Taking Turns (Turning #1)(29)

“It’s not special, Marcella. Not with me, or Smith, or Quin. Not alone. Alone it’s nothing but f*cking and filthy, sick desires. But what we have together is totally different. Shared ownership of anything implies partnership. Working together, finding common ground, and making decisions that are best for the group, not the individual. What you want doesn’t matter. What I want doesn’t matter. What Smith and Quin want doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is us. And once you figure out what us is, you’ll know what it’s really like to live. I promise you. You’ll know, and you’ll never go back to singular relationships. They’ll feel hollow and simple. You will be addicted to us and we’ll be addicted to you. It’s a disease, Chella. And you’re sick as f*ck, just like us.”

I look up at him, then over his shoulder where my boss, and Matisse, are standing in front of a sculpture, talking. Their voices are loud and boisterous and they carry into the small hallway. And that’s when Bric slips his fingers between my legs and finds what he needs.

My permission.

“I’d like to f*ck you right now. But all I can do right now is tease, Chella. Don’t let the details scare you away. You’re here because you understand the big picture.”

I’m not so sure about that, but I don’t say anything. Because the way he’s stroking my * feels too good to care.

“Come on my fingers, Chella. We’re not leaving this hallway until you do. And if anyone sees us, comes near us, I won’t stop. So you better do it fast, you f*cking whore. You better clench down and show me it’s real, too. If you fake it, I’ll know. I’ll take you outside, bend you over a bench on the 16th Street Mall, lift your dress up so everyone can see your bare ass, and spank the shit out of you until you cry. Until you beg me to stop or until you come. So don’t fight it, just—”

I come. I moan. A little too loudly, but it makes Bric happy, so I don’t care.

He laughs in my ear as I pant through my orgasm. “Please,” he says, fisting my hair and pulling my head back so I have to look him in the eyes. “Sign that contract tonight so we can f*ck you hard next week.”





Chapter Ten - Quin




Only a few people know about the view from this top-floor apartment located inside the Turning Point Club and I count myself lucky to be among them. Before me is most of downtown. The capitol building is the main focus. The gold dome is lit up at night, and even on nights like this—when it’s semi-obstructed by a steady stream of falling snow—it’s breathtaking.

The patio doors open behind me.

“Hey,” Smith says. His dress shoes make a soft padding sound through the snow covering the wet concrete. “You ready for this?”

“Are they on their way up now?”

“No,” Smith says. “I left them at the party. Maybe an hour.”

He’s silent for as long as he can manage while I think.

“You up for it or not, Quin? There’s no point going through the whole f*cking song and dance if we’re just gonna get to the end and have you say no.”

“You want her,” I say, tired of this conversation.

“I wouldn’t call that news. Obviously, I’ve never been into the whole selection process. But this one’s different. She’s better than Rochelle, Quin. I’m telling you right now, whatever Rochelle was to you, this girl will be all that. And more.”

I’m still thinking. I’ve done my best to put aside the why. I’m dealing with that. I can let it go. But I’m still missing something. I’m missing her.

“What did Bric do with all her stuff?” I ask, looking over at Smith. “Throw it out?”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess not.” I turn back to the view of the capitol.

“He donated the furniture. All the rest is in storage.”

I nod. My hands are freezing. I should’ve worn gloves. But it was nice of Bric to keep her things. It constitutes a collection. Memories and trinkets gathered up over a period of three years.

“Are you coming inside or what?” Smith asks. “I’m getting wet. Your hair is soaked.”

“I’ll be in soon,” I say back.

But I don’t follow him. I have no idea how much time passes out there on the snow-covered terrace, I just know the night gets markedly darker for me. There’s no moon, it’s covered by the snow clouds. And even though all the tall buildings of Denver are lit up at night, it’s not enough to take away the feeling of despair.

“Where the f*ck did you go?” I ask the city.

“If I had an answer for you, I swear, I would tell you.”

So she’s here.

I don’t turn, just keep my vigil. But I can’t help but notice her bare hands as she places them on the railing. They sink down into the snow at least two inches. She doesn’t have gloves on either, so I only imagine how badly she needs that railing to steady her right now.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “What I did was wrong and I’m sorry.”

“Did Bric tell you to say that?” I ask, turning my head just enough to look at her out of the corner of my eye.

“No. But Smith said you’re the one who’s going to make this decision.”