“Carson, strip him.”
Carson smirks as he rises from the bed in one fluid motion, all lithe muscle and determination. “With pleasure.” His voice hums with something dark and amused, but his hands are steady as he reaches for Finn.
Finn doesn’t flinch; he lifts his chin instead, cocky despite the flush still high on his cheeks. “You gonna buy me dinner after this, Casanova?”
Carson huffs a breath of laughter. “No. But I might kiss you when I’m done.”
“Deal.”
Hunter shifts beside the door, crossing his arms, but I can feel the tension rippling beneath the surface. His scent is threaded with a barely leashed restraint. He’s letting Graham lead, but that doesn’t mean he’s passive.
Graham catches the subtle shift in his musk too. “You good, Hunt?”
Hunter’s jaw flexes. “Yeah. Just waiting for permission.”
Graham doesn’t look away from me as he says, “Get on the bed. Beside them.”
Hunter moves without hesitation, his footsteps soundless on the soft carpet. He sinks onto the mattress next to us, but doesn’t touch either of us yet. His eyes are dark as they roam over my body, and my nipples tighten in my damp top, craving more than just the touch of his gaze.
Carson tugs Finn’s shirt up and over his head, slow and teasing, peeling layers back just to see what’s underneath. “You like this, don’t you?” he murmurs, voice just for Finn. “All of us watching you fall apart.”
Finn’s breath catches. “Maybe.”
“Definitely,” Carson corrects, as he discards the shirt and moves behind me to work the rest of his clothing off of him. I hear the thud of one shoe and then another.
I stay straddling Finn, palms on his chest, watching every flicker of emotion pass over his face—want, tension, anticipation. Graham circles the bed, a king surveying his court. Calm. Collected. But I can feel the fire burning behind his eyes.
“Sweetheart,” Graham says lowly, “make him beg.”
My lips part slightly, heart pounding as I lean down and kiss Finn again—this time slower. More deliberate. I let my hands roam over his chest as Carson frees him from his jeans entirely. Finn groans into my mouth, hips arching up, only to be pinned down by Carson’s hand on his thigh.
I bite my bottom lip, heat building low and heavy in my belly. Then I press my palms to his chest, guiding him back until he’s flat against the bed.
He gasps, just a little, the power shift lighting him up from the inside. “Fuck,” he murmurs.
“Still with us, stalker boy?” Carson asks, using my nickname for him.
Finn shudders. “Barely.”
I can feel Graham behind me, his hand pressing low onmy spine. “Good. Stay on the edge. Let him feel every second of it.”
“Fuck,” he gasps again. “You all planned this, didn’t you?”
“Planned?” Graham repeats. “No, not exactly, but you’re not the only one who can take advantage of opportunity.”
I shift my weight, dragging my body against Finn’s, and his eyes flutter shut again, teeth catching on his bottom lip. My nails skim up his ribs, across the dip between his collarbones, then down, making him twitch under every pass.
Carson sinks down on the bed next to us, while Hunter watches from the other side.
“Show him pleasure until he begs you to stop,” Graham instructs them both.
Carson presses a kiss to Finn’s temple. “You asked for this, remember?”
Finn’s eyes open again, dark and glassy. “I know,” he whispers. “Don’t stop.”
Graham chuckles from behind me, his hand ghosting along my thigh. “Oh, we’re not stopping. Not until you forget every face but ours.”
Graham’s presence shifts behind me, then stills.
