Page 50 of The Sterling Acquisition (Manufactured Mates #1)

The gentle pace felt nice, but as Orion’s body adjusted and the initial nervousness faded, something else started to creep in. A growing frustration that had nothing to do with physical discomfort and everything to do with the way Dante was treating him.

Like he was fragile. Like he might break.

“Dante,” Orion said. “You can... you don’t have to be so careful.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Dante replied, his voice still that soft, controlled tone that was starting to grate on Orion’s nerves .

“You’re not going to hurt me,” Orion said, rolling his hips up to meet Dante’s next thrust with more force than Dante was giving him. “I’m not made of glass.”

But Dante maintained the same gentle pace, the same soft praise, the same careful handling that made Orion feel like a delicate flower instead of the person who’d been fighting tooth and nail for months.

The frustration boiled over. “Stop,” Orion said sharply, his hands pushing at Dante’s chest. “Just... stop for a second.”

Dante stilled, concern flickering across his features. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“No, you didn’t hurt me,” Orion said, his irritation bleeding into his voice. “That’s the problem. You’re treating me like I’m going to shatter if you touch me too hard.”

Dante blinked. “I thought... you said you were scared.”

“I said I was scared, not that I wanted you to treat me like a fucking porcelain doll,” Orion snapped, his familiar fire reasserting itself. “I don’t want you to be different. I want you to want me the way you have been—like you can’t control yourself around me.”

“You want me to stop holding back?”

“Yes,” Orion said emphatically. “I want you to fuck me like you mean it, not like you’re afraid I’m going to break. I’m tougher than you think.”

The careful control in Dante’s expression began to crack, hunger bleeding through the careful restraint. “You sure about that?”

“Positive,” Orion breathed, his body already responding to the change in Dante’s scent, the way his muscles tensed with barely leashed power.

Something dangerous flickered across Dante’s features. “Careful what you ask for,” he warned, his voice dropping into that rough register that made Orion’s nerve endings sing .

“I know what I’m asking for,” Orion challenged, meeting Dante’s gaze steadily. “The question is whether you’re going to give it to me.”

The change in Dante was immediate and electric. His grip on Orion’s hips tightened, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, and when he pulled out and slammed back in, the force of it drove the breath from Orion’s lungs.

“Fuck,” Orion gasped, his back arching off the bed. The thrust hit something that sent both pleasure and a sharp edge of discomfort through him, but he didn’t care.

“This what you wanted?” Dante growled, his voice rough and possessive as he set a harder pace. “Wanted me to stop treating you like you’re delicate?”

“Yes,” Orion panted, his hands clawing at Dante’s shoulders.

One particularly deep thrust made him wince—the angle hitting wrong, stretching him in a way that burned—but he gritted his teeth and rolled his hips up to meet the next one anyway.

The careful sweetness was gone, replaced by the raw hunger that had been driving them both crazy. “Don’t stop, don’t you dare stop.”

Dante’s mouth crashed down on his, the kiss brutal and claiming. “You feel so fucking good,” he snarled against Orion’s lips. “So tight around my cock. Been wanting to wreck you since the moment I saw you.”

The filthy words sent fire racing through Orion’s veins even as his face burned with embarrassment. “Shut the fuck up,” he gasped, but there was no real venom in it—just reflexive defiance mixed with mortification at how much the crude praise affected him.

Dante’s laugh was dark and satisfied. “Make me,” he challenged, then grabbed Orion’s thigh and hitched it higher, changing the angle.

The new position sent him deeper, and Orion bit back a cry that was part pleasure, part genuine discomfort as Dante hit something inside him that felt too intense, too much.

“Harder,” Orion demanded anyway, his nails raking down Dante’s back hard enough to leave marks. His body was adjusting, the burn fading into something that made his nerve endings sing.

“Greedy little thing,” Dante panted, becoming more forceful. “Want more? Want me to fuck you until you can’t walk straight?”

“God, yes,” Orion moaned, even as another deep thrust made him gasp in genuine pain. But the discomfort was swallowed by the overwhelming pleasure, the way Dante was hitting that perfect spot inside him more often than not, making his vision blur.

They moved together with increasing desperation, the careful control abandoned.

When Orion bit at Dante’s throat, Dante retaliated by adjusting his grip and pulling Orion down onto his cock harder.

The force of it made Orion’s eyes water—too much, too fast—but he was too far gone to care, too caught up in the overwhelming sensation.

“Mine,” Dante growled against his skin, his thrusts becoming more erratic. “You’re mine, aren’t you? Say it.”

“Fuck you,” Orion gasped out of pure stubborn pride, even as his body betrayed him by clenching around Dante’s cock. The possessive demand should have made him rebel, but his senses were getting hazy, pleasure building to a crescendo that threatened to drown out everything else.

Dante’s response was to slam into him harder, hitting that spot that made Orion see stars. “Say it,” he demanded again.

“No,” Orion panted, but his will was crumbling as Dante found a rhythm that barely left him enough time to breathe, let alone think.

“Stubborn,” Dante snarled, but there was satisfaction in his voice as he continued the relentless pace. “Going to make you say it. Going to fuck you until you can’t think of anything else. ”

Orion wanted to maintain his defiance, wanted to keep fighting, but his body was betraying him. The overwhelming sensation, the way Dante was consuming him completely, the pleasure that was building toward something that felt like it might tear him apart—it was all too much.

“Fuck, I’m, I’m—,” he gasped, clawing at Dante’s shoulders.

“Say you’re mine or I’ll stop right now,” Dante huffed into his ear.

I’ll die if he stops now.

“Yours!” he gasped, word tore from his throat as his senses clouded with the delicious, terrible tension that demanded release. “I’m yours, Dante—f-fuck, yes—yours!” The admission seemed to break something loose in both of them.

When his orgasm crashed over him, it was with a violence that left him sobbing Dante’s name, his teeth sinking deep into the space between Dante’s neck and shoulder as his body clenched tight around Dante’s cock.

The taste of blood flooded his mouth—strange and metallic but somehow sweet, like clawing something back even as he surrendered.

Dante followed him over the edge moments later with a broken groan, burying himself deep as he spilled inside Orion.

The final thrust was almost too much—hitting something that made Orion’s vision blur with a sensation that bordered on pain—but he held on, riding out the intensity until they both collapsed.

They lay there panting, Orion’s body still adjusting to the aftermath. There was a dull ache now that the endorphins were fading, a soreness that reminded him of what they’d just done and how new his body was to it.

“Fuck,” he breathed, not sure if he meant it as a curse or an observation .

Dante lifted his head, concern flickering across his features as he took in Orion’s expression. “You okay? Was that... did I hurt you?”

Orion considered lying, but the question was asked with genuine worry. “A little,” he admitted, his face flushing with embarrassment. “But not... not in a bad way. Just... intense.”

His fingers drifted to the bite mark on Dante’s shoulder, tracing the clear imprint of his teeth. “I hurt you,” he murmured, surprised by the regret in his voice.

Dante caught his hand, pressing a kiss to his fingertips. “It was perfect,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You were perfect.”

Dante shifted, carefully withdrawing from Orion’s body with a hiss of sensitivity from both of them. He didn’t move away, though, instead gathering Orion against his chest in a protective embrace that felt more intimate than the sex had been.

Orion should have protested. Should have maintained some distance, some barrier between them.

Instead, he found himself curling into Dante’s warmth, his head resting in the hollow of Dante’s shoulder as if it belonged there.

His body felt different—satiated in a way it never had before, a bone-deep contentment replacing the frantic need of his heat.

As his consciousness began to drift toward sleep, Orion realized that for the first time since his heat began, he felt truly warm—not the feverish burn of biology gone haywire, but the gentle warmth of being held by someone who genuinely cared.

“Rest,” Dante murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of Orion’s head. “I’ve got you.”

And for once, Orion allowed himself to believe it. Not because he was weak or defeated, but because he found someone worth trusting with his surrender.