LOGINAsena
Caspian's mouth descends, and the first stroke of his tongue against my oversensitive flesh makes me jolt. "Wait…" I gasp, trying to close my legs, but his hands grip my thighs, holding them open. "Relax, sweetheart," he murmurs against my skin. "I'm just going to taste you. That's all." "That's all?" I repeat breathlessly, my mind still reeling from the orgasm he just gave me with his fingers. "For now." His smile is wicked before his mouth finds me again. Behind me, Zavian's hand tightens on my throat, not choking, just possessive, while his other hand plays with my breast through my bra. "That's it, doll," Zavian murmurs in my ear. "Let him taste what's ours. Let him learn what makes this virgin pussy quiver." The word 'virgin' makes me tense. Caspian lifts his head, his eyes locking on mine with dark satisfaction. "We know, sweetheart," he says softly. "We know you've never been touched like this. Never been fucked. That pathetic ex of yours didn't deserve to be your first." "But we do," Zavian adds, his breath hot against my neck. "And when you're ready, when you beg us for it, we're going to ruin you for anyone else." "I'm not… I don't…" But my protest dies when Caspian's tongue circles my clit again, slow and deliberate. "Shh," Zavian soothes. "Tonight isn't about taking your virginity, little mouse. Tonight is about showing you what pleasure feels like. What your body has been starving for." Caspian's mouth works me with devastating skill, not aggressive, but thorough. Learning exactly what makes me gasp and moan. "So responsive," he murmurs between strokes. "So fucking sweet." Zavian's fingers find my nipple through the lace, pinching lightly, and the dual sensation makes my back arch. "That's our girl," Zavian praises. "Look how beautifully you respond to us." I'm climbing again, impossibly fast despite just having come apart. Caspian's tongue is relentless, circling and sucking while his hands hold my trembling thighs open. "Please, " I don't even know what I'm begging for. "Please what?" Caspian lifts his head just enough to speak. "Please stop? Or please make you come again?" I whimper, unable to form words. "Use your words, sweetheart," he commands. "Tell me what you want." "Don't stop," I gasp out. "Please don't stop." "Good girl. I won't." His mouth returns with renewed intensity, and when he adds one finger, just one, carefully, sliding inside while his tongue focuses on my clit, I shatter. The second orgasm is different from the first. This one is deeper and longer and it's pulling sounds from my throat that I've never made before. Heck before now, I never thought that I was capable of making such sounds. I shake violently in Zavian's arms while Caspian works me through every aftershock. "Fuck, she's beautiful when she comes," Zavian breathes, his hand gentle on my throat now, just holding. Caspian finally pulls back, pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to my inner thigh before looking up at me with dark satisfaction. "How do you feel?" He asks. I can't answer. Can't form coherent thoughts. Tears leak from my eyes, not from pain, but from the overwhelming sensation. "Shh, you did so well," Zavian soothes, turning my face toward his. He kisses away the tears. "Such a good girl for us." He is so gentle that I wonder where the man who would always bully me in school went. They shift me carefully, and suddenly Zavian is the one kneeling between my legs while Caspian takes his place behind me. "My turn," Zavian says, his voice dropping to that dangerous register. "Wait! I can't… no more…" Panic flares through the pleasure-haze. "Just one more," Zavian promises, his hands sliding up my trembling thighs. "Just let me taste you once, doll. Then we'll take you home." "Home?" I echo weakly. "Our home," Caspian clarifies from behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist to hold me steady. "You're staying with us tonight." I should protest. Should insist they take me to my apartment but then, Zavian's mouth finds me and rational thought becomes impossible. Where Caspian was thorough and demanding, Zavian is devastatingly gentle. His tongue moves with maddening precision, never rushing, just learning every sensitive spot. "So sweet," he murmurs against my flesh. "Like honey and sin." Caspian's hands cup my breasts, kneading gently while his mouth finds my neck. "That's it," he whispers. "Let him worship this pretty virgin pussy. Let him show you how good we can make you feel." I'm trembling again, climbing toward something that feels different and bigger, than the first two. "Please… Zavian… I can't…" "Yes, you can," he insists, his tongue circling my clit while one careful finger slides inside. "Come for me, Asena. Let me feel you fall apart on my tongue." The third orgasm breaks me completely. I sob openly as it crashes through me, longer and more intense than the others. My whole body convulses, and Caspian has to hold me upright while Zavian works me through every trembling aftershock. When Zavian finally pulls back, I'm boneless and shaking, completely wrecked. "Perfect," Zavian breathes, pressing kisses up my thigh. "Absolutely perfect." I can barely keep my eyes open. Everything feels heavy and distant. Caspian disappears briefly, returning with a bottle of water and a warm towel. "Drink," he orders gently, holding the bottle to my lips. I obey because I don't have the strength to argue. The water helps ground me slightly. Zavian cleans me with the towel, careful and thorough around my sensitive flesh, and the tenderness makes fresh tears leak from my eyes. "You did so well," he murmurs. "Such a good girl for us." They help me into my dress, though my legs shake so badly I can barely stand. I notice with distant awareness that they're both still fully clothed. Still hard. Still unsatisfied. "What about you?" I whisper. "Tonight was about you," Caspian says simply. "About showing you pleasure. About making you forget that bastard." "Did it work?" Zavian asks, though the satisfaction in his eyes says he knows the answer. I can barely remember Matteo's name. "Yes," I admit. "Good." Caspian lifts me easily into his arms. "Now we're taking you home." "I should go to my apartment…" "No," Zavian says firmly. "You're coming with us. You're in no condition to be alone tonight." I should protest. Should insist but I'm too exhausted, and some part of me doesn't want to be alone. So I let my head fall against Caspian's shoulder as they carry me out of the VIP room, through the still-pulsing club, and into the cool night air where a sleek black car waits. Caspian slides into the backseat with me still in his arms. Zavian takes the seat beside us. As the car glides through Vegas streets, Zavian's hand finds mine. "Sleep," he murmurs. "We've got you."104. AsenaIt's evening and the house feels quiet.. Not just feels, it's quiet. Somewhere downstairs a single lamp has been left on for Bernard’s final rounds. Upstairs, the nursery door stands slightly open. Our bedroom is lit only by the low warm glow of the bedside lamp. The curtains are drawn against the night. Everything feels hushed and safe.I stand at the edge of the bed while Caspian and Zavian move around me. Their hands are already on me, unbuttoning, easing fabric away, lingering on the places where my body has changed. My belly is rounded now, full with the twins.Every so often one of them kicks. It's either a soft kick or a stronger roll that still steals my breath. Caspian’s palm settles over the curve as the last of my dress falls away. Zavian’s fingers trace the stretch of skin at my hip with careful reverence.“You’re so beautiful like this,” Caspian murmurs.Zavian kisses the side of my neck. “So beautiful.”They guide me onto the bed with the same steady care th
103. AsenaThe house feels different now.Light moves through it more freely. Morning sun spills across the floors of the sunroom where I work. Afternoon gold settles on the stairs and the long hallway that leads to the nursery. Even the evenings seem softer, as if the walls themselves have learned how to hold peace. I notice it in small moments; the way the air feels warmer, the way silence no longer carries tension. The danger that once lived in every corner is gone. What remains is life.I spend most mornings at my worktable.The jewelry designs have grown with me. What began as quiet pieces made in stolen hours has become something larger. Orders arrive from places I once only saw on maps, boutiques in Paris, a small gallery in Tokyo, private clients in New York who request custom work months in advance. I still sketch by hand first. The feel of pencil on paper steadies me. Then I move to the metal and stone, shaping each piece with the same careful attention I once used just to s
Asena povWhen we start setting the nursery room, we kickstart with an empty room and far too many opinions.We chose it because it is the bedroom closest to ours.It also comes with wide windows that catch the morning sun and overlook the quieter side of the garden. For the first few days, none of us does much more than stand in the doorway and stare.Caspian measures the room, then he measures it again.“Did you already measure that?” I ask when he attempts to do it a third time. “Yes.” he replies, too serious. “Then why are you doing it again?” I probe. Caspian glances at me as though the answer should be obvious. “To make sure.”Behind him, Zavian is writing something in his notebook.I lean against the doorframe. “And what are you writing?” I ask, trying not to sound as amused as I feel. “Things we need.” he answers. “How many things?” I continue and that's when he looks down at the page.“A lot of stuff, Asena.” He answers and I laugh.There is something strangely comfortin
101. AsenaThe days after I tell them about the baby unfold like something out of a dream I never dared to have.Caspian and Zavian become almost impossible to separate from me. It is not the hovering fear of the first weeks after the hospital. This is different. It was warmer, steadier, filled with a quiet and fierce joy that shows in every small action. They wake when I wake. They notice the moment my stomach turns in the morning and have crackers and ginger tea ready before I can ask. They adjust the temperature in every room I enter. They take the stairs beside me as if the gentle slope might suddenly become dangerous.I have never been pampered like this in my life.On the third morning Caspian carries a tray into the sunroom where I am sketching. Fresh fruit cut into neat pieces, toast, the mild tea that sits easiest on my stomach. He sets it down, presses a kiss to the top of my head, and only then takes the seat across from me.“You didn’t have to do that,” I say, though the w
100. AsenaIt begins with the smell of coffee.I wake before the twins and slip out of bed carefully, not wanting to disturb them. The house is still quiet. In the kitchen I reach for the kettle, but the moment the rich scent of the grounds hits the air my stomach turns hard and fast. I barely make it to the sink before the nausea rises.I grip the counter and breathe through it, confused. The feeling passes after a minute or two, leaving me shaky and slightly cold. I rinse my mouth and stand still, one hand resting against my midsection without quite meaning to.By the third morning it is no longer something I can dismiss as a strange stomach or leftover stress. The nausea arrives almost as soon as I sit up. Certain smells, coffee, eggs and even the soap in the shower, send my stomach into sharp rebellion. I start keeping plain crackers on the nightstand and eating them slowly before I try to stand.On the fifth day I drive to a nearby pharmacy while the twins are on a short call in
99. AsenaThe mansion is quiet in a way that feels different now.Not the careful quiet of the first weeks home, when every sound seemed to carry the possibility of threat. This quiet is simply peaceful. The kind that settles over a house when no one is waiting for the next bad thing to arrive. Evening light moves slowly across the floors. Somewhere in the kitchen Maria finishes the last of the dishes. Bernard locks the outer doors with the same steady routine he has always kept, but tonight even that ordinary act feels lighter.I sit between Caspian and Zavian on the large couch in the living room, my legs draped across their laps. A low fire burns in the hearth even though the night is mild. No one speaks much. We do not need to. Caspian’s hand rests on my ankle, thumb moving in an absent, soothing pattern. Zavian plays idly with the ends of my hair. The safety of it sinks into me more deeply than it ever has before.The danger is over.I test the thought and find that it holds. All
Asena“ I want this.” I declare. Something flickers in Caspian's eyes. It's a look that should terrify me.Instead, it sets me on fire.His hand tightens on my waist and his fingers dig in possessively as he pulls me flush against him. I feel every inch of hardness of his body through our clothes
AsenaThe question slams into me, stealing my breath away. Compensation? What the actual fuck? "I... I didn't mean to walk in on you," I manage, my voice fracturing.“I was being followed so I…” I fumble with words. I just needed…""Sure you were." Caspian lifts his hand, hid fingers threading th
Asena After running from the hotel, broken and shamed, I walk aimlessly around the city. I should have gone home and figured out how to return four hundred invitations, cancel a venue and explain to everyone that there was going to be no wedding. Instead, I stumbled into this place that reeks of
AsenaI step out of the taxi and look at the huge building before me. My phone chimes with a new message. Suite 412. Can't wait to see you in the dress, babe.I press my phone against my chest, trying to calm the wild flutter in my heart.In three days, I’ll wed the love of my life.Matteo Russo.







