my mind by studying my face, Quin says, “Take out my cock.”

  Chapter Seven - Quin

  Rochelle grips the thick girth of my shaft and begins to pump. I know not one good thing will come of this decision to turn back, but I can’t stop it now. She’s right here in front of me. After all this time, she’s back. She’s practically on top of me. Her eyes are begging me for more.

  And Bric—well, fuck it. He’s right. We’re a trio. We’ve always been a trio. It’s one hundred percent going back to the way things were.

  Is it so bad? To have them both again, just the way I liked it?

  Bric is pressing on the top of Rochelle’s head, urging her face down. Her hot breath hits the tip of my cock and then…

  Fuck.

  I lean my head back and close my eyes, one of my hands on top of Bric’s to keep her mouth there. Right… there.

  Goddamn it, that feels good.

  Her tongue. It does the most amazing things to me. I make the mistake of opening my eyes and looking down. I look up quickly, catch Bric’s satisfied smile. He’s almost laughing at me and I don’t care. I haven’t had sex in so long.

  Bric pulls Rochelle’s panties down and leaves them around her thighs. He grabs her hips with both hands and lifts her up, so she’s on her knees, sideways across my lap. I slap one cheek as he places his face between her legs and licks her.

  Rochelle stops what she’s doing to my cock, pausing long enough to enjoy that for a second. But then she’s back, her mind on me.

  I grab her hair into a ponytail as she sucks. So I can see her. Watch her. Her hand twisting up and down my shaft each time she dives down.

  Bric still has his pants on, so he pulls his cock out through his zipper and starts stroking himself as he licks her pussy.

  Rochelle squeals softly.

  “Get on top of Quin,” Bric tells her.

  Rochelle straddles my legs without comment. We’ve been here before. All of this is very familiar. So as soon as she does that I reposition myself so I’m leaning against the arm of the couch, my feet slipping right between Bric’s legs, so he’s straddling my knees.

  Now I can see her face as she stares down at me, her hands pressing on my chest as Bric positions himself behind her ass. I reach between my legs, grab my cock, and slip inside her.

  She feels like yesterday. Like no time has passed at all. We are not in a hotel room, one year later. We are in the Club apartment. We are in our bed. We are in our old life.

  Her long, golden hair falls over her shoulders and sways back and forth. Slowly. As she moves with me inside her.

  I hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper and realize Bric’s being careful.

  Fuck careful. I don’t give one flying fuck about careful right now.

  His face dips between her legs. I can feel his warm breath on my balls as he licks her. Makes her wet for him.

  We slap her at the same time. My hand coming down on the side of one thigh, Bric’s hand coming down on the other. Everything is so easy. So familiar.

  When Bric slips his dick inside her ass it all comes back to me. Why we had this arrangement in the first place. I can feel him and her at the same time. We move together, but opposite.

  I fist Rochelle’s hair harder and pull her down, all the way on top of my chest, and I kiss her. Her mouth opens and all I hear in my head is more, more, more.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers as Bric fucks her hard from behind. Our foreheads pressed together. Her small, soft hands on either side of my face as she looks into my eyes.

  “Forget it,” I whisper back. “We’re here now.”

  I wrap my arms around her middle, holding her close to me. Holding her tight so she’s forced to rest her head on my shoulder and just… let Bric do whatever he wants. Rochelle on top of me again. It’s all I need for now.

  Small moans start coming out of her mouth. But with each thrust they get louder and louder, until Bric reaches forward and wraps a hand around her mouth. He pulls her up off my chest, forcing her to sit astride me, one knee tucked into the sofa cushion, the other hanging off the couch, her foot braced on the floor.

  I grab her tits and squeeze, then slip my fingers between her legs and find her clit with my thumb, pressing my hand against the soft skin of her belly.

  Her eyes are open and she’s sucking in air through her nose because Bric is trying to keep her from screaming as we fill her up, trying to make her come. Her whole body writhes on top of me, her skin slick with sweat, her long hair fisted tightly in Bric’s hand.

  I watch her face when the release washes over her. She always closes her eyes and just… melts. Bric lets her go in that same instant, so she falls forward, becoming mine again when I hold her tight and keep her close.

  I come too. A wave of relief that consumes me. My whole body tenses up. I hold Rochelle close, almost squeezing her. I never want to let her go.

  I never want to be hurt again.

  Stop it, I tell myself. Not now. Do not think about all that shit now. Just enjoy it.

  Bric tenses up too. His cock pushing against me inside her. His pulsing equal and opposite to mine.

  I look at him as he comes. His eyes are open. Staring right at me. Reminding me of what I’ve been missing this past year.

  A few seconds later he slaps her ass and falls off to the side of the couch, ripping the condom off and throwing it in a small metal trash can nearby.

  “You’re sitting on my legs, asshole,” I say, trying to pull them away and give him room.

  “Move then,” Bric growls, slumping back against the cushions and closing his eyes.

  Rochelle is still on top of me. Neither of us make any move to get up.

  We just sit there, waiting. Our heavy breathing the only sound in the room.

  “You gotta get the fuck out of this room, Rochelle,” Bric says.

  “Yeah,” I say. “I agree. It’s way too much money.”

  “Money?” Bric says, opening one eye to look at me. “Fuck the money. Can you imagine how many people have had sex on this couch?”

  “Gross.” Rochelle laughs. “You’re such a mood-killer.”

  “Adley can’t live here,” Bric says. “I can’t even think about her little pudgy knees crawling across these floors. You need to leave today. And next time you want to scream during sex,” he continues, pointing a finger at Rochelle—which only I see because she’s all melty and relaxed on top of me—“remember who put that little
chubby pumpkin to sleep for you.”

  “Thank you,” Rochelle mumbles. Her soft words vibrate against my skin.

  “No problem. But for real,” Bric says, getting up and slapping Rochelle’s ass once more for good measure. “You’re leaving here tonight.” He starts putting his shirt back on.

  I don’t move. I might never move.

  “I gotta get back to the Club. Quin, pick Rochelle up at six tonight. I’ll text you an address. She’s staying there from now on.”

  I have a lot of questions about that last request, but I don’t bother. Bric wants to be in control of living arrangements, fine with me.

  A few minutes later he’s gone and Rochelle and I are still holding each other in the exact same spot. Like we’re afraid to move.

  “Are you going back to work?” she finally asks.

  I play with her hair and sigh. “Yeah. I need to think things through on my own.”

  “Are you sorry we did this?”

  “No,” I say. “Are you?”

  “No. I just want to make sure you’re OK with the arrangement.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be? It’s like going back in time, right? Picking up where we left off. I liked how it was.”

  “I know. That’s why I didn’t want to ruin it.”

  “You realize that makes no sense, right? Leaving fucked it all up.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I’m just saying, I liked it then and I like it now. I’m glad you’re back. I’m glad we’re here. I can’t ask for much more than this. But I want more than this. And I’m still angry, Rochelle. You cannot expect me to just give in and let it all go after one fuck. I have to process shit.”

  She’s silent for a little bit. Thinking over my answer. “You’re OK with us not getting a DNA test?” she asks, shifting her body so she’s slightly off to the side of me, one hand on my stomach, tracing circles over my muscles.

  I’ve got my arm underneath her, still afraid to let go. “Why bother, right?” I say. “Bric’s right. She’s ours. As long as you’re OK with it, I’m OK with it.”

  “Do you think he’s going to make me move back into the Club?”

  “Fuck that,” I say. “I didn’t get the impression that’s what he meant, but if it was, fuck that.”

  “Yeah, I don’t want to go back there. We’re past that now.”

  I agree, nodding my head as I continue to play with her hair. We are past that now. “Do you need anything?” I ask. “For today? For Adley? Or yourself?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Were you really going up to Jackson?”

  “Yes. I’ve been down in Pagosa Springs this whole time and I just needed a change. Do you know where Pagosa is?”

  “Little dinky river town on the way to Mesa Verde,” I say, picturing it on the map. “My parents took me down there to see those cliff dwellings when I was a kid. Kinda cool, but way too far away from everything.”

  “Yeah, very far away. But holy shit, Quin.” Rochelle props herself up on one elbow. “You’d think it was Aspen the way people buy vacation homes down there.” She smiles at me, like she’s got a lot to say about this subject. “My only friends were a bunch of rich Stepford Wives who all had nannies and thought it was normal to own three houses and only live in them a few months out of the year.”

  “You should’ve called me,” I say, suddenly sad picturing her down there all alone with the baby.

  “I’m sorry,” she says again. And then she leans in and kisses me. It’s not the same kind of kiss we had during sex. Just a soft one that says so much more. “I’ll never do it again,” she whispers. “I promise. I will never leave you again.”

  I really hope she keeps this promise. I made it through this year without her—barely. But now that she’s back I can fully appreciate how fucking awful it was.

  “I’ve played that night at the Club garden party back in my head a thousand times, wondering how things might’ve been different if I had just said what I felt.”

  “You loved me with Bric, right? That’s why you didn’t want to say it?”

  “Is it wrong?” I ask. “I’m leaning towards yes, but it doesn’t feel wrong.”

  She collapses on top of me again with a sigh. “I like it too. I love you a lot more than him. You should know that. Or maybe just in a different way. But I love him too. Do you think that’s wrong?”

  I shrug. “If I didn’t love Bric in some way, I wouldn’t share you with him, would I?”

  “I guess not.” She laughs.

  “We’ll see how it goes. But if you ever want to stop this again, Rochelle, if you ever want to leave, you just need to tell me and I’ll let him know we’re done.”

  “You’ll be able to walk away from him?” she asks.

  “I did it once already, right? I walked away and did my own thing for a while.”

  “But were you happy?” she asks.

  Was I happy? Fuck, no. I was miserable. But something tells me this is not the right answer. Not yet, anyway. “I’m happy now,” I say instead. “And that’s all that matters.”

  Chapter Eight - Rochelle

  After Quin leaves I have a sudden wave of loneliness. Adley sleeps past lunchtime and if we were home we’d be getting ready to go out to our special pool in the hot springs.

  Home? Why did I just refer to Pagosa as home?

  That’s not my home. This place isn’t my real home either, but it’s the closest thing I have. I grew up in Palm Springs. The desert. Mild winters and summers so hot, you really can fry an egg on the sidewalk.

  I hated it there. Hated it. And yeah, most of my hate has nothing to do with the city or the weather. But that hate lingers.

  My cell phone rings about an hour after Quin leaves. I know who it is, so I pick it up and say, “How can I help you, Mr. Bricman?”

  “That went well, right?”

  “Better than I could’ve hoped,” I say, trying not to sound disappointed.

  “What’s wrong?” Bric asks, picking up on my melancholy.

  “How long do you think he’ll want to do this?” I ask. “The three of us? Forever?”

  “Forever?” Bric laughs. I roll my eyes, because I know his view on relationships and forever. “Nah. Why, you’re tired of me already?”

  “Not you, really. Just… I’d like something normal. Eventually.”

  “What’s normal?”

  “Well, Bric, it’s definitely not a ménage à trois.”

  “Says who?”

  It’s a losing battle with him. He thinks everything that happens in that Club is normal. “Never mind.”

  “Hey, if I’m a third wheel, just let me know and I’ll bail.”

  “It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s Quin. We kinda talked and he’s into it.”

  I can almost hear Bric smile on the other end of the phone. “So what’s the problem?”

  “Nothing, yet. But like you always say, there’s no such thing as forever.”

  “So just enjoy it while it lasts,” he says.

  “I don’t want to lose this new game,” I admit.

  “Well, you won the last round. Your chances of winning are good, brat.”

  “Did I win?”

  “You’re here, aren’t you? That’s never happened before. In fact, Rochelle, you’re a whole bunch of firsts for us. First girl to play for three years. First girl to get what you wanted. First girl to make Smith Baldwin quit early.” We both laugh at that. “First to turn back and play again.”

  “I don’t want to play though. I want it to be real. I told you that.”

  “It’s real,” he says, frustrated. “What’s not real about it?”

  Good God. This man. He has no clue.

  “I’m serious,” he says. “What part of this is tripping you up?”

  “He wants me with you, Bric.”

  “So?”

  “So what if you leave? Where will I be then?”

  “Why would I le
ave, Rochelle? I’m the guy who never complains. I’m the guy who sticks around. I’m the guy who makes it work, no matter what.”

  Right. Back to the game he’s playing. I should run away right now. Never look back. Because Bric is always playing. He’s always got a motivation. And that motivation has nothing to do with me. Or Quin, for that matter. As much as he likes to play up that tight friendship the three of them share, it’s just a screen to keep the world from knowing who he really is.

  “And you don’t want me. You want us.”

  “Right,” he says. I’m boring him, I can tell. “Which is why I don’t see the problem.”

  But I do. I see it very clearly. As long as I want them both, we’re fine. But the minute I don’t want Bric, we’re right back to where we started last year when I told Quin I loved him.

  “You want me to bail out, Rochelle?”

  “No,” I say. I don’t want him to bail. I need him to keep Quin.

  “Good. Because I like that baby.”

  “What?” I laugh.

  “I’m serious,” he says. “She’s so fucking cute I just want to squeeze her. She had her little fingers all wrapped around my hand while I was feeding her today. God, I can’t stand it. We make good babies together.”

  “I have no idea what to say to that, other than you don’t know for sure that you’re her father.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I like her. I’m digging that little pumpkin and I’m gonna spoil her rotten.”

  “That’s what I call her,” I say, laughing a little. Feeling maybe just a little better.

  “She’s like a little chubby pumpkin. Did she trick-or-treat this year?”

  “She was five months old, Bric. No.”

  “Good. Next year will be her first time and I’m gonna pick that costume out.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Holy fuck, you know what I just realized?”

  “What?”

  “Christmas is coming up. OK, I gotta go. I have so much shit to do. See you tonight and kiss that pumpkin for me.”

  He hangs up before I can respond. Again.

  What a strange turn of events. Never in a million years would I have pictured Elias Bricman as a doting father.