Page 767 of End Game

I nod.

He takes it.

I expect him to begin where I stopped.

He doesn't.

He backs the intensity down and finds his own rhythm first.

Three strikes later, the pattern becomes consistent enough that I can stop tracking his mechanics and focus completely on Cami.

Micah owns this part now.

I move close to her head.

“Color?”

There is a pause before she answers.

“Green.”

Not uncertain.

Simply slower.

She's dropping.

“Good.” I lean near enough that my breath reaches her ear. “That's it, sweetheart. You don't have to hold yourself anywhere. We already have you.”

Micah's next impact lands harder, and her mouth opens on a soft sound.

“So fucking beautiful,” I tell her. “Look how much you're giving us.”

Her shoulders lose another fraction of tension.

“That's my girl.”

Griffin's fingers move lightly between her thighs—not enough to deliberately stimulate her, but enough that her body knows exactly where he is.

She says my name.

I smile.

Because I know where she is mentally.

I've done this with her before.

Many times now.

None of the other men in the room have seen it.

Griffin has watched me control her. Micah understands our dynamic well enough that very little about it surprises him anymore. Dex has spent months volunteering opinions about what he assumes I can do to her.

But this particular thing has belonged to Cami and me.

The first time I talked her into an orgasm without touching her, she was restrained in this same basement, just with her feet on the floor. I learned then how completely her body can follow my voice once she stops trying to anticipate what happens next.

Over the next few months I’ve learned more. Perfected more. Watched her visually respond to me in very ordinary moments of our lives with just a few words.