Page 28 of The Sterling Acquisition

“Fuck, you’re so hard,” Dante whispered in his ear. “Hard and wet and perfect for me.”

“Don’t,” Orion gasped, but the word came out more plea than command.

“Too late.” Dante’s hand moved with expert precision. “I’m going to stroke your cock until you’re shaking, until you’re begging me not to stop. Then I’m going to do it again, and again, until the only thing you can think about is how good I make you feel.”

The explicit promises combined with skilled touch were systematically destroying every defense Orion built, and despite his protests, despite his verbal resistance, he was responding as Dante predicted.

“You want this,” Dante continued. “You want me to take control, want me to make you feel good while you fight me.”

“I hate you,” Orion gasped, but his body was already moving against Dante’s hand despite the words.

“Good.” Dante smirked. “I want you to hate me while I make you cum.”

His touch became more focused, more ruthless, and Orion found himself caught between the wall and the Alpha’s body, unable to escape the relentless attention.

“Cum for me,” Dante groaned in his ear. “Stop fighting and let me make you feel good, you beautiful, stubborn, perfect little brat.”

And despite every promise he made to himself, despite every wall he built, despite his anemic protests—Orion’s body obeyed.

The orgasm tore through him with devastating intensity, leaving him gasping and shaking against the wall while Dante held him through it with possessive satisfaction.

Oh god. What did I just do?

“Beautiful,” Dante murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction and something that sounded dangerously like affection. “Absolutely fucking beautiful”

The casual possessiveness in his tone, the satisfaction, the way he was looking at Orion like he’d just proven something important—it brought the fury rushing back with incandescent force.

“Get off me,” Orion snapped, and this time his body responded the way he wanted it to. He shoved against Dante’s chest, hard enough to make the Alpha step back.

“Orion—”

“Don’t.” Orion’s voice was sharp with rage—at Dante, at himself, at the situation. “Don’t say a word.”

But Dante was smiling, and that made Orion want to hit him.

“You enjoyed that,” Dante said. “Whatever you’re telling yourself right now, you enjoyed every second of it.”

I hate that you’re right. I hate that I enjoyed it. I hate that I want you to do it again.

Instead of admitting any of that, Orion did what came naturally when an Alpha pushed too far.

He bit him.

Not a calculated attack—just pure reactive fury. His teeth found the meat of Dante’s bicep through his shirt, and he bit down hard enough to draw blood, hard enough to make the Alpha hiss with pain.

“Fuck,” Dante gasped, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, he seemed to lean into it. “Yes. There you are.”

The Alpha’s reaction was unexpected, unsettling. Most Alphas would respond to such an attack with immediate violence or punishment. Dante sounded... pleased. Almost triumphant, like Orion’s aggression was what he’d been hoping for.

What kind of Alpha wants to be hurt?

Orion released him and stepped back, tasting copper on his tongue and feeling a savage satisfaction at the evidence of damage he’d done, even as confusion settled in his stomach.

“There I am what?”

“There’s the fight I was wondering about.” Dante touched his arm where blood was seeping through his shirt. “I was starting to think you’d given up.”

Given up? I just bit you hard enough to scar.