Page 117 of His Turn

And maybe I could love this man. Maybe I could.

By the time my orgasm begins to build, I’m crying. I don’t even know why I’m crying, I just am. Tears flood my eyes. Fall down my cheeks. But it feels so good to be sad.

I’m so confused.

Until I realize this is what submission is. Relief. Freedom from decisions. Trusting him to do it right. To know. And I am convinced in this moment that no one on Earth knows me as well as Elias Bricman.

I come, shaking and sobbing. And I don’t even know if he comes too, because I hear nothing but the vacuum of cancelled noise in my head.

But he slows. And I can feel his chest through his shirt. In and out. Hard, short breaths just like mine.

He sets me down and I don’t even pretend like I can remain en pointe. “I did my best. I swear,” I say, the words echoing in my ears. “I can’t give you any more.”

He places his fingertips on my lips. Shushing me. And then he walks away again.

I don’t panic this time. Just lean against the wall, the sharp brick poking into my back. And I wait.

He comes back. I knew he would. And drapes something around my shoulders. My robe, I realize. From the bathroom. I slip my arms into it, and never has terrycloth felt so luxurious. He ties the belt tight around my waist and leaves, one more time.

I wait.

And wait. And then I feel the vibrations of footsteps on the hardwood floor as he approaches.

He pulls one of the headphones away from my ear and says, “Nadia?”

But it’s not Bric’s voice.

I grab for the tie that’s making me see red, and tug it down my face.

“Logan?” I say, bewildered. “What the fuck—”

But that’s when I see Bric. Leaning against the doorjamb. Holding out a piece of paper. “Look familiar?” he asks, shaking the paper. “Your boy here called me the other day. Said he needed to see you.”

“What the—”

“Nadia?” Logan says. “I’m sorry.”

I look at Logan as I try to process what just happened. His shirt is untucked from his pants. His belt unbuckled. His hair rumpled.

And then I look at Bric. He looks like a million dollars. His suit is not rumpled. His hair is not mussed.

He was not the one who just fucked me.