His Turn (The Turning Series Book 3)

by JA Huss

  “I am,” I say. “I really am.”

  “Well, it’s not going to work,” he says. The light has turned green and we’re two seconds away from my building.

  “I can change,” I say. “No, listen,” I say, grabbing onto his arm as he pulls into the valet area to drop me off. “I want to change. I like you, Bric. I do. I want to make this work. I want a second chance. I want—”

  “You want to manipulate me, Nadia. And I’m just not into it.”

  “I can stop doing that, you know.” I straighten in my seat, then spy the valet coming to open my door. So I put up a finger, telling him to wait, and he backs off, but waits to let me out. Why does the valet have to be so attentive here?

  “I want a woman who likes what I have to offer, Nadia. You’re obviously not that woman.”

  “I am her, Bric. I am. It’s just different, OK? It’s taken me some time to figure it out, but I want to try again. I can please you, Elias.”

  He shoots me a sneer, but I don’t take it back.

  “I took advantage of the situation up in Montana. I took advantage of your… sadness. But I didn’t do it to hurt you.”

  “No, you did it to win. I’m not taking any of this personally, understand? It’s just a game. And now it’s over. I paid you, I—”

  “I want another chance. Just… give me another chance and I’ll show you. I am the woman you want. I am the woman you need. I’m in love…”

  But I can’t say it. I can’t. Jordan told me to say it, but I’m not going to. Because I don’t love him. Not yet. Maybe I can, if we get this second chance. But I don’t now and so I won’t use that to manipulate him into participating. He would never forgive me for that if he finds out what’s really going on. And he will find out. It’s only a matter of time.

  “You’re in love… what?” he says, laughing. “In love with me? Were you seriously going to say you’re in love with me?”

  I shake my head, lying. Because that was what Jordan told me to say. “I was going to say… I’m in love with the idea of submitting to you.”

  “Are you?” His laugh is a full-blown guffaw this time. And then his face goes slack and serious. “Prove it.”

  “Come upstairs,” I say. “Come upstairs and I’ll show you.”

  I catch a grin at that invitation. It reminds me of Jordan. It reminds me of… me. It reminds me of the diabolical plan and for a moment I wonder who is playing who right now.

  But then the grin slides into a frown. “What will be accomplished if I give you another chance to submit? Because from my end, Nadia, this is just gonna prolong the inevitable. We’re not compatible. We never were and we never will be.”

  “And that’s all my fault,” I say, desperate to get him to change his mind. “I realize that now. If I had just given in and taken what you and Jordan were offering then we’d be… we’d be good, ya know? We’d still be playing. We’d be living together in that house you bought. We’d have something… real.”

  All lies, of course. I can’t believe I’m doing this for Jordan. I really can’t. Because I do like Bric. Elias. Both sides to him. I realize that now. Maybe this actual moment is when the realization hits.

  “I don’t want your money,” I say. “I’m going to get a cashier’s check tomorrow and give it all back. I’m not here for the money, or the game, or Jordan,” I add. Because that part’s true too. “I’m here for you. I want you, Bric. So please, just come upstairs and let me show you we can be good together. Give me a chance to please you.”

  “And then you’ll leave me alone?” he says.

  I sigh. Because… “I hope you won’t want me to leave you alone.”

  “I will,” he says. “So if I come upstairs and give you what you’re asking for right now… you should know that going in. I’m out. Leave me alone after tonight. Leave my friends alone. Just go away, Nadia.”

  It stings. I’m not gonna lie. Because I don’t want to just go away. Not after everything Jordan told me. So I suck in a deep breath of air… and agree. “I promise,” I say. “If you come upstairs with me right now, and if you want me to disappear when you leave, I will. I won’t bother you ever again.”

  He opens his door without saying anything. I watch him as he walks around the front of the car, opens my door and says, “Last chance to submit, Nadia Wolfe. Do as you’re told tonight or just go upstairs alone.”

  “I will,” I say, accepting his hand as he helps me out of the car. “I promise. I will.”

  Bric tosses his keys to the valet and puts his arm around my waist as he leans into my neck to whisper, “I’m going to give you what you want, Nadia. But you’re going to regret it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine - Bric

  Inside her apartment I dominate. No waiting for an invitation. No allowances for awkward moments. No second-guessing or looking back. It’s one hundred percent on.

  “Take off your clothes, put on your pointe shoes, and wait for me in the studio.”

  Nadia stares at me. I wait for her comment or objection. I wait for her mistake that will end all of this before it even starts. I won’t put up with it this time. Not one bit.

  She turns on her heel, takes off her coat as she walks away, throws it on the floor, and then whips her sweatshirt over her head before she disappears into her studio.

  I allow myself one small smile as I take out my phone and compose the text. It takes me a few minutes to get the wording just right. All the instructions. And I have to look at my watch for proper timing. Everything must go off without a hitch for this to work.

  Nadia Wolfe will learn a hard lesson about control tonight. Very hard lesson.

  The text response comes back. I read it and slip my phone into my suit coat pocket.

  Game on.

  When I walk into the studio she’s on the floor tying the pink satin ribbons around her left ankle. The other shoe is already on and tied, so she wasted no time obeying. It’s a good start. For me, at least. Nothing about this will be good for her.

  She’s got her legs folded, but open. The way a dancer has them when they’re putting on shoes. Her pussy is pink and wet, her nipples hard and peaked as her arm brushes against them while she checks her shoes.

  “Get in position at the wall, Nadia.” I don’t give her any more clarification than that, but she knows what I mean. She walks over to the brick wall, places her hands flat against it as she spreads her legs into second position, and then she rises onto her toes.

  “Closer,” I say. “I want your face pressed up against that wall, Nadia.”

  She deflates a little. One small breath rushes out of her chest. But she inches her toes forward until her nose is touching the brick.

  “Why did you want to go to Montana with me?”

  She’s in profile, so I can’t see her face clearly. But I see her eyebrows knit together in confusion.

  “Nadia. Answer me.”

  “To… to be a good friend.”

  “No,” I say. “That’s not why.”

  She deflates a little more. Lets out another breath. “To play a game with you.”

  “Correct. Tell me what your plan was.”

  “Bric—”

  “Tell me,” I say, cutting her off and speaking harshly, “what your plan was.”

  “You were right.”

  “About?”

  “I wanted something dear to you and the only thing I could think of was your privacy.”

  “So you wanted to get my secrets.”

  “Were they secrets?” she asks, looking over her shoulder just a little to find me off to her right.

  I huff air. “I was raised by a polygamist, Nadia. What do you think?”

  She shrugs. “It looked… functional to me.”

  “Functional?” I ask her. “That chaos looked functional to you?”

  “I don’t know, Bric,” she sighs, giving up. “If you say it wasn’t, then fine. It wasn’t. But it didn’t look…”

  I wait, but she stops. “Didn’t what?”
I snap.

  “Aside from the understandable sadness, it was…” She shrugs again, struggling to put what she saw into words. What did she see? I hardly know, I was so drunk. “Just a big family from what I could tell. I liked them.” She looks at me again, then quickly back at the wall. Her legs are beginning to tremble from the effort of staying en pointe. “Your niece was funny.” Nadia smiles, like she’s remembering some conversation I have no knowledge of. “And your sister Keren. She’s young. My age. I wasn’t expecting that. She invited me to—”

  “Shut up.” I can’t take it anymore. She knows the faces that go with those names. It fucking kills me that I let that happen.

  She gulps air, but she shuts up. One foot comes up off the floor. She bends her knee, like she’s getting a cramp and needs to stretch. “I’m very tired tonight,” she says, by way of explanation. “I just got out of rehearsal. My legs—”

  “So tell me to leave.”

  “Bric,” she says, turning her head all the way to the side so she can see me. “I’m just sorry, OK?”

  “Why are you sorry?”

  “Because I like you. And I think you like me.”

  “You’re wrong. I want nothing to do with you.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “Because you asked me to come here. If you want me to leave, tell me to leave.”

  “I want a normal conversation—”

  “I don’t do that, Nadia. I do this. So if you like me, we do this.”

  She exhales loudly. Annoyed. “Whatever. If this is what you need to get over the fact that I won your stupid game, fine. Consider it a gift.”

  “There she is,” I say.

  “What?” she snaps. Very irritated with me now.

  “The dom, Nadia. The top. The one who wants control. That’s what you want, right? When you agreed to play the game, you were playing your own game, weren’t you?”

  “So were you.”

  “I was playing our game. I was playing by gentleman’s rules.”

  She snorts out a laugh. Lifts her other foot up, stretches her leg, places her foot back down. She’s tiring quick tonight. She won’t last much longer. “Are you going to fuck me? Or not?”

  I actually laugh. “Not.”

  “OK,” she says, coming down off pointe. She turns, leans against the wall, and crosses her arms. “Then we’re done, I guess. You can leave now. But when you look back, Bric, when you’re old and alone and you’re thinking about all those girls you used up and threw away… don’t blame me. And don’t call me, either. This is your one chance to be real. When you walk out, that chance with me is over.”

  I think about that little speech for a few seconds. Which gives her courage, because she continues.

  “Everyone knows you’re broken, Bric. You have no friends left because you’re so goddamned broken.”

  “I guess you know them all, right?” I laugh.

  “Chella told me.”

  My heart actually skips a beat.

  “She told me everything, Bric. About you. About Smith. About Quin, and Rochelle. And… Adley.”

  Anger is boiling up in my blood.

  “And Jordan doesn’t count as a friend. Not really. He’s just another anonymous player in your game. He told me that, you know. He told me last night that you need help. He thought maybe I was the one who could help you, but I guess he was wrong. You don’t want help. And everyone knows you can’t help people who don’t want it.”

  “Is that your professional opinion, Nadia? Do you fancy yourself a psychiatrist?”

  “Oh, I know all about that too. Thanks to Rochelle. She told me all about your failed attempt at medical school. How you like to mind-fuck people. That’s what you were doing on New Year’s Eve, remember? Just for the record, you freaked Jordan out that night. That’s why he hasn’t been around. He left the game because of you, Bric.”

  I control my temper and check my watch.

  “Time to go, is it?” Nadia says.

  I walk over to her. “Do you really,” I say, grabbing her hair and pulling it so hard her head falls back, making her look me in the eyes, “want to play this game with me, Nadia? Because I will win.”

  “You didn’t win last time,” she says. “Or the time before that. Or the time before that. In fact, I think you’ve been losing this game for a long, long time. I’m practically guaranteed a win. So let’s do it. Who’s the top here, Bric? Me? Or you?”

  Chapter Thirty - Nadia

  Rage. That’s the look I see on his face. Pure rage. How dare I? How dare I challenge him? Well, fuck this. “You know,” I say in his ensuing silence, “you’re just another man who likes to pretend he’s in control. But you’re not.”

  “And you are?” he says. His voice is low. Throaty. Almost a growl.

  “Nope,” I say. My voice is light. Teasing. Almost a purr. “I’m just a girl who knows what she wants. And I’m going after it.”

  “What’s that, Nadia?” He’s still got a hold of my hair. He’s still staring me in the eyes. Still pretending he’s in charge. “What do you want?”

  “Right now?” I shrug. “You.”

  He lets go of my hair and throws his head back in a laugh. “Is that right? Are you in love with me, Nadia?”

  I shake my head slowly. “No. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But I like you enough to care. I like Jordan enough to care too.”

  He squints at me, brows furrowed in confusion. But he doesn’t know the right question to ask to get the answer he needs about that statement.

  “Are we going to play or not?” I ask. “Because I’m tired.”

  “Maybe you need a day to rest?” he asks. “To play your best game.”

  “I’m good,” I say. “If you think you’re up to it.”

  “Get back in position.”

  I turn to the wall, go into second, and up en pointe. I’m not at my best. I’m very tired. My muscles are quaking seconds into round two. But… Jordan promised me something if I did what he asked. And I’m interested in that promise. I think it has potential.

  Besides, Bric really is at a disadvantage here. I know so much more about him than he knows about me. I have all his weaknesses piled up at my feet. If he wants to fuck with my head… Well, he’s gonna get fucked right back.

  That’s the only way to earn his respect.

  “Do you have headphones?” Bric asks.

  Headphones? What the fuck? “Yes,” I say. Hesitantly. “In the living room. Under the TV.”

  “Stay in position,” he says, walking out of the studio.

  I look over my shoulder. Listening as he shuffles around in the other room. When he returns he’s holding the headphones that came with the apartment. They’re good ones. The kind that cancel out noise and everything. And he’s pulling his tie from his shirt collar. It’s a red tie, I notice. My heart beats a little fast because I know what he’s gonna do next.

  “Hold still,” he says, covering my eyes with the makeshift blindfold and securing it tightly at the back of my head. “I’m gonna put the headphones on.”

  He does. And it’s silent. But there’s no music or anything. The cord just hangs limply at my side. And then it doesn’t. Because he’s taking my hands off the wall and tying them together with it.

  My legs are shaking at this point. My toes are burning. I lose my balance and have to lean on him. His body is warm and hard. But he’s cold tonight. And for the first time I wonder if I’m making a mistake.

  He pulls one headphone away from my ear and says, “I’ll be nice and let you lean on the wall, Nadia. Because that’s the kind of guy I am. But you will submit. I know how much you can take. I’m in control of you. So you need to trust me and obey. If you come off pointe the game is over and I win.”

  He’s such a dick. He’s so not worth it.

  But then I hear Jordan’s words in my head. All the things he told me last night. And I force myself to do as I’m told. Everyone has a breaking point. Everyone. Even Elias Bricman has a break
ing point. And tonight, I’ll get him past that point.

  I will break him.

  “Do you understand?” he asks, whispering the words in my ear.

  “Yes,” I say. “You’re in control. I must submit.” I want to add something snide at the end of that answer, but I hold it in. He’ll walk out. I know he will. He’s not in the mood. And I’ve already come this far. I’m practically there. So I hold it in.

  “Good girl,” he says. “The purpose of submission is to enjoy it, Nadia. So just… let it all go and enjoy it. OK?”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “I. Just. Told you.” Angry Bric is back.

  I sigh, because he did. I just didn’t hear him. “OK. Just enjoy it. I can do that.”

  “Good,” he says, letting the headphone cover my ear again. This time he flips a switch on the side. It’s not silence I hear when he does that. It’s that weird non-noise of canceling. Almost a thrum, but not. A vacuum sucking the sound from my head. I don’t like it.

  But then his hands are on my body. They are warm, even though he’s so cold tonight. He slides them up and down my legs. Gripping my burning calves. I’m going to be so sore tomorrow. But his touch… it’s almost worth it. Because it feels so good. He’s gentle, but rough. Hot and cold. Every dichotomy at once.

  I lean my head against the brick wall, the ragged stone pushing into the skin of my forehead until it’s uncomfortable. But then he’s got his mouth pressed into my neck. Kissing me. Pulling my hair aside to reach places that never get reached.

  I think he’s talking to me. I can feel vibrations. But the headphones do their thing, so I hear nothing. I tell myself his words are consoling. My body is trembling now. All over. My legs burn and my toes… God, my poor toes. So I tell myself those words are soft. And nice. Something he’s usually… not.

  A hand slides over the curve of my ass and fingertips slip right between my legs. For a few moments, I forget the pain. I forget everything but the feel of his words and his fingers.