Page 8 of Omega Forged (Hartlock Omegas #2)

He was an alpha, and we didn’t take to being coddled. But there was something about Pan that called for it. He wanted to be put on his knees until he remembered he wasn’t supposed to like it.

“So tell me off, daddy.” Pan slumped in feigned contrition.

We were opposites who attracted chaos.

I was disciplined, predictable, and dedicated to my work. My name drove me to be better, to reach higher.

Pan was creative, spontaneous, and stirred up magic in everyone around him.

Pan was like holding onto a flame. You couldn’t believe the beauty, the magic, until it burned through your skin and scarred.

Because every relationship needed balance and Pan refused to compromise.

The glittery lights of nightclubs always prevailed over promises.

Even when I begged him to get help, he always slunk in afterward with insincere apologies.

“Strip,” I barked, and Pan’s fingers shook in their rush to comply.

An alpha’s bark didn’t work on another alpha. Designed for omegas and their nature, which craved protection and control.

How much easier would it be if Pan did as he was told?

He begged me for this. For me to put him on his knees. And afterward, when the lust faded, he punished me for it.

Pan flung his discarded clothes and waited, eyes gleaming with silky desire.

Pan slept little, subsisted on black coffee and whatever leftovers were in the fridge.

Chasing something elusive. It showed in his lean body, remarkably well-toned despite his lifestyle.

His skin was smattered with a tapestry of tattoos, including a bay leaf on his hip. That was for me.

“What do you want me to do?” he breathed, fisting his long, lean cock. Prominent veins bulged on the curved length. He opened his mouth, about to speak again, when I slashed the air.

“Quiet. Bad pups don’t get to speak.” I unzipped my slacks. “They choke on their daddy’s cock.”

I folded them in half and draped them over a wooden hanger, and added my jacket. It was a wool and cashmere blend, with a navy-blue silk lining the inside. I wasn’t about to throw thousands of dollars on the floor to wrinkle.

Pan’s harsh exhales were the only sound in the room, and he trembled by the time I stood in front of him.

“On your knees again.”

Bitterness coated my tongue as Pan rushed to obey. When we were naked, our chemistry was electric. I spent too many nights wondering why we even bothered to get clothed. That was where the problems started.

I pressed my weeping cock to Pan’s lips. Pan might have thought he was the only one being punished, but this hurt me as much as it did him.

“Open.” I pushed past his full lips to sheath myself in his wet, willing mouth.

I groaned at the sensation, perfect , as it always was when we fucked.

There wasn’t room for love between friction and animosity.

But lust squeezed in, undeniable. The lash of his tongue made my knees watery as I thrust. My hand gripped his mussed hair in a bruising hold.

He hissed as I pushed down his throat, eyes brimming with tears.

“Take it,” I grunted, unable to stop the pulse of my hips. “Fuck, you do it well.”

His fingernails cut into my thighs, and I pulled back, letting him gulp down a heavy lungful of air.

Pan’s chest heaved. My fallen angel, on his knees with his dark eyeliner messy down his cheeks.

The rough treatment hadn’t affected his pleasure.

Precum smeared the end of his cock. I contemplated sucking it off before shaking my head.

This was a punishment.

“Get on the bed, pup,” I ordered, walking around to my dark-stained oak bedside table and pulled out the lube.

Pan scrambled on all fours, his gorgeous, firm ass pressed high into the air.

He spread his cheeks for me. I squirted some lube down his crack and delved my fingers into his puckered warmth.

No matter what passed between us, I never wanted to hurt Pan.

So, I stretched his hole, knowing I wouldn’t be able to stop once I started.

Pan wriggled under my touch, impatient for more.

Always more, all the time.

That was why he went out with CJ, to places like The Barracks. He was chasing a gap left by not playing the piano anymore. If he would just talk to me about it, I could help him. But I was too brash, too commanding.

He only liked that in the bedroom.

We needed someone else to help bring us together. Someone who could heal our scarred pieces and help us thrive the way I’d always dreamed. Tully Hartlock popped into my head again. With her sweet, wide eyes and white-blonde hair. Pan would eat her alive. I shook off thoughts of the Hartlock omega.

For now, we had this.

I rubbed my cock at his entrance. My head dropped back, and I stared at the ceiling as his ring of muscle yielded to me.

“Oh fuck,” he moaned as I slid in, and I slapped his ass cheek until it blushed.

“No talking.” I dug my fingers into his heated skin and pressed my weight onto his back.

Pan flattened onto the bed as I carved a path inside him.

My breath came quick and harsh, puffing out over him in hot possession.

My hands kissed the marble of his body. His shoulder blades, his narrow hips, the velvet curve of his ass.

I knew every piece of him, like his marrow and mine were from the same maker.

Tasted his scent in the back of my throat like a lozenge to the sickness of our love.

Pan let out another muffled groan, and I made my hand sting against his other cheek.

There was something fateful in the way we fell together. Lightning struck, scorched, and twisted us together into something devastating. Deep inside him, I brushed against the edge of what we’d been in the beginning. Luscious, decadent. My veins throbbed with waves of need.

I missed Pan so much, even like this.

His bubblegum scent turned sweet, like blowing bubbles on a summer afternoon.

I focused on my pleasure and set a punishing pace.

This wasn’t about love. That was a withered husk between us.

Pan had hurt me too many times for me to make love to him anymore.

He never liked it when I was soft, anyway.

He wanted me to hurt him. Pan wanted to be dominated.

So, I used my weight to smother him. The only time he let me close enough to savor his desperate, muffled pants.

My pistoning hips demanded, and I bit down on his shoulder.

I didn’t break the skin.

There was no point. Pan and I would never bond, and I wouldn’t ever know what desires pumped in the heart I craved. The ecstasy coursing down my spine was a cheap balm for the soul-deep bruises I harbored.

Pan and I were the wrong place, wrong time, hurtling toward cataclysmic destruction. But I welcomed oblivion, tasted it in the salt of his skin. His sharp, desperate exhale filled my lungs.

Whatever we were, poison or ecstasy, it was impossible to turn away from.

Maybe I understood Pan’s struggles more than I thought. I could never say no to this alpha carved of shadows.

My knot swelled at the base of my cock. Too large to fit inside Pan.

Designed for an omega. Instead, I threaded my fist in his hair and wrenched his head back, relishing the way he whimpered.

I ground it against him and dreamed about what it would be like to be locked against him so intimately.

I wanted to possess Pan so deeply he could never rid himself of me.

So, he tasted me like a chaser after every shot.

Our gazes clashed, his hazy with pleasure, as I smashed my mouth on his. Our teeth knocked, our tongues tangled. It was messy passion, delicious destruction. Pan’s walls were so tight around me, and a tingle crept up my thighs as I neared release.

“You want my cum in you?” I growled, and Pan scrunched his eyes closed.

The desperate slap of skin filled the room. My breaths came in harsh spurts.

“Yes, give it to me, daddy,” Pan cried and I couldn’t help myself.

I sucked hard on his neck, tasting the rope of his tendon.

My teeth scraped the taut flesh, leaving a mark I hoped he wouldn’t cover.

I fucked Pan into the bed, pulling on his hair to angle him how I wanted.

I would make him feel me. Even without a bond, I could wound my way into his sore muscles and bruised skin.

Where was the love in this?

The brief thought was smothered by my arousal. I pounded Pan until he gasped open-mouthed on the bed, body contorted for my pleasure only. As I came, I pulled out of him and spilled on my bedspread. My thighs trembled, I collapsed against Pan, and panted into his ravaged neck.

The flutter of his pulse was mine.

In the past, I might have pressed a gentle kiss, turned him in my arms and held him while our heartbeats thudded against each other. Now I sought only to catch my breath.

“You didn’t come in me.” Pan sounded curiously wounded.

Reality flooded in, a cold, harsh reminder of what we were. I rolled away, stomach slick with shame and frustration. Pan’s brow creased as I grabbed a fresh pair of underpants from my drawer. He curled on the bed like a forlorn nymph. His eyes watched, dark bruises.

Why couldn’t we just talk to each other? Why couldn’t we make this work?

A thorn wiggled its way past the bone shield into my heart.

“It would only be a waste,” I lashed out. Pan’s hazel eyes flashed, but I continued. “Don’t touch yourself. You are not to come until I say so.”

Pan jerked up; the languidness gone in a second. He scrambled off the bed, cock heavy. It strained toward me, the length streaked with his desire, and I fought the urge to clean it off.

This was a punishment . But gods, I was sick of hurting. My stomach rolled with bone-deep sickness.

“Are you fucking serious?” Pan frowned, and I loomed over him.

Lust flickered with uncertainty, and his knees trembled. I collared his throat with my hand and squeezed until I felt his Adam’s apple bob. Pan was a part of this pack, and he always would be. But something needed to change.

“Am I your daddy or not?” I said, and he nodded. “You disappointed me today, and you let down your pack. Your brother and your best friend deserve better, not just me. So, no touching. Maybe if you can behave yourself, I’ll make it good for you.”

“All because I was late and accidentally broke a glass?”

I released my hold before I changed my mind.

Pan spluttered behind me as I walked to the ensuite bathroom, needing to wash the scent of him off my body.

My feet dragged. I loved his sweet, playful scent.

But it didn’t match the man in this room.

He hadn’t been joyous for a long time, just tormented by the ghost of something he wouldn’t share.

If I let him seep into my skin, I would soften. I’d beg him to let me hold him, to please him.

It would be me on my knees. But I was tired of capitulation.

“Well, I could always find someone else willing to take care of me, at The Barracks.” Pan taunted and my chest constricted.

Any pleasure left from the rough fuck turned bitter as my gut turned over, but I didn’t let him see how much his words hurt me.

We weren’t exclusive, but Pan used his trysts as one more way to punish me.

“I suppose you could.” I slammed the door, wondering if this pain in my chest would ever ease.