Turning Point Club Box Set

by JA Huss

  I look down at Nadia and find her smiling.

  “It’s a good game, brother.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “It is.”

  “Fuck me,” Nadia says, bringing us back into the moment. “Fuck me,” she says again.

  And even though Jordan and I both know she’s trying to take control of this game, we don’t care. He grabs her hands, pulls her up off the desk. I lie down on the hard wood, my legs dangling over the side, just in time for him to pick her up and set her on my lap, facing him. He reaches into his pocket, pulls something out, and tosses it to me.

  Lube.

  I grin at him and he grins back.

  He’s no Quin, but he’s getting closer.

  I flip the cap, squeeze the slick gel over Nadia’s ass as she lifts her hips up. A few seconds later she’s moaning loud as I enter her. She sits down, letting me fill her deep, and then Jordan is back, pushing her legs up to her face. I grab her ankles again, make her an offering, and he slides in.

  “Fuck,” we both say at the same time.

  This is why we do the threesomes. Double penetration is the most sensual feeling in the whole world. For us, and her. Jordan’s dick is sliding past mine as we fuck her, finding our own rhythms until his becomes mine, and we are in sync. I pull out as he pushes in. He pulls out as I push in.

  Perfection.

  “Choke me,” Nadia says, panting out the words. “Choke me,” she repeats. “Now.”

  “Choke her,” I say, looking at Jordan’s slack face and heavy eyes. “She wants you to choke her.”

  He growls as he reaches for her throat, his hand perfectly placed, his thumb and fingers squeezing the firm muscle of her jaw. She gasps because he’s squeezing tight, I can tell. But he’s doing it right and she won’t pass out.

  She doesn’t want to pass out anyway. She just wants to come.

  And we want her to come. Over and over again as we fuck her together.

  I reach down between her legs and strum her clit, making her body writhe with pleasure, and then she stills. Goes stiff for half a second as her orgasm takes over.

  And then Jordan lets go of her throat and she screams. Her pussy and ass contract at the same time, squeezing our cocks until Jordan and I are both moaning with her.

  “Fuck, yeah,” I say, just as Jordan pulls her off me. He holds her tight and this is a move I know well. We’ve done it before. Downstairs in the Club. He’s watched me with Quin. He knows what to do.

  I sit on the edge of the desk as Jordan fucks Nadia standing up. He’s holding her up with his palms spread wide across her ass cheeks. He kisses her as he places her in my lap. My dick sliding up against Jordan’s. And then we’re both inside her.

  This time it feels way too good to hold back. Jordan comes first. His mouth finding mine as he kisses me. His hand in my hair again. Gripping me. Pulling me into him.

  I kiss him back and wait for him to finish.

  “On your knees, Nadia,” Jordan says, pulling her off my lap. She obeys, and then he spins her around. She opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue. Her hand on my cock, pumping me Encouraging me.

  And then Jordan’s hand covers her.

  And they get me off.

  I come so hard it splatters across her face, almost missing her mouth completely. But Jordan swipes his fingers across her cheek and she licks them clean.

  We laugh, Jordan collapsing against her and me. Nadia quiet for once. Satisfied, it seems.

  “Let’s take a shower and try out that new bed,” Nadia says, accepting Jordan’s hand so he can pull her up from the floor.

  No one complains, or cares, who’s giving the orders right now.

  Later, after we’re all in bed and the shower fucking is over, Nadia sighs. Then Jordan. Then… yes, me as well.

  “We got something good here,” Jordan says, half yawning the words out.

  “Maybe we do,” I say back, tired and ready for sleep.

  Nadia’s hand is on my stomach. Stroking me with a soft touch. One fingernail dragging its way up to my chest. Jordan’s leg is hiked up over one of hers. We’re tangled together and I like it.

  He’s no Quin. She’s no Rochelle. And that big, empty hole in my heart is still missing Adley.

  But it could work.

  It just might work.

  Chapter Twenty-Four - Nadia

  “Hello,” Bric says into his phone, still half asleep. He turns to look at me, notices Jordan has disappeared, and frowns. “What?” he says into the phone as I glance over at the clock on the bedside table. Five thirty-nine in the morning. For a moment I panic, thinking I need to get up and get ready for rehearsal. But then I remember it’s Saturday.

  “When?” Bric says, sitting up and turning his back to me. Then, “How?” A long sigh from Bric as he presses his fingers into his temple. “I’ll be there this afternoon.”

  He ends the call and sets his phone down on the nightstand. Drops his head into his hands and rests his elbows on his bare knees.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask. Because clearly that was not good news.

  “Where’s Jordan?” he asks, instead of answering my question.

  “Work, I guess. I just woke up too.”

  “I have to go away for the weekend,” he says, still hanging his head.

  “What happened?” I want to touch him, but I’m afraid to. Last night was pretty good as far as this whole… relationship goes. But still, I feel like Bric and I are strangers. Not close enough for instant bad news sharing. And definitely not close enough for me to… comfort him. If that’s what he needs right now.

  Bric stands up and lets out a long breath. “My brother died. I need to go to Montana for the funeral.” He walks away. Goes into the bathroom, slams the door behind him, and starts the shower. Even though we just took a shower a few hours ago.

  He’s trying to get away from me, I realize. But I live here now. With him. Because he wanted me here. And there’s no way I’m letting him get away from this conversation.

  I get up, pull the tangled sheet from the bed, wrap myself up, and walk over to the door. Listening with my ear against the wood, trying to get a better understanding of what he’s doing.

  Water splashes into the shower, but he’s not in the shower. I can tell by the sound it’s making. “Elias?” I say, knocking on the door. I almost called him Bric. I need to stop thinking of him that way or one of these days it will slip out at the wrong moment and cause a fight. “Can I come in?”

  “I’ll be out in a minute,” he says. “Go back to bed.”

  I wait for a few seconds. Trying to decide if I should push him. But I end up where he wants me.

  Ten minutes later I give up and close my eyes. His brother died. I get that he’s upset. Clearly. But he’s not overly upset. Like… maybe his brother was sick and he saw this coming? Or… Hell, I have no clue. I know nothing about this man.

  Then why are you living with him?

  Good question, subconscious.

  I grab his phone off the table and find Jordan’s contact. Tab it, listen to it ring.

  Voicemail.

  I text instead. Where did you go?

  I understand that Jordan is busy. He’s some important trial lawyer and he’s got a high-maintenance client. Fine. But slipping out of bed? After a great night of sex? Fuck that. He’s not allowed to do that. This was all his idea. I’m here because he wanted me to be in this game.

  That’s my justification to the internal monologue.

  The phone dings with an incoming text. Had to get a clean suit before work. Don’t worry, I’ll bring my clothes as soon as I get time.

  Hmm.

  “What are you doing?”

  I jump a little from Bric’s loud voice. I hadn’t even noticed he opened the bathroom door. “Texting Jordan. Your phone was here and mine is…” I have no idea. “Not here. So I just figured—”

  “You figured wrong,” he says, crossing the room in a few long strides. He snatches the phone from my hand and reads th
e texts. “Don’t look at my fucking phone.”

  “Hey,” I say. “You asked me where Jordan went so I got you an answer. Don’t be a dick to me because something just went wrong in your life.”

  “My brother is dead, Nadia. That’s more than just something went wrong.” He snarls those words. In fact, this might be the nastiest tone he’s ever taken with me and you know what? I’m fucking done putting up with this shit.

  His brother just died, Nadia. Be nice.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, sighing out a long breath of air. “What can I do to help?”

  “Stay the fuck out of my personal business.”

  That’s it. I’m pissed. I throw the sheet off me, swing my legs out of bed, and stand up. He doesn’t back away. In fact, he looks down at me with a challenge in his eyes. I point my finger in his face. One long, well-manicured pink nail. Right up to his face. “Don’t talk to me that way.”

  He huffs out some air and whips the towel from around his waist. “Go back to sleep,” he says, opening one of the closets and disappearing inside.

  “You know where I’m going the minute you leave?” I ask.

  “Enlighten me,” he says, uninterested.

  And that pisses me off too. I’m nothing to him. Absolutely nothing to him. “Home,” I say.

  “This is home, Nadia.”

  “Not anymore it isn’t. Jordan is absent, you treat me like shit”—he peeks his head out of the closet at that remark—“and I’m done. I quit this game. Fuck the both of you. I’m sorry about your brother. Clearly, he meant a lot to you. But I can’t do this anymore.”

  “You’re staying here,” he says.

  “Am I?” I laugh.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow night.”

  “I’m leaving. I’m packing up my clothes, calling an Uber, and I’m leaving.”

  “I have a family emergency, Nadia. You can hold that against me if you want, but—”

  “I’m not holding that against you,” I snap. “I’m holding everything but that against you. I don’t even know you, that’s my problem. And Jordan isn’t playing by the rules.”

  “There are no rules,” he says, pulling on a pair of dress pants.

  “There are rules, Bric.” I use that name on purpose and it gets the desired reaction. Because he opens his mouth to correct me, but I beat him to it. “I don’t know Elias,” I say. “So I’m not calling you that anymore. Elias is the one who goes home for funerals. I only know Bric. And I don’t like Bric very much. I’m quitting because neither of you are taking this seriously. I’m the only one invested in this game. So fuck off.”

  I storm off… but I need clothes. So I end up in the other closet—my closet—and start pulling things off hangers.

  He peeks his head in, adjusting his white dress shirt. “Just fucking stay and I’ll be back tomorrow night. I’ll talk to Jordan and—”

  “No,” I say. “This isn’t my home. It’s just a new house. And it’s not even my new house, it’s your new house. I’m going home. I won’t stay in an empty fucking mansion all alone for the weekend. And yes, I already know I’ll be alone. Because Jordan is too damn busy to pay me any mind at all. The only way I’ll stay here is if…”

  And then a delicious idea pops into my head. An evil, scrumptious, five-thousand-calorie idea.

  “If?” Bric asks, buttoning his shirt up now. “I’m listening,” he says, irritated.

  I smile before I turn around. But then I tuck it away and scowl as I face him. “If you take me with you.”

  “Where?” he asks.

  God, he’s dumb. “To the funeral.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Fuck you too,” I say, crossing my arms over my bare breasts. “Either you take me home with you and show me something real, Bric”—I snarl his name this time—“and show me who this Elias man is… or…”

  “Or?”

  “I’m leaving and I’m never coming back. Game over.”

  “You’re not in a very good position to bargain,” he huffs. Laughs, actually.

  “I’m in the perfect position. What we had last night was pretty great. You think so. And so does Jordan. ‘We’ve got something good here,’ remember? Well, I hope you find it again. I really do. Because it’s very clear to me that the two of you need this way more than I do. And I’m the only one invested. You guys come and go as you please. Treat me nice when you want something. Well, fuck that. I don’t need this shit. I’m not even submissive, for fuck’s sake. I quit.”

  I drag a sweatshirt over my head, pull on a pair of leggings, and then step into a pair of winter boots because they’re the only thing in front of me at the moment.

  When I turn, he’s blocking the doorway. Like for real. Physically blocking the doorway with his body. His palms flat against the doorjamb like a stop gate.

  “Just stay,” he says, his tone less irritated. More conciliatory. “I just need to take care of this stuff at home and I can’t bring you with me because…”

  I wait, but he just stops. Looks at the floor. “Because?”

  He looks up and in this moment, he does give me something real. It’s hurt I see in his ink-blue eyes. Pain. Maybe even regret. His brother is dead. I get that. I should not be making this worse for him. But an opportunity is an opportunity. And seeing Elias Bricman in a vulnerable situation can’t come along often. I might never have another chance to get inside that fucked-up mind of his.

  “Because?” I ask again.

  “Because I don’t share that life with people in this one.”

  I shrug. “OK. Your call.” I grab my coat and purse, but when I try to push past him, he doesn’t give in.

  “If you stay,” he says—calm, voice low, all irritation gone—“I’ll tell you more about me when I get home.”

  “No,” I say, ready to stomp my foot like a child. “No,” I say again. “I want to go with you. Am I a secret? Is that it? I won’t embarrass you. I won’t say anything inappropriate. I just want to know you… Elias.”

  I admit, I have to force myself to spit out his real name. But I’m getting to him. He stares down at me with… confusion. Probably grief. And more than a little vulnerability.

  “OK,” he whispers behind me. “You can come.”

  I’m not sure what I’m expecting after he gives in. Instructions, maybe? Don’t embarrass me. Don’t talk about our arrangement. Keep Jordan out of it. Don’t mention the five-million-dollar house I just bought yesterday. Stuff like that. Stuff everyone wants to hide from their family when they’ve been living a life of debauchery a thousand miles from home.

  But all he does is pack up a garment bag. Filling it with two suits. One blue, one black. “I’ll put your dress in here with my suits,” he says.

  I have no idea what a funeral is like in the dead of Montana winter, but I’m going to assume it involves a black dress. The only ones I have almost seem inappropriately pretty. So I choose the plainest one, and offer it over to his outstretched hand.

  We stare at each other for a moment. Eye to eye. I see questions in his. I wonder what he sees in mine?

  But then he turns away to pack up my dress. “Hurry. It’s going to take a while to get where we need to go. They’re having the service on the ranch but the funeral is in town.”

  “Ranch?” I say, picturing this in my head as I look out the window. It’s too dark to see anything, but I have an idea of what winter in Montana looks like. Closed roads comes to mind.

  “We’re not going to stay at the ranch, don’t worry.”

  “Then where are we gonna stay?”

  “Just pack, Nadia.” It could’ve been sharp and dismissive, but it doesn’t come out that way. It comes out… sad. With a long sigh. And a frown.

  OK. He’s taking me to meet his parents. He’s letting me beyond his walls. And isn’t this what I was after? When they asked what I wanted from this? Wasn’t this my whole plan from the very beginning? I won. So I should win gracefully.

  “Here,” he adds a few secon
ds later, opening up a suitcase on the rumpled bed. “We’ll just take one bag. Put your other stuff in here with mine.”

  I do. And it’s all very intimate. Packing with him, I mean. Our clothes in there, together. Toothbrushes. His shaving kit. My underwear and hairbrush.

  He closes the case and drops it on the floor. Looks at me. “Ready?”

  “Do we have a flight?”

  He shakes his head. “No, but I’m going to take you downstairs and—” He stops to drag a hand through his hair. “Fuck. I forgot. We’re not at the Club.”

  What does that mean?

  “I’ll drop you off at the White Room. You can eat while I make arrangements.”

  The drive over to the Club is not long, but it’s far too silent to be anything other than uncomfortable. It’s not busy when we get inside. Still far too early on a Saturday morning for that. So after Bric disappears I sit at a large back table in the White Room and stare down at my coffee.

  “Oh. Hello?”

  A tall, dark-haired woman I’ve seen around here before is standing at my table when I look up from my steaming cup.

  “Ah… hello.”

  She slips into the other side of the booth, folds her hands on top of the white tablecloth, and smiles. “I’m Chella. I don’t think we’ve met before.”

  “No…” I say hesitantly. “We haven’t. I’m Nadia.”

  “Are you waiting for Bric?”

  I nod. “Yes. He’s making arrangements.”

  She cocks her head at me, like she has a lot of questions about that. “Are you his new player?”

  Just like that. Are you his new player? “We live together,” I say.

  “You do?” she asks. “Well.” An uncomfortable laugh squeaks out of her mouth. “I’m… I don’t mean to be rude, but Bric and I are business partners. We own the Tea Room next door. And he hasn’t mentioned you before.”

  “It’s new,” I say, feeling stupid for admitting I’m part of his sick game.

  “Are you living here at the Club?”

  Jesus. What business is it of hers? “No,” I say, staying calm on the outside. “We bought a house. Yesterday, in fact. In Cherry Creek.”