32. Partial Party, Full Encounter
Chapter thirty-two
Partial Party, Full Encounter
Cameron
There is a point during the movie when I realize none of us are watching the movie.
I don't know exactly when it happens.
Possibly when the lead actor removes his shirt for reasons that have absolutely nothing to do with the plot.
Possibly when Micah makes some dry comment about nobody in the history of emergency medicine looking that good after getting shot.
Griffin takes personal offense. “I don't look that bad after a long shift.”
Micah looks over at him. “You're not usually shot.”
“Details.”
I laugh from where I'm tucked against Griffin's side.
We're spread across the sectional in the living room, although “spread” might be generous.
Griffin and I are sharing one corner.
Micah is next to me, close enough that his thigh has been pressed to mine for most of the movie.
Ronan is beside him.
The couch has plenty of room.
Apparently none of us care.
The movie keeps exploding in front of us.
Then Ronan says something quietly to Micah that I don't catch.
Micah turns his head.
And Ronan kisses him.
Just… kisses him.
One hand settles against Micah's jaw where Micah can see it coming, and their mouths meet slowly.
Oh.
Well.
Fuck.
I've seen them kiss before.
This shouldn't be novel.
It is apparently still extremely effective, because my body immediately reacts.
Griffin feels me shift against him.
His hand, which has been resting lazily on my thigh, tightens. “You good?”
I turn toward him. “Very.”
Something in my face must give me away because his eyes darken.
Then his mouth is on mine.
It is hungry enough that my brain stops caring whether the hero survives the helicopter crash currently happening behind us.
Griffin's hand slides up my thigh.
My fingers tangle in his hair.
When the kiss breaks, I am breathing considerably harder than I was thirty seconds ago.
And when I turn back, Micah is looking at me.
Fuck.
Those gray eyes drift from my mouth to Griffin's hand on my thigh and back up.
I reach for him, and he moves closer willingly.
The first kiss is almost cautious.
But maybe because Griffin is still touching me and Ronan is still touching Micah.
We've all been intimate with different pieces of this configuration.
Never this one.
Then Micah's hand slides into my hair.
His fingers close near the base of my skull.
My body answers immediately.
The kiss deepens.
“There’s my girl,” he murmurs against my mouth.
Fuck.
That voice.
Praise from Micah hits differently than it does from Ronan.
Ronan's praise makes me want to prove him right.
Micah's makes me feel like he already knows I will.
My thighs press together.
Griffin’s fingers dig further into my skin. “So that's a thing,” he says dryly.
Micah's mouth twitches against mine. “What?”
“The voice.”
I turn toward Griffin. “You have one too.”
“Apparently.”
Ronan laughs softly.
I look at the three men around me.
Ronan's hand is still on Micah's thigh.
Griffin's is still on my hip.
Micah still has my hair wrapped around his fist.
The movie hero is now limping dramatically through a burning building.
Nobody gives a shit.
“Are we doing this?” I ask no one in particular.
Silence.
It feels like a sudden acknowledgment that somebody finally said it.
Griffin looks at Ronan.
Ronan looks at Micah.
Micah's eyes come back to me.
Then Griffin’s voice dips low and right next to my ear, as he answers, “I vote yes.”
My pulse jumps.
Micah's thumb strokes once against my scalp. “Same.”
Ronan's mouth curves. “Cameron?”
“I was the one who asked.”
“That wasn't an answer.”
I smile. “Yes.”
His eyes sharpen. “Then turn the movie off.”
That shouldn't do anything to me.
It does.
“Bossy.”
“You like it.”
True.
But tonight feels different already.
Less like Ronan is taking control of the room and more like he simply happened to be the person closest to the remote.
Which might be progress for all of us.
We’ve already done the talking—a lot of it.
More talking than any version of me from two years ago would have believed people could possibly do about sex without killing the mood permanently.
Griffin, Ronan, and I have been together a few times now. The second time required considerably less negotiation and considerably more laughing because nobody was standing in my bedroom wondering whether someone was supposed to yell go.
Ronan and Micah have built their own relationship.
Micah and I have ours.
Griffin and Micah have talked about being in the same space for this more than once—not this specific outcome, but the reality that someday they'd probably be naked in the same space, touching me at the same time.
Incidental contact is fine.
Sharing me is fine.
Neither of them is interested in sexual contact with the other.
Also fine.
We've talked about stoplights.
We've talked about what happens if someone's brain suddenly catches up to their body and decides absolutely fucking not.
By now, nobody needs Ronan to conduct a pre-sex board meeting every time someone gets horny.
Thank fucking God.
So when we get upstairs, there's no summit—just one last check.
“Everybody still good?” Ronan asks.
We all three affirm we are—Micah closes my bedroom door, and everything changes.
Quickly.
Griffin kisses me first.
Ronan kisses Micah.
I watch, with my back pressed to Griffin’s chest.
Apparently that's another thing I like.
Micah is quieter with Ronan than he is with Dex or me. Not less intense. Just different.
Ronan cups his jaw and Micah lets him set the angle.
Then Micah’s hand closes around Ronan's wrist—holding him there while he kisses him back.
My stomach drops.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
Griffin laughs against my neck. “You like watching them?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” His hand slips beneath my shirt.
Micah hears the exchange and his eyes open, finding mine immediately.
Something in his expression changes as his kiss with Ronan ends.
Then he's coming toward me.
Griffin doesn't move away.
Micah doesn't expect him to.
I am apparently in the middle of a sandwich again, which I find I like very much.
For a few minutes, I lose track of whose hands are where.
Griffin pulls my shirt over my head.
Micah removes my bra.
Ronan's mouth finds the side of my neck while Griffin kisses the other side.
Micah's palms slide down my ribs.
Everywhere.
They're fucking everywhere.
And nobody seems particularly interested in competing or proving they know what they're doing.
There isn't competition.
There isn't even much choreography.
Hands bump.
Someone laughs.
Griffin catches Micah's wrist once when they both reach for my hip at the same time.
They look at each other.
“Sorry,” Griffin says.
Micah shrugs. “You're good.”
That's it.
No existential crisis.
No weird male panic.
My pussy is apparently a reason for a diplomatic summit.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
Then Micah's fingers close around my chin. “Eyes up, Princess.”
My gaze instantly snaps to his.
Ronan goes still next to me—just watching.
Micah glances at him before he brushes his thumb over my bottom lip. “You've been enjoying all this attention, haven't you?”
“Yes.”
“What was that?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Ronan inhales.
Fuck.
Micah smiles. “Good girl.”
My knees almost give out.
Griffin's hand catches my waist. “Fuck, baby.”
I turn my head toward him. “What?”
“You really do react to him.”
Micah laughs quietly. “So does Dex.”
“Not helping,” I mutter.
Micah pulls me closer and kisses me again.
There is nothing cautious about it.
When he releases me, Ronan's mouth immediately finds my neck.
“You've been holding out on me,” he murmurs near my ear.
“I have not.”
“I haven't watched this.” His fingers trail down my side.
Micah's eyes stay on mine.
“No,” I whisper.
“You like his praise.”
My entire body heats.
Micah's smile deepens. “She does.”
Assholes.
All of them.
Griffin turns me toward him. “And apparently she likes being discussed like she isn't standing right here.”
My mouth drops open.
He kisses me before I can answer.
I end up on my bed.
Obviously.
How we get there is less clear.
Clothes disappear.
Ronan is naked first somehow, which feels statistically impossible considering the man's relationship with orderly clothing removal.
Micah is next.
Then Griffin.
And seeing all three of them naked together does something to my brain that probably deserves further analysis when I am less horny.
Griffin catches me staring. “Which one of us are you looking at?”
“Yes.”
He laughs.
Micah climbs onto the bed beside me, and his hand settles on my inner thigh. “You ready?”
“Yes.”
He kisses me while his fingers begin exploring.
It’s slow and familiar—he knows me.
Maybe that's the thing that makes tonight different.
Every one of them knows me in a different way.
Ronan knows what happens when he takes decisions away.
Griffin knows my body through repetition and learning every tiny response until he doesn't have to think.
Micah watches.
Always.
His fingers find exactly what he wants, and my hips lift. “That's my Princess,” he murmurs.
I moan into his mouth.
Ronan's hand moves over my breast.
Griffin settles on the other side of me.
There is nothing symmetrical about it.
Nothing planned.
It works anyway.
There is kissing and touching and a lot of not knowing whose hands are where.
But it is so fucking hot.
And I am so fucking turned on.
At some point Ronan ends up behind me, and I am kneeling between his spread thighs.
Micah in front of me, absolutely devastating my needy nipples.
And Griffin standing by the bed, my hair in his hand, kissing me senseless.
Suddenly, Ronan shifts behind me and catches my hips. “Come here.”
I know that voice.
My body knows it before my brain does.
He draws me back against him, until my back settles to his chest and my legs fall on either side of his on the edge of the bed.
I feel his hard cock under me, and my breath catches.
Micah and Griffin are both standing in front of me. Just watching as Ronan plays with me.
His mouth on my neck—one hand toys with my nipples, and the other plays with my clit.
And because my back is to him, he has me in a position where neither of us has to worry about me touching him too much.