Page 377 of End Game

Of course I had.

Ronan had brought this up in our boundary talks from the beginning.

But this particular shape had never quite formed clearly enough in my head to become real.

Until now.

Micah looks at Griffin. “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Then both of them look at me.

Which somehow makes the question much bigger.

Micah comes closer. “Princess?”

“Yes.”

“Give me the whole answer.”

I swallow.

He knows exactly what he's doing. “Do you want to try?”

A tremor moves through me. “Yes, Sir.”

His eyes darken.

Behind me, Ronan exhales against my neck.

Griffin's smile becomes distinctly less innocent.

Apparently that answer worked for everyone.

They move carefully.

There’s no rushing or macho bullshit.

No pretending bodies are simple just because everyone's enthusiastic.

There is communication in every adjustment—hands repositioning, knees shifting, someone asking if I'm comfortable before anyone goes further.

I stay aware of Ronan behind me through all of it.

He lies back, laying me on top of him.

His mouth at my shoulder and his cock still thrusting slow and gently into me.

One of his hands splays over my stomach and the other moves over my chest.

He isn't directing at all. He's letting Griffin and Micah work it out.

Letting them talk to each other.

Trusting them.

Trusting me.