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His lips quirk into a small smile. “This was for you, solnishko. I'm content watching for now.” He presses a kiss to my temple, but I can see the strain in his jaw, the tautness of his muscles.

Z lifts his head, giving his brother a knowing look as he carefully withdraws from me. The loss of his warmth leaves me momentarily bereft, but he doesn't go far, collapsing onto the bed beside me.

“Bullshit,” Zaire pants, still breathless. “There is no reason to be noble when we are in bed together…”

I shift toward Oscar, fingers dragging down the hard lines of his chest until I reach the thick bulge straining against his jeans. “He’s right,” I purr, the afterglow still making me bold. “I want you too.”

A flicker, barely there, cracks across Oscar’s composed face. Control slipping. Just for a second. “You don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t,” I cut him off, already popping his belt open, knuckles brushing him through denim. “But Iwantto. Or would you rather sit back and jerk off while I’m right here, on my knees, wanting you?”

Z chuckles low beside me, his hand trailing possessively over my hip. “Always the fucking martyr, my brother. Let her worship you.”

Oscar shoots him a look that would wither most men, but Z merely grins, unaffected. The dynamic between them fascinates me—an unspoken understanding that seems to exist on a level I can't fully comprehend.

I succeed in unfastening Oscar's belt and unzipping his jeans, my fingers brushing against his rigid length through the thin fabric of his boxers. His breath catches, muscles tensing beneath my touch as I free him from the confines of his clothing. His cock springs up. He's thick and hard, a bead of moisture glistening at the tip.

“See?” Z mutters into my ear as he watches me wrap my hand around Oscar's cock. “He wants you just as badly.”

Oscar's jaw clenches, his control visibly fraying as I stroke him slowly from base to tip. “Vesper,” he warns.

“Shut up.” I push him onto his back. “Let me take care of you now.”

I straddle his thighs, still sensitive from Z's attention but eager to feel Oscar inside me. Z shifts beside us, propping himself up to watch with hooded eyes as I position myself above his twin.

“Fuck,” Oscar grits out as I sink onto him, inch by thick inch, until he’s buried deep inside me. His grasp tightens—not to control, but to steady me, like he’s holding himself together by a thread.

I start to move, rolling my hips in slow, deliberate circles that pull a low groan from his chest. The stretch, the fullness—it’s different from Z. Not better. Not less. Just…Oscar. Where Z devours, Oscar worships. He watches me like I’m the only thing that’s ever mattered, drinking in every gasp, every flutter of movement.

His grip tightens when I grind down just right. “My good girl,” he groans. “Always so ready. Always so fucking sweet.” One hand glides up to cup my breast, thumb flicking over my nipple until sparks ripple down my spine.

“That’s it, Vesper. Soak my brother’s cock with your come.”

The words hit me like a match to gasoline. A fierce need floods my core, and I move faster, harder, chasing that sharp edge as my thighs start to tremble from the relentless pleasure. Oscar thrusts up to meet me, his composure fraying with every grind of my hips.

Z shifts beside us. “Look at you,” he says, voice thick with hunger. “Still so fucking greedy even after coming undone on both our cocks.”

Oscar notices the shift in my body instantly. His hand slips between us, thumb finding my clit with maddening precision. “That’s it. One more, solnishko. Be a good girl and give it to me.”

I didn’t think I had anything left, but the way he continues to fuck up into me—his cock hitting just right, his thumb circling with relentless pressure—pulls a broken moan from my lips. The pleasure blinds me, curling through my muscles like smoke before igniting something deep and uncontrollable.

Z’s mouth finds my shoulder, his teeth dragging over the sensitive skin before his tongue soothes the sting. His hand fists in my hair, tilting my head back to bare my throat, and then he’s there—biting, sucking, claiming.

I’m caged between them. Oscar’s cock filling me, Z’s mouth marking me. Their hands, their heat, their hunger—every inch of me is owned, devoured, undone.

The orgasm slams into me, raw and violent. My body convulses, inner walls clenching hard around Oscar’s cock. His hips jerk beneath me, and I hear him curse low, almost broken, as he fights to hold on while I fall apart in his lap.

“That's it,” he hisses through clenched teeth, his grip on my hips tightening as he thrusts up to meet my weakening movements. “Fuck, Vesper?—”

His control finally shatters. With a fluid motion that takes me by surprise, he flips our positions, pinning me beneath him. I barely take a breath before he’s seated back inside of me. His thrusts become harder, more desperate, the measured restraint he's maintained all night giving way to raw need.

Z shifts to accommodate us as he watches his brother chase his release. There's something almost reverent in the way he observes, like he's witnessing something sacred rather than carnal.

“Give her everything,” Z demands.

Oscar's rhythm falters, his movements becoming erratic as he drives into me. With a final, deep thrust, he stills, his entire body tensing as he finds his release.

For several heartbeats, we remain frozen in that tableau—Oscar buried inside me, Z watching over us. Then Oscar collapses beside me, careful not to crush me.