Page 48 of The Sterling Acquisition
Orion met his eyes, breathing hard.
“I’m not going to make you cry on my cock,” Dante said quietly. “Not until you’re good and ready. That’s a promise. We’re just going to blow off some steam and get you under control.”
Before Orion could process that bizarre reassurance, Dante’s fingers were teasing at his entrance, circling the sensitive flesh with maddening lightness. The sensation was alien, intrusive, sending confused signals of alarm and pleasure through his system.
“You’re trembling,” Dante observed, his voice filled with dark satisfaction. “I can feel the heat of you. God, you’re perfect.”
“Touch me there and I’ll bite your fucking fingers off,” Orion snapped, even as canted his hips into the touch. The threat sounded hollow even to his own ears, his voice too breathless to carry real menace.
“It’ll be hard for you to bite them off when they’re inside you,” Dante murmured, slowly pushing one digit inside. “But feel free to try.”
The sensation was so foreign, so intense, that Orion’s threats died in his throat. His body went rigid as Dante worked him open with careful patience, adding a second finger when the first was accepted.
It burned. It ached. It felt impossible and invasive and... good? The contradiction made Orion’s head spin. He had always associated this kind of penetration with another slippery slope to ownership and submission. But this—this was something his body wanted desperately, even as his mind scrambled to reject it.
“Fuck,” Orion gasped, his hands fisting in the bedsheets. “I hate you, I hate this, I—”
His words dissolved into a broken moan as Dante’s mouth closed around his cock, sucking with practiced skill while his fingers continued their relentless exploration inside him. The dual sensation was overwhelming, too much to process. Wet heat engulfed him whilethose fingers stretched him open, touching places inside that sent shockwaves through his entire system.
Orion’s mind went blank, higher reasoning obliterated by pure sensation. His hips moved of their own accord, seeking more of both sensations simultaneously. He didn’t know whether to push up into Dante’s mouth or back onto his fingers, his body greedy and confused by pleasure it had never experienced.
“Still hate me?” Dante asked, pulling off with an obscene sound before returning to his task.
“Yes,” Orion managed, though it came out as more of a whimper. “Fuck you, yes.”
When he added a third finger, crooking them to hit that spot that made Orion see stars, all pretense of coherent thought abandoned him. His world narrowed to those fingers stretching him open, that mouth working him over, the building pressure that threatened to tear him apart.
“Dante, wait, I need to—” he gasped, not even sure what he was begging for. “I-I can’t—”
Dante let Orion’s cock fall from his mouth as he pulled back, but his fingers remained, working steadily as the sound of a zipper filled the small room.
“Look at me,” Dante commanded.
Orion opened eyes he didn’t remember closing and saw Dante stroking himself with his free hand. The sight of him—hair mussed, pupils blown wide, jaw tight with restraint—was almost as overwhelming as the fingers inside him.
But it was the sight of Dante’s cock that made Orion’s breath catch. Thick, flushed, and intimidating in a way that sent twin spikes of desire and terror through him. His mouth watered even as his logical mind supplied the unhelpful observation:That will never fit.
The contradiction was maddening—wanting something that would destroy him, craving the very thing his body wasn’t ready for. The three fingers inside him suddenly felt woefully inadequate as preparation for something that size.
“This is what you do to me,” Dante said, his voice strained. “Can you feel how tight you’re gripping my fingers? I can already picture how it’s going to feel when I finally get inside you .”
Orion whimpered, caught between wanting to cum and wanting to maintain some shred of defiance. His body was no longer his own, responding to Dante’s touch with an eagerness that terrified him. This was surrender, and surrender meant ownership, and ownership meant the end of everything he fought for.
“I want to fuck the fight out of you,” Dante continued, his hand moving faster on himself. “And then fuck it back into you so our little dance never ends. You’re breaking me apart, and I fucking love it.”
As Orion got close to the edge, his body drawing tight as a bowstring, he used every ounce of stubbornness he possessed to resist. Dante seemed to sense his struggle.
“Cum for me,” he ordered. “Stop fighting and let go.”
“No,” Orion gasped, even as his body screamed for release. The pressure was unbearable, his muscles clenching around Dante’s fingers as he tried desperately to hold back. It was the last shred of control he had, and he clung to it like a lifeline.
Tears of frustration leaked from his eyes as Dante continued his relentless assault, fingers hitting that perfect spot over and over while denying him the friction he needed to finish.
In desperation, when Dante leaned close enough, Orion bit down hard on his shoulder, drawing blood through the expensive shirt. It was violence, not surrender—the last defiant act he could manage.
Dante’s response was immediate—a low moan of pleasure as his teeth found Orion’s collarbone in return, marking him with enough force to bruise.
The pain-pleasure combination shattered what little control Orion had left. He came with a broken cry, his vision whiting out as his body convulsed around Dante’s fingers. The intensity was unlike anything he’d ever experienced, wave after wave of sensation that seemed to go on forever. It wasn’t just physical—it felt like something fundamental inside him was breaking apart, rearranging, becoming something else.
