Zakhar carries me through the house with Maksim and Alexei following close behind.
My mind is still reeling. Still processing everything that just happened in the living room. The confrontation that felt like it would destroy us. The confession that exposed every secret I've been guarding for years. The moment I laid all my cards on the table and waited for rejection that would shatter me.
But they didn't reject me. They chose me. All three of them. Without hesitation. Without conditions.
The adrenaline is still coursing through my veins. My hands shake where they're wrapped around Zakhar's neck. My lungs work too fast, pulling shallow breaths. The fear hasn't fully left my body even though my mind knows I'm safe now. That they know the truth and they're still here.
They know what I am. What I've done. The organization I built from pain and fury.
And they're still carrying me to my bedroom.
I can feel Zakhar's heartbeat against my cheek where it rests on his chest. Steady. Strong. Grounding me when everything else feels unmoored. Behind us, I hear Maksim and Alexei's footsteps. Close. Following. Not letting distance grow between us even for the length of a hallway.
We reach my room. Zakhar pushes through the door and sets me down with careful attention to my injured hand. For a heartbeat, we just look at each other. His green eyes intense and burning with recognition I can finally name.
Not suspicion. Not doubt. Just want. Pure and uncomplicated.
Then his mouth is on mine and thought becomes impossible.
The kiss is consuming. Possessive. Not gentle but not rough either. Just thorough. He's claiming me with his lips and tongue, erasing any lingering doubt about what just happened downstairs. About whether they truly meant what they said.
I kiss him back with equal hunger. Pouring everything I can't say into the press of lips and clash of teeth and the way my good hand fists in his hair to pull him closer.
Behind me, I feel Alexei's warmth. His presence like heat radiating against my back. His hands find the zipper of my dress. Slowly pulls it down, the sound of metal teeth parting loud inthe quiet room. Each inch of zipper opening feels deliberate. Intentional. Like he's unwrapping a gift he's been waiting for.
I break the kiss with Zakhar long enough to glance toward Maksim.
He's standing a few feet away. Watching us with eyes gone dark and hungry. His hand moves to palm himself through his pants, adjusting the obvious hardness there, and the sight makes desire curl low in my belly.
He's not rushing. Not inserting himself into the moment. Just watching with that controlled intensity that makes my skin prickle with awareness.
I turn my attention back to Zakhar. My hands find the buttons of his shirt, fumbling slightly because my fingers are still trembling from adrenaline and emotion and the overwhelming reality of what's happening. When I get his shirt open, I push it off his shoulders, needing to see him. Needing the proof of his body real and solid under my palms.
Then I turn to Alexei. Do the same. His shirt joins Zakhar's on the floor. I run my hands over his chest, feeling the heat of his skin, the jump of his pulse, the way his muscles tense under my touch.
Maksim undresses slowly. Deliberately. Each movement calculated and precise. Removing his jacket with careful attention. Unbuttoning his shirt with methodical focus. Never taking his eyes off us. Like we're a performance he's directing without words, and he's savoring every moment.
When we're all naked, when skin meets air and nothing separates us anymore, Maksim steps forward. Takes control with the quiet authority that's always defined him.
"Put her on the bed," he tells the twins, voice low and commanding. "I want to taste her."
The words send a shiver of anticipation through me.
Zakhar and Alexei guide me to the mattress with careful hands. Lay me down in the center like I'm treasure they're arranging just so. The sheets are cool against my overheated skin.
Alexei positions himself near my head. Leans down to kiss me deeply, his tongue exploring my mouth with thorough attention. His hands find my face, cupping my jaw, holding me still for his kiss like he needs this connection. This proof that I'm here and real and his.
Zakhar moves to my breasts. His mouth closes over one nipple, and the wet heat of it makes me gasp against Alexei's lips. He sucks hard enough that pleasure borders on pain, then soothes with his tongue before biting gently. The sharp sensation makes me arch into him.
Maksim settles between my thighs. His hands spread me open with precision, exposing me completely. Then his mouth is on me.
He works me with devastating skill. Tongue circling my clit in patterns that build sensation with precision. Fingers entering me, curling to find the spot that makes stars explode behindmy eyes. He's methodical but not cold. Intent but not detached. Every movement calculated to drive me higher.
Alexei swallows my moans, his kiss deepening as my sounds grow more desperate. Zakhar alternates between my breasts, licking and biting and sucking until they're sensitive and aching and every touch feels amplified.
The combination of all three of them touching me at once is overwhelming. Too much sensation from too many sources. Too much pleasure building too fast. My body doesn't know where to focus. Can't process all the different inputs.
I feel myself climbing toward orgasm. Feel the pressure coiling tighter and tighter. Maksim adds a third finger, stretching me, and that's all it takes.
