Chapter 75 Willow
Willow
The button on Finn's jeans pops free, and I run the tips of my fingers along the band, loosening it further. He hisses into Carson’s mouth, and I can’t help the smile that curls my lips.
“Slowly, little fire,” Finn murmurs, voice rough and unraveling. “I want to savor this experience.”
“You can savor the next one,” Carson replies, his tone darkly amused as he threads his fingers through Finn’s hair and nips at his lower lip with a quiet growl. “Right now, we’re going to enjoy this one together.”
Finn shudders, and I can feel it ripple through him under my palms.
I slide his jeans and briefs lower, inch by inch, dragging my nails lightly against his hips.
He twitches under the contact, breath stuttering in a way that makes heat pool low in my belly.
Carson deepens the kiss once more, and I can see it—how much Finn melts into it, how desperately he’s needed this.
When they break apart, Finn’s eyes find mine. Wide. Wild. Needy.
I lean in and brush my lips against his jaw, slow and teasing, before trailing lower, down his neck, tasting the salt of his skin. His hands go to my waist, holding on like he needs the contact, terrified this might not be real.
But it is.
I kiss along his collarbone as Carson’s hand slides down his chest, mapping the muscle and lines as if he’s committing them to memory. Finn's head tips back, eyes fluttering shut, and the sound he makes is something between a gasp and a moan.
“You okay, stalker boy?” I whisper against his throat, smiling as I nip the edge of his jaw, as he inhales at my silly nickname for him.
“I think I might be dying,” he breathes. “But in the best possible way.”
Carson chuckles, low and rough, before licking a slow stripe along the other side of Finn’s neck. “We’re just getting started.”
Carson’s words hang in the air, thick and full of promise.
Finn groans, low and undone, as I slide to my knees in front of him.
His jeans and briefs are already past his hips, the fabric bunching at his thighs as I let my fingers trace the lines of his body.
The way he twitches under my touch, the way his breathing stutters—it all makes heat bloom low in my belly.
I glance up, catching his eyes. “Still think you’re dying?”
He tries to laugh, but it slips into something breathless as I stroke him. “If this is death, I’ve never wanted anything more.”
Carson shifts beside us; he brushes past me, circling Finn like a predator with purpose. When he moves behind him, I feel the shift in Finn’s posture, the tension coiling in anticipation.
Carson’s mouth grazes Finn’s ear. “Then take what we’re giving you,” he murmurs. “You earned it with your obsession.”
Finn’s grip tightens on my shoulders as if he's not sure what to do with his hands, but I pull back slightly.
I rise slowly from my knees, dragging my hands up his thighs as I go.
His eyes never leave mine, not even as I urge him back onto the bed and climb into his lap and straddle him, not even when Carson settles behind him on the bed.
I cradle Finn’s face between my palms, brushing my thumbs along his cheekbones. Then I kiss him, slow and deep, letting him feel every ounce of intent behind it. His hands clutch at my hips, as Carson’s palms smooth over his shoulders, down his chest, touching him from behind.
His hard length presses between us, and I almost can't believe I'm doing this. My bikini is still damp from the pool and hot tub. And most likely my arousal now, too.
Finn’s head tips back slightly, caught in the middle of our attention, and the sound he makes is part gasp, part moan has me rolling my hips to hear it again. Carson leans in and mouths at the curve of his neck, and Finn’s entire body shudders beneath mine.
I can feel him shaking, all wound-up need and disbelief, caught between too much and not enough. His fingers twitch against my waist, as though he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to touch or if this is still a dream he hasn’t woken from.
Carson lifts his gaze to mine over Finn’s shoulder.
There’s heat there—banked and patient—but also a spark of something else.
I lean forward, just enough for our mouths to meet over Finn’s shoulder.
The kiss is slow at first, teasing. But it deepens fast, hungry and sure, and Finn groans between us like it’s the most erotic sound he’s ever heard.
His breath skates across my throat as I pull away from Carson and turn back to him, cupping his jaw again. Carson shifts behind him, pressing in closer, his arms braced on either side of Finn’s body, caging him in without pressure.
Carson’s hand cups the side of Finn’s face, turning it toward him just as I lean in from the front.
Finn’s lips part, and it’s clumsy at first, breathless and too much all at once, but we find the rhythm.
Our mouths crash together, all lips and tongues and need.
Finn’s caught in the middle of it, a live wire of sensation, his moan swallowed between us as Carson and I kiss him, then each other, the three of us tangled in something hot and wild and alive.
It’s messy. Desperate. Beautiful.
Finn gasps when Carson bites his bottom lip, then whimpers when I slide my fingers into his hair and tilt his head toward me for more. Carson’s hand meets mine, tangling briefly, both of us holding him steady as if he’s the center of our gravity.
And maybe he is.
Because right now, there’s no past. No fear. No doubt. Only mouths, heat, and the sweet, dark ache of finally giving in.
The door’s automatic lock on the outside clicks.
None of us react fast enough to stop. Not that we want to.
Finn’s breath hitches, still caught between Carson’s mouth and mine. I pull back just as the hotel door swings open, letting in a burst of hallway light, and two very large, very familiar silhouettes.
Hunter walks in first, a towel slung around his neck, followed by Graham, still toweling off his hair.
They stop. Just inside the doorway.
Silence stretches, taut and heavy.
Hunter’s eyes go wide. His lips part, caught between a curse and a laugh, as he takes in the scene—Finn, half exposed, flushed and panting beneath me, Carson bracing behind him, still close enough to bite, and me, straddling Finn’s lap, my mouth swollen and damp.
Graham’s expression doesn’t shift much. Just a slight rise of his brows. His gaze tracks everything—everyone. Then he reaches behind him and closes the door with a soft click.
Finn tries to stand, nearly toppling me off his lap in his rush. My palm meets his chest, pushing him back down, while Carson tightens his grip on Finn’s hip.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Carson murmurs. “You want Willow? Then you get us too. That’s the deal. Can you handle it?”
Hunter drags a hand through his wet hair, chuckling under his breath. “What is this?”
Carson lifts a shoulder, all lazy heat. “We were waiting for you two.”
Graham folds his arms over his chest, slow and unreadable. “Looks like you got tired of waiting.”
Finn doesn’t flinch. Not really. But the tension in his jaw says he’s weighing the odds. Calculating. Testing the edges of control. Probably wondering if he will have to defend himself.
“I can leave,” he says lowly, though there’s no real weight behind it. More of a dare than a threat.
Graham steps forward, each footfall deliberate. “You’re here, aren’t you?”
His attention shifts to me. Heavy. Anchoring.
“Is this what you want, Willow?”
My voice barely leaves me, but it’s certain. “Yes.”
That’s all Graham needs.
He turns to Hunter. “Lock the door.”
Hunter does, without another word.
Finn shifts again under me, restless with energy he doesn’t know where to put. Carson leans in, brushing his knuckles down the side of Finn’s face, thumb lingering on his jaw.
“Breathe,” he whispers, voice dark with promise. “You’re not in charge tonight.”
Finn’s eyes flick to Carson, then to me. His chest rises faster, pulse thudding under his skin. And then—his mouth curls.
A little grin. Crooked. Sharp-edged. Wanting.
“Good,” he rasps. “I was getting bored of being in control.”
Graham’s smile is slow and dangerous. “Then you’re about to have the time of your life.”
He steps in close enough that his shadow swallows us.
His chest is still damp, heat rising off his skin in waves.
His scent wraps around the room, a command none of us can resist, least of all me.
I love this side of him. Excited tension spools out in my stomach, and I can feel even more slick saturating my bottoms.
“I want eyes on me.”
We all turn at once.
“This isn’t just sex. This is us. Every one of us. And we’re going to show him what it means to be part of this. To be ours, to be yours.” He meets my eyes before his gaze lands on Finn.
Finn stares back and, to his credit, doesn’t blink. “You gonna make me say please, too, alpha?”
Carson snorts. Hunter lets out a quiet “shit” under his breath.
Graham just smiles. “You’ll beg me to give you release, and I promise you’ll say more than please.”
Finn’s head tips back, exposing the long line of his throat. “Try me.”
Graham’s hands slide to my face. He tilts my chin up and kisses me softly, then looks back at Finn.
“It means surrender in every way,” he murmurs. “It means you'll be mine. Ours. Every inch of you. Every sound. Every want. Every fucking need. I’ll break you, just to put you back together again. And that requires trust we haven’t built yet.”
His gaze doesn’t waver. “Still in?”
Finn’s eyes are blown wide, pupils swallowed by black. But his voice—his voice is wrecked and reverent all at once.
“I’ve never wanted anything more.”
Graham grins, and this time, it’s all teeth.
“Then let’s begin.”
My breath stutters as Graham’s hands drop from my face, trailing lightly down my arms. His touch is gentle and loving, grounding me before the storm.
“Carson, strip him.”