Page 41 of The Don’s Omega

“Oh, God,” he whimpers. “You’re so deep.”

“Do you want your alpha’s bite? Do you want your alpha’s seed?”

“Yes,” he whines. “N… need it. Do it. Breed me.”

I drive into him with deep, punishing strokes. I pull almost all the way out and slam back in, every thrust dragging a sound out of him that’s half moan, half sob. His fingers twist in the sheets. His back arches, pushing his hips back to meet me, taking me deeper. The sound of my thick cock plunging into his slick, wet hole is obscene in the most perfect way.

I lean over his back and suck the flesh along the nape of his neck, right where the bonding bite will go, and he shudders beneath me. He knows what’s coming as I suckle the skin, preparing him for my claiming mark. He moans and drops his head to the side, inviting my bite. Lust and excitement spiral through me at his submissiveness, and I open my mouth and bare my teeth.

When I bite down, he screams as my teeth sink into his flesh. His warm blood swirls over my tongue, unleashing something feral inside of me. The tangy, metallic taste of my omega sends me into a breeding frenzy. With a snarl, I thrust deeper and faster, and his body goes rigid as he comes, spurting cream over the comforter below.

The clench of his hole around my cock is so intense, it rips a groan from deep in my chest. I lose control. My eyes roll up in my head, and with a primal roar, I bury myself in him one last time. I come so hard my vision splinters, spilling deep and hot inside him in long, pulsing jets. I keep thrusting, pumping my release deeper into his quaking body. I have one instinctive goal, and that’s to breed my omega.

Within seconds, my knot begins to swell. I’ve never knotted an omega. I never wanted to. Knotting means breeding, and I’ve never wanted to breed an omega until now. The sensation is staggering, a pressure at the base of my cock that builds rapidly, stretching Elio’s hole. The intensity of the swelling catches even me off guard.

“Oh, God.” Elio’s voice is hoarse. Panicked as he feels the stretch of the knot. “I’ve never...”

“It’s okay,” I rumble, still dazed from my orgasm. I feel almost drugged from the taste of my omega’s blood. But I need to fight through it because my omega needs me to guide him through his first time being knotted. “Breathe. Just breathe,” I whisper. “Your body can take it. Let it happen, Elio. Don’t fight it.”

He whimpers. It’s a sound so vulnerable and raw that my chest aches. As my knot stretches him open, he’s shaking. His hands are white-knuckled in the sheets as my knot expands. “Marcello,” he whines, pain and panic mingling in his voice. “It’s too much.”

“Shhh, you can do it.” I caress his side, pressing tender kisses to his shoulder. “I’m here with you.” I tap into a gentleness I didn’t know I had. The lust is softening, morphing into something else. Something gentle and selfless. “You’re okay. It’ll be over soon.”

He gives a half sob, but he quiets, and I feel a sense of pride that he listened.

When the knot suddenly locks into place, sealing my seed inside his womb, it’s a sensation so intense it’s hard to breathe. He comes again, giving a shocked gasp as his body climaxes without warning. I press my forehead against his shoulder and give a low, guttural groan. His orgasm seems to go on forever, his body quietly convulsing, his hole milking my dick. The sensation is erotic and overwhelming. Our pleasure is completely intertwined.

Elio trembles beneath me, his breathing ragged, small aftershocks rippling through his body. We’re locked together now, my cock buried inside him, and neither of us can move. I roll us carefully onto our sides so my weight isn’t crushing him, keeping him tight against my chest, my arm around his waist. His little moans make my heart hurt weirdly. I want to help him, but we’re both trapped in this primal experience.

I’m disturbed by how fiercely protective I feel. Elio was supposed to be the uncomplicated choice. A means to an end. An omega who fit the terms of the contract without demanding anything real from me. And yet this feels more intimate than anything I ever had with Sandro.

I tell myself it’s the bite.

It has to be. It’s doing weird things to my brain. After all, a blood bond between alpha and omega is not a small thing, even when the marriage behind it is fake. His blood is still on my tongue. I’m still locked inside him. It’s natural to feel these things because instinct is roaring through me, ancient and unreasonable.

But these protective, needy emotions will pass once the flush of our mating has faded.

It doesn’t have to mean more than what it is: A physical response to claiming and breeding my omega.

I won’t let it mean more.

Chapter Six

Elio

I wake up alone in Marcello’s bed.

For a few disoriented seconds, I don’t know where I am. The sheets are dark silk, not the white linens from my room. I realize I’m still in Marcello’s bed. The pillow I’m clutching smells like him, that deep, heavy alpha scent. I’m alone though, and the sheets on the other side of the bed are cool to the touch. That means he’s been gone for a while.

Memories of last night flood my brain and my body flushes with heat. I may not like Marcello as a person, but as a lover he was amazing. My face warms as I remember how vulnerable I was when he claimed and knotted me. He was surprisingly tender during that painful, yet erotic, experience. I had no idea he was even capable of such kindness.

I lie still and take inventory. Physically and emotionally, there’s a lot to catalogue.

My neck is the worst of it. I reach up and touch the bite mark and a hiss escapes me. It’s not just tender. It’s raw, the skin torn and swollen, crusted with dried blood. He bit me while he was inside me. I remember the sharp, blinding pain and then the rush of something chemical flooding through me, bonding us, rewiring something in my body. I can feel it now, a faint hum at the back of my mind that wasn’t there yesterday. An awareness of Marcello that has nothing to do with memory or thought. It’s biological. Primal. Like an invisible thread ties me to him now.

The rest of my body has its own list of complaints. My hips ache. My thighs are sore. There’s a deep, persistent tenderness between my legs that makes me wince when I shift even slightly. Marcello wasn’t gentle with me last night. I told him he could be rough, and he took that to heart. Which I didn’t mind at the time, but am suffering for now.

But it was the hottest sex I’ve ever had. I remember coming twice. The first time when he bit me, that orgasm ripped through me so unexpectedly I almost passed out from the intensity of it. I came the second time when the knot locked into place. The stretch of it, the fullness, the overwhelming erotic pressure and then the wave of pleasure that crashed through me without warning. I shiver just thinking about it.