Chapter Twelve - Bric
“Is everything OK?” I ask Rochelle as we eat dinner. I stopped by this new restaurant a block away from the Club and picked up the most amazing sea bass tacos. Plus a little side of candied sweet potatoes that they whipped up special for the pumpkin. Almost none of it made it to her mouth because she’s got it all over her chubby face and fingers.
“Fine,” Rochelle says. She ate her food, so I’m going to assume that was an honest answer. When she goes off her food, that’s when I know to worry. That was, after all, the only weird thing I noticed about her behavior right before she took off last year. “But he’s late.”
“Only five minutes,” I say, glancing down at my watch.
“He used to be early. And whenever we had breakfast in the White Room booth, he used to sit across from me. He told me he liked it better than sitting next to me because he wanted to stare at my face.”
Hmmm. Is she overreacting? I’m not sure. “Well, look, Rochelle, you need to give the guy some time. He’s processing.”
She sighs and gets up. Disappears into Adley’s bedroom and comes back with a little pink washcloth to clean her messy face.
Adley balks. Squirms. And when Rochelle is persistent, she cries.
“You’re a good mother, Rochelle.”
She stops cleaning up Adley to smile at me. “Thanks.”
“I mean it too. You did good. And all by yourself. Don’t let this thing with Quin derail you. Don’t let it upset you or rob you of all the great things happening in your life right now.”
“I know,” she says, releasing Adley from the chair and picking her up. “You’ve been pretty great.” I shrug, going for a sheepish response. Rochelle doesn’t fall for it. Sheepish isn’t a word anyone would use to describe me. “We both know you’re going out of your way to help me right now. I’m just not sure what you’re getting out of this, Elias.”
“I’m getting you.”
“Typical, typical answer,” she says.
“And the pumpkin.” I smile big at the new addition to my typical response. “I like her. A lot.” I get a sad smile from Rochelle. And I know her well enough to read her mind. So I add something else to the new addition. “But don’t worry. If you and Quin work out and want me to back away, I will.”
Rochelle stares at me for a moment, unsure if she should take that promise at face value.
Even I’m not sure she should take that promise at face value. So I don’t make another addendum.
“I’m gonna give her a bath and get her ready for bed. Be done in thirty.”
“Sure,” I say, standing up. “I’ll be here.”
I gather up all the dinner trash and hit the elevator button to take it down to the dumpster in the garage. When the doors open, I practically slam into Quin.
“Shit,” he laughs. “You almost knocked me down.” He’s still wearing his work suit, but he’s holding dry-cleaning bags.
“So you showed,” I say, some of Rochelle’s irritation rubbing off on me.
“Why wouldn’t I come?” Quin asks.
“Rochelle told me what you did last night.”
“What’d I do?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No,” he says. “I’m not. What did she tell you?”
“Revenge fuck? Hate fuck? Those are two ways she described what happened last night.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“She said you fucked her and then told her that’s exactly how you fucked Chella when she ambushed us.”
“So? Did I miss the memo where everyone is supposed to lie and spare Rochelle’s feelings?”
“Are you gonna be a dick about this? She said you left this morning without saying goodbye.”
“I needed to go home and change, Bric.” And then he shakes his dry-cleaning. “Which is why I brought a fucking suit this time.”
Oh. Yeah, that kinda makes sense.
“And she was with the baby. I thought she went back to sleep.”
Hmm. All this adds up. “She said you didn’t sit across from her today at breakfast.”
Quin laughs. “Why the fuck would I sit across from her when I can sit next to her? What the hell is going on?” he asks. “Why is she back if all she’s gonna do is complain about everything I do?”
“I don’t think she’s complaining, Quin. She feels like you’re not invested in her.”
“I’m here,” he says. “With a suit to wear to work tomorrow because we’re gonna sleep together tonight. What the fuck do you guys want from me? A goddamned contract? Am I the game, Bric?”
“Of course not,” I say, walking over to the compactor door and throwing the bag of trash in.
“Hey,” he says as I come back. “If you don’t want me here, just let me know. We can get that DNA test out of the way and just take it from there.”
“Quin,” I say, softening my stance. “We discussed this. We’re not getting the test. She’s ours.”
“She’s mine,” Quin says. “Just so you understand that. But I’m willing to share.”
For a second I’m not sure if he’s talking about the baby or Rochelle. Or both. I’m actually speechless.
“Are we going upstairs or what?” he finally adds.
I punch the keypad to call the elevator and when the doors open, we both step in. “Did you eat with Chella?” I ask, trying to find a way to break the awkwardness.
“Yeah. How’d you know?”
“Chella told Rochelle. They hung out today.”
Quin shrugs off getting caught in that lie. “We met my mother for dinner.”
“Your mother?” Jesus Christ, I feel like I’m talking to a stranger.
“Yeah, we have dinner with her about once a month.”
“Really?” I ask dryly. I try to picture how Quin introduced Chella to his mother. Hey, Mom, this is my friend, Marcella Walcott. Why, yes, she is the senator’s daughter. Or does he say, Hey, this is Chella, Smith Baldwin’s girlfriend? Maybe he says, Hey, Mom, this is the girl Bric and Smith and I all fucked together last year? What? What does he say?
I know his mom pretty well. Kitty Foster is every kid’s mom. I bet when Quin was living at home they had the hang-out house. The place where you just went. Probably didn’t even have to knock. Just let yourself in, grab one of those homemade cookies off the kitchen counter, and head to the garage, or the basement. Wherever.
But I cannot, for the life of me, picture Kitty Foster knowing what her son does with me and Smith.
The doors open and Quin steps out, walking purposefully down the hallway to the coat closet. He hangs his suit in there and then goes to the fridge and grabs a beer. After that he settles on one of the couches and flips the TV on with the remote. Broncos are playing. Two minutes into his visit and he acts like he’s lived here for years.
“You’re here,” Rochelle says.
Both Quin and I turn to look at her in the hallway. She’s all wet still and wearing the white bathrobe. Adley is bundled up in a baby towel that has a hood to cover her little wet ringlets of hair.
“I’m here,” Quin says. “I don’t know why you guys are all paranoid about me. Is there something going on I should know about?”
Rochelle squints her eyes at me. “What do you mean?”
“I didn’t hate-fuck you last night, Rochelle. I was just telling you how I feel.”
“Thanks a lot, Bric.” Rochelle takes the baby into the other bedroom and slides the barn doors closed to shut us out.
“Why is this suddenly so hard?” I ask. “We never used to fight.”
Quin takes a long sip of his beer. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing, Bric. All damn day.”
“I can hear you,” Rochelle yells from the bedroom.
I sigh and take a seat on the couch opposite Quin.
“Don’t worry,” Quin calls back. “In about an hour it will all be sorted.”
Will it? I wonder.
“Fucking cures everything,” Quin mumbles as he takes another sip.
“Does it?” I ask out loud.
“Always used to,” Quin says. “So it better. Or things are very fucking wrong with this arrangement.” He whispers this so Rochelle can’t hear.
Yeah, I decide. Then I guess it better. Because I just got them back. And I’m not ready to make new arrangements and start all over again.
We watch the end of the football game and Quin is up throwing his beer in the recycle bin when Rochelle finally tiptoes out of the bedroom and slides the doors closed behind her.
“She’s asleep?” Quin asks. She stops in the hallway to look at him. I can see the longing on her face. She’s wearing it like a dress right now. It’s almost painful to watch her.
She just nods.
Quin walks over to her with his hand outstretched. “Good. Then come with me.” He leads her into the master bedroom and shoots me a look over his shoulder. “You coming, or what?”
Something is very different about Quin these days. And I can’t figure out if it’s because we’ve grown apart these past few months or if he’s playing me.
“Yeah,” I say, standing up to follow him into the bedroom. I decide it’s the former. He’s never been a great player, right? Mediocre at best. I mean, he is the one who fell in love and fucked it all up. So maybe he’s just trying harder than usual. We just need to find our groove again, that’s all.
Quin takes off his tie and throws it on the floor, his fingers already unbuttoning his shirt. He and Rochelle stare at each other for a second, but then she unties the belt of her robe and lets it slide over her shoulders.
Her body is so fucking hot. She’s all curvy now from having the baby. And her tits are huge. Her nipples large and round. So different than they were before.
I walk up behind her and start playing with them, studying Quin’s face as he watches us. He walks forward, taking his shirt off and dropping it on a chair as he passes. His hands cover mine and we play with her tits together.
“See,” he says, leaning down to whisper in her mouth. “All better now. Last night is over. Let it go, Rochelle. Just be here with us and let it go.”
“I want to,” she says. “But I need you to know—”
“Shhh,” Quin says, silencing her lips with a kiss. “No talking. You need to behave or I’ll have Bric bend you over and spank your pussy.”
His threat to Rochelle excites me. I’ve never played too hard with her. Never did much more than introductory bondage. But I’m totally up for making changes. “Feel free to mouth off, Rochelle.”
She laughs and reaches up, slipping her hand around the back of my neck to draw me closer. Her head tilts and I start kissing her neck. Quin’s hands are still on mine, both of us vying for the privilege of playing with her tits. Quin continues kissing her lips, but he reaches for my suit coat, pulling it down my shoulders. I let it slip to the floor and back off one step so I can loosen my tie.
Quin grins at me, even as he kisses Rochelle.
This part, at least, feels very familiar.
“Tie her up,” Quin says.
I squint my eyes at him for a second.
“Tier her up,” he repeats. “I want her tied to that bar.” He nods his head up towards the ceiling at the metal pipe bars I have hanging in various places over the bed, indicating the one that runs lengthwise from the foot of the bed to the head. “You have rope here?”
“Well,” I say, looking around. “Sure.” The baby wasn’t the only thing I prepared for when I got the loft ready for us.
“Tell him what you want, Rochelle,” Quin says. He’s grasping her face between his thumb and fingers, holding her tight as he makes her look in my direction. “Tell him.”
I think I’m a little startled at this new development. “Rochelle?”
She looks at Quin, then me… and nods. “OK.”
“You know what he’s doing?” I ask her.
She nods.
“What am I doing?” Quin coos in her ear as he resumes playing with her tits.
“Punishing me,” she says.
He chuckles. And then he gets dead serious and says, “Fuck, yes, I’m punishing you. But it’s your choice, Rochelle. So if you’re not into it, just say so.”
“And don’t blame you tomorrow if it all goes to shit?” she asks.
I have to hand it to her for not cowering.
“If you think multiple orgasms is ‘going to shit,’ well. So be it.” Quin waits for her answer. He wants to hurt her right now. And he’s going to use me to do it because he’s not into the punishment stuff—and I am.
I let go of Rochelle and walk over to one of the bedside tables. Inside is a coil of soft rope, some lube, a blindfold, handcuffs, and a few other essentials.
I get the rope, slip the lube in my pocket, and close the drawer, uncoiling the rope as I walk back over to them. “How do you want her?” I ask.
“Hanging. Heels high.”
“Jesus, Quin,” I say.
He shrugs at me. “She can say no.” He turns to look at Rochelle. “Do you wanna say no?”
“I’ll let you know when to stop,” she says. Defiance is written all over her face. He’s challenging her to tell him no. She’s challenging him to keep going.
Quin grins. “Good. Then let’s begin.”
Well, this is about to get interesting.
Stepping closer to Rochelle, I grab the two ends of the rope together, then slide it through my fingertips until I find the center point. “Have I ever tied you this way?”
“Once or twice,” Rochelle says. She looks at Quin. “But never to a bar above my head. And never on tiptoes.”
Quin just smiles.
“Make a fist and put your wrists together,” I say. She obeys and I begin looping the rope, tying it off with a square knot. I hand the other end to Quin’s outstretched hand. He reaches up to the bar positioned over the end of the bed, loops the rope around it, pulls—so Rochelle has to go up on her toes—and then ties it tightly to the metal pipe.
Rochelle lets out a small squeal and when I check her, there’s fear in her eyes.
God, I love it.
And she knows it. She knows how much I enjoy the bondage.
“You deserve this,” I tell her. “Don’t you?”
She nods her head and says, “Yes.”
“You were very, very bad when you left last year, weren’t you?”
“Yes,” she says again. Her eyes leave mine for a moment to look for Quin.
He’s sitting on the end of the bed, his pants open, fisting his cock. “Keep going,” Quin says.
I place my hands on Rochelle’s hips and turn her. She swivels on her toes, until she’s facing the bed. And Quin.
I want him to see her reactions.
I want her to see his too.
“How many spankings do you deserve, Rochelle?” I ask her.
“As many as pleases you,” she replies.
I almost laugh. Where the hell did she learn that answer?
But Quin clears his throat, telling me to stay professional.
Fine. He wants her punished, I’ll punish her until he’s had enough.
I move up behind her, pressing my chest into her back, then reach around to grab her tits. I pinch her nipples hard. And if she wasn’t almost suspended, she’d arch her back in pain.
She tries it, but the movement only makes her go off balance and pivot into my hold.
Quin reaches between her legs and begins to stroke her pussy. I look down and watch his fingers slip in and out between her legs. It only takes a few strokes before they are shiny with her wet desire.
Her shoulders relax. Her head falls forward a little.
All good signs. She’s enjoying it. And he doesn’t really want to hurt her. He just wants to make his point.
I caress her ass, my fingers slipping between her legs from behind.
This time she moans.
I reach further between her legs until I bump up against Quin’s knuckles. His fingers are deep inside her pussy. I gather some of the wetness and slip back to her asshole, pressing against her puckered skin.
She stiffens when I press harder, so I reach into my pocket for the lube and make her slick enough to take the pressure when my fingers resume.
I close my eyes and enjoy the moment as Quin and I finger her from opposite ends.
Her breathing kicks up. Just soft and heavy at first. But as our playing gets harder—rougher—she begins to moan.
“You like that, don’t you?” Quin asks. “You like both of us inside you at the same time.”
“Yes,” Rochelle murmurs, her body twisting as we play with her. And for a second, I think she might actually come.
But Quin moves, positioning himself directly in front of her, slightly sitting on the end of the high bed. “Put your knees on the bed,” he says, holding her hips so she can obey.
She straddles his legs, one knee on each side of his thighs. The relief on her wrists has to be immense, so I wonder what Quin is up to since I know he really does want to punish her. He wraps his arms around her waist and holds her close to his chest. Rochelle’s head rests on Quin’s shoulder, her arms ring around his neck in a hug—as much as she can manage with her wrists still tied to the bar.
Oh, that’s an amateur mistake. I practically grin at Quin when our eyes meet.
When he nods I smack her ass so hard, my hand stings.
Rochelle yells in surprise, but Quin is there, holding his hand tightly over her mouth. “Shhh,” he says. “You have to take it quietly.”
I smack her again and this time she huffs into Quin’s hand, then starts to breathe heavy through her nose. Her chest is rising and falling, like she can’t get enough air and needs to take deep breaths.
Quin removes his hand, lets her inhale, then replaces it, just as I strike her a third time.
Her ass is already bright red. Hell, my hand is stinging. But Quin’s other hand is still between her legs, stroking her. Making it better. I slap her once more and this time her whole body writhes.
But I know just how to ease her back down. I rub the heat radiating out from her ass cheeks as Quin kisses her. Fisting her hair. He hooks an arm around her waist and pulls her towards him, making her ass stick out and beg me to keep going.
I smack her three times in quick succession, until she’s straining on the rope, trying to get away. Trying to get closer to Quin and farther from me.
Her wrists are already red and scratched, so I reach up with both hands and quickly untie her, setting her free.
Quin leans back on the bed, just as Rochelle collapses on top of his chest. I lift her hips up, find Quin’s hard cock, wrap my hand around it, and slip it up to her wet opening. She eases down on top of him, burying his dick inside her pussy.
Fuck. All three of us moan.
Quin grabs the hair on either side of her face and pulls her into him. They kiss like they’ve never tasted lips before. Sloppy and wet. Tongues searching and probing.
I smack Rochelle again, and this time she sobs. “I’m sorry,” she says. But Quin holds her tighter, uninterested in her apology. He just claims her mouth in the kiss and stifles her crying.
Her ass is so red and hot. She will be sore when she sits down tomorrow. My own dick is hard just thinking about it. I might have to drop by for lunch just to see how she handles it.
When I look at Quin to see if we’re done, he pulls away from the kiss and says, “You have five more, Rochelle. Five more and I’ll forgive you. We can start fresh. Do you want to stop? Or keep going?”
“Keep going,” she whimpers.
Quin smiles and says, “Use your belt,” as he looks me in the eye.
I open my mouth to protest, but then stop.
She will let me do it. And he does want it. Needs it, probably. And if Quin said this is it, then this is it. He will forgive her and we can start over.
And don’t we all want that?
I unbuckle my belt. Rochelle looks over her shoulder, eyes on my hands as I pull it through my belt loops. The sound of leather passing across fabric echoes up into the high ceilings.
I fold the belt in half, holding onto the buckle, and then I bring it down on her skin, smacking the same place I did before.
She cries and begins to count. Quin kisses her, holding her head so she has to look him in the eyes.
When we get to five, it’s over.
Quin unties her wrists, massages the red scratches, and pulls her fully into his lap, his arms around her tight, his cock still inside her. She hugs him back, burying her face into his neck as I drop the belt and massage her ass cheek.
The last five spankings were cathartic. I didn’t hit her hard and she knows it. Quin knows it too.
But he got his point across. She owed him this if she ever wanted a real second chance. He needed her to feel some of his pain, and she needed him to know she was willing.
They kiss. Softly now. Tentative, like the trust we just built between us. I push my pants down, letting my cock spring free, and step forward, pressing it into Rochelle’s back as I place a hand on Quin’s head. I lean down and kiss Rochelle’s neck. Then her jaw, then her lips.
We both kiss her lips.
She kisses us back and it finally feels right.
That’s all the invitation I need. I push down on her back, right between her shoulder blades, pinning her to Quin’s chest. Her ass is in the air like an invitation. Still wet from the lube I rubbed into her before the spankings. She starts to move on top of Quin, fucking him just the way he likes it. Her tits hanging down in his face. His mouth reaching for her large, round nipples he squeezes them. I reach between Rochelle’s legs and cup Quin’s balls.
“Fuck, yeah,” he moans. “Get inside her now, Bric.”
I press a finger against her ass, find her semi-relaxed, and then shove my cock through her tight muscles.
Quin’s hand is over her mouth before she can yell. Cupping it tightly once again, so she’s blowing air through her nose.
I push on, feeling the motion of Quin, just millimeters of soft, thin skin separating us.
He feels so fucking good. After all these months as strangers, he feels so fucking good.
Rochelle is squealing from behind Quin’s hand and I know this first one won’t take long. She’s close.
Hell, I’m close too.
I watch Quin’s face as we fuck her hard. Him thrusting up from below, his balls slapping up against mine. Me pounding her from behind, my hands digging into her hips like I never want to let go.
Quin releases his hand from her mouth and Rochelle moans out her climax. Quin’s body stiffens underneath us. He stops, his cock buried deep inside her. And then the pulsing of his cock sends a thrill through my whole body as he comes inside her.
I slide out of her ass, pull her hair so hard, bending her neck back until she’s looking me in the eyes, and then I come all over her red-hot ass.
I let go of her hair and she falls back into Quin as I collapse off to the side of them. One hand reaching for theirs. I find Rochelle’s first. Then Quin grabs hold of us.
That’s it. It’s over. The past is over and we can start again.