Chapter 75 Willow #2
Carson smirks as he rises from the bed in one fluid motion, all lithe muscle and determination. “With pleasure.” His voice hums with something dark and amused, but his hands are steady as he reaches for Finn.
Finn doesn’t flinch; he lifts his chin instead, cocky despite the flush still high on his cheeks. “You gonna buy me dinner after this, Casanova?”
Carson huffs a breath of laughter. “No. But I might kiss you when I’m done.”
“Deal.”
Hunter shifts beside the door, crossing his arms, but I can feel the tension rippling beneath the surface. His scent is threaded with a barely leashed restraint. He’s letting Graham lead, but that doesn’t mean he’s passive.
Graham catches the subtle shift in his musk too. “You good, Hunt?”
Hunter’s jaw flexes. “Yeah. Just waiting for permission.”
Graham doesn’t look away from me as he says, “Get on the bed. Beside them.”
Hunter moves without hesitation, his footsteps soundless on the soft carpet. He sinks onto the mattress next to us, but doesn’t touch either of us yet. His eyes are dark as they roam over my body, and my nipples tighten in my damp top, craving more than just the touch of his gaze.
Carson tugs Finn’s shirt up and over his head, slow and teasing, peeling layers back just to see what’s underneath. “You like this, don’t you?” he murmurs, voice just for Finn. “All of us watching you fall apart.”
Finn’s breath catches. “Maybe.”
“Definitely,” Carson corrects, as he discards the shirt and moves behind me to work the rest of his clothing off of him. I hear the thud of one shoe and then another.
I stay straddling Finn, palms on his chest, watching every flicker of emotion pass over his face—want, tension, anticipation. Graham circles the bed, a king surveying his court. Calm. Collected. But I can feel the fire burning behind his eyes.
“Sweetheart,” Graham says lowly, “make him beg.”
My lips part slightly, heart pounding as I lean down and kiss Finn again—this time slower. More deliberate. I let my hands roam over his chest as Carson frees him from his jeans entirely. Finn groans into my mouth, hips arching up, only to be pinned down by Carson’s hand on his thigh.
I bite my bottom lip, heat building low and heavy in my belly. Then I press my palms to his chest, guiding him back until he’s flat against the bed.
He gasps, just a little, the power shift lighting him up from the inside. “Fuck,” he murmurs.
“Still with us, stalker boy?” Carson asks, using my nickname for him.
Finn shudders. “Barely.”
I can feel Graham behind me, his hand pressing low on my spine. “Good. Stay on the edge. Let him feel every second of it.”
“Fuck,” he gasps again. “You all planned this, didn’t you?”
“Planned?” Graham repeats. “No, not exactly, but you’re not the only one who can take advantage of opportunity.”
I shift my weight, dragging my body against Finn’s, and his eyes flutter shut again, teeth catching on his bottom lip. My nails skim up his ribs, across the dip between his collarbones, then down, making him twitch under every pass.
Carson sinks down on the bed next to us, while Hunter watches from the other side.
“Show him pleasure until he begs you to stop,” Graham instructs them both.
Carson presses a kiss to Finn’s temple. “You asked for this, remember?”
Finn’s eyes open again, dark and glassy. “I know,” he whispers. “Don’t stop.”
Graham chuckles from behind me, his hand ghosting along my thigh. “Oh, we’re not stopping. Not until you forget every face but ours.”
Graham’s presence shifts behind me, then stills.
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.
He groans. “I do. I fucking do.”
I lower myself onto him in one slow, aching slide, and he cries out, hips jerking beneath me, but Carson keeps him pinned, growling low in warning.
“Hold still,” he murmurs, repeating my words. “Let her use you.”
Graham stands behind me again, one hand sliding up my back, steadying me as I begin to move. His touch is grounding, possessive. Like he needs me to know I’m not alone in this—that they’re here, that they want this as much as I do.
As much as I need.
I roll my hips, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm. Finn moans with every stroke, every inch of friction. He’s trembling beneath me, panting, already on the edge.
Graham’s large hands brace my hips, guiding the pace. “That’s it, sweetheart. Show him what it means to be taken by a pack.”
Hunter bends, brushing his lips along the side of Finn’s throat. “You’re doing so good,” he whispers.
Carson leans in, mouth brushing mine, then sliding to my ear. “Ride him until he can’t remember his own name.”
I grind down harder, faster, heat blooming inside me like a wildfire. Finn’s moans turn wrecked and desperate. His eyes roll back. His hands clench against Hunter’s hold, but he doesn’t fight it. He gives in.
My thighs start to tremble, every nerve lit up, every breath ragged.
Graham’s voice is commanding and low. “Now, Carson. Let her feel you too.”
Carson shifts next to me, hand brushing my stomach before dipping lower, his fingers sliding through the slick between my legs and rubbing slow, tight circles that make my whole body clench around Finn.
I gasp—loud and high and raw.
Finn’s whole body jolts. “I’m gonna—fuck, I can’t—”
Graham growls. “Not yet.”
Hunter’s hand leaves the mattress and wraps around Finn’s jaw, tilting his head until their eyes lock.
“Hold on,” he murmurs. “You don’t get to fall apart alone.”
And then Graham’s hand replaces Carson’s at my clit, rougher, more demanding, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.
My head drops forward, my moan catching against Finn’s shoulder. His eyes are glossy, unfocused, every muscle tight beneath me.
“Please,” he begs again, voice wrecked. “Please, let me—”
“Not yet,” Graham commands. “She comes first.”
And God—I do. Shattering around him, clenching tight, my whole body a pulse of heat and sensation. I cry out, the sound guttural and raw and mine.
Only then—only when I collapse against his chest, shaking and breathless—does Graham nod.
“Now.”
Finn comes with a broken cry, hips jerking up into me, hands clenched in Hunter’s grip as he spills into me, every part of him undone.
And he smiles. A real, stunned, ruined smile.
Like he finally found home.