His Turn (The Turning Series Book 3)

by JA Huss

  “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 climax. 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 wh
at.” 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 understanding. 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.”

  “But if I play mind games she’ll walk out?”

  “Yes,” Jordan says. “She’s fucking sensitive to the control shit. I know this now. I know what she needs. I know how to keep her going. I understand her limits. I don’t want her to walk out and if you challenge her too much, she will, OK?”

  “I really don’t see what’s so special about this girl. She’s young, she’s arrogant, and she’s playing with fire. But whatever. I can do you this favor. I’ll be nice. But we still have a plan, Jordan. And we stick to it until it plays out, understand me?”

  The elevator doors ding before he can say anything else and Nadia Wolfe steps out looking… radiant. But a little confused. There’s a big crowd of people down in the lobby of the Club and they laugh loudly in this same moment, making her take a step back. Like she’s afraid they might be laughing at her.

  Hmmm.

  But then she looks over at us and smiles.

  The dress is light blue. Her dark hair has been pulled up into some kind of elaborate twist. And her skin is glowing from the sex, or the massage, or maybe both.

  She looks a thousand times better now than she did when she came upstairs tonight.

  Jordan and I stand up as Nadia ascends the steps, and then Jordan walks over to her and takes her hand, leading her over to the table. He pulls out her chair and she sits as he pushes it in.

  I study him as he pours her wine from the bottle. She studies him back.

  He wants to treat her like a lady in public. Like me. Is he copying me? I mean, that’s how I usually play as well. Smith is the dick, Quin is the fun one, and I’m the gentleman.

  So why am I so hell-bent on breaking her?

  Her name pops into my head without warning.

  Rochelle.

  “Nadia,” I say, just to get the image of Rochelle and Adley out of my head. “You look very relaxed and satisfied.”

  She smiles as her eyes dart in my direction, then look away. Her attention is on Jordan. “Thank you,” she says, still looking at him. “I wasn’t expecting that. But”—she sighs—“I have to reluctantly admit… I needed it.”

  “Well,” Jordan says, lifting his glass. “Here’s to the start of something special.”

  Nadia lifts her glass and then takes a sip. When I look over at Jordan he’s looking at her the way I looked at Rochelle two
weeks ago.

  He says he’s not in love with Nadia. I wasn’t in love with Rochelle, either. But there’s a pull here between these two. Just as there was a pull there between Rochelle and me.

  Maybe I should just bow out now? Why should I help him get what he wants? Why should I always be the one left over?

  “Hey, Bric?” Jordan says, snapping his fingers.

  “What?” I say, becoming annoyed.

  “I asked you a question.”

  “I was thinking about something else,” I admit. “Repeat it, please.”

  “Do we really want to play the game here?” Jordan asks. “We could get our own place.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Quiet, Nadia,” Jordan says. Not mean, but definitely authoritative enough to shut her up. “Let’s look for one together.”

  I glance over at Nadia. She’s frowning. She likes her apartment, I guess. The way Chella liked her house. But Chella settled in.

  Yeah, and look what happened after that.

  But I already tried the new apartment with Rochelle and Quin. That didn’t work out well, either.

  “Think about it,” Jordan says. “We’ll go looking together. Make it ours, you know.”

  Ours. Maybe that was the problem with the loft? It was mine. I guess, looking at this whole thing from Quin’s point of view, he probably thought I was trying to steal Rochelle and Adley away from him.

  Was I?

  It’s a hard question I don’t want to answer.

  “Sounds fun,” I tell Jordan, then raise my glass of brandy in a delayed response to their toast. “To the start of something special.”

  “Great,” Jordan says, smiling at Nadia. The table is set for three. It’s round, not the one we use to spy on people down below, and we are spaced evenly around the perimeter. So Jordan can look at her, he’d said earlier.

  Didn’t Rochelle tell me Quin sat across from her for the same reason?

  God, I need to get these people out of my head.

  “This weekend?” I ask them, breaking their moment. “We should go look this weekend. I have a guy. I’ll have him set up some viewings.”