Turning Point Club Box Set

by JA Huss

  No smile. No words of encouragement. Just nothing but Bric from Bric.

  Jordan places a towel across my bare ass and that’s when things start to make sense.

  His hands on my legs are my next clue.

  A massage? They’ve brought me up here for a massage?

  “Does it feel good, Nadia?” Jordan asks as he kneads the tight, overworked muscles of my calves.

  “So good,” I mutter, closing my eyes. It’s a mistake, I know this. It’s a mistake to think that they’ve brought me here for this. But I can’t help myself. My body is in a constant state of dull ache from dance and exercise and I don’t even remember the last time I had a massage. I’ve never had a full-body massage like this, that’s for damn sure.

  “Good,” Bric says, gathering my long, dark hair and twisting it up. He ties it together with a slip of yellow ribbon that flutters in front of my face, pulling the knot tight. He arranges my new ponytail off to the side of my shoulder and then his large, strong hands press down on my upper back. Kneading the muscles into submission. Pulling the tension out of my body with his fingertips.

  I moan. It feels too good to keep up the pretense that I won’t fully enjoy this. I don’t know what they’re doing, or why. But right now, I do not care.

  Jordan is busy with my legs. He grips my calves tightly, then releases. Hot oil is dripped on my shoulders, then down the curve of my spine. More hot oil down each leg, starting from where my thigh meets my ass, and ending at the tip of my toes.

  And when they touch me again, those four strong hands make me give in.

  Completely. Utterly. Submit.

  “You don’t take good care of yourself,” Bric says, the heel of his palm pushing into a pressure point near my shoulder blade. There’s a sharp pain at first when he hits a knot in some hidden, but well-used muscle. It makes me gasp. But after a few seconds the knot begins to disappear. The pain goes away. The pleasure sets in.

  I relax.

  I don’t even know how to describe the feelings Jordan is evoking on my lower body. One minute it’s painful enough to make me gasp again, but the next, he’s got his thumbs pressing against my inner thighs, so close to my pussy, it makes me bite my lip.

  I want him to stick his fingers inside me.

  And just that thought is enough to make me throb with desire.

  But he doesn’t venture into new territory. He takes his attention back to my legs. My thighs. My calves. My feet. He bends one leg at the knee and takes my foot with both hands. Kneads it. Presses on the arch and… oh, God, it feels good.

  I don’t have any Band-Aids on my toes, but they are raw and they hurt. They always hurt. I cannot remember a time when my feet did not hurt.

  Jordan massages them carefully, the oil a perfect lubricant that keeps the pain at bay.

  “You can fall asleep if you want,” Elias says. He’s Elias again. Not Bric. This man, touching me with his strong, but gentle, hands, making me feel so damn good, cannot be Bric in my mind. They are two different people. “Just enjoy it. We won’t mind.”

  I nod my head. Or I try to, but I’m so relaxed, I don’t succeed. I mumble, “Mmmm,” as they stay busy bringing me pleasure.

  I allow myself this pleasure. I let my mind stop wondering things. I let my body stop doing things. I let everything drift off as they work their way up and down my body.

  The only thought that creeps in—and then only when Jordan’s hands wander too close to the wet space between my legs—is when will they fuck me?

  Will they fuck me?

  I worry about it for a few moments, but then Jordan lifts the towel off my ass and begins to massage my cheeks. He spreads me open, leans down and licks my asshole.

  My pussy throbs with the heat of his breath. I want him to lick me there so bad.

  “Are you ready to turn over?” Elias asks.

  So ready. I don’t even wait for him to tell me to. I simply force my submissive body to turn. And when I open my eyes, Elias Bricman is smiling down at me. He takes his hands to my breasts, pinches my nipples hard enough to make me gasp, and then resumes his calming massage. Gripping them in his palms like fruit, then releasing them, allowing them to fall back and rest, before doing it again.

  He leans down—just as Jordan begins to knead the large muscles of my upper thighs, his thumbs once again dipping in between my legs, teasing me so sweetly—and kisses my mouth.

  He tastes sweet, like the fruity brandy he’s been drinking.

  “Do you want my cock in your pussy?” Jordan asks, his fingers, finally—finally—playing with my throbbing clit.

  “Yes,” I mumble into Elias’s mouth.

  Elias pulls back just enough to say, “Do you want to wrap your lips around my cock?”

  “Please,” I say, the word so soft and sincere. “Let me.”

  Elias grabs me by the arms and scoots my whole body forward, until my head is hanging off the edge of the table. I open for him, but he makes no move to take out his cock. Just resumes his massage of my shoulders. It feels so achingly good.

  There’s a sound of a belt being unbuckled. The ripping of a zipper being unzipped. It’s Jordan, not Elias. His pants fall to the floor with the whoosh of fabric, and then he’s pushing my legs together and climbing onto the table with me. He straddles my thighs as Elias continues to stare down at me, his hands busy with my breasts again, his fingers pinching my nipples.

  The tip of Jordan’s hard cock probes at the entrance to my pussy. I want to open my legs for him, but I can’t. He’s got them pinned tightly closed with his knees.

  Jordan pushes a little harder.

  I moan, “Ohhh,” just as he makes it past the soft, wet folds and finds the entrance. “Yes,” I say, breathing hard now.

  I buck my back, making my head fall even farther back over the side of the table. Bric is unzipping his pants, taking out his cock. I watch it appear. Long, and hard, and so fucking thick. His balls are tight and round and I reach up and out to hold them.

  I can’t see the smile on Elias’s face, but I know he’s smiling when he leans forward, my mouth open wide, and pushes the round tip of his cock past my lips.

  I suck on him immediately, making him grab my hair. Fist it roughly. He likes this, I think in my head. He likes what I’m doing. I’m pleasing him. And this pleases me.

  A quick thrust from Jordan and he’s fully inside me. I lift my hips up in surprise, so focused on Elias, I’d forgotten he was about to fuck me.

  He’s still got my legs pinned closed and it’s killing me. It’s killing me not to open wide for him the way I’m open wide for Elias.

  “Put your hands on my thighs, Nadia,” Elias commands. “And don’t move them.”

  I obey. I grip his muscular thighs, grip the fabric of his pants, desperate for more of everything they’re giving me tonight.

  “Open your throat,” he says, as Jordan begins to fuck my pussy harder. Making my whole body rock. Making my mouth take more cock. Making my pussy take more cock. “Open your throat and let me take over. Give in, Nadia,” Bric says. Because yes, this is Bric again.

  He’s tricked me, I realize. He’s always been Bric.

  But I don’t care. His commands feel like a gift.

  I let everything go. I let all my inhibitions fall away. I let them own me.

  I submit.

  And I like it.

  My throat opens. Bric’s cock thrusts inside me, making me gag and choke on his long length. I grip his thighs so tight, he lets out a hiss of air between his lips. I push him back, try to force him to withdraw, but he denies my request. Jordan is pounding my pussy. And with each thrust, I take Bric just a little deeper. I will die here, I think, desperately trying to breathe through my nose with Elias Bricman’s cock down my throat.

  There are sick, disgusting sounds coming from my mouth. Long strings of saliva leak past my lips, falling down my cheeks like a waterfall, stinging my eyes.

  But in between all this discomfort is the building of my cli
max. I can’t help it. There’s nothing I can do.

  I am coming.

  I moan and writhe on the table as spasms of relief rocket through my body.

  Bric fists my hair so hard my scalp becomes uncomfortably tight. But even that contributes to the next wave of pleasure shivering its way up my spine, making me convulse with relief and ecstasy.

  And then they both come, their moans echo off the tall ceiling at the same time. I feel spasms of hot semen pulsing into me from both ends.

  Bric pulls out of my mouth and I immediately twist my upper body, desperate to sit upright and stop the choking.

  Jordan holds me down, not finished with me yet. He’s still inside me, his cock throbbing. Moans still coming out of his mouth as he says, “Yes, Nadia. Yes,” over and over again.

  Bric steps back, grabs the towel off the floor that started out covering my ass, and wipes off his dick as I watch, wiping the sticky liquid off my lips with my fingertips and still trying to catch my breath. He tucks himself away, zips up his pants, and buckles up his belt.

  Jordan finishes and falls forward, bracing himself with both hands on either side of my shoulders. I lift my head to look up at him and catch his smile.

  I smile back, unable to stop myself. He leans down, and even though Bric just fucked my mouth, he kisses me on the lips.

  “You’re a good girl,” Jordan says, whispering the words. “A very good girl.”

  He sighs heavily, then swings his legs over the side of the table and I’m released.

  “We’re having dinner now,” Bric says, once again sipping his drink. “Go take a shower and then come back out here.”

  My body is pliant and limber when I try to sit up. Jordan has to help me. Has to hold me and keep me steady as I make my way to the huge spa-like bathroom.

  There’s a tub, which I am desperate to use right now. I don’t want to function. I just want to soak.

  But Jordan starts the shower instead as I lean against the vanity, barely able to prop myself up.

  He tests the temperature of the falling water, then comes towards me, picks me up in his arms like one would a small child, and carries me into the marble-tiled shower and sits down on the seat. I adjust my body so I’m straddling him, my arms around his neck, my face pressed against the hard muscle of his shoulder.

  “Did you get enough?” he asks. “Or would you like to fuck again?”

  I smile, but don’t move. “I’m not sure.” And then I laugh.

  “Well,” he says, moving my hair aside to kiss my neck. “Then we’ll just leave it at this.” He smacks my ass hard, the sound of it echoing through the bathroom. “Come on. Stand up and I’ll wash you since you’re so damn tired. Bric won’t want to wait too long.”

  I do as I’m told, feeling slightly embarrassed that I’m so willing to obey them tonight. But my body is pulsing with a wonderful tingling. I push that thought away.

  Jordan washes me carefully. He soaps me up from head to toe, washing away the oil, and the sweat, and the come. He lathers my hair, rinses it under the rain shower, and then conditions it and rinses it again.

  I try my best to do him the same favor back, but I’m wiped out. The massage has made me relaxed and complacent.

  When we’re done he dries me off and wraps me up in a thick, white robe, then does the same for himself, but only wraps a towel around his waist.

  I study him. We study each other. He’s fucking hot. His shoulders are what I like best. Both sides, back and front. I didn’t get a good look at Bric’s shoulders yet. But I know it will be my favorite part of him.

  “There’s people waiting for you out there,” Jordan says, nodding his head at the closed door.

  “Who?” I ask, my heart skipping a beat.

  “They’ll do your make-up and hair. And we’ve left you clothes. So don’t take too long. We’ll meet you in the second-floor bar for dinner when you’re done.”

  I study his back at he walks out, closing the door behind him. Yes, I definitely like his shoulders.

  There’s a little seat tucked under the vanity. I pull it out and sit. I cannot believe how wiped out I am. Tired, but not really tired. Relaxed, I realize. This is what it feels like to be relaxed.

  I wonder if they’ve got something planned at dinner. Something that will make me uncomfortable and unhappy?

  Can this night really just be about making me happy?

  I find it hard to believe. I pissed Bric off last night. He definitely has something else planned.

  “Well, Nadia,” I say to my reflection in the mirror. “He won this round no matter what.” There was no arguing. No battle of the wills. I did nothing but obey him tonight. So yes. “I lost,” I tell the girl in the mirror.

  Elias Bricman made me submit to him.

  And I loved every second of it.

  Chapter Eleven -Bric

  “Why are you so nervous?” I ask Jordan. We’re sitting in Smith’s bar. The table is elaborately set for a nice dinner, our glasses are full of expensive alcohol, and our cocks are happy. Why does he look like shit is about to hit the fan? “She had a good time,” I say, sipping my brandy.

  “Yeah,” Jordan says. His eyes are glued to the elevator doors, just waiting for her to come downstairs. “But it was sneaky, ya know?”

  “What was sneaky about it?”

  He shoots me a look that says, Come on.

  “She gave in, Jordan. We didn’t make her do anything.”

  “Right.” He sighs. “But you’re what, just pretending we didn’t have that conversation this morning? You know, the one where you said, ‘I’m gonna fuck with her head so bad, she’ll spin like The Exorcist?’”

  “It was a joke.” I laugh. “All we did was make her feel good tonight. She loved every fucking minute of it. Even when I choked her with my cock. She couldn’t get enough.”

  “That’s because she was drunk on your dick at the time, Bric. But that feeling is gonna wear off and she’s gonna run the entire night through her head, and then—”

  “Then she’s gonna realize we know what the fuck we’re doing. That’s all.”

  “No,” he says. “She’s gonna realize you’re just playing with her emotions. Like you do with every fucking woman you’ve ever been with.”

  “So?”

  “So then she’s gonna up her game, Bric. And this is gonna turn into a mind-fuck shit-fest. I like her,” he says. “Maybe more than like her, OK? I don’t want her thinking I’m like you.”

  “You are like me,” I say, getting pissed off. Why the fuck is he sharing her with me if he likes her so much?

  But I don’t ask that question.

  Because I like her too. Just not in the same way.

  “See,” Jordan says.

  “See what?” I ask

  “That fucking evil grin you’ve got on your face. I know you well enough, Bricman. Well enough to see the Machiavellian wheels turning inside your head. Do not play with her emotions.”

  “Why?” I ask, my temper rising. “Is she some kind of fragile flower?”

  But then I realize this intrigues me.

  “Stop it,” Jordan says. “She’s not a puzzle, OK?”

  “Then why are we even playing?”

  He huffs out some air. Runs his fingers through his still-wet hair. “Because she’s not…” He trails off.

  “She’s not what?” I ask. What the fuck is wrong with him tonight?

  “She’s not my type.”

  “OK,” I say, not really understanding.

  “I mean I’m not really her type.”

  “Hmm,” I say. “Do you love her?”

  “No,” he says. “Definitely not. But I like her. I could see myself playing with her for a long time. And if you fuck it up, that won’t happen. You, of all people, understand how fucking hard it is to get a girl you can trust in this game. One who just gets you, ya know? We get each other, Bric. I realize it’s only been a few weeks, but we know each other. I just like her. And we have an understandin
g. I get to boss her around and be a dick, but she knows I’m not a dick, right? She knows I’ll show up the next day and treat her nice and give her a gift. She knows I’m just playing. We’re playing.”

  “It’s a game. Same as this,” I say.

  “Dude, come on,” he says, almost fully exasperated now. “You are a sick motherfucker, OK? You know this, right?”

  “Then why am I even here?”

  “Because we’re good together, ya know. Not great. Yet,” he adds. “Not what you had with Smith and Quin, obviously. But we understand each other. We work well as a team. She liked that up there.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “The problem is you’re in a weird place right now and I’m afraid you’re gonna take it out on Nadia. Don’t do that, OK?” He stares at me. “Just be…”

  “Just be your back-up?” I ask, huffing out a laugh.

  He shrugs. But that’s it. That’s what he wants. Don’t overpower him. Don’t take her away from him. Don’t make her rethink her strategy. Just help him keep her.

  It takes me a minute to decide if I’m angry or not.

  I decide I’m not. I don’t give two fucks about this Nadia girl. And my goal really was to break her. So I shrug. “Fine,” I say. “You want a wingman. Fine. I’ll help you out, Jordan. But when I need a favor, I’ll expect the same in return.”

  His shoulders relax with relief. His whole body, actually. “Thank you. And yes, for sure. If you need anything, just ask.”

  I like Jordan. More these days than I did last month. And it’s not because I just lost my two best friends—although I’m way too analytical not to realize that has something to do with it. It’s because he’s a good friend. He was there on Christmas when I was down. He gave me his girl to make me feel better. He cared.

  “You want me to leave?” I ask. “I can, you know.”

  “No,” Jordan says. He sucks in a breath of air and then lets it out slowly. “No, dude. I want you to stay, OK? It’s going really well tonight. We’ve got her. And if we keep doing this… ya know?” He gestures with his hands to indicate this is what we’re doing tonight. “Making her happy. Making us happy. Everyone is happy. Then we’re golden. We’re set. We’ve got a long-term player.”