Page 25 of All The Darkest Truths (Second Sons Duet #2)

I’m still trembling from his mouth between my thighs, every nerve raw and begging. I want his body pressing me into the counter, his cock stretching me open, his body claiming mine completely.

“Talon,” I pant, tugging at his shirt, desperate to feel him, all of him. “I need you.”

His lips curl against my skin. “Your wish is my command, princess.”

His hands grip my thighs, spreading me wider, locking me in place. My pulse pounds, anticipation crashing through me as he straightens. He strips his shirt off in one fluid motion.

The light catches the sharp lines of his torso, the tattoo winding across his left shoulder now fully visible—inked curves and shadows that beg to be traced. I reach out, my fingertips gliding down the path of black and gray, following it to the waistband of his sweats.

“These need to go,” I tell him, voice low but commanding, hooking my fingers under the band and tugging.

Talon smirks, already working them down his hips. “Then take them off, baby. But just know, once I’m inside you, I’m not stopping until your legs are shaking and you can’t remember your own name.”

Talon's smile is feral as he steps back just enough to shove his sweatpants down, kicking them aside. He's gloriously naked now, his arousal evident and impressive. My mouth goes dry at the sight of him, all coiled strength and barely restrained hunger.

“See something you like, princess?” Talon asks, his voice rough.

“Everything,” I answer without hesitation, reaching for him again. “Now get over here.”

He steps between my thighs, dragging me to the very edge of the counter. The position leaves me completely exposed, utterly at his mercy, and the power in that vulnerability makes my pulse race. His cock presses against my entrance, hot, thick, teasing, and my breath catches at the promise of him.

“Tell me what you want,” he orders, his palm sliding up to cup my breast, thumb circling the still-sensitive peak until I squirm.

“You,” I gasp, body already trembling with need.

Talon tightens his grip, eyes dark. “Not good enough. Use your words, sweetheart. Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

He arches a brow, still holding back. “Say it again. Beg for it.”

“I want you, Talon. I want your cock inside me. Now.”

That’s all it takes. He drives into me in one brutal, breathtaking thrust, burying himself to the hilt. I cry out, the stretch toe-curling and obscene, every inch of him thick and pulsing inside me. My walls clamp down, greedy and aching for more.

He stills, forehead pressed to mine as our breaths mingle—hot, ragged, trembling.

“Fuck, princess,” he groans, hips twitching as he fights for control.

“This...this is better than every dream I’ve ever had of you.

No fantasy ever came close to how tight your cunt feels around my cock—how real this is, how fucking perfect you feel.

I used to imagine this, over and over, thinking it would never happen.

But nothing in my head—not the sounds you’d make, not the way you'd look when I plunged inside of you— nothing could ever prepare me for this. For you. For how fucking wrecked I feel just being inside you.”

Before I can answer, he starts to move, building a rhythm. Each thrust hits with force, deliberate, and unrelenting.

My legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back. He tugs me just enough to expose my throat to his mouth. His lips and teeth work the sensitive skin there, surely leaving marks. Marks I will wear proudly.

“Mine,” he rasps against my pulse point, the possessive edge in his voice igniting something molten inside me. His pace picks up, driving harder, like he’s trying to brand himself into my very core.

I'm dimly aware we're being reckless. Anyone could walk in at any moment, but it only heightens the intensity, makes each sensation sharper, more immediate.

“Talon,” I gasp as he shifts, changing angles. “Right there—don't stop?—”

His rhythm falters for just a moment as he looks at me, pupils blown wide with desire. “Never,” he promises, his voice rough. “I'll never stop giving you what you need.”

The counter edge digs into my thighs, but the discomfort is distant, overwhelmed by the building pressure. Talon's movements grow more urgent, more demanding, driving me toward another peak.

“Scream my fucking name, princess. I need to hear it on those sweet lips of yours,” he commands, his thumb finding my clit, circling it in time with his thrusts. “Wake up the entire fucking apartment, princess.”

My body obeys like it was made to respond to his command. Pleasure crashes over me, intense and unrelenting, my inner walls clenching around him as I cry out his name. The sound echoes through the quiet kitchen, probably loud enough to wake the others, but I’m beyond caring.

Talon's rhythm falters as my release triggers his own. With a final, powerful thrust, he buries himself deep inside me, his body tensing as he finds his release. His groan mingles with my gasps, our bodies locked together in shared ecstasy.

We stay like that for a while. Me still trembling on the counter, legs draped around his waist, Talon pressed between them, his chest heaving against mine. Sweat clings to our skin, the air thick with sex and something heavier neither of us is ready to name.

I drag my fingers slowly over his shoulders, tracing the curve of muscle and ink, grounding myself in the steady thump of his pulse beneath my touch.

“That was…” I start, but the words vanish—too small for what just happened.

Talon exhales, the sound rough, almost a laugh. “Yeah.” He presses a kiss to my temple, softer than I expect, lingering just long enough to make my chest ache. “It fucking was.”

A soft chuckle escapes him as he carefully withdraws from me, the loss of connection making me whimper slightly.

He reaches for a dish towel hanging nearby, dampening it with warm water from the sink before tenderly cleaning between my thighs.

The gesture is unexpectedly intimate, his touch gentle as he takes care of me.

“The ice cream's melted,” I observe, glancing at the forgotten container on the counter beside us.

Talon grins. “I’ll buy you more.”

He helps me down from the counter, my legs wobbling slightly. The cool air of the kitchen raises goosebumps across my naked skin, and Talon quickly retrieves my discarded t-shirt, pulling it over my head with surprising tenderness.

We hear someone clear their throat and turn to see Alex standing in the shadows. His expression is unreadable, but his rigid posture speaks volumes.

“Fuck,” Talon hisses under his breath, positioning himself slightly in front of me despite the fact I'm now covered by my shirt. “We need to put a fucking bell on you, man.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Alex says deceptively casual. “The ice cream was a nice touch.”

Heat floods my cheeks as I realize what his words imply. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough.” His glances from my face down to my bare legs and back up again with deliberate slowness. “Don't stop on my account. The kitchen counter is an….inspired choice.”

Talon reaches for his sweatpants, pulling them on with quick efficiency. “Did you need something, or are you just enjoying the show?”

“I came to get some coffee,” he explains, though his tone suggests coffee is the furthest thing from his mind. “I didn’t expect anyone else to be up, or fucking on the kitchen counter.”

“We were just heading back to bed.”

“Were you?” Alex’s attention flicks to the melted ice cream container, then back to my flushed face. “Looks to me like you were just getting started.”

I should feel embarrassed, being caught like this, but Alex's face stirs a different emotion entirely. He’s shut me down twice now. His blue balls are his own fault.

“Do you often lurk in the shadows watching people?” I ask him.

A hint of a smile touches Alex's lips. “Only when the show is worth watching.”

“Alex,” Talon warns, but there's a strange undercurrent to his voice that I can't quite decipher. “Enough.”

“What?” Alex shrugs before heading towards us.

“Don’t fuck in the common spaces if you don’t want spectators.

” He stops, reaching over finger and grazes against my cheek.

On the pad of his finger is a smear of melted ice cream.

He smiles as he draws his finger to his mouth, sucking it between his lips. “Chocolate is better,” he comments.

My thighs press together involuntarily. “Chocolate with caramel,” I reply, my voice steadier than I feel. “Sweet and salty.”

“I'll remember that.”

Talon clears his throat, his hand finding the small of my back. “We should get some sleep.”

The word choice isn't lost on any of us. Alex's lips quirk up at one corner as he turns away, busying himself with the coffee maker.

“You should,” he agrees without looking back at us. “I still have some final checks to run before the auction.”

“Don't stay up too late,” I tell Alex. “We need you sharp tomorrow.”

Talon guides me from the kitchen, his arm wrapped protectively around my waist.

“Your place or mine?” Talon asks as we reach his door, his knuckles brushing mine.

“Can we stay here?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says, stepping aside to open the door. “This is your space now, too.”

He closes the door behind us, shutting out everything else.

I slide onto the bed, still bare beneath his shirt, and he joins me, an arm curling around my waist like it belongs there.

“Get some rest,” he says as he pulls me close, his breath warm against my neck.

I press against his chest, letting the silence settle. His fingers trace lazy circles against my hip, grounding me.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, my body stops bracing for the next hit.