Page 97 of The Sterling Acquisition
But as soon as he said it, as soon as he saw the way Dante’s eyes lit up, Orion realized what he was asking for. What his body was demanding. The ache between his legs was getting worse, the emptiness clawing at him from the inside, and heneeded—
“I need you t-to leave the room,” Orion said quickly, pulling the comforter tighter around himself.
Dante’s brows drew together. “Why?”
Shame flooded Orion’s face. “I’ll... I’ll try to take c-care of it myself.”
The hungry look that crossed Dante’s features was immediate and devastating.
“Dante.” Orion’s voice carried a warning, but there was an undercurrent of uncertainty that hadn’t been there before. His body wanted this—wanted Dante—with an intensity that frightened him. “Leave. Now.”
Instead, Dante’s hands moved to rest on Orion’s legs through the comforter, his touch gentle but possessive. “Let me help.”
“Go away.” He tried to kick at Dante through the thick fabric, his bare foot connecting with Dante’s shoulder. “I said g-go.”
Dante caught his ankle before he could pull back and yanked. Orion went flat on his back with a jarring thud, his head bouncing off the wooden floor as his lower half was pulled up onto Dante’s lap. Stars exploded behind his eyes, and the comforter tangled around his torso.
“Stop being a brat about this,” Dante snapped. “You’re in heat, you need help, and you know I can give you what you need.”
Desire clawed up from his core despite the cold flashes. Orion wanted to fight, to preserve the last shreds of his independence, but the throbbing emptiness inside him made it hard to think, to breathe,to do anything except arch toward the Alpha’s touch.
“Go away,” Orion gasped, trying to twist away from Dante’s hold. “I don’t n-need help. Don’t touch me.”
But Dante’s hands were already moving to the waistband of his soaked jeans, and Orion lashed out desperately, his heel connecting hard with Dante’s face.
“Don’t!” Orion snarled, fighting against the position, against the heat building in his body, against the way part of him wanted to give in. “I said, don’t touch me!”
Dante was stunned for only a second before he licked the spot of blood that trickled from his nose and smiled down at Orion. “Is that still how you want this to be?”
Before Orion could answer, Dante was caging him to the floor with his body, pinning him in place. The weight of him, the heat radiating from his skin, made Orion’s temperature swing violently again—from freezing to boiling in an instant that left him dizzy and gasping.
“Get off me,” Orion growled, shoving at Dante’s shoulders even as his treacherous body responded to the contact. He could feel a gush of slick coating the inside of his underwear, the anticipation making him want to rub against Dante despite every rational thought screaming at him to fight. His body was feral for touch, but he refused to give in without a struggle—not because he didn’t want this, but because surrendering meant acknowledging how deeply he craved it.
“Fuck you,” Orion spat, bucking against Dante’s hold. “Get the f-fuck off me or I’ll k-kill you, I swear to God I’ll—”
Dante caught his face in one hand, thumb brushing over his cheek with that infuriating gentleness. “I’m going to kiss you,” he said, his voice soft and reasonable like he was discussing the weather. “You need the practice anyway. And you better not bite me.”
“You son of a—” Orion started to snarl, but Dante’s bloody lips met his and his mind went blank.
The kiss was passionate, sweet even, tasting of copper and Dante. For a moment, Orion’s body melted into it, his anger dissolving underthe gentle pressure of Dante’s mouth moving against his with devastating skill.
Then he felt Dante’s hand sliding up under his wet shirt and the spell shattered.
Orion’s hand shot to Dante’s throat, gripping tight. “I said go away,” he hissed against Dante’s lips, his voice deadly quiet.
Dante kissed him again with a grin, unfazed by the hand at his throat. “It’s so fucking hot how much you fight me.”
Orion shoved Dante’s face to the side and used the confusion of the tangled comforter to slip out from beneath him. He rolled away, panting and erect and still dripping cold water, struggling to get his bearings on the hard wooden floor. His legs were unsteady, forcing him to grip the footboard of the bed just to stay upright.
“I said I’d handle it myself!” Orion spat, literally spitting Dante’s blood onto the floor between them.
Dante made a slow shushing motion, that infuriating smirk still playing at his lips. “Oh, please. Tell me how you plan to handle it.” He leaned back on his hands, looking relaxed despite the violence. “If you can explain to me in detail how you’re going to calm your pheromones, I’ll gladly sit back and watch.”
His eyes raked over Orion’s shaking form with clinical assessment. “But we both know you’re not just inexperienced with other people, aren’t you? You’ve used that rage of yours to resist even yourself.”
Orion felt his face burn with humiliation as Dante’s implication sank in—that he’d been so determined to maintain control, so furious at his own body’s responses, that he denied himself even the most basic relief. It was true—in all his years of heats, he endured them through sheer stubborn will, refusing to touch himself, to acknowledge the need, to give his body what it craved. It had been a point of pride, a way of proving he was stronger than his biology.
Now, that pride felt hollow in the face of his overwhelming need and Dante’s knowing gaze.
