Page 63 of All The Darkest Truths (Second Sons Duet #2)
“Last chance, princess,” he murmurs, his fingers teasing slow circles just shy of where I burn. “Because once I start tasting you, I’m not stopping until you’re shaking so hard you forget your own fucking name.”
I rip my mouth from Z’s, gasping, a raw tremor ripping down my spine like lightning.
“I’m not backing out,” I snarl, my voice thick with need. “I want all of you. Mouths. Cocks. Hands. I want to feel everything. Take me. Break me. Make me yours.”
Talon’s smile is pure sin. “Then hold on tight, baby. Because we’re going to take you apart.”
Zaire’s fingers make quick work of the buttons I’d left undone, tearing the blouse open with a controlled urgency that sends a jolt straight to my core. The fabric slips from my body and hits the floor, leaving me half-naked between three men who look like they’re ready to devour me.
Oz’s hands slide around from behind, fingers sinking into the lace of my bra as he palms my breasts with a possessive hunger.
His thumbs roll over my nipples until they’re stiff and aching, the rough drag of lace only heightening the sensitivity.
I arch into his touch with a needy gasp, and Z steals the sound from my lips with another punishing kiss.
Below, Talon’s fingers hook into my panties and drag them down my legs at a torturous pace. The air hits my soaked skin, and I shiver, exposed, open, throbbing. He spreads my thighs wide, slow and deliberate, like he’s peeling me apart just to savor the view.
“Let’s give Sergei something to jerk off to,” Talon mutters, his breath searing against the inside of my thigh. His gaze locks with mine, and then he dives in.
The first stroke of his tongue wrecks me. My back arches, head dropping against Oz’s shoulder as a helpless cry escapes me. Talon doesn’t ease in. He feasts. Tongue fucking me with ruthless precision, lips dragging over every slick inch, building pressure fast and sharp.
Z’s mouth trails down my throat, teeth grazing the sensitive column before he bites down on the spot that turns my legs to liquid. Behind me, my bra slips free with a flick of his fingers, and then Oz is back, his touch rougher now, tweaking my nipples until I’m gasping, spine arching toward him.
“You feel that?” Oz rasps against my ear, his breath hot and uneven, fingers rolling and tugging without mercy. “That’s what it’s like when you belong to us. Every fucking inch of you—shaking, dripping, begging for more.”
I can’t form words. I’m too far gone, lost in the collision of mouths and touch.
I’m surrounded, drowning in sensation. Talon’s mouth between my thighs, wicked and relentless. Z’s lips mapping my collarbone, each kiss a brand. Oz molding my breasts to his palms, his teeth grazing my earlobe. Every nerve sparks. Every inch of me burns.
“Look at you,” Zaire rasps, lifting his head just enough to watch my face twist with pleasure. “This is what it looks like when your kings worship their queen.”
Talon’s tongue is merciless, circling my clit with slow, lethal precision. No teasing. No hesitation. Just a calculated unraveling. He grips my thighs tightly, fingers digging into soft flesh to hold me wide open, forcing me to take it all, every flick, every devastating stroke of his tongue.
I grind down on his mouth, chasing the high with reckless need. Greedy. Wild.
Behind me, Oz and Z touch like they’re mapping me. brush of fingers down my sides, each graze of knuckles over my breasts sending jolts of heat straight to where Talon is wrecking me.
“Tell us what you need, solnishko,” Oz breathes into my ear, voice a wicked promise. His teeth scrape along the sensitive line of my neck, and I shudder. Pleasure pulses low and deep, close to boiling over.
“More,” I gasp, dragging him closer. “I need more. I need all of you.”
Z’s mouth finds the corner of mine, lips curving into a wolfish smile. “Our queen has spoken.”
And they move, focused on me like soldiers trained to tear me apart. My body is lifted, shifted, repositioned with ease, like they’ve done this before, like this is what they were made for. Hands and mouths everywhere. The rip of fabric. The thud of clothes hitting the floor.
Talon rises, his bare chest flushed, cock hard and heavy, the thick head already glistening. The scar across his shoulder catches the light, a brutal, beautiful mark of loyalty. Oz shrugs out of his shirt next, all lean muscle and clean skin.
They’re fucking breathtaking. Powerful. Wild.
And they’re all mine.
“Get over here,” Zaire commands, his voice low and wrecked, thick with hunger.
He positions himself against the headboard, legs spread, cock hard and waiting.
His hand wraps around my wrist as he pulls me onto his lap.
My back is flush to his chest, his cock pressing against my entrance, hot and thick with promise.
He grips my hips, holding me steady. “Nice and slow.” He lowers me onto him inch by inch. The stretch is glorious—deep, burning, just enough to steal my breath—and I moan, body shuddering as he fills me completely.
“That’s it, moya koroleva. Take every fucking inch. You were made to ride this cock.”
Oz kneels in front of us. His expression is pure sin, fingers trailing up my thighs before sliding between them. He presses his thumbs to our joined bodies, teasing, stroking, spreading slick warmth everywhere.
“Fucking beautiful,” he mutters, watching me come undone. He leans in, kissing me slowly at first like he’s savoring the way I tremble for him. Then he presses harder, his tongue pushing past my lips like he owns every inch of me, starting with my mouth.
When Oz pulls back, Talon moves in from the side. He grabs my neck, turning my face to him with firm control.
“My turn,” he says, voice rough and possessive, and then he’s on me. His kiss is hard and claiming, teeth catching my bottom lip as he swallows every sound I try to make.
I’m lost in them. Z’s cock driving up into me with expert force, Oz’s fingers circling my clit with maddening precision, Talon’s mouth claiming mine like he’s marking me from the inside out. Every part of me is touched, taken, consumed.
Z hisses against my shoulder, hips snapping up with bruising strength.
“Look at you,” he pants. “Bouncing on my cock like it’s the only thing keeping you alive. Show them who you fucking belong to.”
My cry is swallowed by Talon’s mouth, but I ride him harder, drowning in pleasure, in them, in this.
And I’ve never wanted anything more.
Oz watches, his hand wrapped around his own length, stroking in time with Z's thrusts. The sight of him pleasuring himself while watching us is impossibly erotic, adding another layer to my building pleasure.
Talon breaks our kiss to trail his lips down my neck until he reaches my breast. His mouth closes around my nipple, teeth grazing the sensitive peak before soothing it with his tongue.
I'm overwhelmed, suspended in a web of pleasure woven by these three men who have become my world. My head falls back against Z's shoulder, a symphony of moans and gasps escaping my lips as they drive me higher, closer to the edge with each touch, each thrust, each command.
Z's rhythm falters slightly as he watches Talon's mouth on my breast, his grip on my hips tightening. “Fuck,” he hisses, his voice strained. “The things you do to me, Vesper.”
Oz rises from his position, moving to stand at the edge of the bed. His hand cups my cheek, turning my face toward him as he positions himself before my lips. “Open for me, solnishko,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing across my lower lip.
I comply without hesitation, parting my lips to welcome him.
The girth of him on my tongue, the salt-sweet taste, the groan that escapes him as I take more of him in, it all adds to the maelstrom of sensation threatening to consume me.
Beneath me, Z's thrusts grow more urgent, each upward snap of his hips hitting harder, pushing me closer to the edge with every movement.
Talon's mouth moves to my other breast, his hand sliding between my legs to circle my clit with devastating precision. The multiple points of pleasure. Z filling me, Oz's length sliding between my lips, Talon's skilled fingers and mouth, all push me toward the precipice with alarming speed.
“She's close,” Talon declares, feeling the telltale tremors beginning to course through my body. “Aren't you, princess?”
I can only moan in response, the sound muffled by Oz's cock as my body tenses, hovering on the edge of release. The pressure builds and builds.
“Show us how good we make you feel.”
The dam splinters. Pleasure slams into me, raw and overwhelming, my body convulsing around Z as my orgasm rips through me.
My vision blurs at the edges, stars bursting behind my eyelids as I cry out around Oz, the sound muffled but unmistakable.
Z follows with a guttural groan, his hips snapping upward as he spills inside me, his grip on my hips so tight it’ll leave bruises.
I collapse back against Z's chest, gasping for breath as aftershocks ripple through my body. Oz withdraws from my mouth, his expression hungry and unsatisfied as he watches me tremble in the aftermath.
“Don't get too comfortable,” Talon warns as he trails his fingers up my sweat-slicked thigh. “We're just getting started.”
Z's arms wrap around me, his chest still heaving against my back. “I want him to see what we do to your body. I want him to know that we own you, despite what he thinks. His teeth graze my earlobe. “You are ours. Our pretty little plaything that takes our cocks so fucking well.”
Before I can respond, Oz is already pulling me from Z’s lap with gentle insistence, guiding me onto all fours atop the silk sheets.
“Mine,” he growls, settling behind me. His touch sweeps over the curve of my ass before he grips my hips.
“Ready for me, solnishko?”