Page 79 of What We Don't Say: Part Two

They undress me slowly, and I help.

Theo’s fingers work the buttons of my blouse with careful concentration, looking up at my face after every one. I nod each time. When the fabric falls open he eases it from my shoulders, then waits again before touching the skin beneath. Sloane helps with the clasp of my bra only after I guide his hands there. Idris stays slightly behind them at first, one hand resting lightly on the mattress near my hip where I can see it, giving quiet direction.

“Breathe, Callie. Look at them. Tell us if anything feels like too much.”

“I’m here,” I say. “Keep going.”

My skirt and stockings follow. Theo helps slide them down my legs, kissing the inside of one knee when the fabric clearsit, then checking my eyes before he continues. When I am bare they pause. The air in the room feels heavier. My old bond mark throbs faintly under the attention.

Sloane leans in and kisses my throat, then lower across my collarbone and the upper curve of my breast. He moves with deliberate care until his mouth reaches the place just beside the scar of his bite. There he stops completely, breath warm against the mark, waiting.

I bring his mouth to it myself.

My fingers slide into his hair and guide him the last inch. The first brush of his lips over the old bite sends a shock of recognition through me so sharp I gasp. Sloane makes a low, wounded sound and kisses it properly—soft, open-mouthed, reverent—while Theo holds me from the other side and presses his face into my neck.

“Color,” Idris murmurs.

“Green,” I answer, voice already unsteady. “I want this.”

Sloane’s mouth stays at the bite for another long moment, then moves lower. He settles between my thighs with Theo still wrapped around my upper body, kissing my mouth, my cheek, the corner of my eye. Idris' hand rests where I placed it earlier, a steady point of contact. Sloane’s tongue finds me in slow, careful strokes. The first wave of pleasure hits harder than I expect. My body remembers him. The memory does not feel foolish. It feels like grief and relief tangled so tightly I can't separate them.

Tears come without warning.

Sloane stops the second he feels me shake for the wrong reason. His head lifts. “Callie—”

“Don’t stop.” I reach down and touch his face, making sure he sees me. “I’m crying because I want this. Because my body knows you and I am allowed to want that. Not because I need you to stop.”

He searches my eyes once more, then lowers his mouth again. Theo holds me tighter, one hand stroking my hair, the other laced with mine. Idris' voice stays quiet and present.

“Breathe through it. You can want this. You are allowed.”

The first orgasm builds under Sloane’s mouth and the steady pressure of Theo against me. When it breaks I cry out softly against Theo’s shoulder, body arching, tears still slipping free. Sloane stays with me through every pulse, gentling only when the oversensitivity starts. Theo kisses the wetness from my cheeks and keeps murmuring my name like proof.

I turn my head and find Theo’s mouth. While Sloane still rests between my thighs I touch Theo in return—sliding my hand down his chest, over the soft plane of his stomach, wrapping around him where he's hard and leaking against my hip. He gasps into the kiss.

“You feel good,” I tell him. “I want you close. I want you touching me and being touched.”

Theo becomes clingy in the best way. He presses himself along my side, hips shifting into my hand, soft broken sounds leaving him every time I stroke him. Sloane rises enough to kiss the inside of Theo’s knee, then higher when Theo nods, keeping him inside the circle instead of outside it. Idris' hand moves to Theo’s back when Theo reaches for him, steadying.

“Idris,” I say, looking at him over Theo’s shoulder. “I want your hands on me too.”

He moves closer only after the clear request. His palm settles on my thigh, then higher when I guide it. He does not rush. When his fingers slide through the wetness Sloane left he watches my face the entire time.

“Still yes?”

“Yes. More.”

He adds the pressure of his hand while Sloane returns his mouth to me. The combination is almost too much. Theo’s handjoins theirs, shy at first and then bolder when I moan into his mouth. I come a second time between the three of them, shaking hard, Theo’s name and Sloane’s and Idris' tangled together in my voice.

When I can speak again I reach for Idris more fully.

“I want your mouth. Then I want you inside me when I’m ready.”

Idris asks one more time before each new step. His mouth on me is controlled and devastating, the same careful intensity he brings to everything. He does not bite when his lips find my neck, though the hunger is obvious in the way his breath shudders. He stops at the edge of where a permanent mark would go and holds himself there.

Sloane stretches out beside me while Idris works. His cock is hard against my hip. When I wrap my hand around him he groans softly and presses his forehead to my shoulder.

“I want to be inside you,” he admits, voice raw. “The bond is answering. I can feel how close the knot is. But not tonight. Not until you are ready for that future yes. Your body isn't a debt I get to collect because I suffered.”