by JA Huss
“Now lift up your cock and place it flat against your stomach. Feel me lick your balls. One of my fingers is wandering, Elias. Down to stroke your asshole. Probe it…”
“Jesus,” I mumble.
“Do you want me to lick you there?” she asks.
“Fuck, yeah,” I say.
“Imagine my tongue takes the place of my finger. I sweep over your ass, then lick my way up your balls, sucking them into my mouth. I’m looking at you, Elias. Only you as I kiss my way back up your hard, muscular stomach and then put my mouth over the head of your cock. I cup your balls now. Wanting you to come down my throat. Your hands grab my hair and fist it. You force my face down. Force your cock into the back of my throat. Your other hand palms my neck, searching for the movement of my muscles as I swallow your thick shaft.”
“Goddamn,” I say.
“I’m so horny, Elias. I wish you were here to really satisfy me. My fingers can’t replace the real thing. I want you inside me. Stretching me open as you fill me up.”
Poor thing.
“But I’ll just have to wait, won’t I?”
“Yes,” I say.
“There’s no replacement for what you can give me.”
“No,” I mumble. I’m jerking myself off pretty hard now. I make slapping noises each time my fist goes up and down my cock.
“I want to come, Elias. You can make me come. You can lean your head down between my legs. One hand fisting my breast. Squeezing it hard. So hard I gasp and whine. But I won’t tell you to stop.”
“I wouldn’t listen anyway,” I say, breathing hard as the words come out.
“I know,” she whines. “I know you wouldn’t. You’d make me suffer, wouldn’t you, Elias?”
“Yes,” I say. I’m getting close. I like this visual. I really do wish I was eating her pussy right now.
“What are you doing to me?” she asks.
“Licking you, Nadia.”
“Oh,” she moans. “It feels so good.”
“I’m licking your pussy,” I say. “Lapping my tongue against it in long sweeps. Sucking in your clit until your hands grab my head and you try to push me off.”
“You’d never let me push you off, would you?”
“Never,” I mumble. “But I’d like you to try.”
“You want me to fight back a little, Elias? Writhe in place. Wriggle my body, desperate to stop the sensations—Oh,” she moans. “Oh, I’m getting close, Elias. Please put your cock inside me. Please, I’m begging you. I’m pulling your hair. I want your mouth on mine. I want to taste the sweetness of my own pussy. I want to feel you enter me—Oh,” she moans again, this time louder.
I’m so fucking turned on I feel a climax building. “I’d lift your knees up to your neck,” I tell her. “I’d open you up so wide.”
“I’d hold my legs open for you, Elias. Like an invitation.”
Jesus fuck. I might have to get up and go over to her apartment right now, that’s how bad I want this to be real.
“Where should I come?” I ask her. “Do you want me to spill it inside your pussy or your mouth?”
“Pussy,” she says. “So I can come all over your cock at the same time.”
I squeeze my cock as I pump it harder. My breathing is loud now. I’m almost breathless as I picture this scene in my head. A few seconds later I groan. “Ahhhhhh,” I say. “Yeahhhh,” I grunt, just as hot semen spills out of me.
“I’m coming, Elias,” she pants. She’s loud now too. “I’m coming all over you. Can you feel me squeezing your cock? Can you—Ahhhh,” she says. “Ohhhhhh, yesssssss,” she whines.
After that there is nothing but heavy breathing from both of us. Seconds go by, maybe a whole minute before she moans again.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my eyes still closed. Suddenly tired.
“Turning over, Elias. Molding my back into your chest. You’re putting your arms around me. Pulling me close. Biting my shoulder and kissing my neck. We’re falling asleep. Completely satisfied.”
I might fall asleep this very moment.
Our breathing slows. Hers matching mine.
“That was fun,” she whispers.
“Yeah,” I mumble. “I hope Jordan had the same good time.”
“He did. But just imagine how great it will be with all three of us together.”
“Yeah,” I moan. So fucking tired. Maybe drunk. But definitely satisfied.
“I can’t wait,” she says. “So I hope you’re not too unhappy with me.”
“Why would I be unhappy with you?” I ask, totally not understanding right now.
“I don’t know,” she says in a soft voice that makes her sound almost… vulnerable. “I got the impression you don’t like me.”
“I like you well enough, Nadia.”
“I want more, Elias. I want you to crave me.”
“Well, this is a good start.” I laugh. My eyes are still closed. I don’t mind the virtual pillow talk if that’s what she needs. I know how to do this, I remind myself. I know how to make them feel wanted and special. “I’ll set something up for tomorrow night, how’s that sound?”
“Oh, thank you,” she says. “I want it, Elias. I really do. I want both of you inside me at the same time. I won’t be able to work tomorrow. I might have to sneak away from class to get myself off in the bathroom.”
“No,” I say, ready for sleep. “Don’t cheat, Nadia.” My whole body is heavy and relaxed. “We want you begging for us the minute we start taking your clothes off.”
“OK,” she says, giving in easily. “I won’t. I promise.”
“Good,” I say. “Good then I’ll have Jordan call you with the details and I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
“Good night, Elias. I hope I made you happy tonight.”
“You did,” I say. “Good night, Nadia.”
I reach over for the phone and tab the end button. Then I lie there, eyes closed, and start to drift. I picture the entire conversation in my head again. Try to remember all the dirty things she said. My cock, which was well on its way to flaccid, jumps back to attention with the memory. Jesus. That was some good phone sex. She really knows how to…
I open my eyes and sit up. Blink a few times to clear my blurry vision.
She really knows how to take control, is the rest of my thought.
Control.
That fucking bitch. She just dominated me, didn’t she?
Did I actually ask her where she wanted me to come?
I stand up and look down at my pants.
Fucking hell. Come all over my front. They might be ruined. My hand is sticky with it. My heart is still beating faster than it should. My cock is still semi-hard because I’m still fucking thinking about the experience she just gave me.
Goddamn it.
I look over at my phone and bring her picture back up on the screen.
She is sexy as fuck. But she’s a manipulative little cunt. I will make her pay for this little move. I will make her fucking pay.
“Nadia Wolfe,” I say, walking into my bedroom to get undressed. “You are not the dom in this relationship.”
I hope her little trick was worth it. Because tomorrow, I’m gonna show her what submission really looks like.
I have a scenario in my head immediately. One I haven’t had to use in a very long time. One that will have her writhing, and moaning, and screaming our names. One that will have her begging for more and begging us to stop at the same time.
One that will definitely show her who’s boss.
Chapter Eight - Nadia
I’m snickering with delight when I get the hang-up beeps from Elias. I stand up and stretch. My old t-shirt rides up my belly and my cut-off sweats fall a little down my hips.
I hike them up and then skip into my kitchen to make a cup of tea.
I should’ve been an actress. For real, I am so good at this shit.
But these stupid men, right? They are ruled by those cocks. And the bigger, the fatter, and the
longer those cocks are—the more they use them to think.
I bust out laughing. It’s so loud, it echoes through the kitchen.
“Mr. Bricman,” I say to no one but myself. “You have officially met your match.” He’s going to be so much fun to fuck with, I almost feel giddy at the thought. Never in a million years did I think I’d wrap him up in one night.
God, he’s almost a disappointment. “I expected more from you, Bricman,” I say, filling my tea kettle with water and placing it on the stove burner.
Then I walk back out into the living room and flop onto the couch. I pull my knees up to my chest and look out the window. I think I like Denver. I think Denver is my new favorite place.
I haven’t felt this… happy in a very long time.
The entire night was perfect. I played this game like a goddamned gold medalist. I am the queen of fucking mind games.
“Queen, Bricman! Do you hear me?” I shout it at the walls. “I’m the fucking queen!”
He has no idea who he’s dealing with. He has no idea how manipulative I can be. How cunning, and unscrupulous, and scheming I can be.
But fuck him anyway. Fuck him for only seeing what’s on the outside. Fuck him for pegging me as a victim. Fuck him for underestimating me. Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him.
My phone rings on the coffee table. Vibrates too. I glance down at the number, my heart skipping a beat as I read the screen. For a moment, I hope I’m seeing it wrong. I hope it’s just an illusion. Some kind of hallucination.
But it’s not. It’s real.
The phone is about to vibrate off the table when I reach out and grab it. Tab accept. “Hello?” I say.
“Nadia?”
“Yes,” I say.
Silence.
“What?” I ask. “Why are you calling me?”
“Where are you?”
“None of your business.”
More silence. I should just hang up. But I won’t. I refuse. I will not submit.
“I already know anyway.”
“Good for you,” I say. “What do you want?”
“I want you to come home.”
“No. I’m not coming home. I told you that when I left. I won’t be home again. Ever.”
“You got a new job,” he says.
“Yup. Pretty sweet one, too.”
“Congratulations.”
‘“Thank you,” I say. He won’t ruin my night. Ever again.
“I think about you all the time.”
I sigh into the phone. “It’s over, Logan. It was fun, and then it wasn’t.”
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to…”
“You’ve told me that a million times. I don’t care what your intentions were. OK? I don’t care. I left and now it’s over.”
“You can’t just… walk out like that, Nadia.”
“You’re breaking the terms of the restraining order, Logan.”
“Fuck that restraining order,” he spits.
I press end, block his number, and turn my phone off. I won’t go back to that bullshit. Ever. He can just fuck off. Him, and Bricman, and, hell, even Jordan. All of them. Every man on the planet. They can all just fuck off.
My tea kettle begins to whistle softly. But I’m stuck here. On the couch. In the past. In another life and this one, all wrapped up into one fucked-up package.
By the time I force myself to get up and go back into the kitchen, the kettle is screaming at me.
I turn the flame off and the whistle fades away.
Just like that life I had. It fades away.
I don’t make a cup of tea. I turn out all the lights, take two sleeping pills, set my alarm for five AM, and climb into bed.
He can’t ruin my night if I end it.
Chapter Nine - Bric
“Hey,” I say when Jordan answers his phone. “You busy?”
“I’m in court today, so yeah, kinda. Why?” he asks. “What’s up?”
“Did you talk to Nadia last night? After we dropped her off.”
“No.” He laughs. “Sorry. I meant to, but I made the mistake of checking my email when I got home and…” He sighs. “This fucking job, ya know? Kinda interfering with my sex life.” A small chuckle escapes at his joke.
“Hmm,” I say. I cannot get that sneaky bitch out of my mind.
“I will though, Bric. Don’t worry. I’ll call her at lunch. You want me to set something up for tonight?”
“No,” I say. Then, “Yeah. I mean I just wanted to know if she called you and you guys had…” Jesus. I cannot fucking believe I fell for her shit.
“Had? What?”
“We had phone sex last night.”
“Fuck, she’s good at that, right? We’ve done it a couple times too.”
“She was trying to control me, Jordan. And she lied. She told me she called you first and you guys played the same little game.”
“Well, we’ve done it a few times. But not last night. Like I said, I got distracted with fucking work.”
“And she’s always the one who initiates?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Why? I just told you why. She’s using it as a way to control us.”
“Maybe,” he says. I can practically feel him shrug. “But it’s pretty fun.”
“This is a big deal, Jordan. She came to you as a top. She cannot fucking have control in this arrangement. Fuck that. And what she did last night was manipulative and sneaky. It breaks the spirit of the rules.”
“Spirit of the rules?” He bellows his laughter this time.
“It’s not funny. I’m pissed off. I don’t want to play with a girl who’s trying to control me, OK? And if she gets away with this once, she’ll try it again.”
“She submits when you ask for it. She’s just putting up a fight, Bric. What’s the big deal? I thought you liked the fight?”
“I do,” I hiss. “With the understanding that I’m the one in control.”
“So you’re pissed because she got the better of you last night? You feel like you lost the battle?”
“You should be angry,” I say. “I don’t understand why this doesn’t bother you more. If she did this to Smith or Quin, they’d be calling an emergency meeting to set her straight.”
“Well.” He sighs. “I’m not Smith or Quin. I like Nadia. I like her fight. I like pretty much everything about her. So…” I feel the shrug again. “What do you want to do about it? Cane her ass until she has welts?”
“No,” I say. “I have something much better in mind.”
“Good, text me the details and let me know when this is going down. I gotta get into court. Later.”
He ends the call and I set my phone down. I’m in Smith’s bar checking out the people down below. It’s busy this week because New Year’s is this weekend. People love this fucking party. Almost every member shows up. Of course, Smith usually doesn’t. Not anymore, anyway. But Quin almost always does. But not this year. He’ll be home with Rochelle and Adley. Or they will get a sitter and go out alone. Or maybe they will double-fucking-date with Smith and Chella.
Assholes. They’re all a bunch of fucking assholes.
I spend the whole day stewing about Nadia and her covert attempt to take back control. I have gone through every emotion. Anger came first. Bitch. Why is she even playing if it’s just gonna be a mind fuck?
But then I got to thinking about that. The mind fuck part. Because I’m kind of an excellent mind-fucker. I mean, shit. I went to school to be a psychiatrist. I got pretty far into it before I dropped out. I have a medical degree. I run a sex club. I’ve been playing this goddamned game for more than a decade. And even though I’ve been on a losing streak for a while now, I’m damn good. I’m due for a win. I will win this.
The key to a proper mind fuck is the element of surprise. The target thinks they’re ready for the unexpected, until they’re not.
Nadia was probably pretty pleased with herself last night. She probably ended that call with a huge smile on her
face. One hundred percent satisfied.
And she’s expecting retaliation. She had to know I’d tell Jordan about it. She had to know I’d find out she never called him. She had to know I’d be pissed off today.
When I realized that… well, that’s when I calmed down and started piecing together a psychological profile on her.
Nadia Wolfe. Twenty-something. Beautiful. Talented. Ballerina. Control freak. New in town. Rising star. Player of games.
She’s so stupidly simple to figure out, I almost feel sad that she’s not more of a challenge.
I decide the ballerina aspect is my best first move. They are a different sort of person, so most of what I just described probably stems from her choice of occupation. She likes control because she’s forced herself to be in control of things to get where she is in her art.
Think about it. Ballerinas, right? They get up early to go to class or rehearsal or whatever the fuck it is they do first thing in the morning. They have to control themselves in very specific ways. They have to control their muscles, their emotions, their pain threshold, and the pleasure center in their brains. They have to psych themselves up to fit their bodies into the mold of dancer.
They have to conform in many ways. Deviation from the standard is unacceptable, even though they are expected to excel and stand out.
They must look a certain way, behave a certain way, and submit to the whims of those who control their future.
Success, therefore, is not defined by their own perceptions of themselves, but by the perceptions of others. And those perceptions are directly related to athletic skill, beauty, and youth.
It’s a trifecta of psychological disorders waiting to happen.
I smile.
I’ve got you, Nadia Wolfe. I have your ticket, darling. I know what drives you now.
But the key to a proper mind fuck is, again, the element of surprise.
She’s expecting something from me tonight. Something pretty specific, I’d imagine. Something that involves pain, and sweat, and sex. Maybe punishment in the form of denial.
I press her contact number on my phone.
“Mr. Bricman,” she says, breathing hard and heavy into the phone. “What can I do for you?”
