[The Turning 01.0] Taking Turns

by JA Huss

  Quin slaps her hand away and says, “Leave it. We like it wet, Chella.”

  She looks at him—and I guarantee, she will never see him the same again. I know how sweet Quin can be when he’s alone with them. But I’m also very familiar with how he likes the quad to go.

  Chella nods at him, then her eyes seek out mine.

  “Do you want them to fuck you?” I ask. “Right now? At the same time?”

  She nods.

  “Speak,” Bric says.

  “Yes,” she says, looking at Bric for a panicked moment. “Yes.”

  Quin sits down on the couch, slapping his thigh. “Right here, Chella. Sit on my lap and face Bric.”

  She inhales, but immediately spreads her legs and begins to position herself on top of Quin so she’s facing Bric.

  He looks down at her like he wants to eat her for dessert.

  I ease in closer, my hand on her spread-open pussy. Rubbing, stroking it until she’s looking at me, her mouth open in a little o shape, nothing but moans and whimpers coming out.

  Bric pulls some lube out of his suit pocket and squeezes some onto the tips of his fingers. He pushes past my hand and spreads it all over her asshole.

  “You like it in the ass, right, Chella?” he asks.

  Chella is so consumed with what I’m doing to her pussy, she doesn’t answer.

  But Bric slaps her tit, making her gasp, and she finds his face like she’s supposed to. “Answer me,” he demands.

  “Yes,” she squeaks out.

  “Good,” Bric says, rubbing it all over her asshole. “Because Quin is going to fuck it right now.”

  I reach down and grab Quin’s cock. He leans back into the couch cushions, his arms tightly gripping her stomach. He’s hard, and thick, and that little curve in his shaft will drive her crazy once he’s inside her. I press it against her asshole, Quin’s hips helping me position him. And then he thrusts.

  Chella screams.

  I let go of Quin and lean over her body, my mouth finding her lips. I kiss her as Quin continues on his own. She’s breathing so hard, she can’t even kiss me back. But it doesn’t matter. The only part that matters is that we love what’s happening right now. So I keep kissing her. “You’re beautiful, Chella,” I say. “Relax. Let him take over. Let him take control and just enjoy it.”

  It takes almost a minute of this for her to give in. But once she does, Quin’s cock slips right inside her asshole and she falls back on to his chest, gasping for more air than she can draw in at once.

  Bric’s knees come down on the couch on either side of one of Quin’s thighs and he starts playing with her tits, my hand on his cock as I rub it back and forth across her pussy to stimulate her clit. Her whole body clenches up and clear, thin liquid begins to spray out.

  Bric says, “Holy fuck.” And then he swats my hand away and places himself at her entrance, trying to get inside her. Desperate to get inside her with Quin.

  I back away until I get to the chair and sit down to enjoy the show, my hand busy on my own cock now.

  Chella comes as I watch. It took her seconds. But we are not even close to being done. And this will just be one of many orgasms she has tonight.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven - Chella

  I am writhing against them. Bric’s hard chest covers me, pressing down on me as he moves his cock in and out of my pussy so slowly I want to beg him for more. Quin is holding my stomach tight, his arms a ring, a promise, a claim on my body.

  It is a rhythm I’ve never experienced before. Slow at first. In, out, in, out. But then they speed up. My body rocking between them. Sliding across Quin’s slick chest. Hands tightly gripping Bric’s strong arms. We are nothing but heaving breathing, and moaning, and sweat.

  They take me like that. Me, positioned between them. Tight in their hold. I am panting, “Yes. Yes. Fuck me. Fuck me,” like a whore in a porn film. Like the slut I am. But I do not care about labels right now. I will gladly be their whore. I will gladly let them have me.

  I have no shame. None. I am nothing but want. Nothing but longing.

  My eyes are tightly closed as I lose myself in a pleasure I have never known existed before.

  “Open your eyes and look at me,” Bric commands.

  I try, I really do. But it’s an impossible request. I can’t. I cannot. There is no way—

  A sharp slap across my face makes me think otherwise.

  Bric is staring down at me when I obey him, his face a mixture of agony and ecstasy. “Don’t get lost, sweetie,” he says gently. “That’s not how it ends.”

  “How much more?” I think it in my head, but it comes out of my mouth.

  “So much more,” Smith says. He was across the room watching the last time I knew. How much time just got away from me as I moaned and writhed in their pleasure?

  I almost panic at the thought, but Smith is right there, his mouth against mine. Kissing me as Quin and Bric continue to move in and out. To fill me up with every dirty fantasy I’ve ever had.

  “Stay here,” he says. “Stay here with us, Chella.”

  I do. I obey. I keep my eyes open and kiss Smith back. I wrap my hands around his neck and pull him so close, we might become one person.

  “Don’t lose me,” I murmur. My mind is going black with the pleasure.

  “We won’t,” he says back.

  Then Bric pulls out and kneels next to me on the couch. He drags my face away from Smith and when he places his cock up to my lips, I’m so eager. I can’t stop myself from sucking him. My hands leave Smith, but he’s pulling away. I have a moment of panic, begin to reach out—

  “Shhh,” Smith says. He’s between my legs now. His face buried in my pussy as Quin continues to make me crazy with his cock in my ass.

  Smith’s fingers and tongue. Lapping against the soft skin between my legs.

  Bric pushing my face into his cock. Pressing his balls up to my chin. So thick and hard.

  Quin underneath me. Holding me tight. Making sure I don’t get away. Whispering in my ear. Telling me I’m pretty.

  It goes on, and on, and I’m losing time, and myself, and my place in the world. I am trying to forget and remember. But I have no shame left. I push it all away and just…

  Come all over Smith’s mouth. He laps me up like he’s so hungry. Like he’s starving and I’m the only nourishment he needs.

  “Is this what it takes?” Smith asks, pausing to look up at me from between my legs.

  I stop moving, but they never stop. Their hands are everywhere on my body. Every place that feels good. “What?” I breathe.

  “This,” Smith asks. “Is this what it takes to make you happy? Is this what you want in your box?”

  I am lost. I know it.

  I am losing myself in this game we’re playing.

  The diamonds around my throat are choking me with lust.

  Everything is going black and I don’t care. I am gone. I am lost. I no longer exist. It’s just me and my sickness. My disgusting sickness. The addiction I’ve been pushing away for so long overtakes me again. And I’m floating in ecstasy as I beg. I beg and it fills me with shame. All the shame that should’ve prevented me from going through with this in the first place.

  And I don’t care.

  I don’t care.

  I just want… more. I’m saying it. Screaming it. “More, more, more.”

  I hear them talking to me. Barking out commands.

  But I don’t care. I just want to give in. “Just one more time, I promise. Just one more time and I’ll be good. I swear. I will. Just one more—”

  Everything stops. The black recedes.

  “No,” I hear myself saying. I’m crying. I’m sobbing. “No, no, no. Don’t stop! Please—”

  A hard slap across my face makes me stop.

  Another, and another.

  I begin to breathe again. Sucking down air as so many hands take control of me.

  So many hands.

  On my face, More slaps.

  I am
lifted up. Carried somewhere.

  “Don’t stop,” I sob. “I swear I’ll never do it again. I promise. Just don’t—”

  “Chella!”

  Smith’s loud shout finally reaches my ears.

  He’s holding me. Cradling me like a baby as I cry.

  I don’t know how long I stay like that. But when I realize that I’m not really alone. That they are all still there. I open my eyes and whisper, “I’m sorry.”

  Quin is the first face I see. He’s leaning against me, petting my hair. His eyes are red and worried. Like he’s upset and that just makes me want to cry more.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “Shh,” Quin says. “Just…” He takes in a deep breath and lets it out. “Just be still now, Chella. We’re here. We’ve got you.”

  I look over and find Bric. He’s got his hand up to his chin like he’s thinking very hard about me. He gives me a weak smile and then sits down on the bed. I’m in a bed, I realize. Bric is touching my face, his cool fingers so good against my cheek. “Are you OK?”

  “That’s enough,” Smith says. He’s still holding me in his arms, his hard chest against my bare back. He pulls me even tighter and says it again. “That’s enough. Leave us alone for a little bit.”

  We sit there in the dark quiet. I breathe because that’s the only thing I know how to do. Inhale. Exhale.

  “I want to go home,” I finally say.

  I feel Smith nod underneath me. But then he stops. “No.”

  “I really need to go home.”

  “You are home, Chella.”

  I look around and realize they brought me to my own apartment at the Club. I’m in my bed. There’s the capitol building outside my window. There’s the snow that never seems to stop these days. There’s the city that I didn’t grow up in.

  “You know what I find odd?” Smith asks after a few minutes of silence.

  “What?” I ask.

  “You never had bad dreams with Quin or Bric. At first I thought it was me.”

  “Smith—”

  “Shhh,” he says. “Just listen. I thought it was me. That I scared you. But then that night we spent with Bric, you didn’t have bad dreams then either. And I started to wonder about that. Wonder if your house was the reason you had the nightmares. The sleepwalking.”

  “I don’t sleepwalk.”

  “You absolutely do, Chella. You walked out of the house once. Twice, actually, but I stopped you the first time before you got out the door. The second time you got all the way down the street. You were dressed. You had a coat. You had your purse. You were going somewhere. Where were you going?”

  I start to cry again.

  “I didn’t tell Bric. I should’ve. We could’ve seen this coming. But I didn’t want to think—I didn’t want him to tell me—that I might be the problem. I liked you too much to even consider giving you up.”

  “Is that why you stayed away from me that one weekend?”

  “Yeah.” He sighs. “I thought it was me until we had that night with Bric. You were so sweet that night, Chella. So sweet to sleep with. Not the fucking. I don’t care about the fucking. You cuddled up to me and wrapped your arms around me.” He sighs again. “And I realized it probably wasn’t me. It was a relief and—eye-opening, too. I guess. Because up until that moment, I swear to God, Marcella Walcott, I thought the world revolved around me.”

  I smile, even though I feel so fucking ashamed of myself right now.

  “And I know that most kids learn pretty early that they are not the center of the universe, but I always was. I had so many contradicting opinions thrown at me as a kid. Sometimes I was important because I was a billionaire’s heir. Sometimes I was important because I was so defective. And it was so contradictory, you know.”

  I turn in his arms so I can lay my head on his chest and see his face. It’s too dark to see anything in his eyes but a little glimmer of light from outside.

  “I was everyone’s whole world, good or bad. Love me or hate me. I was the problem. I was the center of all things happening in my life. Until I met you.”

  I close my eyes and let it happen. Let the darkness take me. Just give in.

  “It wasn’t a peek, was it, Chella?”

  I shake my head and begin to cry.

  “Shh,” he says, smoothing my hair down. “It wasn’t a peek for you at all. It was a part of you.”

  “I’m sorry, Smith. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how fucked up I am.”

  “It’s all right. I’m not mad. Not even close. But I do want to know what happened. Because… Chella, you are the center of my world now. I’m sorry too. I’m sorry you’re stuck with me. But you are. I’m kind of a dick when I don’t get my way. And I like to be in control and call the shots. And there’s no changing my mind once I’ve made it up. So you’re stuck with me.”

  I don’t know what to say. “I know you want an answer, but I’m not there yet. I have no answers. That’s why I’m here. I’m doing my best to figure out what the fuck is wrong with me.”

  “Why us?” he says. “How could we possibly be your answer? We are three very fucked-up men who share a girl like she’s candy. We play with her emotions and pull her in every direction we can think of, until she goes crazy and leaves. I just…” He stops for a moment. “I just really didn’t think we were doing that with you. But I guess I was wrong. I’m the one who’s sorry, Chella. I think we’re the ones who fucked you up.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight - Smith

  “You’re not,” she says.

  “Then tell me what happened. You blacked out, Chella. You were talking crazy. Screaming not to stop. Yelling and making promises to be good. What the fuck was that all about?”

  She’s quiet. For a long time. I am just about to give in to sleep when she finally says something.

  “My life was a secret like yours.”

  “Where did you go? And don’t tell me some bullshit answer about church.”

  She’s quiet again. But then she takes in a deep breath and says, “I’ve been seeing a doctor for seven years.”

  “Why?” I ask, sitting up in bed so she has to sit up too. I need to see her face for this. I can’t miss a moment of it.

  “I’m…” She shakes her head. “I’m… sick.”

  I grab her face and hold it tight. “How? How are you sick?”

  “I’m broken. In the head, that’s all, Smith.”

  She tries to get up, but I grab her hand. More roughly than I intend, but I’m not letting her walk out now. “You don’t get to say that and leave, Chella. Fuck that. You’re not leaving until you tell me what’s happening to you.”

  “I’m sick,” she says, loudly. “OK? I’m sorry, but I don’t owe you an explanation.”

  “The fuck you don’t,” I say. “I love you, dammit. And if you’re sick and need help, then I’m gonna make sure you get it and get better.”

  “You can’t fix me,” she yells. “No one can fix me but me.” She yanks her hand away and this time I let her go.

  “Tell me why you came here,” I say as I watch her go into the closet and start getting dressed.

  “To fuck you, Smith,” she says. Trying her best to be mean. “I came to fuck you. And your friends, OK?” She pulls a pair of jeans on and then stops to look at me. “Does that make it all better? Because that’s the truth. I knew who you were. I knew what you guys did with Rochelle. She and I planned it.”

  “What?” Quin asks from the bedroom door.

  I had no idea they were still here, but they are. Bric is standing behind Quin, shaking his head at me. Let her go, he mouths. Don’t do this. Not now.

  I’m going to listen to him. I have every intention of listening to him. But Quin…

  “What the fuck did you and Rochelle plan, Chella? I think you owe me an answer.”

  Chella is pulling on a sweater now. “Why don’t you ask Bric why she left? Remember when you told me you thought Smith paid her off? To get her to leave?”

  �
�What?” It’s my turn to be confused now. “I never did that.”

  “I know,” Chella says, slipping her feet into some shearling boots. I’m suddenly having a flashback to the first night we found her. “Bric did.”

  Quin spins around. “Is that true?”

  “Look—”

  “Answer me, asshole,” Quin yells. “Did you tell her leave? Did you pay her off?”

  “He didn’t pay her off,” Chella says. “He gave her an ultimatum.”

  “What ultimatum?” Quin pushes Bric back with two hands to his chest. “What did you fucking tell her?”

  “He told her to get an abortion,” Chella says, grabbing her purse. “That’s what he told her.”

  And then she pushes both of them out of the doorway and walks off.

  I jump out of bed and follow her down the hall.

  Bric follows me, silent. But Quin follows both of us, asking about… fuck, I can’t even process it. I only care about where the fuck Chella is going.

  “How do you know this?” He’s screaming by the time we all get out onto the hallway. “How, Chella? You said you didn’t know.”

  “I didn’t.” She whirls around, her long hair flying out in all directions. “Until yesterday. We saw the same sex therapist, Quin. And I went in for an appointment to tell her about our plans for last night and she gave me an update on Rochelle because we were in therapy together and she felt I needed to know before I…” Chella stops talking, looking conflicted. “Before I took this final step with you guys. So she told me why she left.” She points at Bric. “And he’s why. She got pregnant, Quin. And she went to Bric for advice because she didn’t know whose baby it was. Yours or his. And he told her to get an abortion. So there. You’ve got your answer. Now you have no excuse not to go find her.”

  She punches the call button for the elevator and it’s just our luck that the fucking thing opens, waiting patiently. Like it was in on her escape plan.

  I follow her in. Hell, all three of us follow her in. She’s busy texting someone. “Chella,” I say, grabbing her by the shoulders. “You’re saying this because you don’t want to tell me about yourself. This isn’t about Rochelle.”