Taking Turns (Turning #1)(63)

“Who’s the other guy?” I ask Smith, pointing down to the one beneath her.

“No one you need to know about,” he replies. Smith begins to massage my shoulders, every now and then reaching down to cup my breasts to twist my nipples.

I open my legs a little and let my hand slip between them.

Smith fists my ponytail, pulling my head back until I’m looking up at him. “Did I tell you to play with your *?”

“No.”

“Then put your f*cking hands on your thighs and sit the f*ck still until I tell you otherwise.”

I swallow hard as I pull my hand away from my now-throbbing * and do as I’m told.

Smith smiles and then crouches down to kiss my mouth.

I kiss him back as he wraps a palm around my neck and squeezes just enough to make me moan.

“You’re not allowed to kiss me,” I say.

“I am if we’re all four together, Chella. The fourth rule is no rules, remember? And I think this counts.”

I smile. Knowing he will f*ck me here in this room before we leave tonight.

“But you already knew that, didn’t you? You already knew that if we came down here and found Quin and Bric, we could do whatever we wanted.”

“You know it too,” I say.

He walks around to stand in front of me, then crouches back down, grabs my face with both hands, and kisses me hard. He bites my lip hard enough to make me struggle, and then pulls back just enough to whisper, “I think we can be beautifully evil and dirty together tonight, Chella.”

I agree.

“Unzip my pants and take out my cock.”

My hands are busy before he even stops talking. His cock is long and thick, and so hard. So beautifully hard. The tip of his head is gorgeous. Swollen and round and perfect. When I have it in my hands I look up and wait.

He smiles and caresses my head, petting my hair gently. “Begin.”

I take him in my mouth, so consumed with lust, I don’t want to stop. Ever. Not ever.

After that it’s nothing but a blur.

The kissing, the touching, the come on my face. Then I’m flat on my back, looking up at so many faces. So many men and women who have wandered into our night of darkness. Men masturbating as Smith f*cks me. Women sucking dicks and sitting on laps, pushed up against walls and being taken from behind.

Smith, thrusting into me. My fingers grabbing his hair as he f*cks me, watching the show Bric and Quin are putting on down below.

I pull his attention back to me, kiss his mouth. “Me,” I say. “Look at me.”

He does for a moment, but then he pulls out, flips me over, pushes my face into the glass, and f*cks me from behind.

He likes the show, I realize. He likes to watch them.

I like to watch them too. I lock eyes with the man on his back down below, the one I don’t know. And I come. He and I come at the same time.

Smith knows this. His hand reaches under my body to stimulate my clit, prolonging my orgasm with fast strumming until I wriggle away, unable to take any more. His dick slips out and then he’s on his knees, pumping his cock hard, until his milky white come spurts all over my tits.

He collapses off to the side. All around us people are moaning and coming. Grunting and f*cking. After a few seconds, Smith stands up and extends his hand. I let him pull me to my feet and lead me downstairs, my body sticky with sweat and semen.

We make our way back to the dark hallway, back to the quiet of the freight elevator, and then we ascend back up to my little apartment on the top floor. He’s looking at his feet and my legs are trembling as I struggle not to collapse.

“Are you sorry you took me down there?” I ask.

He keeps his head bowed but lifts his eyes to find mine. “Yes.”

“Why? It was within the parameters of the rules.”

He says nothing, just drops his gaze back down to his feet. The elevator doors open and he waves me forward, then into the apartment, where he removes my mask and pulls my hair out of the ponytail. “Go take a shower, get dressed, and I’ll meet you downstairs in thirty minutes to take you home.”

The connection is over. Was over the second we got off the freight elevator.

But I got my turn with him and I’m satisfied.

Score one point for Chella.

These three men have no idea how well I can play this game.

But they’re about to figure it out real quick.





I do as he asks. Shower, dress, go downstairs. He’s waiting for me in his little private bar, sipping a glass of whiskey. “Ready?” he asks from above, as I step out of the elevator. He doesn’t wait for a reply, just gets up, walks to the stairs that lead down to the landing, and then we walk down to the lobby, no touching, no contact, no talking.

The ride to my townhome, though short, feels like it takes forever because the silence continues. When we get there, I get out, expecting to go in alone, but Smith slides out after me, tells the driver to go home for the night, and then closes the door and starts walking up the stairs to my house.

He doesn’t even wait for me, just unlocks it and steps inside, holding the door open for me, letting me pass, and then closing it back up and arming the alarm from the inside.

“What are you doing?”

He’s already walking up the stairs.

“Smith?” I ask, skipping up the stairs after him. I expect him to climb up to the third floor, where my bedroom is, but he veers off the stairs at the second floor and heads to one of the guest bedrooms, flicking on the light as he enters.