Filthy Kings (Ch 12) [The Truth of Desire ]

 

Character Pronunciation Guide

Đavolice — DJAH-voh-lee-tseh (Four syllables; “đ” is a soft “j”; “ce” = “tseh”; stress on the first syllable; means “little devil”)

Anđele — AHN-djeh-leh (Three syllables; the “đ” is a soft “j” like in “jeans”; stress on the first syllable; means “angel”)

 

 

Chapter 12

The Truth of Desire

Zara

 

This euphoria devoured her from within, a predator she hadn’t seen coming.

It surged through her veins the way shockingly hot water scalded freezing cold hands. Nerve endings violently lighting up.

She arched against the furs and let out a half-moan mixed with a half-sob.

Lazar watched her. "How do you feel, Đavolice?"

I will not speak. I can control this.

She gritted her teeth, pressed her lips together, and held the answer behind them with everything she had.

But, it came out anyway.

"I feel so deliriously good, Lazar." She blinked.

No!

He grinned. It was the most dangerous thing she had ever seen on a human face.

Across the room, Miloš moved to the table and picked up the second needle. She watched him fill it with the blue liquid—slow, steady, those inked hands completely unhurried.

What is he doing? Is he going to stick me again?

Lazar's eyes had not left her face. "Let's not drag this out."

She sighed.

He leaned forward. "For years I have known and patiently watched you. In my mind, you want me just as much as I want you.”

She rolled her eyes.

“But for some foolish reason you hold yourself back." He exhaled slowly. "I understand this. I know the dark walls a person builds around themselves. I have them too, all around my heart, but. . .for you. . .I would knock those walls all down."

She swallowed.

"I’m impressed with your strength and your ability to hold power so long in our cruel world. So. . .because of that. . .I will give you a favor.”

She quirked her brows.

“I will not pursue you if you truly don't want me." He held her gaze. "So tell me, Đavolice. Do you want me?"

Okay. Concentrate.

She gritted her teeth so hard her jaw ached. She locked every muscle in her throat. She constructed a wall between her mind, her mouth, and she held it for exactly three seconds. Then, the answer forced itself out. "God yes!"

She frowned at herself with a fury so complete it was almost elegant.

Lazar's expression did something she had never seen it do since knowing him.

It softened.

"Aww, Đavolice." His voice grew gentle. "Now your fate is sealed."

She opened her mouth to argue, to negotiate, to deploy some version of herself that was still in control of this situation.

He kissed her without warning.

One moment he was watching her with that infuriating patience, and the next his mouth was on hers—hard at first, the way he did everything, then shifting into this deep sensuality that undid her more completely than the force had.

She kissed him back.

She had not decided to. Her body made that choice without her and her mouth opened and she felt his tongue and tasted him. Her hips rolled up off the bed involuntarily and she hated every second of how much she desperately wanted this.

He groaned into her mouth.

That sound hit the center of her chest and stayed there.

He wants this too.

The thought arrived with all the force of an inconvenient truth.

He has wanted this for years and he is not pretending and neither are you.

He pulled back, just enough to look at her face.

She was flushed.

His gaze moved to her lips. "Beautiful."

She turned her face away before he could see what that word did to her. And right when she was going to foolishly demand that he doesn’t kiss her again. What came out of her mouth was, "I've wanted you from the first moment you walked into my office in Amsterdam. I wanted you to fuck me on the desk, but I knew you were too dangerous."

Lazar smiled.

"Damn it!!" She turned her face away, completely furious.

“Tell me more.”

She scowled at him. “I don’t want to say these things out loud.”

“Yet, you will not hold these things in anymore.” He reached out, gathered the edge of the fur, and slowly pulled it away, revealing her body inch by inch until the heavy pelt slid completely from her heated skin and dropped to the floor with a soft thud.

The cabin air kissed every curve and hollow of her exposed flesh, raising goosebumps that traveled like a whisper across her body.

"Aww." His voice was warm and deeply satisfied. "Look at how wet my Đavolice's pussy is."

Miloš stopped filling the needle. His gaze moved to the place between her thighs and stayed there. His jaw shifted. "Mmm." His voice grew rough. "I want to lick it dry, Tata."

"Careful, son." Lazar did not look at him. "Elders always go first."

She pressed her lips together and heard herself mutter, "Or you can both lick this pussy at the same time."

NO!!!! Don’t say that!

Both men turned and looked at her in shock.

The silence lasted exactly two seconds.

She shook her head and assembled every cell she owned behind the word no.

"Yes!" she said instead. "Do it now."

Fuck!!

Miloš laughed—low and delighted, the laugh of a man whose evening had just exceeded his expectations. "Perhaps we should follow our queen's request."

“But first things first.” He carried the filled needle to his father and stopped in front of him, looking down with an expression that was utterly unreadable. "Are you sure you want to do this, Tata?"

Lazar looked at the needle. A bit of reluctance hit his gaze. "It is only fair. If we are forcing her to tell the truth, we must do so also." His eyes cut briefly to her. "Equality, son. That is the proper way when courting a beautiful, dangerous woman."

"Okay, Tata." Miloš took his father's arm.

What happened next made her breath stop.

Miloš wrapped his fingers around the thick, tattooed forearm with the sort of care that was too practiced to be accidental. His thumb traced one of the Cyrillic lines without seeming to notice it was doing so.

Lazar shivered and turned his gaze back to her, as if anchoring himself.

And her mind went somewhere she had not given it permission to go.

The image arrived fully formed and uninvited—Lazar standing in front of his son with his pants fully down. Miloš on his knees in front of his father’s cock, looking hungry with his inked chest heaving.

Lazar's large, scarred hand fisted in Miloš's long black hair, guiding his son’s open mouth toward his fat cock.

The fantasy sharpened cruelly.

Miloš's full lips parted, tongue flicking out first—testing, teasing the thick, veined length of his father's cock, already glistening at the tip with pre-cum.

Lazar groaned low in Serbian, something guttural and reverent, thumb tracing the Orthodox cross on his son's chest before sliding up to cup the back of his head. "Uzmi me, sine."

Take me, son.

Miloš obeyed without hesitation, sliding his mouth down inch by slow inch, cheeks hollowing as he took the fat head past his lips, then deeper—throat working visibly, swallowing around the intrusion like it was sacred duty.

Lazar's hips rocked once, shallow, testing, then again harder when Miloš moaned around him, the vibration making Lazar's head fall back.

Zara's breath hitched audibly and she shut that fantasy away.

Heat surged between her thighs so violently she clenched, and a fresh gush of wetness coated her folds.

Her nipples ached, painfully tight. She hated how her body responded—clenching around nothing, clit throbbing in time with her racing pulse—as if the serum had wired her arousal straight to the most depraved corners of her imagination.

Lazar noticed and his gaze dropped to where her thighs pressed together futilely, then lifted back to her face with predatory satisfaction.

Miloš pressed the needle into his father's arm and pushed the liquid through.

Lazar's face changed instantly—pupils expanding, a slow exhale leaving his body like something being released that had been held too long. His body trembled.

"Aww." Lazar blinked. "I can feel it changing me."

Miloš withdrew the needle and returned to the table.

Lazar shook his head a few times and then looked at her. "This is very dangerous."

"Why?"

"Because already I want to deal with a level of honesty I have never allowed myself. And in our world. . ." He paused. "Honesty is dangerous."

"Then why do this to us?"

"Because if you are going to be my queen, we must begin with truths. That was my mistake with my first wife. I will not make it again."

Across the room, Miloš's jaw twitched. Just once, but she caught it.

Then he picked up the final needle and pressed it into his own arm.

She watched his face as the liquid entered him—the eyes going wide and then very still, the slow exhale, the hands that gripped the edge of the table before releasing it.

"Fuck." He pulled the needle free and set it down carefully. "This feels. . .incredible."

She looked at him and what came out of her mouth was, "Come over here."

Lazar laughed.

She shook her head. "I don't want to say these things."

"But you want these things." Lazar smirked. "Why deny yourself?"

"Because desire is something dangerous men use against me. I have survived in this world this long by refusing my desires."

"And now you will survive with the Black Karst surrounding you."

She widened her eyes. "You're insane."

"We all are."

She blinked.

Lazar moved onto the bed, lay beside Zara, and looked at her. "Do you want me to fuck you, Đavolice?"

She pressed her lips together with every last scrap of will she possessed. But the truth left her anyway. "God yes."

Miloš stood at the foot of the bed and simply pushed his silk pants to the floor.

What is he doing?

Her mouth parted.

Lazar turned and they both took his cock in.

Miloš’s cock was long, thick, and already hard. And running up the top of his cock in a straight vertical line was the glint of metal.

Holy fuck!

The complicated piercings were a Frenum ladder, bar after bar of surgical steel bulbs pierced through the skin at precise intervals from base to crown.

Six bulbs in total.

Evenly spaced.

Lazar stared. "When did you get that?"

Miloš met his father's eyes. "After I saw yours. . .I wanted one. I really like your piercing."

She turned her head sharply to Lazar. "Yours is pierced too?"

"Show her," Miloš said quietly.

Lazar held his son's gaze for one moment. Then he looked at her. “Son. . .”

“Take your cock out, Tata.”

She widened her eyes.

Without any more pressure, Lazar stood from the bed, pushed his silk pants to the floor, and stepped out of them.

She had thought she was prepared.

A dark gold bar ran vertically through the crown of his huge cock—an apadravya driven straight through the thick head. The precious metal shimmered.

At each end of the bar sat two small sculpted serpent heads forged in deep Serbian gold. Their tiny mouths were open, fangs bared, the scales etched.

“Fuck.” She licked her lips. “This is quite a birthday night.”

Lazar snapped his view to her. “I discovered that fact too.”

She frowned.

“The picture led me down a trail and I learned it was your birthday today which is why I knew I had to take you tonight.”

“What sort of man kidnaps a woman on their birthday?”

“An obsessively dangerous one, Đavolice.”

Then Miloš whispered, "I want to touch your cock, Tata."

The air in the cabin changed.

Her whole body contracted with a hunger so sudden and specific it frightened her.

"Do it," she heard herself say.

Lazar blinked. Something moved through him that she couldn't name. "I want that."

Miloš exhaled. "Do you, Tata?"

"Yes." Lazar turned and looked at his son fully. "Stroke my cock, son, while I eat our queen's pussy."

And that was what they did.

Lazar returned to the bed and lowered to her pussy until he was face-level.

She trembled. “Oh my God. Is this. . .really going to happen?”

“It must, Đavolice.”

She felt his warm breath against her wet pussy.

Miloš got on the bed right next to his father.

She had no idea what to focus on—Lazar’s mouth a few inches from her pussy or Miloš’s hand reaching for his father’s big cock.

She widened her eyes. “Take it. Stroke him.”

His hand wrapped around his father's cock.

The contact must have sent electricity through Lazar’s body because his muscles tensed as a dark, guttural groan left him.

Miloš’s eyes darkened with hunger. He leaned down, parted his lips, and a glistening thread of saliva fell from his mouth and landed onto the swollen pierced head of Lazar’s cock.

The wetness coated it.

Miloš stroked his father’s cock.

“Dear God!” Lazar’s tongue found her clit and she stopped thinking about anything else.

He licked her the way he ruled, with complete patience and absolutely no mercy.

Long strokes first, learning her.

Then shorter, more focused.

His hands pressed flat against the inside of her thighs and held her exactly where he wanted her.

And the whole time Miloš stroked his father’s cock as his own cock bobbed and dripped pre-cum.

"Tata." Miloš's voice was rough and low. "Do you like how I'm doing it?"

Lazar groaned against her soaking, throbbing clit. The vibration moved through her entire lower body and she bucked her hips without deciding to.

"I've thought about how I would do this." Miloš's breathing had changed. "Stroke your cock so well, Tata. So good that you would sneak into my bedroom late at night, past the guards, and get into my bed and. . .beg. Again and again."

Her heart pounded and her hips rolled up off the bed.

A delirious sound of pleasure tore out of her that she had never made in her life. Her cuffed wrists pulled against the bedposts and she didn't feel the steel at all.

Lazar's cock spilled pre-cum across Miloš's fist and Miloš groaned and tightened his grip and worked it slow and Lazar lapped at her clit like it was the only thing he had been put on earth to do.

She was still shaking when Lazar lifted his head and looked at his son. "Come here, Miloš. Your hand is distracting me. Come help me make our queen cum."

She shivered, wondering what was about to come next.

“Yes, Tata.” Miloš moved around the bed and came down beside his father, putting his face right in front of her pussy too.

She widened her thighs as much as possible.

Two deadly Serbian mafia men face-level to her pussy and hungry.

The resemblance between them devastating from this view.

Then both their mouths were on her.

“OH!!!”

Lazar's tongue claimed her clit like a conqueror, his gold piercing cold against her feverish flesh.

Miloš devoured the forbidden softness below, tongue-fucking her pussy and marking territory his father hadn't taken.

Their tongues worked with brutal precision at first—father above, son below—each man tasting what was forbidden, each one learning her darkest places.

The metal of Lazar's serpent-headed piercing scraped her inner thigh, leaving invisible brands.

Groaning, Miloš's warm breath grew ragged against her slick flesh, animal-like in its desperation.

Between them, she felt herself being split open, corrupted beyond salvation—her body the unholy altar where father and son communed.

And there she further surrendered to the maddening tabooness of it all.

Then their rhythm shifted—father's tongue brushed against son's in the slick valley of her folds—a forbidden contact neither pulled away from.

Their eyes locked over her glistening pussy. Their pupils blew wide with shame and hunger.

Then. . .they deliberately let their tongues meet again, this time lingering, tasting the salt of each other mixed with her pussy’s essence.

No longer pretending.

Crossing boundaries and loving it.

Twin groans of dark pleasure vibrated against her most sensitive flesh, the taboo of their communion making them both ravenous, desperate.

Next, their tongues tangled inside her folds—Lazar’s tip dragging slow and possessive along the upper ridge of her clit while Miloš’s thicker tongue plunged deeper, curling against his.

She widened her eyes. “Oh!”

Then, as if drawn by the same dark gravity, both men lifted just enough for their mouths to meet directly over her dripping pussy.

Oh fuck. Are they going to. . .

They kissed—hard, open-mouthed, shameless—right above her pulsing pussy’s entrance. Surely, they tasted her on each other’s tongue as they swapped her essence back and forth in long, wet strokes, groaning into the kiss like men starved.

When they finally parted—only an inch—the obscene string of mixed fluids stretched between their lips, a glistening rope of her arousal and their saliva, all braided together and trembling in the cabin air before it snapped and fell in a slow, sticky pearl onto her swollen clit.

With wet lips, they looked at each other in pure shock, yet said nothing.

She watched them, and this new form of vulnerability cracked her chest open that had nothing to do with the Veritrex. Because what she was witnessing wasn't only transgression.

It was intimacy.

The specific, unguarded kind that couldn't be performed or faked. She had spent twenty years reading people for survival and she knew what she was looking at.

They loved each other in ways that had no clean name.

And somehow—God help her—she wanted to be inside that love, drowning in the beauty of it.

I want them. . .forever. . .

Without another word, Lazar and Miloš dove back onto her pussy. Their tongues lapped in darker synchronized movements. Then, their tongues tangled again in the slick valley of her pussy.

When they returned to her clit, Lazar raised his hand and drove his finger into her pussy.

His son followed.

Two tongues lapped at her clit.

Two broad, calloused fingertips fucked her dripping hole—Lazar’s from years of violence, Miloš’s inked and steady.

Groaning, they stretched her wide, the dual intrusion deliciously burning sweetly as her walls fluttered. Their fingers curled upward in unison, hooking against her front wall, pressing and rubbing against each other.

She felt them meet inside her—knuckles brushing, fingertips sliding past one another in her heat, the subtle friction of father and son’s fingers stroking each other while they filled her.

The pressure built instantly, obscene and overwhelming: two thick digits scissoring gently, then curling harder, massaging her G-spot in tandem while their tongues continued to lap and tangle above on her clit.

“Fuck yes!!” Zara’s hips bucked involuntarily.

She was dripping even more now.

The wet, filthy sounds of their fingers pumping together inside her filled the cabin and mingled with the slick slide of tongues and the ragged breaths of three people crossing every line they’d ever drawn.

“Oh! Oh!” Her vision fractured.

The chains holding her handcuffs rattled.

“Oh my God!” She violently shattered, cumming in thunderous long seconds upon seconds.

Lifting her hips off the bed, she squirted for the first time in her life. Hot gushes hit their faces, baptizing father and son with the same slick evidence of what they’d done.

Their faces dripped with her, but they didn’t care. They were too lost in her and each other. They continued to lick that pussy and her body spasmed.

Miloš's tongue mirrored his father's.

She shook and then writhed. “No! Stop! No more! Please!”

She barely came down and finally they pulled away.

Her skin was raw. Her body was a throbbing haze of pleasure while her mind reeled from the exquisite debauchery.

And they rose and watched her, both naked with dripping cocks.

And she knew that they were not even close to done with her.

Miloš lay down beside Zara on the furs, facing her, and for a moment he only looked at her—his long black hair loose around his shoulders, his inked chest still rising and falling hard, his dark eyes soft in a way she had never seen them.

Then he reached out and pushed a damp strand of hair from her face.

The gesture was so gentle her throat closed. "Miloš—"

He kissed her.

It was nothing like his father's kisses. Where Lazar kissed with the full force of a man who had decided, Miloš kissed her the way young men kissed when they meant it completely and didn't yet know how to hide that.

Open.

Unguarded.

Simmering with passion.

His hand cradled the back of her head like she was something he was afraid to break.

She felt tears behind her eyes and she did not know what to do with that.

When he pulled back, his forehead dropped to hers. "I'm glad you're ours."

A cold shiver ran through her as she knew she would never be the same again.