by JA Huss
“But you didn’t correct Quin or Smith today.”
“I didn’t have a chance. You started being weird about it.”
“Anyway,” I say, looping the conversation back around to my point. “I think he’ll come around. Listen, I gotta go. Lots of shit to do this time of year.”
“Parties?” she says.
“Is that a hint of wistfulness I detect? You better get over it if it is. Because this game won’t look anything like the last one.”
“Explain,” she says.
“When I know more, I will. But I won’t know more until Quin and I talk it over. What time does the baby usually nap? In the morning?”
“Around ten—ten-thirty. She wakes up early so she’s usually tired around then. Why?”
“You’ll see. Kiss that baby for me. I really do gotta go.”
I hang up before she can answer back and lean into my chair.
She looked good today. Much better than yesterday even though she was only wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Yesterday she looked lonely. Today she looked… hopeful.
I might be hopeful too. I mean, Jesus Christ. A few days ago, I was upstairs with Jordan losing the game—yet again. And today Rochelle is back. If everything goes well we’re gonna be fucking her tomorrow. And then… who knows?
Rochelle isn’t my dream girl, but she’s good enough. She was only a fair submissive. She likes the spankings and a little bit of bondage. Blindfolding, tying her hands to the bed, and a few minutes with the gag in her mouth are all things we did together.
But Rochelle is never going to crawl across the floor to suck my cock. Or look up at me, crying beautiful silent tears as I fuck her mouth. She’d knee me in the balls if I ever tried to make her call me Master.
I have to laugh just thinking about it.
So, no. She’s not really into the kind of kink I like. But that’s what the Club is for, right? Rochelle is like the wife and the Club girls are like the mistresses.
Christmas is coming and even though Smith and Chella will be going to most of the parties themselves this year, I still have a few on my calendar. Rochelle is a good date. Someone I can take out in public. She knows what to do. How to act. What to say—and not say.
She’s… trained.
It’s a little derogatory. I’ll admit to that. But it’s also true. I invested three years of my life with her and Quin—why throw that away? I never wanted her to leave. Quin never wanted her to leave. Rochelle didn’t even want to leave. She was hormonal, she said. Not thinking straight.
So now she just needs a little help to reconsider all her options.
I smile as I kick my feet up on my desk and stare out at the capitol building.
Quin wants her back, he’s just playing hard to get. And Smith told me that he thinks Quin misses me while we were waiting for him to show up at the Club for lunch today. I think he does too. We had something good, man. It was good. No thinking, no awkwardness, no jealousy. Not enough to matter, anyway.
So this is my challenge. Make both of them reconsider their options. Get the three of us together alone so they can remember how easy it is.
It will be easy. I can feel it.
We’re a little family. We had a small spat, but family is family.
Plus, there’s a baby now. Our baby. No matter who that baby’s father is, she’s still ours. That right there might be enough glue to hold us together.
Hmmm. I think about this for a moment.
Maybe Rochelle is right about not getting a DNA test? I mean, I know why she doesn’t want one. She doesn’t want to share that baby with us. But it’s too late. She’s back, the baby is here, and Quin and I know about her.
Rochelle’s game is over.
But… I could take Rochelle’s side against Quin in this respect. Put that test off so none of us know who the real father is. That way we have to be a threesome.
Yes. Little Adley Bastille is our glue.
As long as none of us know who the real father is, we’ll be together. I’ll have my stability back, Quin will have Rochelle back, and Rochelle will be right back where she belongs.
In my game.
A new game.
The three of us together. All day, every day.
My mind is spinning with ideas. Plots and plans to get what I want. What we all want. It’s not really all about me.
Well. I chuckle, feeling a little smug. It’s mostly about me.
Chapter Six - Rochelle
Adley is just about asleep when a loud knock at the door startles her heavy eyes open.
“Shhh,” I say, swaying her in my arms in front of the window. It’s sunny today and the sun makes her sleepy.
The knock comes again and I want to kill whoever is on the other side of that door right now. I walk across the living room and down the small hallway. Opening a hotel room door is never a quiet affair. There’s all those serious locking mechanisms and you really have to pull. So by the time I get the door open Adley is awake.
Bric’s knuckles are poised to knock again and Quin is standing off to the side.
“You woke her up,” I say. “I was just trying to get her to sleep.”
“Sorry about that,” Bric says, pushing past me to enter the room.
Quin waits for an invitation, so I oblige by waving my hand and saying, “Come in,” as I turn away and go back to the window. Adley is having none of it. Bric comes up beside me and whispers, “I told you to be getting out of the shower. And why is she still awake?”
I vaguely recall my phone ringing this morning at six AM. Even more vaguely the one-sided conversation with Bric that came afterward. I have no memory of this shower request.
“The long t-shirt is a nice touch though. Shows off your legs. I’m going to presume you’re not wearing underwear?”
“Am I interrupting something?” Quin says behind us.
I look over my shoulder and see him sitting on the white leather couch, hands in front of him, leaning forward with legs slightly open, looking at me like… well, not quite like he used to.
We are a long way from where Bric thought we’d be today.
His suit is dark blue, his tie and pocket square are light gray, and his shirt is crisp white. He didn’t shave this morning, so his face has just enough stubble to make him sexy, but not enough to make him unkempt.
His blue eyes track to my legs when I turn. I am wearing underwear—stupid Bric. But that’s it. “This is what I wear to bed,” I reply by way of explanation.
“I didn’t say anything,” Quin says, almost smiling.
“I know. But you were thinking it.”
We sigh together, thinking of all the ways we know each other intimately. And all the ways we are strangers now.
“Is it a bad time, Rochelle?” Quin asks. “We can leave.”
“No,” Bric says, pressing into me a little. He’s warm, and big, and overbearing.
“She needs a nap,” I say, still looking at Quin.
“Here,” Bric says, reaching for Adley. “I got this.”
Quin covers his mouth with his hand to hide a laugh. I’m not amused. “Forget it, Bric. You’ll never get her to sleep. She’s awake now. And she’s probably hungry.”
“I can feed her. Where’s that bottle warmer thingy?”
“Bottle warmer thing? Since when are you an expert in feeding babies?” Quin asks.
“I looked it up online. Come on, I’ll take her so you two can work this out.”
“Work what out?” I ask.
“It’s just an expression,” Bric says. “You people are so literal today.” He reaches for Adley like this is a done deal. I hand her over, more out of surprise than anything else, and Elias Bricman—the man who hates children and doesn’t even try to hide it—cuddles her and walks off towards the bottle warmer I have set up by the small fridge in the dining room. “Where do you keep the… milk or whatever?”
Quin is looking at me the whole time. Wondering something.
I hope he’s not w
ondering why he’s even bothering with me.
The bottles for the day are all filled and ready, neatly lined up inside the fridge. I get one out, put it in the warmer, and press the start button.
“What does your mommy do all day, Adley? Hmmm?” Bric is talking to my daughter like he’s known her forever. “Mope?” he asks, looking up at me to smile. He sways a little, like he knows just what to do with a baby. “Pine for Quin and me?” He looks over at Quin for that one. “Does she miss us?” The warmer dings, but before I can grab the bottle, Bric has it in hand. “Just plug it into her mouth, right?” Bric asks, walking off towards the bedroom down the hall. “I got this.”
“Who is he?” I ask, watching him disappear.
“I have no idea,” Quin says.
When I turn to Quin, he’s leaning back into the couch cushions, both his arms spread along the top, one foot propped up on one knee. They always need to be in control. He was off his game a little yesterday but he’s got it back now.
“So,” Quin says, looking up at me with those piercing blue eyes. “You’ve got something to say to me?”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“I know, you said that already. That’s it?” he asks, looking like he’s ready to get the fuck out of here.
I take a deep breath as I cross the living room. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and stop to frown. “Jesus Christ. I look like shit.” My hair is a mess. I look like I just crawled out of bed, when really, I’ve been up for hours. I’m pale, even though I still have a tan from being outside in the hot springs almost every day for months. And there is no way to hide the dark circles under my eyes. I was up all night thinking about how my life just changed. I had just barely fallen asleep when my phone rang this morning. And then Adley wanted to wake up after that.
“Rochelle,” Quin says, making me look back at him. “Do you have something to say to me or not?”
I nod my head slowly as I walk over to the couch and kneel down on the cushion, facing him. “I loved you.”
“So that’s why you left?”
“No,” I say. “I left because I got the impression… you… liked the way things were, I guess. You were comfortable.”
“And you weren’t? You wanted more?”
“I was pregnant, Quin.” I’m starting to get angry. “I felt very alone. And you and I both know that if I kept the baby and tried to stay, Bric would have none of it.”
We both look towards the hallway. He’s talking to the baby in there in a low voice. Not even spying on us.
“Maybe,” Quin says. “But”—he waves his hand at the soft words coming from the bedroom—“maybe not.”
“Things are like this now because you’ve had time to think about it. But if I had sprung it on you back then, it would’ve been different. Everything would’ve been different. You know as well as I do that Bric was not about to give up his fun for me.”
“You didn’t need him, Rochelle. You had me.”
“I had you with him,” I say. “We weren’t a couple, we were pretending. We were a trio. And then I went and fucked up and ruined it. So I’m sorry for that too. I didn’t want to ruin it. I wanted more with you, but I was happy with the way things were.”
Quin stares at me for a few seconds. Like he’s trying to decide if he accepts that answer. “And you’re just as happy now that it’s over?” he finally asks.
“I’m… OK.” I say. “Happy, yes, in lots of ways. But I miss you. I miss what we had.”
“Me and you?” Quin asks. “Or the three of us?”
“Both. I miss all of us. Well,” I amend, “I don’t miss Smith at all.”
Quin smiles a little and looks away. “He’s out of the game, anyway.”
“So you’re still playing? You have a girl?”
“No,” Quin says. “I quit the Club a long time ago. Yesterday was actually the first time I talked to Bric in a while. Six months, almost.”
“You’re mad at him?” I ask.
“Was,” Quin says, looking back at me.
God, he’s handsome. Quin is the all-American man. Light hair, light eyes. Tall muscular body. And he’s even a nice guy. He’s got manners and he’s educated. Polite and friendly with almost everyone. I don’t know much about his family, other than his dad died before we met. He never talked about them to me at all, but I never got the impression he hates them. Which is… unusual, from my perspective.
“But now that you’re here…” He sighs. “And you didn’t have an abortion—”
“Who told you I had an abortion?”
“Bric. Well, Chella.” Quin shakes his head. “It’s a long, stupid misunderstanding.”
“And you’re ready to be friends with him again?”
“Maybe?” Quin says. “In fact, before we came over here yesterday he was asking me if I wanted to find another girl.”
“Will you?” I ask. I know this is part of Bric’s plan, but it makes my heart beat fast just thinking about them doing… what they do with someone other than me. They’re mine. They were mine for three years. Never has another girl stayed for so long. I was the perfect player. They know this.
At least they did. Maybe I just need to remind them?
“I don’t know, Rochelle.” Quin lets out a long exhale. “I still…” He stops to stare into my eyes. “The baby is so pretty. I’d love to get to know her. We should get a DNA test as soon as possible,” he says, totally taking the conversation in the wrong direction. “To avoid any confusion.”
“Because if you’re not her father—”
“I am her father,” Quin says, looking at the hallway. Bric has stopped talking and things are very quiet in the bedroom.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. I feel it.”
“Then why do you need a DNA test?”
“I don’t. But Bric will. So he knows she’s mine and not his.” He gives me a sidelong glance. “To keep the facts straight.”
I nod my head, looking out the window. “So that’s all you need to know?”
“I need to know what the fuck is going through your head right now.”
“How do I answer that?” I ask. “I love you. That’s it. That’s all. And you’re only here for the baby so…”
He puts his hand on my bare thigh. It sends a tingle of electrifying anticipation through my whole body. “Don’t be stupid. That’s not the only reason I’m here. I called you hundreds of times. I left message on your voicemail. You never called back.”
“I got rid of that phone. I didn’t have access.”
“I’m just saying, I tried, Rochelle. I really, really wanted you back and I tried my best.”
“And now you’re not sure, are you?” I can feel tears welling up in my eyes.
“I don’t know what to think. I still want you but I certainly don’t fucking trust you. You could’ve left a note. You could’ve called at some point.”
“I did call—” Shit. I forgot that Bric never told him that.
“When?” Quin asks, his voice suddenly edgy and rough.
“Right after Adley was born. I called the Club, but I didn’t know what to say, so I just hung up.” Not a lie. Just… not completely true, either.
His hand on my thigh slides up to grab my hip. “What do you want?” he asks.
I force myself to look at him, no matter how hard I want to look away. A tear falls down my cheek and he swipes it away with a fingertip.
“Come on, Rochelle. Just tell me what you want.”
“You.” I shrug. “Bric. I want all of it back. I want to stay. I want to redo everything. I want another chance, Quin. I want another chance.”
“I heard my name,” Bric says, coming back into the living room. “What’d I miss?”
Quin doesn’t answer.
Bric walks over to the couch and sits down on the other side of me. “No one wants to fill me in?”
“She wants to play the game with us again,” Quin says.
“That’s not
what I said. I want you guys back. That’s what I said.”
“What does that even mean?” Quin asks.
“I get it,” Bric says, saving me for once. Good God, this was his fucking idea and he goes and leaves me here to sort out all these messy feelings on my own. “A new game, Rochelle?”
“Fuck that.” Quin sighs. “I’m not into it.”
“You’re not into me?” Bric asks. “Or her? Because you just told me yesterday that we were gonna find a new girl. Just the two of us. And now that Rochelle’s back”—I look over my shoulder in time to see Bric shrug—“why not just play with her?”
“Because it’s not a fucking game, Bric. It’s a whole lot of feelings.” Quin hesitates, then adds, “And the baby. Once we get that DNA test we’ll know who the father is and things will be different.”
“So why get a test at all?” Bric asks. “Why not just let that shit ride? Do we need a test?” Bric is looking at me.
This is a new position. Last night he said we should give in to the test.
“I mean, look, Rochelle. I’m sure you want to know who your baby’s father is and all, but does it matter? If you want to be with both of us?”
I look back at Quin, his eyes squinting down in confusion.
Oh, I get it. If no one knows who the father is, then they’re both the father. “As long as it’s unknown, there are two equal possibilities.”
“We’re both the father,” Quin says, catching on. “Even if we’re not.”
“Exactly,” Bric says, wrapping one hand around my front to squeeze my breast. Quin is still holding onto my hip bone, like he’s afraid to let go. “Why do we care who the father is? If we’re gonna be together as a threesome anyway?”
“Are we?” Quin laughs.
“Aren’t we?” Bric replies. His hand lets go of my breast, falls down to where my hand is resting on my leg, and cups it in his palm. He leans into my back as he uses my hand to reach across Quin’s lap and rub his crotch.
Quin isn’t hard, but it only takes a few seconds. I feel him grow bigger under our touch.
“Come on, you guys,” Bric says, rubbing Quin using my hand. “This is us, right? We’re good at this.”
