I glance over my shoulder just in time to see him grab his phone off the dresser.
Finn notices too.
“What are you?—”
Graham doesn’t answer. He raises the phone, angles it down at us. Me straddling Finn, both of us flushed and breathing heavily, Carson beside us with a possessive hand still on Finn’s chest, and Hunter’s gaze dark and hungry from the other side.
The soft click of the picture breaks the silence.
“You’re not the only one who gets to keep memories,” Graham says calmly. “You’re not the only one who watches.”
Finn’s breath punches out of him like it’s been stolen. His back arches off the bed—hips surging up into mine so hard I gasp. His hands fly to my waist, fingers gripping tight, needing to hold onto something or he’ll unravel completely.
“Fuck,” he chokes. “Take another?—”
His voice cracks open, half-begging, half-worshipful.
Carson’s grin is sharp and hungry. “That did it,” he murmurs, running a hand down Finn’s chest to his hip. “Didn’t even touch you, and you almost came.”
Graham sets the phone aside with surgical precision, then steps to the edge of the bed. “That’s what I thought.” His tone is all satisfaction, all dominance, as if he knew exactly how Finn would respond.
Finn’s still gasping, hips twitching under me, caught between pleasure and need.
Graham curls a finger at Hunter without looking away from us. “Get his arms above his head. Hold him there.”
Hunter doesn’t hesitate.
He moves to the top of the bed, muscles taut as he leans forward and gathers Finn’s wrists. Finn lets him. No resistance. Just raw, aching surrender.
“I’ve got him,” Hunter says.
Graham nods, then locks eyes with me. “Now, sweetheart. Ride him.”
Finn moans—hoarse and trembling. “Please.”
My heart pounds as Graham’s words sink into my skin. Ride him.
Finn’s eyes are wide beneath me, his wrists locked in Hunter’s grip above his head, his body strung tight and trembling. Every breath he takes is shallow, desperate.
And he’s looking at me like I’m the center of his goddamn universe. And I love every second of it. The power that I feel. Is this what Graham feels when he commands us and takes control?
I rise slowly, letting my suit slide over his skin as I do. It’s still damp from the pool, clinging to every curve. I hook my thumbs under the sides of the fabric and peel it down, inch by inch, watching the hunger light in each of their eyes.
Finn makes a broken sound when I finally pull it free and toss it aside. Carson’s gaze dips, trailing over my bare skin, his tongue dragging across his lower lip. His eyes sparkle as he takes me in, hungry and alive.
“Holy fuck,” he breathes. “I’ll never get used to this. You’re perfect.”
“A dream,” Hunter says, still holding Finn’s wrists with one hand, the other now gripping the edge of the mattress.
Graham hums, pleased. “Look at her, boys. That’s our omega.”
Their omega.
I settle back down over Finn slowly, skin to skin now, his cock brushing against the slick heat between my thighs. His head thumps against the mattress, and his whole body bucks once, instinctive and wild.
“Please,” he gasps. “Willow—please?—”
“Hold still. I thought you liked being told what to do,” I whisper, dragging my fingers down his chest, nails grazing just enough to make him suck in a breath.
