He does.
***
Gray takes the parka off me first.
He unzips it slowly, his eyes on my face the whole time, and drops it over the nearest chair. Then his hands find the hem of my shirt and he pulls it over my head and I let him. He takes his time with everything underneath — unhurried, systematic, the same focus he brings to everything that matters to him. By thetime he's done I'm sitting on the edge of the table in nothing and he's stepping back to look at me.
I let him look.
Dalton is still against the wall. Jacket off now, shirt open at the collar, one hand loose at his side. He's watching Gray look at me and his jaw is set and his eyes are dark and his other hand has moved to the front of his pants, slow and deliberate, watching us like he has all the time in the world even though his bond says otherwise.
"You're comfortable over there," I say.
"Very," he says.
Gray drops to his knees.
He pulls my hips to the edge of the table and puts his mouth on me and the sound I make is not quiet. His hands hold my thighs exactly where he wants them, pining me and he works me open with his tongue in slow precise circles that make my whole body pull toward him. I grab the back of his head. He makes a sound against me that I feel everywhere.
I look at Dalton.
He's still watching. His cock is out and his hand is moving now, slow strokes, his eyes going between my face and Gray's mouth and back to my face. The bond between us is a low urgent heat, the controlled patience of him burning off one degree at a time.
"Come here," I say.
He pushes off the wall.
He crosses the room and stops in front of me, behind Gray. Leaning forward, I reach for Dalton. I wrap my hand around him and he makes a sound low in his chest and his hand comes up to grip the back of my neck — not rough, just there, holding.
I bend forward and take him into my mouth.
His grip tightens. His other hand finds my hair. He doesn't push, just holds, and I take him deeper and feel him shudder andhear the sound he makes when I find the right pressure and the right rhythm and Gray pulls me farther onto his face, I am being held there as he cradles my ass and eats me. He is making it very difficult to concentrate.
Gray works me to the edge of orgasm and keeps me there, reading every shift in my breathing and adjusting, and Dalton's hands are in my hair and his bond is blazing and I'm making sounds into him that I can feel vibrating through both of us — and I can't think, can't track anything beyond the two of them and what they're doing and the bond marks blazing on my wrist. Dalton breaks first, spilling down my throat and then I’m done. I come with my face pressed against Dalton's hip and Gray's name coming out of me and Gray's hands holding me through all of it.
Gray stands.
He strips off his clothes and focuses on me as he moves behind me. His hands find my hips and pull me back into him and I feel him there — the heat of him, the bond blazing bright — and then he pushes inside me slowly and we all go still.
Dalton is in front of me. Gray is behind me.
"Okay," Gray says. Not a question.
"Yes," I say. "Move."
He moves.
The angle hits — deep, exact, no adjustment needed.
My hands go to Dalton’s hips. He’s already there, already pulling my face up, forcing me to look at him.
Whatever he keeps locked down is gone. No distance. No professionalism. Just Dalton watching me take Gray like he’s one second from losing control.
The bond on my wrist flares. I gasp.
"There," Gray says, catching it. He drives into it again, deliberate.
"There—" I try, and it comes out wrecked.
