The Choice

by Alice Ward

  I melted against her and pulled her into the circle of my arm.

  “Bad stuff hurts, doesn’t it?” She nodded. “But remember, we can’t ever let that stop us from trying. You know what they say about buttholes, right?”

  She grinned, straightening up. “Yeah. Everybody’s got one. Do you know what they say about life?”

  “What?”

  “Life is like a dick. Sometimes it’s up. Sometimes it’s down. But it won’t be hard forever.”

  I covered my face while she went into a fit of giggles for so long, she got the hiccups. “I…” hiccup, “learned that from…” hiccup, “camp.”

  My phone pinged, and I realized I’d forgotten all about Grant.

  Grant: Are you still coming over tomorrow?

  My toes curled. Grant and Nash would both be there.

  I glanced at Jaz. “Are you still going to the movies and stuff with Alexa tomorrow?”

  How terrible was it that I wanted to get rid of my sister?

  “Yes. We’re going to the movies and the mall and out to eat. Alexa’s mom said she’d pick me up at twelve and drop me off at six.”

  Six hours with Grant and Nash. I texted him the news.

  Grant: I’m looking forward to seeing you again.

  I wanted to hug the phone to my chest.

  Me: I’m looking forward to seeing you too.

  ***

  Grant’s cock hit my gag reflex when the force of Nash’s thrust shot me forward.

  Threesomes were fun. But they were also a lot of work. And at times could be semi-dangerous.

  Grant smoothed my hair back from my face. “You okay?”

  I just grinned. “If once you don’t succeed…”

  He moaned as I took him back into my mouth and tried again.

  I’d never known how heady it was — I’m so puny — to give head. The sheer power of having your teeth on a man’s most prized possession. The ability to drive him crazy with your tongue. The way he looked at you when you sucked his balls into your mouth.

  A little lust. A little fear. Couldn’t ask for much more than that.

  Nash’s hand moved around me, finding my clit.

  Stroking Grant with my hand, my body clamped down around Nash, the beginning of a climax already rushing up to grip me in its tight, merciless fist.

  Grant stroked my back with one hand while reaching under me to squeeze my breast.

  “That’s right, Journey,” Grant crooned, his fingers rolling my nipple. “Let him make you come. I’ll be right here, watching, waiting until you’re done.”

  Everything was a seduction. The touch. The words. The scents.

  And I surrendered to it all, relished it when the orgasm broke over me, leaving me senseless.

  I felt Grant move. I knew I was being turned over, but instead of lying on the bed, I was on Nash’s chest, my back to his front as he leaned onto the headboard.

  “I want your ass,” he growled and began the process of taking me there. It still hurt some, especially with Nash’s wider girth, but I’d learned how to breathe through it, eager to get to the part that was pure bliss. “Damn, you’re so tight. Sometimes, I think you’re going to cut my dick off.” I clenched down, and he growled again. I was beginning to learn some tricks.

  A hiss of a condom package tearing drew my attention to Grant.

  Dark eyes blazing, he stroked himself, which always turned me on. I liked watching him. His focus and intensity could be spellbinding.

  Crawling onto the bed, he hooked my knees over his arms, then looked down to where I was connected to Nash.

  I should have been embarrassed but I’d grown more used to being examined so thoroughly.

  “Does that feel good, baby?”

  I nodded, unable to speak.

  “Want me to fill you the rest of the way up?”

  I nodded again, but he just grinned. “Tell me.”

  A part of me wanted to make him wait for my response, knowing he was suffering as much as I. But the bigger part just wanted him inside me. Face to face like this, so he could also take my mouth.

  “Fuck me, Grant.”

  His nostrils flared, and his first thrust was an invasion that moved me up Nash’s cock.

  I closed my eyes, relishing it all.

  I smiled when his lips came down on mine, and I circled my arms around his shoulders, pulling him to me closer.

  Hands moved to my breasts — Nash’s — and I was complete.

  Opening my eyes, I gazed into the brown ones so close to mine. Emotion surged through me as I realized just how much I cared for him. Cared for them both.

  Lifting my fingers to his scars, I covered them as he made love to me, his movement forcing me to make love to Nash.

  We were a chain. A strong chain I was beginning to realize. And I was beginning to depend on the strength for my very breath.

  As before, our orgasms were a chain reaction.

  Me.

  Nash.

  Grant.

  We were still a pile of tangled limbs when I fell asleep.

  ***

  I opened my eyes with a start.

  Jasmine!

  Where was she? What time was it?

  But when I found my phone and located the time, I slumped back onto the bed. Thank goodness, I wasn’t late. Then I noticed a message from Jaz: I’m early back home. Where are you?

  Crap.

  I sent her a text back: On my way.

  I rolled off the bed, wondering where the guys were as I pulled on my clothes.

  Unable to find my shoes, I remembered that I’d left them in the living room earlier, next to my bag. Snatching up my phone, I padded down the hallway, listening for any sounds.

  Voices whispered their way to me, and I headed in the direction of Grant’s office.

  I lifted my hand to knock but paused… froze… when I heard a deep grumble. “I’m serious, I can’t keep doing this.” It was Grant.

  Nash laughed, but it was more of a snorting sound. “What? Do you want to pay her off too?”

  Pay me off? Too?

  I leaned against the wall beside the door that was cracked open a couple inches, my legs growing watery.

  Grant made a scoffing sound. “Sure. What should I offer her?”

  “You could do a hundred-grand like with Melissa.”

  “Dammit. Her name was Michelle. But why stop at that? Maybe a cool million this time. Maybe two, since she did us both.”

  “Hell, I’ll toss in two as well. It should keep her happy and quiet for a while.”

  My heart had taken up residence in my eardrums, and it was all I could seem to hear. Nash said something else. At least I thought it was Nash.

  The edges of my vision dimmed, and I knew I needed to get out of there. Still holding on to the wall, I moved away, staying on my tiptoes until I reached the penthouse entrance, scooping up my shoes and purse by the couch.

  My trembling fingers almost wouldn’t open the door, and my movements seemed to be in slow motion as I shut it softly behind me. I watched my finger reach out to push the down button of the elevator. Heard the ding when it reached my floor. Felt myself step inside. Felt it begin its descent. Felt myself slide my feet into my shoes.

  Grant. Nash.

  A sound I’d never made before forced its way from my throat, and it accompanied me all the way to the lobby floor.

  My phone pinged, and I ignored it, walking across the lobby and smiling at the employees as if this was just an ordinary day.

  None of this made sense.

  Why invite me over in the first place if they felt like this? One last fuck? Was that why Grant kissed me so much? It was a goodbye.

  I always knew it was a possibility, but not this soon. Not like this.

  My phone pinged again, and since I was now pretty much wandering aimlessly, I looked at the screen.

  Jaz: I need you to come home.

  Instead of texting a reply, I called her back. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Voice mail
. I hit the green button again. It went straight to voice mail this time.

  Walking faster, I texted back: What’s wrong? Answer the phone.

  The reply was nearly instant. Jaz wasn’t able to type very fast and the speed in which my phone pinged shot a fresh dart of adrenaline through my system.

  Jaz: I can’t. Where are you?

  I frowned, puzzled even further. Jazzy knew she could find my every location on her phone through the app. Had she fallen and hit her head? Was she confused?

  Me: I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.

  Moving into a full-on sprint, I cursed the sandals I was wearing, knowing they were slowing me down. I stopped and pulled them off, assessing that the risk of stepping on glass was about the same of breaking my ankle in a fall.

  Sweat was running down every inch of my skin by the time I rounded the corner. Glancing up at our windows, the new curtains fluttered on the far-right window. Jaz had been watching for me. But instead of standing there and waving as she often did, she… what?

  Charlie Jr. was sweeping off the steps as I came flying up. His eyes bored into me, those red lips sagging open as I raced past him. “Hey, no running,” he said, but I ignored him, feeling his eyes on my ass.

  One more week. Just one more week and he’d be gone, I thought as I flew to the door. I stopped, taking in three long deep breaths and swiped the sweat away from my forehead with my arm. I needed to calm down. I needed to be rational. Whatever I found on the other side of this door wouldn’t be helped by my hysteria.

  My hands trembled as I turned the knob and pushed the door open. In the middle of the living room, Jasmine stood, tears running in slow tracks down her face.

  “Jaz. What’s wrong.” I stepped farther into the room, feeling like I was approaching a frightened deer. “Are you hurt?”

  Her face collapsed, and she began to cry harder. “I—”

  The door closed behind me with a soft click.

  Then a woman’s voice said, “Hi, Ticket.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Grant

  “Just shut the hell up.”

  Nash laughed and took a pull of beer. “Now, do you see how crazy all that talk is? You know down deep in your heart that you’d never pull that old trick on Journey. It’s not worth even joking about.”

  He was right. Even as Nash was giving me hell about the past payouts, I knew I couldn’t do that to Journey. More, I knew she’d never take it.

  But I hadn’t been kidding either. I couldn’t keep doing this.

  I wanted her all to myself.

  “Man, don’t look so fuckin’ miserable. I told you before, I’ll step away.”

  But was that what Journey wanted?

  I scrubbed my face. “No. This has to be her decision. Her choice.”

  Nash rolled his eyes. “You know what? As smart as you are, you can be a damned idiot sometimes. Don’t you see the way she looks at you?”

  I threw up my hands. “Have you seen the way she looks at you? She smiles every time she looks in your general vicinity.”

  Nash flashed me his best smile, and dammit if I didn’t smile back. “See, I’m just naturally charmin’.”

  “You’re just naturally full of bullshit.”

  He laughed. “That too. But we call it fertilizer down south. It’s what we sprinkle on our side of the grass to make it greener.” He took another drink. “You might want to try some because the grass on your side is getting pretty dry.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Aw, buddy, I love you too.” He tilted his bottle at me, the smile fading. “And speakin’ of love, when are you gonna talk to Journey?”

  I opened my mouth to curse him.

  I clenched my fist to hit him.

  Then I just took a long sip of my drink.

  I glanced at the clock. It was still a bit early for Journey to get up. I’d let her sleep a little more.

  “Want to hit the bag for a while before we need to get her home?”

  Nash finished his beer and pushed to his feet. “I wouldn’t mind that, but I’d rather hit you.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Journey

  I whirled, my heart in my throat, startled beyond comprehension at the woman standing there.

  Memories flashed.

  The hateful words.

  The punches.

  The starvation.

  The camera.

  “Spread your legs, Ticket. Be a good little girl.”

  Bile rose in my throat, and I managed to swallow it back down.

  Moving slowly, I inched to where Jasmine stood. Automatically, our fingers linked together.

  Our mother’s lip curled up like she smelled something bad. “Told you something was wrong with her. I knew there was right away.”

  More memories.

  I remembered the day Jasmine was born. Like me, I never knew who her father was. There were so many men coming in and out of the places we lived, it could have been any of them. I remembered my mother screaming at her stomach, saying that the baby had “better be a girl this time.”

  It had been a boy before that.

  I didn’t remember the others.

  She told me that girls paid better.

  Her belly had grown and grown until, one day, water had splashed all over the floor.

  “Help me, Ticket.”

  It wasn’t the first time Mommy’d had a baby in her belly. It wasn’t the first time she asked me for help. Under her instruction, I’d gotten towels and filled a bowl with hot water. She had taken one of the towels between her teeth, and every time she screamed, she did so in a pillow. Then she opened her legs and the baby’s head, all gooey and wet, started coming out. It was gross, but also fascinating. She screamed a last time, and a baby… a real-life baby… came slithering out onto the bed.

  “It’s a girl,” Mom laughed, falling back onto the pillow. “Thank whatever god exists, it’s a girl.”

  When it was a boy, Mommy had cried and cried after he was born. But now, she seemed glad. She smiled as she tied some string around the long yucky looking cord still coming out of her, then took the scissors I gave her from my grasp.

  She picked the crying baby up and looked over to where I’d moved back into the corner. “Look, Ticket. You’ve got a baby sist—” Mommy stopped smiling as she looked at the baby closer. Then everything changed. Her smile went away, and something scary took its place. “No.” It was a whisper at first. Then louder. “No.” Louder. “No! It’s wrong. It’s all wrong.”

  She dropped the baby back on the bed and pushed her away with her foot. I raced forward to catch her before she fell off the bed.

  Mom began to cry, saying things I couldn’t understand. I’d never seen my mother cry before. Then she fumbled for her special box. Holding the gooey baby close to my chest, I watched her shoot some drugs into her arm. That was when the crying stopped, and Mommy fell asleep.

  “It’s okay, baby,” I told my crying sister, wrapping her in a blanket. In the kitchen, I found the formula and bottles Mom had bought on her last trip into town. I couldn’t read — I’d never gone to school — but I could see the pictures and figured out how to make a bottle. Then I’d sat with the baby in front of the TV, pushing one of my favorite movies at the time into the cassette player — “Aladdin.”

  That was how Jasmine got her name. It could have been Belle from “Beauty and the Beast,” or it could have been any other princess from any number of other movies, but it had been “Aladdin” that day. And the next. And the next.

  When I ran out of formula and diapers for the baby, I tried to wake Mom up, but she just smacked me away. I started giving Jasmine milk from the refrigerator, but she cried all the time, throwing it up. I knew how to open cans, so I mashed up my food until it was almost liquid and tried to feed her that. She would suck it off my finger but continued to cry.

  When Mommy finally woke up, it took her a long time to get out of bed. Then she had to walk with her hand on the wall so she cou
ld go to the bathroom, and then screamed when the water wouldn’t come on. She was crying hard again, but she had those crazy eyes when she came back out. The eyes that scared me. The eyes that told me something bad was about to happen.

  I got really afraid as she stood over me while I was holding Jasmine. I rocked and rocked, silently begging the baby not to cry.

  She didn’t. She had cried herself to sleep, or maybe she was getting too hungry to cry anymore. I was hungry too cause I’d eaten all the ravioli before. But I didn’t cry. There were no tears left.

  “It’s wrong,” she said, looking down at the baby, but I didn’t understand what was wrong about Jasmine. Except that she cried too much, she looked perfect to me.

  “She needs food, Mommy.” It was the first words I’d said to my mother in weeks. I had learned not to speak until I was asked a question. I had learned to stay small. To never ask to go outside. To never ask for anything and do exactly what I was told the moment I was told to do it.

  Mommy’s lips had curled up, just like they did when she was going to hit me. I’d braced myself for the blow, but it didn’t come. “Stay inside. Keep her quiet. Remember, there are monsters who will eat you if you go outside.”

  Without another word, she left, locking the door. I waited for her to come back, but it got dark, then light again. Then dark, then light again. I’d opened up the last can of pears and given Jasmine the juice while I ate a little of the fruit, wondering what to do next.

  When another day and night went by and Mom still hadn’t come, I got a knife from the kitchen drawer and began stabbing at the door. There wasn’t a lock on the inside. Only a key could open the door from either side, so I hacked at the lock until my hands had big blisters on them. It was light again by the time the door finally opened.

  I’d been terrified of leaving, so afraid that Mommy would come back and see me, but I was even more terrified to stay. Jasmine wasn’t opening her eyes and she was breathing really fast, like I breathed when I was really scared.

  Holding on to the wall, I’d taken my first step outside that I could ever remember. The only times I’d been allowed to be outside was when we moved from one place to another. And it had always been dark, and someone always carried me.