Page 15 of All The Darkest Truths (Second Sons Duet #2)
Oscar cups my face, thumbs brushing my cheekbones with a tenderness that steals my breath. “Both can be true, solnishko.”
I lean into his touch, letting my guard down in a way I rarely allow myself. With Luca missing and danger pressing in from all sides, these moments of connection feel stolen—precious contraband.
His lips find mine again, more urgent this time. I respond in kind, pouring my frustration and fear into the kiss until it transforms into something else entirely, something hungry and alive.
Oscar sits up suddenly, keeping me in his lap as he flips our positions. My back hits the mattress, and he settles between my thighs, his comforting pressure pinning me to the bed.
“Let me take care of you.” He places kisses along my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive spot below my ear.
“Please,” I breathe, not caring how needy I sound. Right now, I need this—need him—more than I need sleep.
His touch slips beneath my shirt again, this time pushing it higher until I lift my arms, letting him peel it over my head. Cool air brushes my skin—but only for a heartbeat—before Oscar’s mouth finds me, tracing a slow path from collarbone to breast.
His tongue circles my nipple before he draws it between his lips, coaxing a gasp from my throat.
“Oscar,” I moan.
He hums against me, the vibration sparking through my nerves. “I love the way you say my name,” he murmurs, shifting to lavish attention on the other breast. “Especially when I’m touching you like this.”
His hand glides down my stomach, fingers teasing the waistband of my shorts before slipping lower. I arch into him, already aching, already soaked with need. When he finally finds me—skin against skin—we both groan, the sound raw and shared.
“You’re so fucking beautiful like this” he breathes, eyes locked on mine as his fingers work my clit with devastating control. “Look at you—already shaking for me. So fucking needy. So mine.”
I bite my lip, fighting to keep quiet even as pleasure builds inside me.
It’s like he hears my thought form, leaning in to claim my mouth in a kiss that devours the moan rising in my throat as his finger slips inside me. I grind down against his hand, chasing every flicker of pleasure.
“Don’t stop,” I moan against his mouth, breathless and aching.
Oscar adds a second finger, curling them in a way that makes my vision blur at the edges. His thumb continues its relentless circles against my clit.
I'm teetering on the edge, my body coiling tight as Oscar's fingers work their magic inside me.
The pressure is building, my breath coming in short gasps as his thumb fingers my clit with maddening precision.
Just as I'm about to topple over that precipice, a sharp knock interrupts the haze of pleasure.
The door swings open without waiting for a response. Z stands in the doorway, his muscular frame silhouetted against the hallway light. I freeze, instinctively trying to cover myself, but Oscar doesn't stop. His fingers continue their relentless rhythm inside me.
“She's supposed to be sleeping,” Z says.
Oscar doesn't even look up, his focus entirely on the way my body responds to his touch. “She will,” he replies, moving his fingers in a way that makes me bite back a moan. “When we're done with her.”
The invitation hangs in the air between them. Without hesitation, he steps inside and closes the door behind him.
“Is that right, moya koroleva?” Z asks as he approaches the bed. “Are you going to let us wear you out?”
I can barely form words with Oscar's fingers still pumping inside me, but I manage a breathless “Yes” that sounds more like a plea than permission.
Z’s lips curl into a dangerous grin as he reaches the edge of the bed.
He strips his shirt off in one fluid motion, revealing the intricate tattoos that ripple across his chest and arms. Unlike Oscar’s controlled precision, there’s something raw about Z—a wild, reckless energy that both terrifies and thrills me.
“Don't stop,” Z commands his brother as he unbuckles his belt. “I want to see her come apart for you first.”
Oscar's rhythm doesn't falter. If anything, his brother's presence seems to fuel his determination. His fingers curl deeper inside me, his thumb pressing more firmly against my clit.
“Look at her,” Oscar drawls. “So fucking beautiful when she’s wrecked like this—spread open and desperate for the two of us.”
I'm exposed. Vulnerable. Caught between them in the most intimate way possible. Yet instead of feeling self-conscious, I feel powerful, wanted in a way that makes my entire body hum with anticipation.
Z kneels on the bed beside us, his hand coming to rest on my throat. His touch is gentle but possessive, thumb tracing my jawline as he leans down to capture my mouth in a kiss that's barely restrained hunger.
“Do you like feeling my brother’s hand between your legs?”
I can't find words to answer Z's question as Oscar's pushes me closer to the edge. My hips arch off the bed, chasing the pleasure building at my core.
“Answer me,” Z demands against my lips, his hand tightening slightly around my throat.
“Yes,” I gasp, the word barely audible as Oscar curls his fingers just right. “God, yes.”
Z smiles against my mouth, satisfied with my response. His free hand moves to my breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers. The dual sensation—Oscar between my legs and Z at my breast—sends electricity coursing through my veins.
“That’s it,” Oscar grits out as I writhe beneath their touches. “Chase that high, solnishko—show us how fucking good you can come.”
Z's mouth replaces his fingers, hot and wet around my nipple, teeth grazing the sensitive peak. The combination of sensations is too much. My orgasm crashes through me without warning, my back arching off the bed as I cry out, vision blurring at the edges.
Oscar works me through it, slowing his movements as the aftershocks ripple through my body. Z lifts his head to watch my face, his pupils blown wide with desire.
“Fucking stunning,” he mutters. “But we’re not even close to being done with you.”
Z’s eyes darken, and the look he gives me sends a fresh surge of need through my veins, even though I'm still quaking from the last orgasm.
Beside him, Oscar slowly pulls his fingers from me, glistening and wet, then licks them clean with a slow, deliberate swipe of his tongue that makes my breath hitch all over again.
“My turn,” Z demands, stripping off the rest of his clothes like he’s seconds from tearing through them. The way he looks at me, like he’s about to devour me, makes my breath stutter.
Oscar shifts to make room but doesn't leave. Instead, he moves beside me, propping himself on one elbow to watch as Z positions himself between my thighs. There's something intimate about the way they share this space—not competitive but complementary.
“Is this okay?”
I nod, unable to form words as his cock presses against my entrance, thick and hard. He pushes in slowly, giving me time to adjust to his size. My body, still sensitive from Oscar's attention, clenches around him, drawing a groan from deep in his chest.
“Fuck, you feel good,” Z hisses through clenched teeth, his hips stilling once he's fully seated inside me. “So fucking tight.”
Oscar's hand cups my cheek, turning my face toward him. His kiss is gentle compared to Z's intensity, but no less passionate. I moan into his mouth as Z begins to move, setting a rhythm that's just shy of punishing.
“You’re taking my brother so well,” Oscar continues, his voice a sensual caress against my ear. “Does it feel good, solnishko? Having him inside you while I watch?”
I can barely form words as Z's thrusts grow more insistent, each one sending shockwaves of pleasure through my already oversensitive body. “Yes,” I manage to gasp, my fingers clutching at the sheets beneath me. “God, yes.”
Z grips my hips with bruising intensity, shifting the angle to drive into me with even more force. Unlike Oscar’s measured control, Z fucks like he does everything else—with raw, untamed passion.
“Look at me,” he commands, one hand sliding up to grip my jaw. “I want to see your eyes when you come on my cock.”
Oscar’s lips trail down my neck, teeth grazing the pulse hammering beneath my skin as his hand closes over my breast. The difference between them is intoxicating—two men, one storm, both completely focused on my unraveling.
“She’s close again,” Oscar murmurs. “Aren’t you, Vesper?”
I nod, frantic, the words lost to the need spiraling out of control inside me. Zaire drives into me with relentless precision, every thrust harder than the last, his thick cock stretching me with a pressure that borders on unbearable—until it’s everything I need.
Oscar’s fingers find my clit, his touch expert and relentless, circling just right—dragging me higher with every pass. The dual onslaught of pleasure is threatening to detonate all at once.
“Don’t you dare hold back,” Z snaps, voice rough with command. “You come when I say. I want to feel this sweet cunt tighten all over my cock while I own every fucking inch of you.”
His pace shifts—no longer teasing, no longer patient. He fucks me like he means to break something open, every thrust deep and relentless, his hips slamming into mine with a force that steals the breath from my lungs. I’m already close, teetering on the edge, when his fingers find my clit.
He doesn’t ease into it. He circles it with purpose, fast and firm, each stroke sending shocks of heat through me. The pressure builds sharp and immediate, a wildfire licking up my spine, burning me from the inside out.
My back arches, a strangled cry ripping from my throat as I claw at the sheets. “Z—please?—”
“Don’t beg,” he growls, voice like gravel and flame. “Take it.”
His cock drives into me again, harder this time—perfect, punishing—while his fingers never let up. The dual assault has me unraveling fast, hips rocking desperately to meet every ruthless thrust, every flick of his fingers.