Page 90 of All The Pretty Little Lies

Through the haze of my climax, I see Zaire's face contort with pleasure and determination. His jaw clenches, the muscles in his neck straining as he fights to maintain control. His eyes, dark with lust, never leave mine, watching intently as I come undone in his arms.

As the aftershocks of my orgasm ripple through me, Zaire's pace becomes frantic, almost punishing. His hands dig into the soft flesh of my ass, fingers pressing so hard I know they'll leave marks. But the pain only adds to the pleasure, grounding me in this moment of pure sensation.

"Fuck, Vesper," he grunts, his voice strained. "You feel so fucking good.”

"Cum for me, Z," I whisper, my lips brushing against his ear. "I want to feel you."

My words seem to break the last of his control. With a guttural roar, Zaire slams into me one final time burying himself to the hilt. I feel him pulsing inside me, his release hot and intense. His arms tighten around me, crushing me to his chest as he rides out his orgasm. Wrapped in Zaire's strong arms and filled with the evidence of his passion, I feel safe. The pain and betrayal that led me here seems distant, pushed aside by the intensity of what we've just shared. My monster has indeed chased away my nightmares replacing them with a different kind of dream.

OSCAR

I wake to an empty bed,the sheets still warm but vacant where Vesper should be. It doesn't surprise me. I knew Z wouldn't be able to resist stealing her away for some alone time. Not after watching her ride my cock a few days ago. She’d been through so much since then, but when it came to chasing her demons away, Zaire seemed to excel at it. Her pain calling to his darkness.

Stretching, I roll out of bed. The morning light filters through the half-drawn curtains casting long shadows across thehardwood floor. I pad to the bathroom, shedding my boxers as I go.

The hot water cascades over me, washing away the last vestiges of sleep. As I soap up, my mind wanders to Vesper; her silky blonde hair, those piercing green eyes that see right through me, the way her body fits perfectly against mine. A familiar warmth stirs in my groin, but I push the thoughts aside. There'll be time for that later.

Toweling off, I pull on a pair of well-worn jeans and a soft gray henley. The smell of coffee lures me out to the kitchen, where I find Zaire standing shirtless at the counter, his back to me. The intricate tattoos that cover his skin seem to shift and dance as he moves, a living tapestry of ink and muscle.

"Morning, brother," I say, leaning against the doorframe.

Zaire turns, a steaming mug in each hand. A knowing smirk plays at the corners of his mouth. "Sleep well, Oz?" he asks, holding out one of the mugs.

I accept the offered coffee, inhaling the rich aroma. "Well enough," I reply, taking a sip. "Though I noticed my bed was a bit emptier this morning than when I fell asleep."

Zaire's smirk fades, replaced by a somber expression that sends a chill down my spine. He sets his mug down, running a hand through his tousled dark hair. "Oz," he says, his voice low and serious, "I couldn't just lie there and watch her break again."

I feel my chest tighten. "What happened?"

Z leans against the counter, his tattooed arms crossed over his bare chest. "I woke up around dawn. She was between us, crying silently. It was like she was trying not to wake us, but she couldn't hold it in anymore."

The image of Vesper, our fierce, beautiful Vesper, crying alone in the darkness makes my heart ache. I set my coffee aside, suddenly no longer interested in its warmth.

"I couldn't bear it, Oz," Zaire continues, his eyes distant. "I couldn't watch her retreat back into that shell she was in when we first brought her here. You remember how she was?"

I nod, remembering all too well the hollow-eyed, barely responsive woman we'd brought to the beach house.

"She was crying like she was in mourning," Z says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I think everything's finally hitting her. Finding out her uncle had a hand in this fucked-up plan, that he'd actually purchased her male embryo and destroyed the female one. It's messing with her head in ways we can't even imagine."

I close my eyes, feeling a wave of anger and helplessness wash over me. "Fuck," I mutter. "Where is she now?"

Zaire's smirk returns, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "Asleep in my bed," he repeats, emphasizing each word with a hint of pride.

I feel a twinge of jealousy, quickly followed by guilt. This isn't about me, or Zaire, or our own desires. It's about Vesper. Still, I can't help but notice the way Z's chest puffs out slightly, his chin lifting in that subtle way it does when he's feeling particularly pleased with himself.

"Z," I begin, my voice low and measured, "we need to talk about what's going on between us and Vesper."

The morning light streaming through the kitchen window catches on Zaire's hair, highlighting the subtle variations in its dark hue. He runs a hand through it, mussing it further, and leans back against the counter. The muscles in his arms flex as he crosses them over his chest

"What's there to talk about?" he asks, his tone nonchalant but with an underlying defensiveness I know all too well.

I take a deep breath, inhaling the rich aroma of coffee that still hangs in the air. "We can't keep dancing around this, Z. The way we feel about her, the way she feels about us. It'scomplicated. And with everything she's going through, we need to be careful."

Zaire's eyes narrow slightly. "Careful? What we need to do is be there for her, Oz. In whatever way she needs us."

"I know that," I say, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice. "But we also need to make sure we're on the same page. That we're not...competing or making things more confusing for her."

Z pushes off from the counter, taking a step towards me. I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenches slightly. "As long as she's happy," he says, his voice low and intense, "that's all that matters. If she wants me, she can have me. If she wants you, she can have you. If she wants both of us..." He trails off, letting the implication hang in the air between us. “Fuck, if she wants someone else, too. It’s her decision. I’ll love her no matter what she chooses for herself.”

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