by JA Huss
The man at my face pulls his cock from my mouth and kisses my lips. And then he is on the move. Lifting my body up, sliding underneath me. His hands hug my stomach, his arms encircling my waist. Surrounding me with his claim on my body.
But at the same time, the other one eases himself between our legs. His hand is slick with lube and he presses a wet finger into my asshole to get me ready. Seconds later a cock is there. I squeal at the pressure and the pain, but whoever is in charge right now slows down, lets me gets used to his thick girth, and his cock slips deep inside my ass the moment I relax.
Fuck.
I’m still being held by those arms when another body is on top of me, pressing against my breasts as his mouth finds mine and we kiss. We kiss hard, and soft, and fast, and slow. We kiss every way we can. Like we are so damn hungry, we can’t control our urges.
The blindfold is ripped away. The headphones removed from my head. Smith is on top. I lean my head back and Bric is whispering in my ear. “Yes,” he says. “Yes.”
“Yes,” I echo, looking at Smith again. His hand is between my legs playing with my clit. The other one is pumping his hard cock.
The look on his face is starvation.
He scoots up, his muscular thighs pressing against Bric and me, and when his cock slips inside my pussy, I don’t moan… I scream.
With pleasure.
I am gone. I am done. I am right where I want to be.
I am in heaven.
They fuck me. I fuck them. Bric’s strong arms never stop hugging my waist. Smith’s punishing mouth never stops kissing mine.
I come so fast, they both start to laugh while I writhe between them.
Before I’m even done, Smith drags me off of Bric and says, “On your knees.”
I already miss them both as they jerk off. I open my mouth and this makes both of them smile as they come on my face.
I don’t know if it’s luck, or skill, or simply fate.
But I am… in heaven.
Smith reaches over to the bedside table, grabs a washcloth and cleans off my face
This is what I’ve always wanted. “More,” I moan, so sad that it’s already over. “I want more.”
Bric pulls me back into his arms and we fall onto the soft bed, laughing. He pulls my back into his chest as Smith settles next to me. He places a hand on my cheek as Bric whispers sweet things in my ear.
“This is just the first time, Chella,” Bric is saying. “It will only get better.”
Smith kisses me and smiles, then closes his eyes and hikes a leg over mine, claiming me, even though another man is hugging me tight.
And we just breathe.
This is why I’m here.
I wanted them both.
And now that I have them, I will never them let get away.
Chapter Twenty-Six - Chella
The next morning Bric wakes early, and I wake with him. Smith is still here, which surprises me a little. I figured he’d be gone. But he’s not. He’s got his face buried in a pillow, legs spread out across the bed.
“Where are you going?” I ask in a whisper.
“I gotta go take care of some things downstairs,” Bric says, walking into the bathroom and turning on the shower. “Are you going into work today?”
“Yes,” I say. “I have to be there early, actually. We have a delivery today and it’s scheduled for eight AM.”
“I thought Matisse was the only exhibition until March?”
“He is,” I say. “But I’m in charge of the Denver Undiscovered Artist Show in February and our gallery is where the jurors choose participants.”
Bric comes back out of the bathroom as he lets the water get hot. “Sounds fun,” he says, kissing me on the mouth. It’s a nice kiss. He holds my face as he leans and when he pulls away, I reach for him.
“I’m late, Chella. But I’ll see you tonight, OK? One last Christmas party, then we’re done.” He winks at me. “Until New Year’s. But we’ll talk about that later.” One more quick kiss and then he’s gone, closing the bathroom door behind him as he gets ready for work.
“Work?” Smith mumbles beside me. “Really? Why the fuck do you work, Chella?”
“I like work,” I say, turning my body towards his.
“We could stay here in bed all damn day.”
“I’m pretty sure the rules are back the minute Bric leaves.”
“Mmm-hmmm,” Smith says into his pillow. “Doesn’t mean we can’t just sleep next to each other for a while.”
I don’t say anything as I picture what kind of hell that would be. I feel the need to get the fuck out of this bed right now before I start touching him. Groping him. Wanting him.
“Unless,” he says, lifting his head just enough so he can open one eye to peek at me, “you can’t control yourself around me? I have that effect on women, so I get it. It’s OK.”
I shake my head and smile. “For real, Smith, you’re right. I think your rule sucks. I’m not even ashamed to admit it.”
He takes an interest in this revelation because he cocks that one visible eyebrow at me.
“But I don’t think you’d last long either,” I add.
He turns all the way over on his back. His dick is so hard, it’s practically sticking straight up in the air.
I roll my eyes. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“I’m so good at self-deprivation, Marcella Walcott, I could stay right here. You could play with yourself until you come on your fingers and I’d still be… right here.”
“Really?” I ask, turning on my side and propping my head on my hand. “Then why did you take me downstairs last weekend?”
He presses his lips together in a small frown. “It was a conscious choice. To piss you off.”
“Piss me off?” I laugh. “I think you failed.”
“Yeah,” he says. “I can see that now. But I really thought you’d have a little jealous streak in you. And if you saw Bric and Quin fucking that girl, you’d walk out.”
I just stare at him.
“But you didn’t. So either you have no jealous streak or you’re here for some reason we don’t know about yet. Which one is it?”
“I’m not the jealous type,” I say without missing a beat.
Smith smiles. “Good. Because I’m bringing another woman to your house to live with me.”
“What?” I ask.
But Smith is already getting out of bed. “I got shit to do today,” he says, already reaching down for his pants on the floor. “So I’m gonna head out. Tell Bric I’m looking forward to tonight.”
“You are not moving another woman into my house, Smith Baldwin. I’m fucking serious.”
“Not jealous, huh?” he asks, looking at me sideways.
“It’s got nothing to do with jealousy,” I say, sitting up on the bed, kneeling. “It’s my house, not yours. You can have all the extra whores you want, but not at my house.”
Smith just smiles as he slips his shirt on, looking down at his fingers as they button it up.
“I’m serious. I better not get home tomorrow and find another woman in my house, Smith.”
He knots his tie, still smiling, staring straight at me as he tucks his shirt into his pants and zips them up.
“You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”
“Not jealous?” he says. “No, you are. So why didn’t you get mad when you saw Bric and Quin with another woman?”
I huff out some air. “I don’t even know them.”
“How about I don’t move her into your house? How about I just bring her along during our time together? So I can fuck her. You know, since I can’t fuck you. Would that work for you?”
“You’re not going to do that.”
“I’m not?” Smith asks, sitting down on the chair to slip his shoes on. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re getting fucked by Quin when I’m not around.”
“It’s not the same. If you want her as part of our arrangement, then we should all agree. I’m not the one who made the rules for Quin
.”
“OK,” Smith says, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair and slipping it on. “I’m up for a renegotiation. I’ll call the meeting for Friday. We can all discuss.”
I just stare at him.
“Unless you’d rather not, Chella.”
“I’d rather not. If you’re serious, and I’m not sure you are. I think you’re playing with me because it makes you mad that I’m not the jealous type.”
He walks around the bed, fully dressed now, and stops in front of me, then leans down, takes my face in his hands, and kisses me. Not a long one or a passionate one. Just a kiss goodbye. “You’re the jealous type, Chella. And if you don’t admit it right now, I will be bringing that girl to your house tonight. She might even be there tomorrow when you get home. I might be fucking her when you get there.”
He’s such a liar.
“And,” Smith continues, “you can think I’m joking, or just playing with you all you want. But everything I just said will turn out to be true.”
“Why are you being an asshole?”
“Why won’t you just admit you’re the jealous type, but you’re here for the kink, Chella? You like it dirty. You like it dark. And you are willing to overlook the fact that Bric and Quin were both fucking another woman in front of you, because you got to watch and get fucked by me at the same time.”
Silence.
“Admit it, Chella. Or things are gonna get real complicated.”
“Why would you do that? We had fun last night, right? Why fuck it up with this new game?”
“Why won’t you admit you’re a dirty little slut who likes the dark side?”
“Fine,” I say, looking up at him. “Fine. I like it. And you’re right. I’m the jealous type under certain circumstances, but that girl last weekend wasn’t even in the top million things on my mind at that moment.”
“Who was on your mind, Chella?” Smith asks, still smirking down at me.
I let out a long breath. “You,” I say. “You were. That’s it. Just you.”
His smirk falls into a smile and then he leans down and kisses me again. Short, sweet, and filled with promises. “That’s all I wanted to hear, Miss Walcott. I’m all for the self-delusional lies, Chella. But it’s nice to get the truth every now and then.”
He turns away and calls out, “See you tonight,” as he leaves.
I’m still looking at the empty doorway where he disappeared when Bric comes out of the bathroom. “What the fuck happened to Smith?”
He just turned into my obsession.
That’s what happened.
Bric walks me up to my apartment on his way to work. He kisses me goodbye too, and I have to wonder about the jealousy thing. How do they not get insanely jealous of each other?
I wonder about this while I shower and get dressed for work. I’m still thinking about it when I take the elevator down and ask the valet to bring my car. I’d like to drive today. I’m tired of the chauffeur.
They must’ve had this kind of arrangement so many times, they’ve already made the mistakes and now they’ve got it all figured out. Maybe they do get jealous but they’re good at handling it?
I don’t think either of them are jealous of Quin. Because he’s not even interested in me. He feels like a friend-with-benefits kind of thing. He’s totally in love with Rochelle. Still. I know this with all my heart.
My car comes and I get in and start the short drive over to the 16th Street Mall.
Besides. I don’t think Bric was really into Rochelle. And Smith didn’t like her at all. So what’s to be jealous about?
Maybe they set it up that way on purpose? Quin said one of them usually leads and that person takes the Number One spot. It feels right. It feels like Smith and I are negotiating our way out of this arrangement. In fact, it has always felt that way. Since the very beginning. He’s been very insistent. Moving into my house? What the hell is up with that? And he did take me down to the Club last weekend. And fuck me. Totally within the rules, and yet… not. Not at all. I hardly think Bric and Quin would call that little move valid, since I wasn’t supposed to be downstairs at all in the first place. And they didn’t know I was there.
No. That was a total rule-breaker.
I pull into the garage, make my way over to my reserved space, and ease my car in.
I sit there for a moment, still trying to figure Smith out, and then decide I have no clue what that guy is about. Not one bit.
I turn my car off and get out, leaning back to grab my purse from the passenger seat. When I slam the door and turn around I come face to face with Jordan Wells, standing on the other side of the car next to mine.
“Hey,” he says, his voice low as he nervously looks around the parking garage.
I am so taken aback at being here with him, I… can’t talk.
“Sorry,” he says. “I don’t mean to unsettle you, Chella. It’s just… do you remember me?”
“Remember you?” I ask, finding my voice. “From…”
“From when we were kids?”
“Kids?” I repeat, sounding like an idiot.
“And the Club, of course. I was the one…” He looks around the garage again. “I was the one with Quin and Bric last weekend. You were up in the observation room, right? With Smith? I know you had a mask on, but… we’ve all seen you with him.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, deciding to feign ignorance.
“Chella.” He laughs. “It’s OK. I’m not going to tell anyone, I swear. I was on that fucking waiting list for five years before they let me in. I’m not about to get myself kicked out now. I just wanted to know if you remembered me? Because I remember you. From when we were kids.”
I search my memory for any recollection of this man. Where the fuck does he know me from? Which of the many, many fucked up times in my life did he witness?
“You came to my eighth birthday. And then I was at your ninth birthday party, remember?” he says.
I breathe out a long sigh of relief. Nine. Nine is OK. Nine, I repeat over and over in my head.
I have no clue who he is, nor do I remember him from any party other than the ones I’ve seen him at recently. “Sorry,” I say, shrugging. “I don’t remember. But don’t take it personally. I block out most of my childhood.”
“That’s OK,” Jordan says, coming around the side of his car. “Anyway, the reason I’m bothering you is because three years ago, when I got this assigned spot, you and I were here at the same time. Just like now,” he adds quickly. Like he needs to get all the words out as fast as possible. “And I said something so rude, it’s haunted me ever since. But you and I don’t work the same hours—days—whatever,” he says, lifting up his briefcase. “I’m a partner at Wells, Well, and Stratford. Couple blocks over. I work eighty-hour weeks. And you—” He laughs. “You don’t.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say.
He takes a deep breath. “That first day I parked here, I said, ‘I don’t care who had to die for me to get this spot, I’m happy I got it.’” He frowns. Deeply. “And then I got into work and found out… it was your mother’s parking spot. And she had just died.”
Relief floods through my whole body. I smile. Like, big. And Jordan, confused, smiles with me. “Oh, Jordan. I’m so sorry you’ve felt guilty about that. I don’t even remember that day, but even if I did, believe me. I wouldn’t have taken it the way you assumed.”
He exhales a long breath of relief. “I’m so sorry though. I’ve been sitting here for an hour and a half waiting for you. Determined to make this right now that I’ll be seeing you regularly at the Club. I just needed to get that off my chest. I didn’t want you to think I was an asshole. I’m not,” he says. “I’m really not.”
“An hour and a half?” I ask, still quite uncomfortable, but I’m getting a handle on it.
“Yeah, and you know, I’ve wondered about you a lot over the years.” I’m back to being weirdly uncomfortable and it must show on my f
ace, because he amends quickly. “Not in a stalker way, Chella. Just… a curious way. I was only a kid. I thought you were pretty. And then one day you disappeared. It was just strange for me. Of course, I know now what happened.”
I might fall over and die.
“You went to boarding school. But I didn’t even know about boarding school until I was sixteen and my parents sent me away.” He laughs. “I was so clueless. Anyway. I’m glad I got a chance to apologize.” He points off to his left. “Wanna walk together?”
I point to the opposite direction, still trying to process. “I’m going that way,” I say.
“All right.” he says. “I’ll see you around the Club then, OK? Have a nice day.”
Jordan walks off. He might be… whistling. Happy about his cleared conscience.
I’m not whistling as I walk over to work.
I’m fighting off a panic attack.
Chapter Twenty-Seven - Smith
I’m just getting out of the shower when I hear the doorbell down on the first floor of Chella’s townhouse. What the fuck? I wrap a towel around my waist and walk over to the bedroom window that faces the front of the house. There’s a black car outside, idling at the curb.
I smile as I think about what this might mean.
Jesus Christ. Last night was the best fucking threesome I’ve ever been in. Ever. And it definitely wasn’t Bric, because he’s been with me for all of them.
I wonder if they want me to go to the party with them tonight and that’s why they dropped by?
Shit, I’m not even dressed. But if they’re asking, I’m going. And I don’t want them to change their minds, so I yank my trousers off a hanger and pull them on, then hop down the stairs two at a time just as the doorbell rings again.
I pull my zipper halfway up as I jog to the door, then disarm the alarm and pull it open. “You lost your fucking key, or you just want me—”
I stop mid-sentence.
“Excuse me?” Senator Walcott asks me.
“Uhhh…” I might be speechless. “Ummm…”
“Who are you?” he asks. “And where is Marcella?” He pushes past me. “Chella?” he calls up the stairs. “Chella?”
