36. No Initiative Order
Chapter thirty-six
No Initiative Order
Griffin
At some point, Dex ends up kneeling on the couch between Micah and Ronan, with Micah's hand wrapped around the back of his neck and Ronan's fingers beneath his chin.
And apparently, my response to that is that it's really fucking hot.
The thought lands with enough force that it takes me a second to examine it, mostly because there was a time—not even that long ago—when this exact picture would have made something defensive come roaring up inside me before I had a chance to figure out why.
Not because any of the men are touching me, or because I've somehow discovered a previously unrecognized interest in naked men.
That part remains spectacularly uncomplicated.
It's the dynamic that's hot.
The way Dex changes when somebody he trusts takes control of him. The way all that constant movement and smartass commentary seems to funnel inward until he's still without ever looking diminished by it.
Months ago, I think I would've assumed submission had to make someone smaller.
Cami handing over control to Ronan was the first thing that started dismantling that idea for me, because I watched her become more present inside her own body every time she trusted him with it.
I've seen Micah do the same thing. I've watched Dex disappear under Micah's hands in one way and come back looking more like himself afterward.
Tonight, there isn't a formal scene around it.
Micah says something too quiet for me to hear, and Dex's mouth opens like he has a response ready. Of course he does. Then something in Micah's expression changes, and Dex closes his mouth instead.
Just listens.
Ronan brushes his thumb along Dex's jaw, and Dex turns toward him immediately.
Heat pulls low in my stomach.
I still don't want either of them looking at me that way. I still don't want any part of what Dex is getting from them directed at me.
But watching it happen to him?
Yeah.
That's hot.
Cami shifts against my chest, and whatever analytical thought I might have followed disappears under the much more immediate awareness of her body pressed against mine.
She's warm from everything we've already been doing, skin slightly damp where my hand rests against her stomach, her breathing no longer completely even.
She's watching them too.
That gets me more than anything else.
The old possessive instinct is still there somewhere. I don't think it's ever going away entirely, and I'm not sure I want it to. It has just stopped arriving with fear attached to it.
My wife.
The words still live low in my body, almost primal, and they still make me want to pull her closer.
So I do.
My palm spreads over her stomach, and she immediately lays her hand over mine, threading our fingers together without looking away from the couch.
There is no reassurance in it because I don't need reassurance. She isn't checking whether I'm okay with what I'm seeing or reminding me that she loves me.
She's just touching me because I'm here.
I kiss the side of her head.
Dex, apparently deciding that he has behaved for too long, shifts his attention toward Cami. “Boss?”
She laughs, and I feel it where her back rests against my chest. “Don't start.”
“You said you liked it.”
“I do.”
I look down at her.
There is no hesitation when she says it now. No surprise at herself, no little laugh afterward to soften the admission. She likes telling Dex what to do, and Dex very clearly likes giving her an excuse.
His grin widens. “Great. Tell me what to do.”
Micah looks amused. Ronan's mouth pulls faintly at one corner, but neither of them interferes.
Cami turns slightly in my arms and considers Dex with a seriousness I know is at least partly theatrical.
“Take Micah's pants off.”
Dex blinks. Then his entire face lights up.
Micah raises one eyebrow.
Cami looks at him. “Problem?”
The smile that moves across Micah's face is slow and very much not a problem. “No.”
Dex moves so quickly that I laugh under my breath.
“Jesus.”
Cami looks over her shoulder. “What?”
I slide my hand along her ribs. “You really like this.”
“Yes.”
The simple certainty in her answer hits me harder than I expect.
And stiffens my cock a bit more, if I’m honest.
Dex proceeds to turn unbuttoning another man's jeans into some kind of elaborate performance, because apparently there is no task so straightforward that he can't add unnecessary flair.
Micah eventually puts a hand on his shoulder. “Don't make this weird.”
Dex looks up at him. “You say that like you haven’t met me.”
Cami laughs again.
Ronan finally moves off the arm of the couch and settles beside Micah, close enough that their thighs touch. He still doesn't take over. I've watched Ronan enough now to know exactly what it feels like when he decides a room belongs to him.
This isn't that.
He leans over and kisses Micah because he wants to kiss Micah.
Dex watches them for all of three seconds before reaching toward Ronan.
Ronan catches his wrist. “Wait.”
Dex stops.
No resistance. No joke.
His body simply stills because Ronan told him to.
Cami's breathing changes against me.
Mine probably does too.
I understand now why she likes this part.
It isn't necessarily the power itself. It's the visible choice underneath it.
Dex could move—he doesn't because he wants to listen.
Ronan releases his wrist a moment later, and Dex reaches for him again.
That time Ronan lets him.
No discussion. No hierarchy announcement. No pause to explain which relationship permits what.
They already know.
That may be the strangest thing about tonight. We spent so much time getting here by talking through every possible boundary that now we can finally exist inside those boundaries without constantly naming them.
Cami eventually shifts away from me and crawls farther onto the couch.
I notice the movement because I notice everything she does, but my body doesn't tighten around it. There is no little spike of resentment because she moved toward someone else.
She moved three feet—that's all.
Dex catches her around the waist and pulls her down beside him, and her surprised laugh fills the room. Micah shifts to make space, Ronan moves one leg out of the way, and somebody's elbow nearly catches me in the face.
I jerk backward.
“Fuck.”
“Sorry,” Dex says.
I look at him.
He's grinning.
“You're not.”
“No.”
Cami grabs one of the throw pillows and smacks him with it.
Dex catches the pillow on the rebound and immediately throws it toward Micah. Micah ducks.
It hits Ronan squarely in the chest.
Everything stops.
Dex's eyes go wide enough that I know he's calculating whether the back door is close enough to make a run for it.
Cami clamps a hand over her mouth.
I start laughing before Ronan even looks down.
He studies the pillow in his lap for several seconds, then slowly raises his eyes. “No.”
Dex is already retreating across the couch. “I didn't do it.”
“You threw it.”
“At Micah.”
“That defense lacks merit.”
Ronan throws the pillow.
It catches Dex directly in the face.
Cami folds over laughing, and I'm not far behind her.
Sex with five people, I'm learning, involves a lot less seamless choreography than porn would have you believe and considerably more risk from decorative home furnishings.
Honestly, I prefer it this way.
The laughter doesn't destroy anything because there isn't anything fragile here to destroy. Nobody is performing some perfect version of group sex. Nobody is waiting for Ronan to issue orders so we know where our bodies belong.
We rearrange ourselves until something feels good, then rearrange again when somebody's knee starts going numb.
Eventually Cami ends up kneeling on the couch, her hands braced against the back cushions. Dex sits on the back of the couch in front of her, Micah close behind, while Ronan sits half on the broad back of the couch with one hand moving occasionally through Micah's hair.
I stay beside Cami.
Close enough to touch her.
Close enough to kiss her.
Close enough to watch everything happening around her.
And even while her mouth works Dex into a silent place that surprises us all and Micah plays with her pussy with his fingers from behind, I’m okay now.
There is something almost overwhelming about the picture, but not because it's especially complicated.
It's because I know them now.
I know the gleam in Dex's eyes means he's approximately thirty seconds away from deliberately provoking someone.
I know the way Micah's hand rests at Cami's waist is different from the way I hold her there. His fingers are loose, but his attention isn't. He's watching every change in her breathing.
I know Ronan's hand moving through Micah's hair isn't casual contact. Ronan doesn't really do casual touch. Every time his fingers move, Micah subtly leans into it.
And Cami… I know every fucking version of her.
The way she inhales when anticipation hits before pleasure does.
The tiny shift of her hips when she wants more but hasn't decided whether to ask.
The way the back of her neck flushes.
The exact second her focus starts turning inward.
She lets go of Dex with her mouth and starts stroking him with her hand.
Micah's hand tightens slightly around her waist.
Cami inhales.
I know that sound.
So does he.
He leans closer until his mouth brushes her shoulder. “Good?”
“Yes.”
His lips move over her skin again. “That's my princess.”
Cami's entire body reacts.
Her back arches just enough to be visible. Her thighs tighten, and a small sound catches somewhere in her throat before she can contain it.
Heat punches through me so hard that I have to breathe through it.
I've watched Micah get commanding with her before. This isn't new anymore.
It still does something fucking primitive to me.
Not because he has his hands on my wife.
Because he knows what she sounds like when she needs praise.
Because she trusts him enough to let him see her reaction.
Because I get to watch another person I trust know exactly how to make someone I love feel good.
There was a time I would've thought that should make me furious.