All The Pretty Little Lies (Second Sons Duet #1)

23. Vesper

VESPER

I close the door to my room, leaning against it with a sigh. The evening's events playing through my mind like a film reel, each moment tinged with a newfound electricity I can’t quite explain. Dinner had been a lively affair, filled with easy laughter and playful banter, but beneath it all, an undercurrent of tension thrummed.

I push off the door and pad across the wooden floor to my bed, sinking onto the edge. The soft glow of my bedside lamp cast shadows across the room, creating an intimate cocoon that only intensified my swirling thoughts.

Oscar and Zaire. Zaire and Oscar. I close my eyes, remembering the warmth of Oscar's hand on my lower back as he guided me to my seat at dinner, the brush of Zaire's fingers against mine as he passed me the salt.

I flop back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "What is wrong with me?" I whisper to the empty room. I’ve never had one guy in my life, and now, I kissed two in a single day. I roll onto my side, hugging a pillow to my chest as I try to make sense of the tumultuous emotions swirling within me. The memory of Zaire's kiss, tender and reverent, sends a shiver down my spine. His touch had been gentle, almost hesitant, as if he feared I might shatter beneath his fingers. And yet, there was an underlying strength there, a promise of protection that made me feel safe in a way I'd never experienced before.

But then there was Oscar. His kiss had been fire and passion, igniting something primal within me. Where Zaire was the calm eye of the storm, Oscar was the tempest itself, wild and unpredictable. I can still feel the ghost of his hands on my waist, the heat of his breath against my neck.

I press my face into the pillow, torn between exhilaration and confusion. How is it possible to feel so strongly for two people at once? They're twins, yes, but they're also individuals, each with their own unique qualities that draw me in like a moth to a flame.

Oscar's quiet strength and thoughtful nature, the way his blue eyes seem to see right through to my soul. Zaire's roguish charm and fierce loyalty. They're two halves of a whole, complementing each other in ways I'm only beginning to understand.

I sit up abruptly, running my fingers through my hair as Zaire's words echo in my mind. ‘You don't have to choose,’ he had said, his voice low and intense. At the time, I had dismissed it as impossible, a fantasy born of desire and wishful thinking. But now, in the quiet of my room, I find myself wondering...could it be true?

The concept is foreign, almost taboo. Society has always taught us that love is meant for two people, that anything else is wrong or selfish. But as I think about Oscar and Zaire, about the way they move in perfect synchronicity, and the silent communication that passes between them with just a glance, I begin to see the possibility.

Maybe love isn't about choosing one person over another. Maybe it's about opening your heart wide enough to encompass all the love it's capable of giving. The thought is both terrifying and exhilarating, like standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to take flight. Could I really have both of them? Could we create something beautiful and unique, the three of us together?

I lay back down, my mind racing with possibilities. The soft cotton of the sheets whisper against my skin as I shift, trying to find a comfortable position. But comfort eludes me as my thoughts continue to spiral, each scenario more vivid than the last.

I imagine waking up between them, Oscar's steady heartbeat beneath my ear, Zaire's arm draped protectively over my waist. The three of us moving through life as a unit, supporting each other, and loving each other. I picture lazy Sunday mornings filled with laughter and stolen kisses, the aroma of fresh coffee mingling with the scent of their skin. I see Oscar teaching me to dance, his hands guiding me gently as we sway to a melody only we can hear. Zaire watches from the sidelines, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of pride and desire. Later, it's Zaire who pulls me close, his lips hot against my neck as Oscar's fingers intertwine with mine.

The images that flood my senses are so real that I can almost taste them. The roughness of Zaire's stubble against my palm, the softness of Oscar's lips on my forehead. Their voices, a harmony of deep tones that resonate in my very soul. I imagine the way they would look at each other, a bond deeper than blood, strengthened by their shared love for me.

A soft laugh escapes my lips, surprising even myself. Here I am, contemplating a relationship that most would deem impossible or immoral, yet it feels...right. Like pieces of a puzzle finally clicking into place.

I drift off to sleep with these thoughts, a smile playing on my lips as I surrender to dreams filled with silver and blue eyes, and endless possibilities.

But as the night deepens, my pleasant dreams twist into something darker.

The soft glow of my room fades, replaced by harsh fluorescent lights that buzz overhead. The comfort of my bed morphs into the cold, unyielding surface of a hospital gurney. I try to move, but my wrists and ankles are bound by thick leather straps. Panic rises in my throat as I realize I'm back in that sterile, nightmarish place.

The Shadow Man looms over me, his face obscured by darkness despite the bright lights. His presence is oppressive, suffocating. I can feel his gaze roaming over my body, predatory and hungry. This time, it's different. There's no talk of eggs or fertility. The air is charged with a more sinister intent.

"You're mine now," he whispers, his voice like gravel scraping against my ears. His hand, cold and clammy, traces a path down my arm. I shudder, trying to pull away, but the restraints hold me fast.

He leans in closer, his breath hot against my neck. "They can't protect you here," he hisses, and I know he means Oscar and Zaire. In this realm of nightmares, they feel impossibly far away.

The Shadow Man's form seems to ripple and shift, growing larger, more monstrous. His fingers elongate into claws that tear at my clothes. I try to scream, but no sound comes out. The room spins around me, the walls closing in, suffocating me with their sterility.

I feel him pressing against me, a weight that threatens to crush me. His touch leaves icy trails on my skin, each caress a violation. The Shadow Man's laughter echoes through the room, a cacophony of cruel amusement. "You're mine," he repeats, the words burrowing into my mind like parasites. "Body and soul."

I bolt upright in bed, a scream dying in my throat as the remnants of my nightmare cling to me like a cold sweat. The darkness of my room feels oppressive, closing in around me as I struggle to catch my breath. Before I can fully shake off the terror, my door bursts open, and Oscar rushes in, his blue eyes wide with concern.

"Vesper, are you alright?" he asks, crossing the room in long strides.

I nod weakly, but the trembling of my hands betrays me. "Another nightmare," I whisper, hating how vulnerable I sound.

Oscar's expression softens, and he perches on the edge of my bed. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I shake my head, then surprise myself by asking, "Could you...stay with me?"

He hesitates for a moment, then nods, sliding under the covers beside me. As he wraps an arm around my waist, I stiffen involuntarily, the ghost of my nightmare making me flinch at his touch.

"Shh, it's okay," Oscar murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. "You're safe, Vesper. I've got you."

I gradually relax into Oscar's embrace, my body molding against his solid form. The warmth of his chest against my back seeps through my thin nightgown, chasing away the chill of fear. As my breathing steadies, I become acutely aware of every point of contact between us – his arm draped protectively over my waist, his legs tangled with mine, and the unmistakable hardness pressing against my backside.

A shiver runs through me, but this time it's not from fear. I turn my head slightly. "I hate this," I whisper into the darkness. "Every time I close my eyes, I'm terrified of what I'll see. The nightmares...they're relentless."

Oscar's arm tightens around me, and I feel his lips brush against my hair. "I wish I could take them away," he murmurs.

"I just want to feel something else," I confess, my voice barely audible. "Anything other than this constant dread."

There's a moment of hesitation, and then Oscar's lips find my neck, placing a gentle kiss just below my ear. The touch sends a jolt of electricity through my body, igniting a warmth that spreads from my core. He trails more kisses along my jawline, each one stoking the fire building within me.

I turn in his arms, facing him in the dim light filtering through the curtains. His blue eyes are dark with desire, mirroring the need I feel coursing through my veins. "Oscar," I breathe, "make me feel good. Please. I need to feel something other than fear."

His response is immediate. His lips capture mine in a searing kiss, erasing all thoughts of nightmares and leaving only a burning desire in their wake.

Oscar's weight shifts over me as he gently rolls me onto my back, his lips never leaving mine. The mattress dips beneath us, and I sink into its softness, feeling anchored by Oscar's solid presence above me. His hand trails down my side, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. When he reaches the hem of my nightgown, he hesitates, his fingers playing with the delicate fabric.

"Are you sure?" he whispers against my lips, his voice husky with desire. “I know you’re inexperienced. I need to hear with words that you want this.”

I nod, unable to form words that he wants as anticipation coils tightly in my belly. Oscar’s hand slips beneath my nightgown, his calloused fingers skimming along my thigh. The contrast between his rough skin and my softness sends shivers through my body. His touch is reverent, exploring every curve and dip as if committing it to memory.

As his hand inches higher, my breath catches in my throat. The room feels charged with electricity, every nerve ending hypersensitive to Oscar's touch. When his fingers finally brush against the apex of my thighs, a soft moan escapes my lips. Oscar captures the sound with his mouth, kissing me deeply as his fingers begin to explore my most intimate area. My body stiffens.

Oscar stops, and removes his hand, having caught my reaction. His blue eyes watching me intently.

“I’m okay,” I reassure him.

“I felt you stiffen.”

“I’m fine. I promise.” I nod, trying to convey with my eyes what I can't quite put into words. Oscar's gaze is tender, patient. He waits, his hand resting gently on my hip, giving me time to process. My heart races, not just from desire, but from the conflicting emotions warring within me.

I want this. I want to feel normal, to experience intimacy without the shadows of my past looming over me. But Zaire's face flashes in my mind, unbidden. I remember how I couldn't let him go further, how I pushed him away. The guilt and shame rise up, threatening to choke me.

No. I push those thoughts aside, focusing on Oscar's warmth, his gentle touch. I'm here, now, with him. I want to move forward, to reclaim this part of myself. I can’t keep allowing my nightmares to win. The only way to face my fear is to replace it with something much more powerful.

"I'm fine," I whisper again, my voice stronger this time. I don't mention the turmoil inside, the desperate wish to feel normal. Instead, I reach up, cupping Oscar's face in my hands. "Please, don't stop."

Oscar searches my face for a moment longer, then nods. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead, then my cheek, then finally my lips. The tenderness of the gesture nearly undoes me.

As his fingers resume their exploration, I close my eyes, focusing on the sensations. The soft sheets beneath me, the warmth of Oscar's body next to mine, the gentle pressure of his touch. I breathe deeply, willing my body to relax, to let go of the tension and fear.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I feel myself melting into his caress. The ghosts of the past recede, replaced by the present moment. Oscar's fingers move with careful precision, drawing sighs and soft moans from my lips.

I arch into his touch, craving more of the exquisite sensation. Oscar's skilled fingers dance over my sensitive flesh, teasing and stroking until I'm trembling beneath him. The fear and dread that had gripped me earlier dissolve, replaced by a burning need that consumes my every thought.

"Oscar," I gasp, breaking away from the kiss.

“I don’t have any condoms,” he admits.

“It’s okay. I know they gave me a contraceptive shot. Please..."

He understands my unspoken request, slipping a finger inside me with agonizing slowness. The feeling is indescribable – a perfect fusion of pleasure and fullness that has me clutching at his shoulders. Oscar sets a gentle rhythm, his thumb circling my most sensitive spot as his finger moves within me.

I lose myself in the sensations, my world narrowing to the points where Oscar's body connects with mine. The tension builds steadily, a crescendo of pleasure that threatens to overwhelm me. Oscar's lips find my neck, trailing hot kisses along my pulse point as he adds a second finger, stretching me deliciously.

"Let go, Vesper," he murmurs against my skin. "I've got you."

His words, combined with a particularly skillful twist of his fingers, send me over the edge. Wave after wave of pleasure crash over me, and I cry out Oscar's name as my body shudders beneath him. He holds me through it all, his touch gentle yet grounding as I ride out the aftershocks.

As the last tremors of pleasure subside, I open my eyes to find Oscar gazing down at me, his expression a mix of awe and desire. He starts to withdraw his hand, but I catch his wrist, holding him in place.

"Don't stop," I whisper, my voice hoarse with need. "Please, Oscar. I want more."

He searches my face, his blue eyes intense in the dim light. "Vesper, we can stop here. There's no rush-.”

I cut him off with a kiss, pouring all my longing and desperation into it. When we break apart, both breathless, I cup his face in my hands. "I've never made a choice in my life, Oscar. You're the first choice I want to make."

His eyes soften, and he leans down to press his forehead against mine. "Are you sure? We can wait if you're not ready."

I shake my head, my fingers trailing down his chest. "I don't want to wait. I want to feel you. All of you."

Oscar's response is a low groan that sends shivers down my spine. He captures my lips in a searing kiss, his body pressing me deeper into the mattress. I can feel the hard length of him against my thigh, and a thrill of anticipation courses through me.

With trembling hands, I tug at the hem of his shirt. Oscar breaks the kiss long enough to pull it over his head, revealing an expanse of toned muscle and smooth skin. I run my hands over his chest, marveling at the warmth radiating from him.

Oscar's fingers find the straps of my nightgown, sliding them down my shoulders with agonizing slowness. His lips follow the path of the fabric, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When the gown pools around my waist, I resist the urge to cover myself, instead reveling in the way Oscar's eyes darken as he takes in the sight of me.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "So damn beautiful."

His hands and mouth explore every inch of newly exposed skin, leaving me gasping and arching beneath him. When his lips close around a sensitive peak, I cry out, my fingers tangling into his hair to hold him close.

Oscar lavishes attention on my breasts, alternating between gentle kisses and teasing nips that have me squirming with need. His hand slides down my stomach, dipping between my legs once more. I'm already slick with arousal, and his touch sends sparks of pleasure shooting through me.

Just as I'm about to tumble over the edge, Oscar withdraws his hand. I whimper at the loss, but then I feel something else pressing against me, hot, hard, and much larger than his fingers.

"Oscar," I plead, my hips rocking against his hand. "I need you. Please."

His eyes meet mine as he hooks his fingers in the waistband of his sweatpants. "Are you absolutely sure, Vesper? We can stop at any time."

In response, I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Yes," I breathe. "I'm sure."

Oscar nods, his expression a mix of desire and tenderness. He sheds the last of his clothing, and I can't help but stare at his naked form, a work of art sculpted from marble. He positions himself between my thighs, the blunt head of his arousal pressing against my entrance.

"This might hurt a little," he warns, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Tell me if you need me to stop."

I nod, bracing myself for the pain I've heard so much about. Oscar pushes forward slowly, stretching me in a way I've never experienced before. There's a moment of sharp discomfort as he breaks through my barrier, and I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders.

"Breathe, Vesper," Oscar murmurs, staying perfectly still. "Just breathe through it."

I focus on his voice, on the warmth of his skin against mine, and gradually, the pain subsides. In its place, a new sensation blooms, a delicious fullness that has me craving more. I roll my hips experimentally, drawing a groan from Oscar.

"You feel incredible," he whispers, his forehead resting against mine. "So tight, so perfect."

Encouraged by his words, I move again, and this time Oscar responds, pulling back slightly before pushing in deeper. The friction sends sparks of pleasure through my body, and I moan, arching into him.

Oscar sets a gentle rhythm, each thrust slow and deliberate. His eyes never leave mine, watching for any sign of discomfort. But all I feel is an ever-building pleasure, a warmth that spreads from where we're joined to the tips of my fingers and toes.

As my body adjusts to his size, the initial discomfort fades entirely, replaced by a burning need for more. I wrap my legs tighter around his waist, urging him deeper. "Faster," I plead, my voice barely recognizable to my own ears. "Please, Oscar."

He obliges, increasing his pace. The room fills with the sound of our mingled breaths and the soft creaking of the bed. Oscar's hand slips between us, his fingers finding that sensitive bundle of nerves, and I cry out at the dual sensation.

The pleasure builds higher and higher, a tidal wave threatening to crash over me. Oscar's thrusts become more erratic, his breathing ragged against my neck. "Come for me, Vesper," he groans. "Let go. I've got you."

His words, combined with a particularly deep thrust, send me over the edge. The world explodes, pleasure radiating from my core in pulsing waves. I cry out Oscar's name, clinging to him as I ride out the most intense orgasm of my life.

Oscar follows me over the precipice moments later, his body tensing above me as he finds his release. He collapses onto me, his weight settles on top of me, and I feel a sense of completeness I've never known before. His breath is warm against my neck, our bodies still intimately joined. For a long moment, we simply lie there, basking in the afterglow of our shared pleasure.

When Oscar finally lifts his head, his blue eyes meet mine, filled with a tenderness that makes my heart ache. He brushes a strand of hair from my face, his touch impossibly gentle. "Are you okay?" he asks softly.

I nod, unable to find words to express the swirl of emotions coursing through me. Joy, contentment, a hint of lingering pleasure, and something deeper – something I'm not quite ready to name.

Oscar carefully withdraws from me, and I wince slightly at the loss. He immediately looks concerned, but I shake my head, offering him a reassuring smile. "I'm fine," I whisper. "Just a little sore."

He leans down to place a soft kiss on my forehead. "That's normal. Wait here."

I watch as he slips out of bed, admiring the play of muscles beneath his skin as he moves. He disappears into the en-suite bathroom, returning moments later with a warm washcloth. With infinite care, he cleans between my thighs, his touch clinical yet somehow still intimate.

When he's done, Oscar tosses the cloth aside and slides back into bed, gathering me into his arms. I curl against him, resting my head on his chest. The steady thump of his heartbeat beneath my ear is soothing, grounding me in this moment.

"How do you feel?" Oscar asks, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my bare shoulder.

I consider the question, taking stock of my body and emotions. "I feel different," I finally say. "But in a good way. Like I've crossed some invisible threshold."

Oscar's chest rumbles with a soft chuckle. "That's one way to put it."

I tilt my head to look up at him, suddenly struck by a wave of vulnerability. "Was it okay? For you, I mean."

His expression softens, and he cups my cheek in his hand. "Vesper, it was perfect. You're perfect."

Relief washes over me, and I lean into his touch. "I'm glad," I murmur. "I was worried I might disappoint you."

Oscar's arms tighten around me. "Never," he says fiercely. "You could never disappoint me."

His hand cups my cheek, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. In the dim light, his blue eyes are soft with an emotion I'm not quite ready to name. "What are you thinking?" he asks.

I consider deflecting, but the vulnerability of the moment compels me to honesty. "I'm thinking about how glad I am that it was you," I admit. "That my first time was with someone who cared enough to make it good for me."

Oscar's expression softens further, and he leans in to brush his lips against mine. "You deserve nothing less," he murmurs. "You deserve the world, Vesper.”

His words stir something deep within me, a longing for more than just physical pleasure. But before I can examine the feeling too closely, Oscar is moving again, his lips trailing a path down my neck.

"You know," he says between kisses, "there's still so much more I want to show you."

A shiver of anticipation runs through me. "Oh?" I breathe, arching into his touch.

Oscar's response is a wicked grin that sets my pulse racing. "Oh yes," he purrs, his hand sliding down my body. "The night is young, and I intend to worship every inch of you."

As his fingers dip between my thighs once more, igniting sparks of renewed desire, I surrender myself to the promise of his touch. The world outside my bedroom ceases to exist. There is only Oscar, his hands, his lips, and the exquisite pleasure he coaxes from my body again until exhaustion takes us both under.